A flash of heat leaped into life between them and Gabe sucked in a breath at the hard punch of desire. Then he took one long step backward, purposely putting her far out of arm's reach. They were too close here. Too alone. And one more touch, one more spark might be all that was needed to start up a fire they wouldn't have a chance of extinguishing.
Especially when a part of him didn't want the fire put out at all. Lately, his self-control had been sorely tested and he wasn't sure just how much more temptation he could take.
Shifting his gaze from hers, he said gruffly, "Look, you lay out what you want to take with you and I'll pull the buggy around back. Make it easier to load everything."
He started for the door then, but her voice stopped him before he could escape.
"What are you so afraid of, Gabe?"
He did a slow turn, met her gaze with his, and through tightly clenched teeth, told her the simple truth. "You, lady. You scare hell out of me."
Maggie pulled in a deep breath to steady the nerves humming into life inside her. "You scare me too," she said and moved close enough to reach up and lay one hand on his cheek. He turned his face into her palm briefly, and she couldn't be sure, but she thought he kissed her hand. When he looked at her again, she added, “I like how you make me feel."
Gabe smiled at her briefly. "So do I, Maggie. Too much."
Chapter Fifteen
Late into the night, Maggie painted.
The incident with Sugar, the trip out to the farm Gabe's startling confession had all somehow come together to feed her creativity. Or, at the very least, to make sleep impossible so that it was either lie in bed staring at the ceiling, or get up and paint.
Stretching her right arm out, she laid in a darker shade of gray as the shadow line on her nearly finished mural of a trellis. As she worked, her mind spun from one thought to the next and eventually settled on Gabe.
Her brain drew up image after image of him, smiling, arguing, looking at her with a fire in his eyes. Her stomach pitched unexpectedly and Maggie pulled in a deep breath, hoping to steady it.
But it was useless.
Almost from the first, he'd unsettled her in a way that no one else ever had. He'd made her think, made her angry, and made her want him with a fierceness she never would have believed possible. That alone astounded her. She was no shy virgin. She'd been married, had been bedded, then discarded. She'd experienced sex and after her wedding night had decided that, for a woman, sex was strictly a means to having children. Oh, kissing was certainly pleasant, but as for the rest, despite how much men seemed to enjoy it, she'd rather sleep.
So to suddenly find herself actually wanting Gabe in her bed was surprising, to say the least.
She paused for a moment, let her arm hang at her side as she rolled her shoulder, trying to ease out the kinks in the muscles. And as the ache eased, she turned her mind back to the scene with Sugar outside the church, and recalled the sensation of knowing Gabe was there, right behind her. He hadn't pushed himself to the front, ready to fight her battles. He hadn't treated her as though she were incapable of defending herself. What he'd done was more important than that.
His hand on her shoulder had shown her that he was there if she needed him. He'd let her know she wasn’t alone.
And after years of loneliness, that was the greatest gift of all.
"Aren't you tired yet?”
"Jesus!" Maggie jumped, startled, and whirled around to look at Gabe, silhouetted in the doorway leading to the kitchen. The lamps she'd lit hours ago were beginning to sputter and their flame-cast shadows danced on the walls.
Shaking her head, she told him, "If you don't quit scaring me like that, my hair's going to be snow-white."
He leaned against the doorjamb, and even from across the room, she felt the power of his gaze drift over her.
"You'd still look too damned good.”
"Thank you?" she asked. If that was a compliment, he didn't sound happy about it.
He lifted one hand and pointed at the wall behind her. "You don't have to work all night, you know."
"Did I wake you?"
"No." He straightened up and came farther into the room. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he said, “Couldn't sleep. Too quiet.”
"Ah." She nodded and smiled. “You're still not used to Sunday nights in Regret. Even the saloon closes early on Sundays."
He nodded, still walking, and she watched him move in and out of the puddles of lamplight dotting the floor. He was barefoot again and shirtless and Maggie had to wonder why, if she scared him as much as he claimed, he was here. Now. Alone with her in the darkness.
