Murphy's Law

Her lips felt warm and soft against his. Ah, but they felt good! She didn't kiss him back, nor did she try to pull away.

Time stood still as they stayed that way, statue still, her kneeling over him, her mouth slanted over his.

Her eyes were open. So were his. But not for long.

Garrett's lashes slid down, and his fingers tightened on the back of her head as he drew her closer, kissed her deeply. After her initial shock melted, he felt her respond. Shyly at first, then more boldly.

Murphy had cushioned her palms on his shoulders for balance, but her elbows buckled, and soon her chest was resting against his. Her hands drifted up, her fingers combing through his hair, curling inward, fisting the sandy strands as she pulled him closer.

He ran the tip of his tongue restlessly over the seam of her lips, and moaned low and deep in his throat when she opened for him without restraint. She tasted like honey and cream, natural and sweet, as he swept her mouth with his tongue.

The pain in his leg, an unbearable agony just a few seconds before, was now muted by the surge of desire thundering through him. Garrett shifted, laying on his back on the green carpeted floor, hauling Murphy with him. She didn't resist…and God that excited him! Her breasts felt full and firm, crushed to his chest.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her close as he intensified the kiss to a fevered pitch. Their tongues met and tangled wildly, her initial shyness now completely gone.

The hem of her sweater had ridden up, and Garrett's palm caressed the smooth, bare flesh of her back, exposed above the waistband of her jeans. He had to touch more of her. He had to.

Murphy trembled. The warm breaths puffing against his cheek turned ragged as his hand snuck under the hem of the sweater. And ascended.

His fingertips toyed with the hooks of her bra, even as his mind toyed with the idea of releasing them, of ridding her of it and the baggy sweater and snug-fitting jeans, of touching her more intimately.

His palm slid over the ladder of her ribs. The way she sighed and moved against him suggested she also wanted, needed, a more intimate touch.

Madness, Garrett thought as he moved, and found her breast suddenly nestled in the ultra-sensitive palm of his hand. That he barely knew this woman seemed not to matter at all…especially when he heard her moan, and felt her strain against him. He cupped her breast more fully, tested its firmness, even as his thumb flicked over the sheer material of her bra. Through the cloth, he felt her nipple pearl in response.

Garrett shifted his attention, distributed warm, moist kisses on the curve of her chin. He sipped his way over the line of her jaw, dipped his tongue in the curl of her ear and nibbled on the sensitive lobe. His senses filled with the scent of her; he'd never imagined the smell of Ivory Soap could be so damned erotic. But it was. On Murphy.

He wanted her.

The realization shocked Garrett to the core. Never before had he experienced desire this intense, for a woman he barely knew. Usually, passion built in him slowly, honing itself to a fine pitch before he even considered taking a relationship, any relationship, to a physical level.

It wasn't like that this time. Not with Murphy. Just the opposite. With her, the second their lips met, an intense need had cleaved through him, leaving Garrett breathless and shaky. Desire clawed in his gut, lower. A passion he'd never before felt to this extent built with incredible speed, manifesting itself into a ravenous hunger to possess—physically, completely. The urge was too strong to fight or deny.

She shifted, draping her left leg over his hips. His hardness pressed against the warm vee of her inner thighs. He tightened his hold on her, grinding the front of his hips against the front of hers. She pressed back and…

The heel of her foot grazed his right thigh.

A bolt of pain crashed through Garrett. He stiffened and groaned, barely aware of the way Murphy went rigid in his arms.

In that split second, the mood shattered.

Murphy scrambled off of him, kneeling by his side. Her hands hesitated in the act of wanting to touch him, but not daring to. “I hurt you again, didn't I? Garrett, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—”

Gritting his teeth against the agony in his leg, he slashed a finger over her lips—puffy and moist from his kiss—to silence her. The color in her cheeks, he noticed through the fog of pain that was tearing at him, was unusually high, her dark green eyes glazed with equal parts unquenched passion and concern.

“I'm fine,” he said, knowing perfectly well his tone said he was anything but; it was made grittier by the question his mind refused to stop worrying over.

Just how far, Garrett wondered, would things have gone between them if Murphy hadn't moved and reawakened the pain in his leg?

The question, of course, would have to stay unresolved.

Maybe that's what made the illusive answer so intriguing?

Chapter 5

Murphy's Law #5: The easier it looks, the harder it is…

“ARE YOU SURE you didn't bang your head in the accident?” Murphy shook her own head in exasperation. At the same time, she strove to ignore the way her mouth—no, make that her entire body—still smoldered from Garrett Thayer's kiss.