“Blake, what?” His voice ragged, his heavy breaths caressed her moist neck and sent convulsive shivers through her from head to curling toes.
“Blake, yes,” she whispered.
In one fluid movement, he cupped her bottom with both hands and lifted her. Her legs instinctively clamped around his waist. As he carried her into the bedroom, she rested her forehead against his.
“I won’t touch you anywhere you’re not comfortable. It’s your call, not mine.” His voice was soft, kind. Loving. No wonder most of Red River’s female population threw themselves at him. She nodded and closed her eyes.
The bedroom was empty except for an old brass-framed bed. Shades up, the full moon filtered into the room and lit half of his face as they walked past the window. She stroked his illuminated cheek with her fingers, the light stubble prickling the tips. Gently, he lowered her to the bed, the springs creaking their approval.
Heart thundering, she settled back into the soft quilt.
It had taken every ounce of courage she possessed to undress in front of Gabriel after the first surgery. Shirtless and alone, she’d spent a good hour looking at her scars in the mirror before letting him into their room. Staring at her reflection, she’d felt like the bride of Frankenstein, all pieced and sewn together with body parts that didn’t belong to her. She’d finally let him in, expecting loving words of encouragement and soft caresses of acceptance. Instead revulsion and pity had flashed in his eyes. His rejection was a kick in the gut, causing more emotional scars than those left on her body.
Blake’s thoughtfulness and gentleness were already so different than Gabriel’s actions. But what about when she took her clothes off and Blake saw her in the buff? Sure, the finished product didn’t look like mutilated flesh. They looked pretty real, until you got up close and personal. Then they reminded her of a kindergarten paper doll that had different body parts cut out and glued together that didn’t actually belong.
Thank God the light was out.
He lay next to her on his side and splayed a hand on her tummy. “How much feeling do you have left?”
She knew what he meant without having to ask, and the fact that he’d cared enough to ask made her heart ache with gratitude. Still, she hesitated. “Not much on top.” Her voice shook a little. “I can feel more over the ribcage.” She swallowed, because her mouth had gone dry. “You know, under my arm.”
“Do you still have pain?” His hand slid up her torso to the zipper. It whizzed as he tugged it all the way to the bottom of her minidress. The soft knit material fell away, exposing her bra and panties. The moonlight cascaded across her legs, leaving the rest of her in shadows. For that she was grateful. With a wiggle of each foot, her flat Mary Janes thudded against the hardwood flooring.
“Some.” She pointed just right of her breastbone. “Right here.”
He placed his hand back on her bare tummy, fingers spread wide. An intimate warmth ignited under his palm and spread through her. He leaned in and kissed the spot she’d indicated.
“Can you feel that?” he whispered against her skin, and placed another wet, warm kiss in the same spot.
Her skin pebbled and everything inside her tightened with arousal. Not so much from the kiss, because she had no feeling in that spot, but because of his tenderness, his gentle thoughtfulness. She nearly had an orgasm right then.
“Not much,” she breathed out. “But it’s still nice.”
His hand drifted up her torso, detoured around her breast, and slid her sweater off one shoulder. His mouth moved to the flesh just above her breast. “That?”
More moist kisses caressed her, and her head bobbled up and down like a puppet on a string. “I can feel that a little.” Her words came in heavy breaths, and she clutched at his shoulders.
He moved to her shoulder, tugging the lace bra strap away. Hot breaths against her skin made her want to scream, but she bit it back, letting his essence, his touch settle over her. When his mouth touched the small indention between her collarbone and shoulder, she couldn’t hold back the whimper that clawed to get out. He smiled against her shoulder. “You can feel that.”
“Yes,” she breathed out.
Gently, he dislodged her arm from his neck and threaded his fingers through hers and pinned her hand to the bed above her head to give him better access. His mouth traveled downward, around her breast, over the side of her bra, to her ribcage just under her breast and arm. When he suckled the skin, tracing the well between each rib with the tip of his tongue, she arched violently against him.
