A Reunion And A Ring (Proposals & Promises Book 1)

by Gina Wilkins

  It was a pathetically lame response and she was all too aware of it. Gavin’s expression made it clear that he thought so, too. “That’s not what I asked you.”

  Her chest tightened. Rather than continuing that line of questioning, she shut it down. “You wanted to know what was going on in my life. Now I’ve told you. I’m in a relationship with Thad. I don’t think you need all the details.”

  “So were you thinking of him when we kissed at the cabin? Or when we danced tonight?”

  The wave of sensations those reminders invoked stole the breath from her lungs and made her fingers clench despite her efforts. She cleared her throat before saying tightly, “For old times’ sake, you said. That’s all it was.”

  With a shrug, he pushed himself off the chair. “Yeah. Okay. Fine. That’s all it was.”

  She stood, too, relieved that her shaky knees supported her. She didn’t know why this conversation was quite so upsetting. It wasn’t as if anything had really changed in her life because she’d run into Gavin a couple of times.

  He moved toward the door, his steps long, purposeful. She hurried after him, though she wasn’t certain what she wanted to say. “Gavin...”

  Pausing at the unopened door, he turned to look down at her. “Goodbye, Jenny. I hope you have the life you and your grandmother have always wanted for you. That’s exactly what you deserve.”

  She could tell he didn’t mean the words as a compliment. She was sorry they were parting again with bitterness, but maybe that was just the way it was supposed to be between them. “Stay safe, Gavin,” she whispered, reaching for the door to let him out.

  He’d reached out at the same time. Their hands fell on the knob together, his atop hers. His warmth engulfed her. Both of them went very still. She wasn’t sure which of them recovered first, but they both let go at once. Her hand tingled as if she’d just touched a live current. Did his?

  “I’ll get it,” Gavin said, and opened the door for himself. “Bye, Jen.”

  She didn’t have time to respond before he was outside, the door closing hard behind him.

  Out of habit, she turned the dead bolt. And then she rested her head against the cool wood. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, traced slowly down her cheeks. She thought she’d shed the last of her tears for Gavin a long time ago. She should have known there would always be a few left when it came to him. She didn’t even know why she was crying now.

  Her feet felt heavy when she turned to take a couple steps away from the door. For some reason, she found herself looking toward the sunset painting, seeking...something from the warmth and colors. She wasn’t sure what exactly. Not finding it there, she turned her head and her gaze fell onto a small, hammered silver box Thad had given her for Valentine’s Day. It sat on her clear glass-topped coffee table, seeming to float above the white rug that lay beneath the table on the wood floor. In stark contrast to the riotous painting, the box was pretty, delicate, a little on the formal side.

  She pushed a hand wearily through her hair, her mind spinning with doubts again.

  Someone rapped sharply on the door, making her start and whirl toward it. Was there something more Gavin wanted to say? Hadn’t he hurt her enough?

  She opened the door slowly, her fingers trembling. She looked up at him with still-damp eyes she couldn’t hide. “Did you forget something?”

  Surging through the opening, he reached out to snag the back of her neck with one strong hand. “Yeah,” he muttered. “This.”

  She heard the door close even as his mouth claimed hers in a hard, hungry kiss.

  Every nerve ending in Jenny’s body responded to the passion in Gavin’s kiss. Momentarily paralyzed, she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, couldn’t move to either push him away or draw him closer. Her hands lay on his chest, her fingers curled into his shirt. She didn’t remember resting them there. His were at her hips, holding her in place while his lips and tongue made sure she could think of nothing but him.

  He broke the kiss very slowly, tugging lightly at her lower lip as he reluctantly released it. He lifted his head, his gaze burning into hers. She knew what he saw when he looked at her. Her hair was mussed, her cheeks still tear-streaked, her mouth damp and reddened. Her heavy-lidded eyes probably told him exactly how much turmoil he’d stirred in her.

  “Gavin.” His name came out on a whisper, and she wasn’t sure if it was meant as reproach or plea.

