Crossed Hearts (Matchmaker Trilogy) (13 page)

His eyes locked with hers, finding a desire there that was echoed in the shallowness of her breathing. “I want to touch you, Leah. I need to. I need to touch and to taste.”

She gave a convulsive swallow, then whispered, “Please!”

Unable to help himself, he smiled. She was so adorable, so sexy, so guileless when it came to this. He had to kiss her again, and he did, and while his lips held hers, he touched her breasts. She jerked at the sudden charge of sensation, but he gentled her with his mouth, and his work-roughened hands circled her, covered her, lifted her with care. She never quite got used to his touch, because each time he moved his palm or a finger, new currents of awareness sizzled through her. When the pads of his thumbs scored her nipples, soft sounds of arousal came from deep in her throat, and when forefingers joined thumbs in an erotic rolling, a snowballing need had her squirming restlessly.

Her hands moved with desperation to the waistband of his cords. His met them there, unsnapping and unzipping, before leaving her to her own devices. He wanted to touch her more, this time her knees, which were widespread, allowing him to kneel between them, then her thighs, which were soft and smooth and quivering. When her hands slipped beneath the band of his shorts in search of the point of greatest heat, his surged higher, similarly seeking and finding the heart of her sex.

Leah’s head fell forward, mouth open, teeth braced on his shoulder. Her hands surrounded him. They measured his length and width, weighed the heaviness beneath. They caressed satin over steel and were rewarded when he strained harder against her palms. But her mind was only half there, because Garrick had opened her and begun to do such intimately arousing things to her that she could barely breathe, much less think.

She’d never thought of herself as lacking control where sex was concerned, but she’d never been half as hot as she was now. She felt herself floating, rising, and her attempts to rein in were futile. Sandwiching the power of his virility between them, her hands went still.

“Garrick … oh … oh.” She sucked in a breath, let it out in a tremulous whisper. “Please … I need … wait.”

But just then he took her nipple into his mouth, and it was too late. The brush of his mustache and beard and his gentle sucking snapped the fine thread from which she’d been hanging. Her thighs closed on his hands as her insides exploded, and she could only gasp against his shoulder while she rode out a storm of endless spasms. When they subsided at last, she rolled her face to the crook of his neck.

“I’m sorry … I couldn’t hold back…”

Framing her face, he raised it and kissed her. His lips shifted and angled and sucked, never once leaving hers as he bore her gently back on the bed. His hands tugged the nightshirt from her hips, then went to work baring himself. Naked, he lowered his large frame over her.

Leah was ready to take him in, but he had no intention of simply slaking his desire while she lay quiescent and sated. He wanted her hungry again. He wanted her aroused and aching for him, because he knew that if it was so, his own fulfillment would be all the richer.

So he began to touch her anew. Her breasts, her belly, that ultrasensitive spot between her legs—he stimulated and teased, using hands, lips and tongue. And he was doing just fine until she became active herself, finding the places that set him to shaking, stroking them, tormenting them with fingers that were innocent and eager to please.

And Garrick was pleased, though the word seemed a paltry one to describe his feelings. He’d never felt so valued—not just needed,
valued.
Beneath Leah’s hands and lips and the sweet waft of her breath, he felt cherished, special and unique. He felt as though she couldn’t be doing this with any other man but him.

At that moment, he knew the future would have to take care of itself. He needed her now and for however long she chose to stay with him. If, at the end of that time, he was alone, he knew that he’d have experienced something most men never even approach. He’d have memories of something rare and wonderful, and he’d be a stronger man for it.

Writhing gently beneath him, Leah urged him to her. He grasped her hands, intertwined his fingers with hers and pinned them to the quilt by her shoulders. Poised above her, he watched her face as slowly, slowly he entered her.

Her eyes fell shut and a tiny smile of bliss curved her lips. Then, with a sigh, she lifted her legs and wrapped them tightly around him. “Don’t move,” she whispered, still smiling in that catlike way that gave him a thrill. “You feel … I feel so … good … full.”

“Leah?” he whispered.

