At the waterspout, she placed the lantern on the hood of a nearby car. “I’ll go first.” He averted his gaze politely while she stripped down to her bra and panties. Leaving her undergarments on, she stepped into the falling water.
She yelped as it streamed over her hair and shoulders.
Garrett turned at the sound. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s cold.”
He glanced away—but not before getting an eyeful.
Shivering, she wet her hair quickly and lathered it with hand soap. Then she scrubbed the rest of her body. Making sure he wasn’t looking, she slipped her hand into her wet panties and washed between her legs. When she felt clean enough, she rinsed as best she could and moved out of the stream, her teeth chattering.
He kept his back to her while she removed her undergarments and put on a roomy sweatshirt. It covered her to midthigh.
“Okay,” she said, signaling that she was decent.
His injury would make this process difficult. She knew he could unzip his pants, but he’d left the top button undone. He couldn’t unlace his boots or take off the rest of his clothes without assistance.
Pushing up the sleeves of her sweatshirt, she motioned for him to come forward. He did, leaning his hip against the side of the car as she helped him out of his T-shirt. Although she was gentle, he clenched his jaw in discomfort. She got the impression that he felt weak or helpless, like a victim. But that was hardly the case, from her perspective. She had to smother a gasp as she revealed his upper body.
Good Lord. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him. Just muscle. He radiated power, from his large hands and strong forearms, to his bulging biceps and the hard wall of his chest. His stomach was flat and subtly ridged.
Lauren had known he was built. She’d felt his torso against hers, and bandaged his impressive biceps just a few hours ago. But real life was even better than her imagination. She drank him in greedily, her gaze drifting lower.
Moistening her lips, she brought a trembling hand to his fly.
He caught her wrist. “Leave it.”
Walking toward the water, he stuck his head in the stream, letting it flow over his neck and down his good arm. He made a sound of relief, as if the cold felt soothing. When he looked sufficiently wet, she approached with the soap.
He glanced over his shoulder warily. Wearing a guarded expression, he allowed her to shampoo his hair. While he rinsed, ducking his head forward once again, she studied the slick expanse of his back, mesmerized.
He turned, catching her in the act.
She tried to focus on the task, instead of his amazing physique. Squeezing more soap into her palm, she applied it to his chest. Oh mama, he felt good. She lathered his armpits, which were dense with hair, and his smooth, hard pecs. His nipples were tight. His stomach was tight. Everything was tight.
He had more hair on his belly, a sexy strip that led into his waistband. His jeans were soaked, hanging dangerously low on his hips. His internal obliques were amazing. As was his erection, straining the wet denim.
Jesus. How could he, in this cold?
Her startled gaze flew up to his face.
“I’ll take care of the rest.”
Heart racing, she gave him the soap. “I can untie your boots, if you want. That way you can just...finish up.”
A muscle in his jaw clenched. “Go ahead.”
She dropped to her knees before him. The cold concrete bit into her tender skin, and her fingertips trembled as she worked on the laces. She was intensely aware of her suggestive pose, the heat of his body and his aroused state.
It was easy to imagine him unbuttoning his fly and threading his fingers through her hair, bringing her forward.
She wouldn’t need coaxing.
Her face flamed as she struggled with a knot in the shoelace. When it was free, she loosened the slack so he could kick off his boots. His jeans weren’t snug, so she didn’t think he’d have a problem stepping out of them.
Finished, she sat back on her heels and glanced up. He was watching her intently. His face was so taut it looked like it might break. Of their own volition, her eyes traveled back down his torso, settling on his distended fly. He seemed to swell further under her half-lidded gaze. She moistened her lips, smothering a moan.
Although she hadn’t made a conscious decision to cross the line with him, she was ready, at that moment, to do whatever he wanted. He was visibly in need. She would take pleasure in pleasing him.
Her morals and standards went out the window. The vow of abstinence just evaporated, like the moisture rising from his jeans.
Instead of taking advantage of her unspoken offer, he pulled her to her feet. Their gazes locked and her heart thumped wildly inside her chest. What did he think of her? If he found her unappealing, or lacking shame, he didn’t say. He just stared at her mouth, breathing hard, his face just inches from hers.
Her lips trembled and her eyes filled with tears.
“Don’t,” he said, cupping her chin.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t feel bad. You know how much I want you.”
She had a pretty good idea, if the size of his erection was any indication. He was close enough that she could feel the warring sensations of cold denim on hot skin. Behind him, the water continued to rush down the wall.
He traced her mouth with his thumb, brushing back and forth. She parted her lips, trying to draw him in. Groaning, he dropped his hand and stepped away, shoving his head under the stream to drown his desire.