“Oh, God,” she gasped, barely able to speak without screaming.
“This spot seems to be your favorite. So far.” He suckled down her top rib again.
With her free hand, she grabbed for the hem of his shirt. Wanted to feel his bare chest against her, but he’d sunk too low, so she threaded one set of fingers through his hair. “Yes,” she said, her tone urgent. “I like that spot.”
Releasing her hand, he dropped lower, his tongue and lips working their magic along her side all the way to her waist. She couldn’t breathe.
“You’re so damned sexy,” he said, just before nipping at the skin around her belly button. “You drive me crazy.”
She wanted to tear his clothes off and look at him. But at the moment, her brain couldn’t command her hands to push him off of her. Not with his mouth and tongue exploring her . . .
His soft kisses lowered to the triangle between her thighs. Warm, moist breaths through the thin lace that rubbed against her made her insides clench and beg for more. Now both hands anchored in his hair.
“Blake!” Her voice was urgent, demanding.
“Blake, what?” He teased her. Taunted her to the point of cruelty.
“Blake,” she rasped out, and swallowed. “More.”
When his mouth left her, an empty coldness covered the spot where his moist warmth had been, but only for a moment. He stood and had his shirt unbuttoned and discarded by the time she could raise up on both elbows to watch him. He kicked off his hiking boots and retrieved a wallet from his back pocket. With a toss it landed on the bed.
Holy jeez, he was beautiful. Hard. Sinewy.
She drank him in shamelessly while he unbuttoned his Levi’s. A muscled chest and sculpted arms flexed against the moonlight. The sight of his hardened body turned her insides into liquid fire, heating her all over again.
But nothing prepared her for the final revelation. When his pants and boxer briefs fell away and he kicked them to the side, she drew in an inspired breath.
Awe-inspiring indeed.
He held out a hand, and she took it, rising off the bed.
“Now you,” he said, and slid his hands under the edges of her gaping sweater dress. He pushed it down her arms, and it swooshed to the floor when she pulled the sleeves over each hand. His eyes raked over her, and his breath turned ragged. “I knew you’d be this gorgeous.”
“You’ve been fantasizing about me without clothes on?” she teased.
“Twenty-four-seven.” His arm encircled her, and he traced the length of her spine with his fingertips. “Have you thought about me?” The other hand dipped inside her panties to caress her bottom. She shivered.
Heck yeah. “No,” she said, her eyes fluttering shut.
“Liar.” His mouth found hers, just as the other hand plunged into the back of her panties and lowered the swatch of lace. With a small kick, they flew in the same direction as his pants. Deepening the kiss, he slid his hands up her back to the fastening of her bra. Heart thumping, she tensed.
He broke the kiss and placed one on her temple instead. Rested his mouth there so affectionately that Angelique’s heart squeezed. Gabriel hadn’t been half as loving and considerate before her illness. Afterward, he’d turned into a stone-cold bastard. Kimberly was right. Gabriel had always been a prick, and her illness hadn’t made him that way. It had simply exposed it.
“We can stop.”
That’s all Blake said. Three simple
words revealed the depth of his character. The deep well of compassion running through him. The love he had to give to the right person.
They had tonight. That was enough. Had to be. She could never give him what he would surely want in the future if they started a real relationship. Relationships either led to marriage and kids, or they led to heartbreak. She couldn’t risk either. But tonight she wanted to be his.
She shook her head. “No.” Her eyes lifted to meet his. “I don’t want to stop.” A stinging thought paralyzed her for a fleeting moment. Maybe he was having second thoughts. “Unless, you do. I’d understand if you did.” She tried to pull back, but he held her firm against his chest. The muscles flexed under her fingertips.
“Does it feel like I want to stop?” Voice husky, he dropped a hand to her ass and pulled her hips tighter against his magnificent erection.