  His voice was a growl, rough but still somehow gentle. “You know all you have to do is push me away and I’m gone.”

  She did know that. One word, one small shove, and he would leave. And this time he wouldn’t come back.

  Her fingers tightened on his shirt. “I can’t think when you kiss me. You confuse me.”

  His hands cupped her face. “You aren’t confused, Jenny. You know what you want. What you’ve always wanted. And it isn’t this,” he added with a quick, dismissive glance around the room. “This sterile, impersonal, colorless place. I saw more of your personality when I went into your store the other day than I do in your home. And you’re thinking of giving that up, selling the business you’ve planned and worked toward and sacrificed for, just to stand at some politician’s side and smile?”

  She started to draw back, vaguely offended that he’d disparaged the apartment she’d so painstakingly put together. Not to mention her potential lifestyle choice. “That’s not what I’d be doing. Not—not most of the time, anyway.”

  “And this guy you can’t say you’re in love with? Does he like this place?”

  “Yes, he does.”

  “Is he aware that the only real glimpse of you in this room is hanging over the fireplace?”

  She bit her lip.

  He eased her lower lip from between her teeth with his thumb. “Does he confuse you when he kisses you?”

  “Don’t,” she whispered, aching for something she couldn’t define.

  He understood her quandary better than she did, it seemed. “Don’t kiss you? Or don’t tell you that I want to kiss you again? That I want to do a hell of a lot more than kiss you? That I’ve wanted you again ever since you fell into my bed at the cabin? That I realized I couldn’t walk away without telling you?”

  He rubbed the pad of his thumb slowly across her trembling mouth. “You made a point to tell me you aren’t actually engaged yet. That he asked you days ago and you still haven’t decided on an answer. Doesn’t that tell you something? Even if I weren’t here confusing you, should it really take that long to make up your mind if you knew it was the right choice for you?”

  She sighed heavily, old wounds throbbing deep inside her. “Gavin, you and I—we tried it before. It didn’t work. It was always too intense between us. I’m...I’m comfortable with Thad,” she added, trying to make that sound more satisfying than it suddenly felt.

  He shook his head and she thought she saw sympathy and understanding in his eyes now. “I didn’t come back to ask you to choose between him and me. I just couldn’t leave without asking if you’re sure he’s any more right for you than I was. The real you, who escaped to a cabin in the woods to think rather than staying in this dainty apartment. The you who gets excited about opening a second store, but looks serious and logical when talking about a proposal of marriage. The you who comes alive in my arms every time we kiss.”

  She swallowed a low moan.

  Lowering his head a bit more, he looked deeply into her eyes. “Don’t throw away everything you’ve worked for just because it seems like something you should do, Jenny. Something you’d be doing mostly to impress your grandmother and to give you a shortcut into that lifestyle you were always told you should want for yourself. Despite what I said in anger before I walked out, you deserve a hell of a lot more than that.”

  “I’m quite capable of making my own decisions about what’s best for me,�
� she assured him, though her heart had flinched with his words.

  “You’re one of the most capable and intelligent women I’ve ever known,” he answered evenly. “But you were indoctrinated from an early age to equate money and social standing with happiness. We both know who’s to blame for that.”

  “My grandmother has always wanted the best for me. She didn’t want to see me end up like my mother, struggling and grieving,” she reminded him, on the defensive again.

  “I always thought she should let you make up your own mind about what’s best for you.”

  She pulled away from him, freeing herself from his tempting touch. “I’ve always looked out for myself. Why else do you think I made myself walk away from you ten years ago when doing so was so hard I thought I’d never stop hurting inside? I knew I couldn’t change you, couldn’t persuade you to choose a safer career, but I knew also that I couldn’t handle the fear and uncertainty that came with it. I walked away to protect myself and because it wouldn’t have been fair for me to keep asking you to give up your dreams. And I’ve done quite well for myself since, I might add.”

