His eager flesh trapped between them, her head fell back over his arms, baring her throat. His tongue slicked a path down the ivory column, teeth lightly nipping. He circled one nipple through the cloth with his tongue and silently groaned, wishing he had more hands. He wanted to tear away her gown, wanted his hands to span that slender waist and lift her upon him.
He’d never felt so weak…or so strong.
"The wildflowers, Quinn," she whispered. "Make love to me among the flowers."
"No. I want this first time to be perfect. I can’t take you on the hard ground."
"You can, Quinn," she whispered intently. "Your cliff is here…your stars are above. The flowers are sleeping but their perfume fills the air. It is perfect." She loosened her thighs from his waist and stepped away, pulling her gown over her head. He almost forgot to breathe at the sight of her, gloriously naked, even more beautiful than in his dreams.
She smiled, free of shadows, free of fear…a smile he’d forgotten she had. She spread her gown over the flowers and took his hand to draw him down with her. "And now, we have a bed."
In all the times he’d dreamed of their lovemaking, he’d never imagined it happening like this.
But she was right. It was fitting that they should come together here, almost like the first man and woman on the first new day. For what they had here was a new creation, a letting go of past sadness, a burying of old trauma.
"Lorie…" He let the strength of his feelings flow into her through his fingertips, through his mind, direct from his heart. "We will never be the same, you know that," he warned.
Her smile was as old as womankind, her eyes as dark as passion’s deepest reaches. "Don’t talk, Quinn," she echoed his earlier admonition. "Now’s a time to feel." She bent to lick fleetingly at the corners of his mouth, the fingers of one hand sliding over his chest and up into his hair, her nails lightly grazing his scalp.
His grin vaporized as the smoldering fanned into a blaze. He yanked her to him so swiftly her breath whooshed out in one gust. As he fought to gentle his hold, she slid one thigh over his and rubbed herself against him. His hand on her delicious bottom urged her closer as he suckled her tongue into his mouth, a torrent of fire pouring through him as she responded with all the passion he could ever wish. He battled to keep himself from sliding within her; his desperate flesh could feel her warm, slick opening only one layer of denim away.
Lorie wanted him inside her so badly she was ready to claw, beg…whatever it took. But Quinn clearly had a different scenario in mind as he rolled her onto her back and rose to his knees, straddling her.
Her breathing hitched as she watched him above her, long black hair streaming, topaz glowing from the shadowed planes of his face. He was a warrior, all hard, ropy muscles, dark crisp hairs over bronzed, gleaming flesh that was marked by the scars of his courage.
This man had known great pain and suffering, yet he had cradled her body and her heart as tenderly as though she were a tiny babe. He had given her back belief in her dignity, he had stubbornly refused to let her sink into self-pitying misery. He had his own shadows, his own demons to fight, yet not once had he placed his needs before hers.
He was a man to love, fiercely and completely, with every breath, every thought, every heartbeat.
How would she ever find the strength to leave him?
As Quinn’s hands played over her body, tilting her world a little with each touch, Lorie cast away the sudden, overwhelming grief of that thought. As she would mix a batter, she folded it back into the cauldron of emotions he fired within her. Desperation and anguish add piquancy to the storm of desire brewing.
She didn’t have to leave him yet. For now, all that she was, she would give to him.
Then rational thought vanished as the fire that had been banked for so long flared to life within her. Quinn’s dark head moved to her breast. His hot mouth suckled her as his cool, dark hair flowed over her like thick silk, drawing her into the mystery and sorcery of his love.
His mouth at the tender point where hip flared from waist. Strong fingers stroking her neck, drawing shivers. Her nipples peaking, his chest hair lightly tickling. Everywhere, his hot mouth, his searching, tormenting tongue, his lean, strong fingers tender and brutally demanding.
When Lorie felt the silky dark hair slide over her belly and the heat of his breath at her core, she arched her breasts toward the stars in her longing, and Quinn took her to heaven with his mouth.
As Lorie trembled, Quinn wished that he could watch. He wanted to see her in glory as he’d seen her in pain, to know that he could make up for all that she’d suffered.
But he would see her face when he made her his. As her body softened and her features relaxed in bliss, quickly he stripped off his jeans and knelt between her thighs. Half-drunk with the ecstasy of being free to love her at last, he hung there, body suspended by his arms, aching to drive within her.
But he would be responsible first. "Lorie, I don't have…I need to go inside."
Her eyes opened. "You are such a good man." She caressed his jaw. "I’m safe. And protected. There's been no one since Tom."
He held her gaze with his. "It's been a long time for me, too."
"Don't wait," she murmured. "I want you so."
Lorie stretched like a cat, arms back over her head, a smile of pure contentment curving her lips. Those big blue eyes gleamed an invitation of timeless intent as she offered herself to him.
Oh, sweet mother— Delilah herself couldn’t have seduced him more wickedly.
This woman had more facets than a diamond. Gone was the needy, fragile nymph. Gone the sleek sophisticate. This woman was earthy…elemental…all a man could have conjured from his deepest longings. She was Eve, she was Lilith. She was femininity incarnate.
And she wanted him.