Laughter bubbled through her lips. “I’m just nervous. I haven’t . . . well, it’s just that . . .” She fell silent for a beat. “I don’t want to stop,” she finally said.
His strong hands slid up her back again and found the fastenings. With a quick flick of his expert fingers, the bra was gone, and their bare bodies melded together like hot wax pouring into a mold. Her bare breasts pressed against the hardness of his chest, and she felt . . . sensual . . . like the same woman she’d been before she’d given her body over to be butchered. And she wanted him. She didn’t care how, she just wanted him in her, driving her to the cliff of desire then pushing her over into oblivion. Just this once.
Careful to stay out of the moonlight, she stepped backward, away from him, and grabbed his hand, pulling him with her. His breaths quickened, and he followed her onto the bed. The box springs groaned again, and so did she when his clever hand found her curls and parted them. He stroked, gently at first, as his mouth captured hers. As his thumb circled that small spot between her legs that unleashed fire into her limbs, she squirmed with pleasure. He anchored one of her legs with his to open her to his very capable fingers.
And oh, what excellent fingers.
“Blake,” she whimpered.
His index finger slid into her while that thumb still stroked the little nodule of pleasure.
“Blake, what?” He pressed his finger deeper.
“Yes!” Her entire body arced into him. Desperate, before she lost her mind, she grasped his impressive length in one hand and stroked up and down the expansive flesh.
His groan filled the room.
Reaching for his wallet, he retrieved a gold square and ripped it open with his teeth. She took the condom from him and rolled it on. Her hand caressed down his thickness with deliberate strokes while his lips sought out hers. Finally, the condom was on, and Angelique tightened her grip.
With a quick, smooth motion, he had her pinned beneath him, his knees nudging her thighs open. Placing his erection at her entrance, he sank into her just an inch. She clawed at his shoulders, her hips rising to meet him, but he didn’t go any farther.
When she opened her eyes, disoriented and frustrated, he watched her with lust-glazed eyes.
“More,” she whispered. He smiled, triumphant and self-satisfied.
“You’re beautiful, Angelique.” And he sank fully into her with one stroke.
Her entire body convulsed into an earth-shattering orgasm, and Angelique knew she’d never be the same again. The response his body coaxed from hers was mind-bending as he rolled his hips into her, heightening the sensations that exploded inside her.
Their fit was pure perfection. Nothing like Angelique had ever known. They moved together, finding that perfect rhythm that only happened once in a lifetime. The fruition of partnering with the one person in the universe who was made just for you.
In mere minutes, her insides began to contract around him, and she clung to him with every ounce of strength she had.
“Jesus, Angelique, you fit me like a glove,” he said, his voice hoarse, his breathing hard, his heart pounding against hers.
He slid a hand under her bottom and gripped, reaching even deeper inside of her with each new stroke.
A shriek of pleasure that may have sounded like Blake’s name pierced the lusty haze that shrouded her mind. She plunged over the cliff of ecstasy again, her entire body writhing under him, and dragged him over with her.
They lay still for a long time, their heartbeats and breaths intertwining until they became one. When their breathing steadied, Blake rolled over onto his back and pulled her with him. One arm around her shoulders, the other stroked her hair.
“You okay?” he asked.
Still speechless from the unbelievable response he’d elicited from her body . . . twice . . . she nodded and placed a gentle kiss on his chest. Then she nuzzled her cheek into the same spot, one hand caressing his pec.
A band of crickets struck up a tune somewhere in the apartment.
“Thank you,” she mumbled against his chest. “For being so . . .” Sweet. Hot. Big. “. . . understanding.”
His fingers gently caressed her hair, and he placed a soft kiss on her forehead. “Only a wuss wouldn’t be.”
When she circled his nipple with one finger, his manhood twitched. She smiled, turned her lips on the other nipple, and drew it into her mouth. Another remarkable erection sprang to life and pressed against her hip.
“How many condoms do you have with you?” she asked, then nibbled at the taut nipple again.
