to him, her heart rate escalating with each step. She knew exactly what she was inviting. So did he.
She stopped inches away from him, still staring into his eyes. They darkened into a deep mahogany flaring with want, maybe with need.
“What are you doing, Laurel?” His voice had grown deep, husky.
Her touch tentative, she placed her hand on his chest. She needed him. “We’re safe for a while,” she said. “Aren’t we?”
“That’s debatable,” he said softly.
He covered the hand resting on his chest with his and lifted her palm to his lips. He nipped at the pad then threaded his fingers through hers. “You know this is a mistake,” he said, his voice barely audible. “You don’t know me. Not really.”
A shiver skated down her spine at his words, but the naked longing in his eyes shoved aside her doubts.
She knew him.
“I’ve watched you. You gave up your safe existence to help me and Molly. You calmed her fears tonight. I know everything I need to know.”
“Even though the world thinks I’m a traitor.”
“I know the truth.” She shook her head, leaning closer, wanting more than anything for him to stop talking and kiss her.
“What if you’re wrong, Laurel?” He cupped her cheek and held her gaze captive. Her heart fluttered in response. His thumb grazed her cheek. “What if I’m a man who would do anything to get what he wants? I’m good at keeping secrets. And I’m very good at telling lies.”
She couldn’t stop staring at his lips. “I can tell when you’re lying, Garrett. Your eyes grow dark, and the right corner of your mouth tightens just a bit.”
Would his mouth be hard or soft, passionate or gentle against hers when they kissed?
“I don’t want you,” he said softly, his breath whispering against her cheek as he moved closer to her lips.
“You’re bluffing.”
“You’re too trusting.” He lowered his mouth to her ear. “But I don’t have the strength to pull away.”
She smiled. “Now you’re telling the truth.”
With a groan he fastened his lips to hers and wrapped his arms around her. She didn’t hesitate. She clung to him and let his mouth drive away the memories of the past week. For this wonderful moment all she could think about was his touch, his mouth exploring hers, the taste of him.
He lifted his head. “Be very sure, because I won’t let you go all night long.”
She didn’t answer, just pulled his mouth to hers once more. He groaned and swept her into his arms. With a long stride he carried her into the smaller bedroom, closing the door behind them. She didn’t notice the Spartan furniture; her only focus was on Garrett. She used the name of the sheriff she’d come to know, not the name of the man he used to be.
“I don’t know what the future holds, but I know what I want right now,” Laurel said. “I need you, Garrett.”
“Not more than I need you.” Gently he laid her on the bed, following her down, covering her with his weight.
She didn’t resist, but relished the feel of him on top of her. With a groan, he buried his lips against her neck, exploring the pulse points at the base of her throat. Laurel threaded her hands through his hair. Every kiss made her belly tingle with need. She wanted more.
“Please,” she whispered. “Kiss me.”
“I am,” he said softly, nipping at the delicate skin just below her ear.
“Garrett.” She couldn’t stop the frustration from lacing her voice.
“How about here?” He nibbled the lobe of her ear. “Or here?” He worked his way down, shifting her shirt aside, and tasted the skin just above her collarbone.
Laurel stirred beneath him until finally he raised his head. He tugged at her lower lip. “Or how about here?”
His mouth swooped down and captured hers. He pressed her lips open and she moaned in relief that she could finally taste him. She returned his kiss for kiss. Her hands seemed to have a mind of their own, exploring the strength of his back through his shirt. She hated the barrier between them. She wanted to touch him, skin to skin. She wedged her hands between them, unbuttoning his shirt and shoving the material off his shoulders.
He stilled above her, looking at her, his gaze intense, hesitant, full of warning. Her fingertips paused when she encountered roughened skin.
Burns. The car bomb.
He let out a slow sigh then moved off of her, lying on his back. “I should have warned you.” His shirt fell open and she pulled away. His chest was mostly unmarred, except for a long surgical scar down his midline.
“You think what happened changes anything? It makes me want you even more.” She didn’t hesitate, but straddled his hips and traced the scar.
He looked up at her and caught her fingertip. “My entire back was turned when the car exploded. There was a lot of damage. I had several rounds of skin grafts. During surgery my heart stopped. I died on the operating table and they cracked me open.” His voice was detached, his jaw tight, holding back emotion. “It’s not pretty,” he said. “It will never be pretty.”
“And if I could have Ivy back, you think the scars would make me love her less? You earned these badges of courage.” Laurel moved her hands up to his shoulders, venturing a tentative touch on the puckered skin. “Does it hurt?”
“I can’t always feel when you touch me. And in some places the nerve endings go a little haywire, but mostly no. It’s healed as much as it’s going to.”
He didn’t move, didn’t try to pull her to him, didn’t try to kiss her. He simply lay there gazing up at her. “You don’t have to do this.”
“Neither do you, but you’re the bravest man I know and I don’t think you’ll chicken out now,” she said and leaned forward, gently, tenderly pressing her lips to his. “I want this. Now. With you. Tell me if I hurt you.”
She lifted her shirt over her head and removed her bra. His eyes hooded as he cupped her breast in his hand and drew his thumb across her nipple. It beaded in response and a sharp tingle lit in her belly. A small whimper escaped her and she gripped his shirt.
He smiled, the defensive expression in his eyes darkening to desire once again. “I can’t believe you want me.” Garrett tugged her down to him, his palm against the small of her back, rocking her hips against his, his desire evident.
“Can you feel me now?” she whispered, shifting her body, evoking a groan from him.
“Definitely.” He flipped her over and threw his shirt off the side of the bed. “You’re an amazing woman, Laurel McCallister.”
She wrapped her arms around him, blinking back the hurt for him when she encountered the mottling of scars down his back and
