by Lori Foster
She didn’t care. He could look all he wanted as long as he kissed her like that again. Shaking her head, Elizabeth ignored the way some of her hair tumbled free. “No,” she admitted. “I used to daydream about a man doing that some day.” She stroked his head, luxuriating in the cool silk of his thick hair. “But never a man like you, and it never felt quite that…deep.”
His hands settled on either side of her hips, his long fingers curving to her buttocks. Heavy-lidded, he watched her. “What do you mean by deep?”
Elizabeth placed her hand low on her belly. “I feel it here. Every small lick or suck…I feel it inside me.”
Gabe groaned again, then feasted on her other nipple. Elizabeth let her hands drift down his strong shoulders, then farther to his upper arms. She felt half insensate with the pleasure, half driven by curiosity to explore his pronounced biceps. His arms were rigid, braced hard on the chair and her behind.
He leaned back again, his breath heavy, his mouth wet. Still he looked at her body, not her face. “What did you mean, a man like me?”
Elizabeth had to gather her wits, had to force her eyes open. Gabe lifted one hand and, with the edge of his thumb, teased a wet nipple. The sheet offered no barrier at all, and when she looked down, Elizabeth could see that the sheet was all but transparent.
She wanted his mouth on her again.
“I always thought…” She swallowed hard, trying to form the correct words. “I’d hoped that some day I’d get intimate with a man, but I assumed he’d be more like me.”
Slowly, Gabe’s gaze lifted until he was studying her intently. But his hand was still on her breast, still driving her to distraction. “Like you, how?”
She shook her head. “Boring. Introverted. Something of a wallflower. Homely.”
She gasped as Gabe lurched to his feet and glared at her. Her mouth open in a small O, her eyes wide, she watched him, uncertain what had caused that sudden, heated reaction.
Gabe propped his hands on his lean hips, and his chest rose and fell with his labored efforts to gain control. His eyes were burning, his brows down, his mouth a hard line.
He shook his head and made a disgusted sound. “Damn it, Red, now you’ve gone and made me mad.”
GABE WATCHED HER struggle to follow his words. She looked like sin and temptation and sweetness all wrapped together. Her heavy dark red hair was half up, half down, giving her a totally wanton look. Her skin was flushed beyond the sunburn, her eyes heavy lidded with sensuality but somewhat dazed by his annoyance.
It made him unreasonably angry for her to put herself down, though what she’d said had mirrored his earlier thoughts. Looking at her, he doubted any man could think her unattractive. He sure as hell didn’t.
Reminded of that, he stalked a foot closer and grabbed her wrist, carrying her hand to his groin. Her mouth fell open as he forced her palm against his erection. “You know what that means, Red?”
She nodded dumbly, so still she wasn’t even breathing.
“What? Tell me what it means?”
Her eyes left his face to stare at her hand, then to his face again. “That you’re excited.”
“Right. Do you think I’d get excited over a homely woman?”
She didn’t answer.
He moved her hand, forcing her to stroke him, driving himself crazy. “The answer is no,” he said with a rasp. “Now here’s another question.” The words were forced out through his teeth because Lizzy was no longer passive. Her hand had relaxed, opened, and her fingers curved around him. In a moment of wonder, Gabe realized he was the first guy she’d ever touched.
It was a heady thought.
He wasn’t having an easy time controlling himself, but two deep breaths later, he finally managed to say, “Do you think, Red, that this happens to me often?”
“Yes.”
That one breathy whispered word nearly made his knees buckle. He released her wrist and stepped back, but she leaned forward at the same time, maintaining the contact. “Well, you’re wrong.” He nearly strangled when she licked her lips in innocent, unthinking suggestion, her gaze still glued to his crotch. Gabe growled and said, “If you stroke me one more time you’re going to see the consequences.”
He clenched his fists, tightened his thighs, and luckily she let him go. When he could focus again, Gabe looked at her. Blinking rapidly, Lizzy continued to study his body. Suddenly aware of his renewed attention, she looked him in the eyes and asked, “Can I feel you some more?”