“Enough.” He pulled her on top so she straddled him. “I promise you’ll leave here tonight sufficiently satisfied.”
“I’m counting on it,” she said, as he placed one hand at the nape of her neck and pulled her mouth to his. And she really was counting on it, because this would be the only time they’d be together as lovers.
Chapter Twelve
A sense of contentment that Angelique had never imagined cloaked her like the warm quilt she and Blake had just left behind in his old apartment. She wasn’t ready to let go of either Blake or the fulfillment he’d just given her. But she had to.
Sadness crept in to push out the warmth in her soul. And that old quilt? She could snuggle into it and stay forever, especially if Blake were in it too.
When they pulled into her drive, every light in the cabin was out. The same quiet peacefulness that had settled over her when she was in Blake’s arms blanketed the landscape at this late hour.
“Pull around to the back. Looks like everyone’s in bed,” Angelique said. Thank the angels in heaven because she really didn’t want to answer an onslaught of questions from Kimberly, especially with her parents visiting.
He parked and killed the engine.
“I’m fine from here. No need to walk me to the door.”
Of course he ignored her. He got out and met her on the other side of the truck. As they walked up the path toward the back door, his fingers threaded through hers. They climbed the steps in silence, except for the nocturnal insects that came alive every night. And Angelique’s heartbeat. It pounded in her ears. She jumped when an owl hooted from a nearby tree.
She should tell him now, tell him it had to be over before it ever really got started. A clean break would be the least painful for the both of them. Their lives were on separate paths, and they wanted different things in their futures.
Not true. Actually, they probably did want at least some of the same things. A family. Kids. Only she couldn’t have what she wanted, but he still could. Better to end it before her heart was broken all over again, because he’d already taken a piece of her soul tonight. Nothing would ever fill it the way he had with his tender lovemaking.
At the door, Blake pulled her into his arms and kissed her. Soft and sensual. He let out a satisfied sigh as he deepened the kiss, and it wrung the same involuntary response from her.
Finally he broke the kiss and brushed a strand of hair off her forehead. “You better go inside. You’re too loud for us to get started with your parents inside.”
She blew out a shy laugh.
He fou
nd her lips again, caressed them with his own. Pulling back just a breath, she traced his bottom lip with the tip of her tongue.
His arms tightened around her, and one hand sank to her butt. He molded her against his male firmness. He really was hard all over. Impressively so.
“Seriously,” he whispered against her lips. “You better go inside before I take you back to my place.”
That would be fine with her. Except that it wouldn’t.
“See you tomorrow?” he asked, staring down at her.
She hesitated. Tensed. And he went still.
“Blake, this is getting too complicated. I have to meet with your attorney next week.”
He dragged a hand over his jaw and hauled in a breath. “We’ll figure it out.”
With a shake of her head, she pushed out of his embrace. “There’s nothing to figure out. I’m a very good attorney. Do you know what that means?”
He shoved both hands into his pants pockets and looked out over the shimmering night sky. “It means you’re going to win, and this town will change forever.” He looked at her again. “And my work here will be over.”
“It means you won’t like me very much when I’m done here. It wouldn’t be the first time someone loathed me for being good at my job,” she said, her voice shaky. “You can do good work and help people anywhere, Blake.”
He smirked. “It’s not as simple as you keep trying to make it sound.”
“Life never is. That’s why this can’t be.” She waggled an index finger between them.
He stared at her for a second, then backed off the porch. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Misty images of Angelique panting his name and asking for more undulated through Blake’s dreams until he woke up in the purple haze of dawn with the quilt tenting.
Best night’s sleep he could remember in . . . well, ever.
He pulled himself out of bed, showered, and started working on a few repairs around the cabin. A leaky faucet, a few new nails in the back porch steps. His machete made quick work of the poison oak around his cabin so Angelique wouldn’t get another rash when she came over. If she came over.
It's in His Touch Page 14