A spiral of warmth started low in the pit of her stomach and then spread even lower. Heat blossomed inside her and made her legs quake so hard, she locked her knees in an effort to stay upright. She didn't understand the sensations rippling through her, but damned if they weren't pleasant. As he came closer, she was acutely aware of her own worn nightgown and the fact that she wore nothing beneath it.
And she wondered what it would feel like to have Gabe's hands on her body. A rush of expectation tempered by experience filled her. After all, she'd had a man's hands on her body before…much to her own disappointment.
He stopped a few feet from her and she didn't know if she was glad about that or not.
Looking up at the vine-covered trellis that was nearly finished, he said quietly, "Looks good."
"Thank you," she said and wondered if he heard the raw huskiness in her voice.
A moment passed, then two. And still, neither of them spoke. When the silence became nearly unbearable though, Gabe said, "I've been thinking."
"About what?” Her mouth was so dry, she could barely form the words. Flickering light played on his bare chest and Maggie couldn't seem to tear her gaze away from the hard, muscled strength of him.
"Maggie," he said on a groan, "I can't talk to you if you keep looking at me like that.”
She pulled in a shaky breath and forced her gaze up, to meet his. What she found in his eyes made breathing at all nearly impossible. "Am I scaring you again?"
"Damn right, you are,” he said tightly.
"Only fair," she quipped, with a lightheartedness she didn't feel. "You do the same thing to me."
He flinched and she saw the muscle in his jaw twitch.
"I won't hurt you, Maggie.”
"Yes you will," she said breathlessly. Swallowing hard, she went on before he could argue. "You're going to leave, and that will hurt me."
Even saying the words sent small spasms of pain radiating throughout her body.
"I know," he muttered and sighed heavily. In the half-light, his features looked tight. "If I could change things, I want you to know, I would.”
"But you can't.”
"No," he whispered and she heard the pain and regret in his voice. "I can't."
She nodded, accepting that for the moment. "All right, what were you thinking about?”
He rubbed one hand across the back of his neck and she tried not to watch his chest muscles shift with the motion.
"I've been thinking, maybe it would be better for both of us if”—he paused and looked into her eyes—“I moved out took a room at the hotel."
Maggie shook her head. "Why?"
"You know why," he said tightly. Waving one hand at her, he went on. "We keep running into each other dressed like this, something's going to happen. Something that shouldn't.”
She smoothed one hand down the front of her nightgown and, as she did, felt the rapid beating of her own heart. "You want to leave?”
"No, I don't want to, but—“
"Then don't," she said quickly.
The night was so quiet, it was as though they were the only two people left in the world. Old sheets were tacked up over the front windows, shutting out the view of Main Street and enveloping them in a quiet, candlelit, shadow-filled room. It was as if there were no town right outside, no sleeping son upstairs. Just the darkness and her and Gabe. Tog
ether.
On that word, her mind filled with delicious images.
Gabe kissing her, holding her tightly, laying her down across a bed and then lowering himself to lie alongside her. Gabe joining his body to hers and her holding him while pleasure took him to a place she couldn't share.
“God, woman," he muttered, "get that look off your face.”
"What look?" she asked, her voice low and dreamy.
“The look that asks me to do everything I've thought of doing to you for weeks."
"Oh my." Her heartbeat tripled and she struggled to draw air into heaving lungs. "You've thought about it too?"
He snorted a choked laugh. “Only every minute I'm around you and then when I’m not.” Shoving one hand through his hair, he grumbled, "Why the hell do you think I said you scared me? Why else would I be looking to find a room somewhere else?"
"Would your moving be enough to quiet what’s between us?"
He snorted. "Hell, no. But it might make it a little easier to live with."
"What if I don't want you to go?"
He threw his hands wide and let them fall to his sides again. "It wouldn't be any good. I can't offer you what you want. What you need."