Yes. “No, not right now.”
“When?”
He nearly choked on a laugh. “You persistent, curious little witch,” he accused.
“You…you don’t want me to?”
“I want you to too much.”
Her tongue came out to stroke her lips again, making his blood thicken. “Then…”
“Tomorrow,” he said quickly, before she could push him over the edge with her wanton questions. Knowing she wanted him, knowing he’d be the first man she’d ever explored, that she’d learn from him, was possibly the strongest aphrodisiac known to man. “At the drive-in. We’ll go to second base, remember?”
Her eyes were dreamy. “You promise?”
Gabe gave one sharp nod while stifling a reflexive groan. He’d never survive. Was she wet right now? He’d be willing to bet she was, wet and hot, and he knew in every fiber of his being that she’d be so tight she’d kill him with pleasure. “I should go.”
She came to her feet so fast she nearly stumbled over the sheet. Gabe caught her by the upper arms, heard her sharp intake of breath as his hands closed tightly on her burned skin, and he cursed himself. He released her, but she didn’t step away; she stepped closer.
He felt like a total cad. “I can’t believe I’m here seducing you when you’re in pain.” He’d aroused her, but there wasn’t much chance of satisfying her without also causing her a lot of discomfort. She was so sunburned that just about any position would be impossible.
Her big eyes stared at him with wonder. “You were seducing me?”
Gabe stared at the ceiling, looking for inspiration but finding none. “What the hell did you think I was doing, Lizzy?”
She said simply, “Playing with me.”
“Oh, yeah.” A fresh surge of blood rushed to his groin, making him break out in a sweat. He felt every pulse beat in his erection, and ground his teeth with the need to finish what he’d started.
He was so hard he hurt and he knew damn well he’d have a hell of a time sleeping tonight. “I’ll play with you, all right. Playing with a woman’s body is about the most pleasure a man can expect. And when a woman has a body like yours…I’m not sure I can live through it.”
She stared at him while she chewed on her lips, and he could almost see the wheels turning. Gently, he touched a finger to her swollen mouth. “No, sweetheart, we can’t tonight. You’re in no shape to tussle with a man, and I’m too damn horny to be as careful as I’d need to be.”
Her eyes flared over his blunt language, but he was too far gone to attempt romantic clichés. She touched his chest tentatively. “Would…would you like to just stay and talk for awhile?”
So you can work on seducing me? He knew he should say no, should remove himself from temptation, but he couldn’t. She looked so hopeful, so sweet and aroused, he nodded. “Sure. Why don’t you go get a dry sheet and I’ll pour us some drinks. Sawyer did say you should have lots of fluids.”
Her smile was beatific. “Okay.”
Gabe watched the sassy sway of a perfect heart-shaped bottom and groaned anew. Damn, she was hot, and her being unaware of it only made her more so.
He found two tall glasses in the cabinet and opened the tiny apartment-size fridge. There was orange juice, milk and one cola. He poured two glasses of orange juice and carried them into the living room. When he set them down, he again noticed the pictures on the shelves and walked closer to examine them.
One was of a much younger Lizzy. Her red hair gave her away, alth
ough in the photo she wore long skinny braids and had braces on her teeth. Gabe grinned, thinking she looked oddly cute. An older woman with hair of a similar color, cut short and stylish, smiled into the camera while hugging Lizzy close. Her mother, Gabe decided, and felt a sadness for Lizzy’s loss. No child should ever lose a mother at such a young age.
The other picture was of her father, sitting in a straight-backed chair, with Lizzy behind him. She had one pale hand on his shoulder; neither of them were smiling. Her father looked tired but kind, and Lizzy had an endearing expression of forbearance, as if she’d hated having the picture taken. She was older in this one, probably around seventeen. She was just starting to grow into her looks, he decided. Her freckles were more pronounced, her eyes too large, her chin too stubborn. Added years had softened her features and made them more feminine.