Slowly her eyes opened. They were filled with the same love that filled his heart. He knew it was absurd. He and Leah had known each other for only two days, and those under unusual conditions. They hadn’t talked much, hadn’t shared thoughts of the past or the future, much less the present, but he
did
love her. He’d never felt anything like it before—the driving desire to please a woman, to make her happy in the broadest sense—but he felt that way toward Leah. He felt that he’d willingly sacrifice his quiet to hear her music, his steak and potatoes to eat her Chinese food, his normal efficiency to take her floundering in the mud. He knew that if she asked him to withdraw from her just then, he’d forgo a climax and still feel complete.

She didn’t ask him anything of the sort, though. Rather, she began to move her hips and her inner muscles, holding him ever more tightly, taking his breath away. Lifting her head from the pillow, she sought his lips, and he lost track of everything but the intense pleasure of stroking her tongue and drawing it into his mouth. Bowing his back, he withdrew, then thrust forward, withdrew, then thrust forward. With each thrust he went deeper. With each withdrawal, he returned hotter. Finally, with a surge that touched her womb, he stiffened and held, erupting into a release so powerful that he thought he’d die, so glorious that he would have welcomed it.

Only when awareness returned did he realize that Leah, too, was vibrating in the aftermath of climax. Her cheek was pressed to their intertwined hands. Her eyes were shut tightly. Her lips were parted to allow for the soft panting that was sweet music to his ears. He was glad then that he hadn’t died, for there was more to come, so much more.

Very gently he slid from her, but before she could protest, he’d nestled her snugly into the crook of his shoulder. One of his arms encircled her back, the other grasped her thigh and drew it over his. His fingers remained in a warm clasp around her knee.

Eyes closed, Leah sighed in contentment. She rubbed her nose against Garrick’s chest, inhaling the scent of man and musk and sex that would have been arousing had not she been so thoroughly sated.

“Ahhh, Garrick,” she whispered. “So nice…”

“It is, isn’t it?” he responded as softly. In the past he would have been reaching for a cigarette. Putting distance between himself and the body next to him. Biding the few obligatory minutes before he could clear whatever woman he was with from his bed. Now, though, the only thing he wanted to do was lie holding Leah. And talk.

“You’re spectacular,” she said. “Maybe I should yell at you more.”

That drew a lazy chuckle from his throat. “Maybe you should. It brings me to my senses.”

“I’m not usually the yelling type.”

“I’m not usually the brooding type.”

“What brought it on?”

He cuffed his chin against the top of her head, knowing that his beard would cushion the gentle blow. “You.”

“Is it that difficult having me here?”

“Just the opposite. I like having you here.”

“Then why—”

“I like it too much. I thought I had my life all worked out. Then you pop in and upset the apple cart.”

“Oh.” She took a quick breath. “I know what you mean.”

“You do?”

“Mmm. I haven’t minded living alone—living without a man. I thought it was the safest thing.”

“Did your marriage hurt you that much?”

“Yes.”

“You said he abused you. Was it physical?”

“He never beat me. It was more an emotional thing.”

“Tell me about him. What was he like?”

Leah thought for a minute, seeking to express her feelings with a minimum of bitterness. “He was good-looking and charming. He could sell an icebox to an Eskimo.”

“He was a salesman?”

“Indirectly. He was—is—a top executive in an ad agency. If you want to know what charisma is, you don’t have to look farther than Richard. People flock to him. He attracts clients like flies. Lord only knows why he married me.”

Garrick gave her a sharp squeeze, but she went on.

“I’m serious. I guess it was the stage he was at when we met. He was just getting started. He needed a wife who looked relatively sophisticated, and when I try, I suppose I do look that. He needed someone who knew the ins and outs of New York, and since I’d lived there all my life, I guess I qualified on that score, too. He needed someone he could manipulate, and I fit the bill.”

“You don’t strike
me
as being terribly manipulatable,” Garrick said with feeling.

She laughed. “How can you say that after what Victoria did?”

“That may be the one exception, and since we were both patsies, we won’t count it.”

“Well, Richard was able to manipulate me. I wanted to please him. I wanted to make the marriage work.”

“Why didn’t it?”

“Oh, lots of reasons. Mainly because I couldn’t be what Richard wanted.”

“Couldn’t?”

“That, and wouldn’t. I got tired of being told when to be where wearing what. I got tired of feeling that regardless how hard I tried, I didn’t measure up.”