"And what's that?” she asked.
His gaze found hers. “Forever, Maggie. You're the kind who needs forever.”
She dropped her paintbrush to the nearby tabletop and moved toward him. "And what if I said I wasn't interested in forever?"
He gave her a sad, tired smile that tugged at her heart. "Then you'd be lying."
Yes, she thought. She would. She'd always wanted forever. But she'd stopped believing she would find it. Jake's father had convinced her to never seek love again. But then Gabe had arrived, and in just a few weeks, he had become more important to her, more a part of her life, than her late husband ever had.
And she didn't want to lose it, though she knew she would, the moment he left.
But that time was weeks away and they still had now. So for right now, tonight, she wasn't interested in tomorrow, or the day after that. All she cared about was this moment. This small piece of forever that she could claim and remember in the years to come.
She took another step closer to him and noted that he braced himself as if for battle. But this was one battle Maggie was going to win. For just a little while, she wanted to pretend that the world outside this room didn't exist. She wanted to feel alive. She wanted to feel his hands on her. And tomorrow could take care of itself.
"For tonight," she whispered as she took the last step that brought her right up against him, "there is no tomorrow. No forever. There's only us."
"Maggie, you don't know what you're saying,” he said tightly.
"Yes I do," she told him and reached up to put her arms around his neck. Her hands slid up his bare shoulders, loving the feel of his warm skin beneath her palms. Spearing her fingers through his thick hair, she watched a glazed look cross his eyes and knew that he wouldn't fight her much longer. "I’m not a virginal spinster being lured off into the shadows by some unredeemable rake."
He choked out a short laugh.
"This is my idea. What I want. You're not forcing me into anything." She leaned in close to him, brushing her breasts against his chest. Her breath caught at the sensation of worn fabric scraping across her nipples and she heard him groan as his arms came around her like twin bands of iron.
He buried his face in the crook of her neck and murmured, "Maggie, Maggie, this isn't why I came in here tonight."
“I know. You wanted to leave me."
"No."
"Are you sorry you came in here?”
Lifting his head, he stared down into her eyes and said, "No, God help us both, I'm not. I only hope you won't be tomorrow."
She shook her head gently and reminded him, “There is no tomorrow remember?”
Moving one hand up to cup her face, he nodded and whispered, "No tomorrow. Only tonight. And you." Then he lowered his head and claimed her mouth with his.
Maggie sighed and gave herself up to the wave of sensation pouring through her. He parted her lips with his tongue and laid siege to her soul. Again and again, he teased her, his tongue tasting, exploring, twining with hers. Her hands clutched at him, fingers digging into his shoulders, then moving up and down his broad, bare back, loving the feel of him, wanting more. She fell against him then and he held on to her as he slowly sank down onto the floor.
Then they were kneeling and he rained kisses all over her face. His lips dusted across her eyelids, her cheeks, along her jaw and back up to her waiting mouth. His hands fisted in her nightgown at the small of her back. He held her tighter to him, as though he was trying to pull her inside make them one.
Her mind spun out of control as too many sensations presented themselves at once. She held on to his shoulders as if her grip on him meant her life and let him take her where he would.
This was all so new to her. This desire. This wrenching, pulsing need soaring inside her. She'd never known this kind of pleasure. To her late husband, a kiss had been only a prelude to the business of bedding her, and though she'd enjoyed the kissing more than what had followed, she'd never felt what she did now. This rush of heat and light, as if her entire body was aglow with the flames of a thousand candles.
He tore his mouth from hers then and she sucked in air like a drowning woman. Gently, he laid her down on the shining wood floor and leaned over her, propping himself up on one elbow. Mind spinning, body humming, she tipped her head back and stared blindly at the glittering ceiling overhead as his lips trailed along her neck, leaving a warm, damp trail of kisses behind him.
When he reached the high collar of her nightgown, he lifted one hand to the buttons and quickly undid them, pulling the fabric aside to allow him access to the tender skin at the base of her throat.