She retreated, her pulse heavy. He hadn’t watched her shower, so she turned her back, giving him the same courtesy. After a few minutes, she heard him step out of the water. When he cleared his throat, indicating that he was ready, she glanced over her shoulder. He’d managed to pull up the coveralls to his waist. Bending down, he removed a few items from the pocket of his wet jeans.
She was still shivering, from cold and uncertainty. She’d practically begged him for sex, and he’d declined.
This was humiliating.
He looked into the backseat of the car before opening the door. It was the same one Owen had camped out in, and relatively clean inside. “Will you let me hold you?”
Nodding, she grabbed the blanket and climbed into the backseat with him. He put his good arm around her and she covered them with the blanket. They cuddled together, generating body heat. She pressed her face to his throat and tried not to cry.
“Are you warm now?”
She lifted her head. “Yes.”
He cupped her face again, rubbing his thumb over her cheek. His gaze was on her mouth. It hadn’t escaped her attention that he was still aroused. Need for her radiated from him. She felt a matching sensation, curling in her belly. After a short hesitation, he leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers.
She was too numb to respond, at first. He kissed her slack lips, the corner of her mouth. A tendril of wet hair clung to her chin. He brushed it aside, tasting the track of moisture there. When his mouth returned to hers, she moaned, parting her lips. His tongue swept in and his thumb pressed to her cheek. She kissed him back tentatively, lifting her hands to his damp head. The wet heat of his mouth felt delicious. Life affirming.
He broke the kiss, panting. “I want to make love to you.”
“You do?” It seemed obvious, with his hard length prodding her hip. But he’d refused her just moments ago.
“I want it to be good for you, too,” he explained.<
br />
“You didn’t want—”
“Of course I did. But I want this more.” He put his hand on her thigh, stroking. “I want to touch you and kiss you and make you come.”
She groaned, bringing his mouth back to hers. Their tongues met, tangling together, seeking heat. His hand flexed on her thigh, sliding from her knee to the hem of her sweatshirt and down again. Although she hadn’t shaved her legs in a few days, he didn’t seem to mind. “Your skin is so soft,” he said, between kisses.
She’d never been this turned on in her life, and they’d barely started. Even so, she needed to ask him something before they continued. “Wait,” she said, moving her hands from his hair to his face. His coarse stubble prickled against her fingertips. The light from the lantern, still on the back hood, made his green eyes gleam.
“Tell me this,” she said, searching his gaze. “Do you love her?”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
GARRETT REMOVED HIS HAND from her thigh: a bad sign.
His throat worked with agitation as he considered his answer. “It’s not that simple,” he said finally.
She recoiled in shock. “Are you going to break up?”
“No.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not free,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I can’t have a relationship with you. When...if...we get out of here, it’s over.”
Her arms dropped to her sides and her shoulders slumped. Well, that was bald honesty. She’d asked for it.
“I don’t blame you for hating me,” he said. “I hate myself. But I have to tell you that I’ve never felt this way before. I’m crazy about you, Lauren. I love the way you smell, the sound of your voice, the taste of your mouth and how sexy you look on your knees. I’m amazed by your strength and kindness and dedication. Despite this fucked-up situation, I’ve loved every moment I’ve spent with you.”
Tears flooded her eyes, because she believed him.
“I have nothing to offer you and I don’t expect anything in return,” he continued. “Even if you say no, I’ll remember this night for the rest of my life.”
Lauren didn’t know why she let him kiss her again. Maybe because his words soothed her bruised ego. Or maybe she was just too far gone to stop. Her body hummed with desire, and he was the only man who could satisfy her. When he buried a hand in her hair and plundered her mouth with his tongue, she surrendered completely.
“Yes?” he asked, pausing to make sure.
“Yes,” she said against his lips. Desperate for him to continue, before she changed her mind, she grasped his wrist and moved his hand to her breast. “Touch me,” she said, licking his mouth.
Discussion time was over.
With a strangled sound of approval, he squeezed her soft flesh and curled his tongue around hers. The kiss was so erotically charged, it felt like sex. He seemed enthralled by her taste, in love with her mouth. Her nipple tightened in his palm, and he swept his thumb back and forth over the beaded tip.
A pulse throbbed between her legs, heavy and hot.
She reached for the zipper of her sweatshirt, wanting no barriers between his hand and her flesh. The soft rasp of metal caught his attention. He lifted his head, watching with hungry fascination as she revealed a strip of bare skin along the center of her body. She paused at her belly button, unsure how far to go. He covered his fingertips with hers and pulled the zipper all the way down.
The sweatshirt fell open, exposing...everything.
His jaw went slack.
She let him look, fighting the urge to cover herself.