“What did the guy want?” Garrick barked. The sound reverberated in his chest beneath Leah’s ear. Knowing that he was on her side, she didn’t mind his anger.

“Perfection.”

“None of us is perfect.”

“Tell that to Richard.”

“Thanks, but I’ll pass. He sounds like the kind of guy I avoid.”

“You’re very wise.”

“Either that, or very weak. I haven’t quite decided which yet.”

Leah shifted, turning her head so that she looked up at him. “You, weak? I don’t believe that for a minute. Look at the way you live. It takes strength to do what you do.”

“Physical strength, yes.”

“No, psychological. To live alone on a mountainside, to be comfortable enough with yourself to live alone—many people can’t do that.”

It was the perfect opening. He knew he should say something about himself and his past, but the words wouldn’t come. He wanted Leah’s respect. He feared he’d risk it if she knew where he’d been. “I’m not sure I’ve done it so well, judging from the way I’ve latched on to you.” Hauling her higher on his chest, he gave her a fierce kiss. But the fierceness mellowed quickly. “You taste so good, Leah,” he whispered hoarsely. “You
feel
so good.” His hands had begun to glide up and down her body. “You feel so good on top of me.”

That was precisely where she was. Her breasts were pillowed by the soft furring of his chest hair. Her thighs, straddling his, knew their sinewed strength. He felt so good beneath her that her body began a slow rocking while her mouth inched over his nose, his cheek and down to the warm, bare skin below his beard.

“You smell good,” she whispered against his throat.

Garrick grinned in pure delight. He felt redeemed, almost defiant. He smelled earthy, but Leah liked it. So there, L.A.! Take your Brut and stuff it!

“Garrick?” Her voice was muffled against his chest.

“What is it, love?”

She kept her face buried. “I want you again.”

He laughed in continued delight.

“What’s so funny?”

“You. You’re wonderful.”

“Does that mean you want me, too?”

He arched his hips against hers. “What do you think?”

“I think yes, but maybe you think I’m only after your body.”

He didn’t laugh this time. Instead his long fingers caged her head and gently raised it. His expression was soft and filled with wonder. “What I think is that I’m the luckiest man alive.” He didn’t say anything else, because his mouth covered hers. His hands spread over her hips, lifting, lowering, until she was fully impaled.

Leah had seldom been in the dominant position, but her desire more than compensated for her lack of experience. He guided her at first, moving her up and down in slow, sure strokes, but then he began caressing her breasts and she let instinct be her guide. She heard the quickening of his breathing and increased rhythm. She felt him lower his head and craned upward so he could reach her breasts with his lips. She sensed when he approached his climax and ground herself more tightly against him. And when he cried out in release, she was with him all the way.

When her heartbeat finally slowed she thought she’d be exhausted, but she wasn’t. Her body was sated, but her mind had only begun to hunger. She wanted to talk. It was as though a dam had burst, years of holding in thoughts and questions given way now to a steady flow. She was fearing that Garrick would rather sleep, when his voice drifted over her brow.

“I’ve never had a woman here before.”

They’d slipped between the sheets and were snuggled warmly and closely. “I know,” she breathed against his chest.

“I’ve never had much of anyone here before. Another trapper will stop by once in a while. And buyers come for my furs.”

“Is that only in the winter?”

“Pretty much so. I can’t trap the good stuff after the middle of January.”

“The good stuff—fisher, fox and raccoon?”

“Um-hmm.”

“Why not after the middle of January?”

“That’s the law, and it makes sense. The furs are thickest in winter, and prime fur draws the best price. But that’s secondary to the concept of wildlife management.”

“Explain.”

“The theory is that hunting and trapping shouldn’t be done to exploit the wildlife population, but to control it. Raccoon threaten local cornfields. Beaver threaten the free flow of streams.”

“You don’t have to justify what you do.”

“But it’s all part of the explanation. Trapping isn’t a free-for-all. At the beginning of each season, the Fish and Game Department issues strict guidelines, in some cases limiting the catch of certain species. For example, I can take only three fisher a year. With roughly eight hundred trappers in the state, three fisher per trapper, the number adds up. If limits aren’t set, the population will be endangered.”