More sensation. More warmth.
While his mouth teased her, she felt him lift the hem of her nightgown, pulling it up, over her calves, past her knees and high on her thighs. The cool air of the room dusted her bare skin and gooseflesh sent another shiver up her spine.
"Cold?" he whispered, lifting his head to look down at her.
Oh, she didn't think she'd ever be cold again. Her skin was on fire. Her blood was boiling and everything inside her felt as red-hot as the glowing end of a piece of firewood.
"No, I'm not," she said and reached up to cup his cheek. It was good of him to make this coupling nice for her as well, but she wanted to get the uncomfortable part of this business out of the way so that she could lie in his arms and enjoy being cuddled up beside him. Smoothing her thumb along his jawline, she smiled softly. "It was nice of you to spend so much time on me,” she whispered, "but you don't have to worry. I’m ready."
"Nice of me?” He smiled. "I don't know what you’re talking about. Ready for what?”
"Ready for you to take your pleasure," she said and reached down to bunch her nightgown at her hips.
"What are you doing?" he asked quietly, and she noted that he wasn't smiling anymore.
"Helping," she said softly, then drew her knees up and planted her feet firmly on the floor.
He glanced down at the open invitation she was affording him, then shifted his gaze back to hers. Clearly confused, he shook his head. “Are you in a hurry? Have a train to catch?"
"No," she said and, beginning to feel just a bit confused herself, lowered her legs and tugged the hem of her nightgown down far enough to cover herself modestly. "But…" She shifted slightly, looked up at him and whispered, "I don't understand, we've kissed and now it's time for you to…" She let the words fade off.
"To?”
Frowning slightly, she took a deep breath, blew it out, and said bluntly, “To bed me."
"Ah…" He nodded, understanding. He bent over her, planted a quick kiss on her mouth, then lifted his head again to look down at her. "You know something, Maggie?"
"What?”
"You were wrong. You are a virgin. In every way th
at matters."
"Don't be ridiculous. I'm a widow. I have a child."
"Yet you've only known the touch of a man too stupid to appreciate what he had when he had it.”
“I don't understand," she murmured, staring up at him.
"I know,” he told her, “but you will.” Then he reached out and laid one hand atop her fabric-covered breast.
"Oh my."
Maggie sucked in another gulp of air through clenched teeth. Tingles sparkled into life deep within her and she shifted again on the floor. His thumb and forefinger rubbed her hardened nipple, tugging at it, pulling the cotton fabric across its tip.
“Gabe…”
No one had ever done this before.
"Trust me, Maggie, we're not near ready yet.”
"We?" she whispered and caught her bottom lip with her teeth as he tugged at her nipple again.
"We."
Then he took his hand from her breast, and before she could moan the loss of his touch, he reached down, slipped his hand beneath her nightgown, and ran his palm up the length of her body until he was touching her bare breast without the barrier of cloth separating them.
"Oh my," she said again and her eyes widened.
His fingertips traced a slow circle around her nipple and then he cupped her fullness in the palm of his hand, fingers kneading the soft flesh gently.
Strange, incredible feelings skittered through her. She'd never known anything like it. Wouldn't have guessed that something this amazing existed. She reached for him and held on to his arms as he continued to explore her body beneath her nightgown. First one breast, then the other. First one sensitive nipple, then the other. Over and over, his hands and fingers touched, stroked, caressed.
Maggie's body trembled with the force of sensation rocketing around inside her. Her grasp on his arms weakened as her strength was drawn from her and still she wanted more.
Then in one, seemingly effortless motion, he pulled her nightgown up and over her head, baring her body to his gaze. In the candlelight, she watched him as he looked his fill of her and she realized that this was the first time a man had seen her body.
Kersey had never seemed interested. His quick, hard fumblings had been performed in the dark and were usually over and done with before Maggie had time to complain.
Catch a Fallen Angel Page 18