As Gabe went to replace the framed photograph on the shelf, he caught sight of an album. Curious, thinking to find more pictures of her and her life, Gabe picked it up and settled into the sofa. A folded transcript of her grades fell out. As he’d suspected, Lizzy was an overachiever, with near perfect marks in every subject. She’d already received recognition from the dean for being at the head of her class. He shook his head, wondering how anyone could take life so seriously. Then he opened the album.
What he found shocked him speechless.
There were numerous clipped articles, all of them focusing on her mother’s death. They appeared to be from small hometown papers, and Gabe could relate because of all the fanfare he’d gotten in the local papers when he’d stopped the runaway boat.
Only these articles didn’t appear to be very complimentary. Keeping one ear open for signs of Lizzy’s return, Gabe began to read.
Girl fails to react: Eleanor Parks died in her car Saturday night after being forced off the road by a semi. The overturned car wasn’t visible from the road, and while Elizabeth Parks escaped with nonfatal injuries, shock kept her from seeking help. Medical authorities speculate that, with timely intervention, Mrs. Parks may well have survived.
Appalled, Gabe read headline after headline, and with each word, a horrible ache expanded in his heart, making his chest too tight, his eyes damp. God, he could only imagine her torment.
Daughter Slow to React: Mother Dies
Unnecessary Death—The Trauma of Shock
Daughter Stricken with Grief—Must Be Hospitalized
Father Defends Daughter in Time of Grief
What could it have felt like for a twelve-year-old child to accept the guilt of her mother’s death? Not only had she lost the one person she was likely closest to, but she’d been blamed by insensitive reporters and medical specialists.
Feeling a cross between numbness and unbearable pain, Gabe carefully replaced the album beneath the photos. He thrust his fisted hands into his pockets and paced. So this was what had her in such an all-fire tizzy to interview heroes. He grunted to himself, fair sick of the damn word and its connotations. How could an intelligent, independent woman compare her reactions as a twelve-year-old child to those of a grown man? It was ludicrous, and he wanted to both shake her and cuddle her close, swearing that nothing would ever hurt her again.
He swallowed hard against the tumultuous, conflicting emotions that left him feeling adrift, uncertain of himself and his purpose. When he heard her bedroom door open, he stepped away from the shelves and crossed the carpeted floor to stare at her with volatile feelings that simmered close to erupting. They weren’t exactly joyous feelings, but feelings of acute awareness of her as a woman, him as a man, of the differences in their lives and how shallow he’d been in his assumptions.
Lizzy, wrapped in a very soft, pale blue terry-cloth robe, widened her eyes at him and asked carefully, “Gabe? What’s wrong?”
It felt like his damn heart was lodged in his throat, making it hard to swallow, doubly hard to speak. He hated it, hated himself and his cavalier attitude. Gently he cupped her face in his palms and bent to kiss her soft mouth, which still trembled slightly with the urges he’d deliberately created. He’d thought to say something soothing to her, something reassuring, but as her mouth opened and her hands sought his shoulders, Gabe decided on a different approach.
He’d get Lizzy over her ridiculous notions of guilt. He’d make her see herself as he saw her—a sexy, adorable woman filled with mysteries and depth. And he’d make damn sure she enjoyed herself in the bargain.
7
ELIZABETH FELT like she was floating, her feet never quite touching the ground. She said hello to the people she passed on the main street while heading to the diner to meet Misty and Honey Hudson. She hadn’t had much sleep the night before, having been too tightly strung from wanting Gabe and from the slight lingering discomfort of her sunburn.
Today it was a toss-up as to which bothered her more. Gabe had stayed an additional hour, but he hadn’t resumed the heated seduction. Instead, he’d been so painstakingly gentle, so filled with concern and comfort, it had been all she could do not to curl up on his lap and cuddle. He’d have let her. Heck, he’d tried several times to instigate just such a thing.
By the time he’d left and she’d prepared for bed, she’d been tingling all over, ultrasensitized by the brush of his mouth, the stroke of his fingertips, his low husky voice and constant string of compliments.
He thought her freckles were sexy. He thought her red hair was sexy. Oh, the things he’d said about her hair. She blushed again, remembering the way he’d looked at her while speculating on the contrast of her almost-brown brows and the vivid red of her hair, wondering about the curls on the rest of her body.