Yearning pierced him through. To have her once, to have her for a lifetime would never be enough.
But he would take whatever she’d give until she realized he was damaged goods. And he’d hold these moments until his dying breath.
Quinn’s arms trembled with the strength of his wanting. Their gazes locked, and he plunged to the hilt to unite them.
A wall of fire surrounded a spring of such cool, clear peace that Lorie was moved to tears by the sweetness. Quinn took possession of all that she was—mind, heart, and body knew no boundaries between herself and him. She flew through the star-sprinkled sky. She was one with the glories of the earth. As he moved within her, she experienced a longing so strong, so poignant, that she feared her heart would burst—but she didn’t care if it did. She would hold nothing back.
Magnificent man—she'd never dreamed anyone like him existed. He made her feel at once invulnerable and nakedly tender, invincibly strong and meltingly soft. She could move mountains, she could conquer anything at the side of this man. She was her best self when she was with him.
They soared…mingled…mated, body and soul.
And they both knew Quinn had been right.
They would never be the same again.
Chapter Sixteen
* * *
AS DAWN STOLE over Quinn's bed, Lorie stirred. Her eyes opened and her lips curved in welcome. She opened her arms to him, sighing with contentment as he covered her body with his.
He trailed his lips over her throat and felt her shiver. He lifted his head and gazed deeply into her eyes. "Good morning, beautiful."
Her eyes never left his. "I like waking up in your bed."
He tightened his grasp as his heart squeezed. "I like having you here." His mouth captured hers.
She welcomed him eagerly, opening to him as though they’d been together forever, and Quinn marveled at the difference in her. She’d been so cool and controlled until the attack that he’d never realized such fire lay beneath her regal bearing. Then, after the attack, she’d been too traumatized.
But last night, he’d held fire in his arms.
The sweet heat of her, the absolute giving, the greedy
way she’d feasted upon him—sweet mercy, he’d never known a woman so capable of matching his intensity, of answering his hunger with a ravenous appetite of her own. She’d let him go wild and never pulled back, she’d laughed a siren’s throaty urging and blazed white-hot until he would have sworn he was a comet, burning up in her corona.
This was no delicate flower. No ice queen. The woman he’d admired but thought fragile had revealed herself to be a tigress in hiding.
And he wanted her now more than ever.
But he knew they weren’t out of the woods yet. Until the stalker was caught, the shadows would never totally leave her. Humbled that she trusted him enough to fly free with him, he didn’t kid himself that the crisis was over or that she wouldn’t hit rough spots again.
But the night had been a revelation. Over and over since they’d met, he’d found new parts of her to explore, new aspects which fascinated him. Before he had to let her go, he resolved to uncover every one of them, to tenderly mark his passing in places where she’d remember him, to know her in ways no one else ever had.
She’d leave him, of course—that was inevitable.
But he would leave pieces of himself concealed within her.
And he’d hope that someday he could patch his mind back together and be worthy of her. That someday if she tired of the glamour and the pressure, she’d uncover one of those caches of his soul…and remember.
Remember a man who understood now that he’d waited a lifetime to love her…and would wait again.
He’d rather spend a lifetime alone than to accept less than he’d found this night.
Suddenly desperate to imprint himself upon her, he caught her in a greedy kiss while his hands sought to touch her more deeply than skin would allow.
She was the most responsive woman he’d ever known, matching his desire as though they’d been tuned like the strings of one instrument. She flared like gasoline at the touch of a match, instantly hot and blazing. She pushed at his shoulder, never breaking the kiss until they rolled and she straddled him.
Then she rose above him, and he gloried in his first real look at her, naked in sunlight. Glorious—part fiery angel, part warrior queen. She rocked herself over the length of him and taunted him with a slow, feline smile. When he reached for her, she grasped his wrists and pinned them beside his head, her nipples hovering and teasing just above his lips.
Though he burned to bury himself within her, he held back, waiting to see what she’d do.
The waiting held a razor’s edge allure.
She seemed unfazed by the long night of loving they’d spent after he’d carried her inside to his bed. The glow in her eyes at this moment certainly showed no flagging of energy. If she’d been a man, he’d almost have called the gleam wolfish.
Anticipation sizzled down his spine.
Slowly, she leaned down to glide her nipples along his lips. When he tried to suckle, she pulled back…a tiny, tantalizing distance away.
He groaned.
She bent to run her tongue slowly, wetly, along the contours of his ear, then trailed a path of light kisses and molasses-slow licking toward his lips. When he parted his mouth to take her in, she shook her head and smiled, still imprisoning his wrists as she slowly rubbed her breasts over the crisp hairs on his chest.
As she undulated over him, her hot, damp curls, her slick, tender petals fondled his shaft. Her tongue teasingly moistened his suddenly parched lips. Slowly…indolently…she stroked his mouth and his manhood, stringing desire, taut and humming, between them.
He ached.
He throbbed.
He burned.
She let go of his wrists and slid her hands down his arms, warning him with her eyes not to move. He clenched his hands in an agony of wanting…but he remained still—if no one counted the tremors screaming through his nerve endings.