  Pushing a hand through his hair, he nodded. “I never doubted you would. You’ve accomplished almost everything you said you wanted. Are you really considering walking away from it, Jen? He can give you every material thing you desire, but can he give you the joy and fulfillment your shops bring you?”

  He lifted his hand again, resting it against her cheek, and she remained frozen in place as he lowered his head to brush his lips against hers, very lightly. No pressure, no insistence, but so much tenderness that she could feel a fresh wave of tears pushing at the backs of her eyes.

  “I can feel you starting to tremble again,” he murmured against her mouth. “I can almost hear your heart racing. It’s always been that way between us, from the first time we touched. We’re older, more experienced now, but the electricity between us hasn’t changed, not for me at least. You’re still the only woman in the world who can make my head spin just with a brush of your skin against mine.”

  A moan escaped her before she could stop it. Her knees turned to gelatin, and her pulse roared in her ears. No, she thought in despair. No one else had ever made her feel the way Gavin had. The way he still did. Kissing Thad was pleasant. Even occasionally arousing. But not like this. Never like this.

  She melted into him.

  This time her mouth was as ravenous as his, as bold in acting on that craving. Her fingers still gripped his shirt, but in demand now, tugging him closer, holding him there even though he displayed no interest in moving away. She nipped his lip as if in punishment for making her acknowledge this desire, and she reveled in his throaty moan that was more pleasure than protest. Her tongue dueled with his, equally angry, equally hungry, equally fierce.

  Equal.

  His hands left her hips to sweep over her, as if to explore the changes time had brought to the body he’d once known as well as his own. She was a bit curvier than she’d been as a teenager, but judging by his murmurs of appreciation and by the impressive hardening against her upper thigh, Gavin was more than satisfied.

  She’d admired his broad shoulders and solid chest when she’d changed his bandage at the cabin, but she hadn’t allowed herself to explore them thoroughly then. She did so now, sliding her hands beneath his shirt, spreading her palms against the hot skin and well-defined musculature. The bandage was gone now, as were the stitches. A thin smattering of chest hair tickled her fingers. His stomach muscles contracted sharply when she slowly followed that thinning line of hair downward toward the waistband of his pants.

  He caught her hand. His voice was hoarse when he warned, “You’re playing with fire, Jen.”

  “I’ve been cold for too long,” she whispered, her own tone stark.

  “Jenny.” He pulled her into his arms, wrapping himself around her. She pressed even closer, soaking in his heat, her mouth joining his in a kiss that was less frantic now, more savoring, more tender. Her tongue stroked his rather than battling it. Her hands caressed him over his shirt, over the muscles that felt familiar yet new at the same time. She pushed away his shirt to provide her better access.

  Focused solely on him, she hardly remembered moving from the living room to the bedroom. But she was keenly aware of every other detail. His hands beneath her dress. Hers tugging his shirt over his head and tossing it aside. His mouth on her throat, her shoulder, her breasts. Her fingers tugging at his belt, his zipper, eager to remove the garments between them.

  Somehow he remembered little caresses that made her gasp and squirm in pleasure against the snowy bedclothes. And he’d learned some new tricks that caused her to arch and cry out helplessly as her toes curled into the tangled sheets. He took his time, teasing her and pushing her right to the edge before drawing back, slowing down. She heard an almost feral growl escape her. Even as she shoved him onto his back to retaliate, she was a little startled that the sound had come from her throat.

  She used her teeth, nipped at his ear, his chin, his throat, his chest. Her hand slipped down between them, grasping him, stroking him until he was the one arching and groaning and the husky laugh of satisfaction was hers. She laughed again when he deftly flipped their positions. She landed among the pillows with her hair tangled wildly around her damp face. One pillow fell over her, threatening to smother her.

  Gavin shoved the pillows off the bed and to the floor with one idle sweep of his hand, his gaze focused intently on her face. “Now?”

  “Yes, please.”