He was big and muscular and outrageous and all male. She’d already decided that if he was willing to begin an involvement, she’d be an utter fool to rebuff him. The things he made her feel were too wonderful to ignore.
When she entered the small diner, several male heads turned her way. They didn’t look at her as Gabe did, but rather with idle curiosity because she was a new face. She located the women, talking to a waitress at the back of the diner in a semiprivate booth. They all had their backs to her as she approached.
She was only a few feet away when she heard Misty say, “I think he’s dumbstruck by his own interest. She’s not at all the type of woman he usually goes after and he doesn’t know what to make of that.”
Honey laughed. “That’s an understatement. Sawyer told me Gabe started chasing the ladies when he was just a kid, and he usually caught them. By the time he was fifteen, they were chasing him.”
The waitress shook her head. Elizabeth recognized her as one of the women who’d been at the docks the day she’d first tracked down Gabe.
“That’s nothing but the truth,” the woman said. “Gabe can sit on the dock and the boats will pull in or idle by just to look at him. He always accepts it as his due, because it’s what he’s used to. I remember how he reacted when Elizabeth first showed up there. He didn’t like her at all, but then she didn’t seem to like him much, either, and I sorta think that’s the draw. He’s not used to women not gushing all over him.”
“I just hope he doesn’t hurt her. Gabe is a long way from being ready to settle down for more than a little recreation. But every woman he gets together with falls in love with him.”
Misty agreed with her sister. “He’s a hedonistic reprobate, but an adorable one.”
Elizabeth was frozen to the spot. She wasn’t an eavesdropper by nature, but she hadn’t quite been able to announce herself. In love with Gabe? Yes, she supposed she was halfway there. How stupid of her, how naive to think he’d be truly interested in her for more than a quick tumble. As the women had implied, he evidently found her odd and was challenged by her.
The differences between her and Gabe had never felt more pronounced than at that precise moment. Because she was so inexperienced, not just sexually but when it came to relationships of any kind, she knew she’d be vulnerable to a man’s attention. And Gabe wasn’t just any man. His interest in her,
no matter how short-term, was like the quintessential Cinderella story. Gabe was more than used to taking what he wanted from women, not in a selfish demand, but in shared pleasure. He’d assumed Elizabeth understood that, and that the enjoyment of playtime would be mutual. And it would be. She’d see to it.
A short, humorless laugh nearly choked her…and drew the three women’s attention. Elizabeth mentally shook her head as she stepped forward with a feigned smile. None of it mattered; she still wanted him, wanted to experience everything he could show her, teach her. She wanted to really truly feel once again. Since her mother’s death and the appearance of the harsh, dragging guilt, it seemed as if she hadn’t really been living, that anything heartfelt or lasting had been blunted by the need to make amends, to understand her weakness.
Her heart hurt, but pride would keep her from showing it. She’d accept Gabriel Kasper on any terms, and he’d never know that she dreamed of more. She’d enjoy herself, without regrets, without demands.
Despite her past, she deserved that much.
The waitress, looking cautious, indicated a chair. “Hey, there, Elizabeth. Remember me?”
Again, Elizabeth smiled. “Ceily, from the boat docks, right? Yes, I remember. I hadn’t realized you worked here.” She carefully lowered herself into her seat and nodded at both sisters. Honey and Misty looked guilty, and Elizabeth tried to reassure them by pretending she hadn’t heard a thing. “I hope I’m not too late?”
“Not at all,” Misty said quickly. Her baby was sitting beside her in the booth on a pumpkin seat. “I hope you don’t mind that I brought Amber along.”
Elizabeth leaned over slightly to peer at the baby. “How could anyone ever object to that darling little angel?”
When she’d been a young girl, still fanciful and filled with daydreams, Elizabeth used to imagine someday having a baby, coddling it as her mother had coddled her, but she’d set those fantasies aside when she’d accepted her shortcomings.
Misty beamed at the compliment. “Strangely enough, she looks just like Morgan.”