She feathered her fingertips over his nipples, then followed up with her warm tongue. As she suckled at him, drawing his moans, her nails lightly grazed the sides of his chest, drifting down to his waist.
She made her way down his body, nipping and licking down his belly as the top of his head threatened to blow off. Every muscle in his body tightened in anticipation.
When her lips encircled him, he nearly leapt off the bed. His back arched in splendid agony. "You are killing me," he rasped.
He heard her low, smug chuckle and couldn’t decide whether to laugh or to yell. This woman…his woman. The chant roared through his head as she brought his fever to a blazing crescendo.
"I don’t…I won’t…Lorie, no—I have to—let me inside you—" He levered up and grabbed her waist. Lifted her in one sweep and lowered her onto him, his chest heaving furiously while he searched for the control not to roll her beneath him and savagely pound inside her.
Her eyes sparked defiance, even as she laughed, then melted and moaned at the feel of him. Her nails dug into his shoulders as she took over the rhythm, gasping and arching her back—until she, too, lost all control.
They mated with a desperation born of knowing how tenuous this time together would be, and how fleeting. As though somehow the power and strength of their bond could keep the world at bay.
Lost in a whirling, greedy, bittersweet attempt to lock out everything that would tear them apart, Quinn and Lorie spun out from savage bliss on a gossamer thread of fantasy.
And prayed they would never fall to earth.
***
WHEN QUINN FINALLY regained consciousness, the sun shone brightly into his room. The feel of Lorie’s body draped over him was so luxurious, he postponed what he knew he had to do and held her one more time, instead.
She stirred, and he whispered, "Sweetheart, I have to take you back to your room. Grant will be up any minute."
"Don’t want to," she mumbled.
He grinned sadly. "Me neither, but do you really want Grant asking questions?" Since we both know you won’t stay? He embraced her once more.
She turned her head and peered across his chest through her tangle of curls with a pout of that pretty mouth. "Guess not," she said, heaving a huge sigh. She lifted herself slightly, then swept her gaze down the length of him, returning to his with a saucy leer. "Nice muscles you’ve got there, cowboy."
Quinn was astonished to discover he could still blush.
***
LORIE ROSE AND stood by the bed, reluctant to take the next steps. She wanted nothing more than to climb back in his big bed and stay for days and days. Closing her eyes, she steeled herself to leave. When she turned and began to look for her nightgown, Quinn rose, too, and pulled her back against him.
Wordless in her misery as reality crowded in, she let her touch speak for her and tightened her arms over his.
At last she forced herself away and found her nightgown on the floor. Drawing it over her head, she tried not to smell the scent of flowers upon it nor to see the splotches of color where flowers had been crushed. She left the room quickly, afraid she would cry in front of him. He’d endured all the tears from her anyone should have to bear. It was time for her to start putting her life back together.
Upstairs she stood in the shower, huddled against the tiled wall, and let the water cover the sound of her sobs. Even as she wept, though, she chided herself for her foolishness. She’d just spent a night beyond her wildest dreams with a man who could have emerged from a legend. Why was she crying?
Because I can’t stay.
Because I know that I’m going to be all right.
And once I’m all right, I have to go back.
And leave Quinn.
So was she going to waste their time together, crying?
The devil she was.
She finished her shower and stepped out. If she didn’t feel that strong yet, she’d act that strong until she did feel it. But, by God, she was not wasting one precious minute. She would devour every second as though it were her last, and store the memories away to warm her when Quinn was no longer her sun.
Most women
never had a night like she’d had. Most women never knew a man like Quinn.
She’d be a fool to throw away this miracle, no matter how brief their time together. And Lorie Chandler was no fool.
She’d leaned on him long enough. It was time she gave back. She’d never dreamed that a man so fierce and so solitary could cherish and care for someone the way he’d cared for her. Through the worst hours of her life, he’d been there, anticipating her every need, turning each moment of terror into one she could survive.
Quinn Marshall was a troubled man. He hid it well, but she knew it was there. High time she figured out how to repay him. If she could leave here knowing she’d done something to help him, then the terrible burden of debt she carried would be lightened.
She could never do as much for him as he’d done for her.
But she would certainly try.
Firmed in her resolve, she dressed quickly and went downstairs to greet the day.
***
LORIE SHADED HER eyes from the sun as she watched Quinn lift Grant up before him on Wind Dancer. Grant turned to wave, his excitement evident.
"Bye, Mom! I’ll see you later!"
"You have a great time and behave for Quinn."
Grant rolled his eyes. "I always do, Mom."
She smiled, then shifted her gaze up to the man who'd rocked her world. Turned her inside out.
"Sure you don’t want to go with us?" he asked.
She shook her head. "Since I don’t know how to ride, I’d just slow you down. Grant looks eager to be gone. I'll take a rain check." She smiled. "And I’ll look forward to your return."
Heat flared in his gaze. "You sure you'll be all right alone for a few hours?"
She nodded. "I think I’ll take Tía Consuela up on her invitation to see her gardens."
"She’ll be pleased to have you." He hesitated, and she wondered if he hated going without her as much as she hated to see him leave. Every moment was precious now, but she couldn’t rob Grant of time that meant so much to him.
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