“Unh,” he said, staring at her breasts, her stomach, between her legs. He must have liked what he saw, because he crushed his mouth over hers, using a lot less finesse than before. Thrilled by his urgency, she wrapped her arms around his neck and slid her thigh over his, straining to get closer. They both gasped when her bare breasts met the hard wall of his chest. He trailed his hand down her back until he reached her squirming bottom. With a low groan, he cupped her buttocks, kissing her harder.
She wanted to touch him, too. Sinking her teeth into his lower lip, she skimmed her palms along his taut abdomen. The coarse hair on his belly made her fingertips tingle. His coveralls were still unfastened, his erection tenting the fabric. She wrapped her hand around him, testing his thickness.
Oh, yes.
He let out a hissing breath as she stroked him up and down. Her inner muscles clenched in response, eager to try him on for size.
“Stop,” he said with a grimace, stilling her motions.
“Do you have a condom?”
He pulled her hand away from his lap and pushed her back against the seat, giving her a rough kiss. “Yes,” he said, panting. He removed a square package from his pocket.
Instead of suiting up for the main event, he tossed the condom aside and filled his hand with her breast, trapping her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. She arched her back, gasping as he dipped his head to suck the pebbled tip. When both of her nipples were red and puckered, he changed focus, smoothing his palm along the inside of her thigh. She spread her legs on instinct, giving him greater access. Her sex tingled with sensation.
When his fingertips made contact with her, he went still. She was plump and swollen, soaking wet. His breathing grew ragged as he traced her slippery cleft.
Splaying her hands on the seat, she parted her thighs wider. His nostrils flared as if he could smell her arousal. He circled her opening with his forefinger and slid it inside. She groaned, welcoming the intrusion.
“Feel good?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said. God, yes.
Moistening his lips, as if hungry for a taste, he slid his blunt finger in and out of her. He had to know she was ready, but he repeated the motion again and again. Her nipples were tight, her sex aching. When he withdrew his finger, it was slick.
He moved higher, circling her clitoris. “And this?”
Beyond words, she groaned and let her head fall back against the seat. He watched her face while he stroked her, his eyes hooded. It didn’t take long. The orgasm rushed through her, fluttering inside her belly, making her cry out in pleasure.
His touch gentled and she slumped against his shoulder, panting. When she glanced up at him, he kissed her relaxed mouth. He didn’t seem in any hurry to put on the condom, so she picked up the package and tore it open with her teeth. She rolled the latex over him, with some difficulty. It was a snug fit.
The touch of his callused fingertips was delicious, but she needed more. She longed to be filled by him. She wanted to watch him come.
He pushed the coveralls down to his ankles and she climbed aboard, straddling his lap. When she enveloped him, inch by inch, he made a strangled sound and grasped her hips, impaling her completely.
If she wasn’t so wet, he’d have been hard to handle. As it was, he stretched her to the limits, creating a delicious sense of fullness. Pausing to let her body adjust, she studied his face. His eyes were squeezed shut, his forehead dotted with perspiration.
“Feel good?” she asked.
“Fuck,” he ground out, his teeth clenched. “Yes.”
She wriggled upward and slid back down slowly, teasingly, making him slick with her moisture. “Like this?”
He groaned in agony. “I can’t last.”
“It’s okay,” she said, brushing her lips over his. Instead of torturing him further, she braced her palms on his shoulders and moved her hips in sinuous motions. He
felt huge and hot inside her. Her breasts jostled against his hard-muscled chest.
Steam rose up between them, fogging up the windows in the backseat.
He was right about not lasting, but she found it endearing, and desperately sexy. When he stiffened and shuddered, his body jerking against hers, she cradled his head to her breasts, muffling his hoarse shout.
After a long moment, he moved her off his lap and went to dispose of the condom. She zipped up her sweatshirt and snuggled into the blanket. When he returned, he wrapped his good arm around her, pressing his lips to her head. She rested her head against his chest, drowsy with satisfaction.
Although she hadn’t forgotten what he’d said earlier, she didn’t dwell on it. They’d been through too much together. She couldn’t fight her emotions anymore. Right now, she needed to feel close to someone.
She could pretend he was hers, for just one night.
“‘Tell me of your homeworld, Usul.’”
He laughed at the Dune quote. “Nebraska, you mean?”
She nodded against his chest.
“There’s not much to tell. It’s flat, and boring, and full of cows. I couldn’t wait to get out.”
“What did you do for fun?”
“Jump hay bales.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Shooting guns was also popular.”
“Did you have a girlfriend?”
“Sure. Cindy Myers.”
“Was she cute?”
“God, yeah. Her dad owned the soybean mill, so she was town royalty. All the boys liked her. I never got past first base, though.”
Lauren smiled at the description. “What did your dad do?”
“He worked at the mill. Still does.”
“Was he proud when you joined the military?”
“No. He was against it. Said that the government took advantage of poor boys while rich men made money off war.”
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