  He chuckled and kissed her thoroughly. A condom appeared from somewhere, and he donned it swiftly, impatiently, while she held her breath in anticipation. When he returned to her, she welcomed him with open arms, lifted knees and eager lips. He gathered her to him and joined their bodies with one smooth, hard thrust, then stilled for a moment to allow them both time to process the moment.

  Yes. This. I remember this. This...completeness.

  Shushing the little voice in her head, she wrapped herself around Gavin and allowed herself to exist solely in the moment. No past to haunt her. No future to worry her. Only this man and this bed.

  He began to move, slowly, steadily. Then, at her urging, faster, more forcefully. She realized that their hands were linked at either side of her head, fingers intertwined. They’d always held hands as they approached climax. How could it still be so familiar, so natural? Her heart pounded so hard it almost hurt; her breathing was raw and ragged. Her eyelids were heavy and she wanted to close them, but she needed more to keep them open, to look at Gavin’s tautly drawn face above hers. Meeting her eyes, he flashed a smile at her—and she came with a cry that was echoed mere moments later by his groan of release.

  Only then did she close her eyes.

  Chapter Nine

  Exhausted, she slept. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when she woke with a start, but she knew she’d been dreaming. She bit her lip as bits and pieces of the dream replayed in her conscious mind. She’d dreamed of her father. Of presents he’d bought her, giggles he’d tickled from her, hugs he’d shared with her. She’d seen her mother pacing, worrying. And she’d dreamed of the day her father hadn’t come home.

  She was annoyed with her own subconscious. Seriously? Daddy dreams, now of all times? She would have liked to think even her sleeping mind wasn’t that clichéd.

  Opening her eyes and turning her head on the pillow, she looked somberly at Gavin. He lay on his left side facing her, a corner of the sheet covering his hips. The rest of the sheet dangled over the side of the bed to puddle on the floor. Her bed was pretty much wrecked from their activities. She’d have to strip it down to the mattress to return it to its usual immaculate state. Not that the disarray seemed to bother Gavin. His eyes were closed, his breathing even. She wasn’t sure he was deeply asleep, but he was dozing.

  The only light in t
he room came from the little lamp still burning on her nightstand. The illumination flooded softly over him, casting intriguing shadows across his tanned skin. Because he’d thrown the pillows on the floor earlier, he cradled his head on his bent arm. His hair tumbled appealingly around his face, the lamplight bringing out the gold streaks.

  Her leisurely inspection paused at his right shoulder. She swallowed. Even with the stitches gone, the scar was still red and puckered. She looked away.

  Reaching hastily for the white duvet crumpled on the floor by her side of the bed, she wrapped it around her body as she rose a little shakily to her feet. She caught a glimpse of herself in the dresser mirror and nearly stumbled. Who was that woman with the tangled hair, swollen mouth and wild eyes, her nude body wrapped in a coverlet? She was hardly recognizable even to herself.

  She slipped into the bathroom and took her time washing up, brushing her hair and teeth, trying to put her thoughts in order along with her appearance. She donned a white robe she kept on a hook on the door and tied the sash tightly at her waist, making sure the front of the garment was securely closed. Only then did she feel somewhat prepared to face Gavin again.

  He was awake when she walked back into the bedroom with her shoulders squared and her chin lifted in a show of confidence. He sat up against the headboard, his tanned skin an attractive contrast to all the white surrounding him, the sheet draped across his lap and thighs. His eyelids were still half-closed, but she knew he studied her with full alertness behind that lazily satisfied expression. “Everything okay?”

  She tightened her belt again. “You should go, Gavin. It’s late.”

  “Throwing me out?”

  “I just need to be alone for a while.”

  He thought about that for a moment, then nodded. Unselfconscious, he rolled out of the bed and gathered his clothes. She stood for a moment staring at her tousled bed, then turned abruptly and went into the other room. Rounding the granite bar, she reached into a white-painted cabinet for a water glass. She filled it and had thirstily emptied it by the time Gavin found her.