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Suddenly he looked as hungry as he did when he ate her food.
“Do you want me to hijack you?” he asked. “Want me to come after you? Is that why you’re leaving for Florida? Do you want me to give chase?”
His stare was so piercing and primal, he didn’t look weak or sick at all.
He looked predatory and male, and she felt fragile and female. Inside her, a dozen words rippled with the need to come forth.
I want you. Please give me your love. Yourself.
But how could she tie him up this way? Was this really the answer he wanted? Or was he seeking for her to appease him by saying that she didn’t need anything else from him? He’d given her so much already. For his whole life.
A sound of protest tore from her chest, and it sounded so sexual, Kate swallowed it back in horror.
He smiled slowly, almost seductively, as his thumb trailed down the curve of her jaw. “Cat got your tongue?”
Kate couldn’t think. Speak. Breathe.
His thumb went lower, and now slowly brushed over the sleeve of her dress. Then it trailed down her bare arm, the touch a shivery, silken whisper that made her insides quiver with yearning. Her heart galloped as pure need kicked in. His other fingers joined his thumb to caress the inside of her left arm, and her skin broke out in goose bumps as her lungs strained for air.
Garrett was quiet as he watched her reactions. She realized she hadn’t pulled away from his touch, but instead had leaned closer.
He slid the fingers of his other hand into her hair, softly tangling them inside the loose mass. He watched her with somber expectation, as though wondering if she would stop him.
She didn’t.
Oh, why didn’t she?
What on earth was he doing?
What was she doing?
Intense sexual thoughts began to flicker through her mind. Garrett’s lips, his beautiful body naked against hers...
Their gazes held, both of them silent, their eyes almost questioning but also on fire with desire. His breath, slow and deep and slightly uneven, bathed her face.
Suddenly, he tugged her dress up her thighs and then slid his hand under the fabric, up her panty-clad bottom, then up her back, his fingers slowly tracing the little dents of her spine.
Kate sucked in a mouthful of air.
She probably should stop him. She probably should. Instead, she trembled and bent to brush a kiss across his lightly stubbled jaw. Then she drew back and noticed that his eyes were closed, his face almost in an expression of pain. She cupped his jaw and kissed his forehead, her insides melting when he groaned, encouraging her, so that she kissed the tip of his nose.
His hands were suddenly on her hips. Pushing her away? No. He drew her over his lap, guiding her so that she straddled him, and suddenly his fingers stole under her panties to caress her buttocks as his nose slid down the length of hers. She should pull away, but she was breathless, waiting for something, anything, as he buzzed her lips with his. “Kate, stop me,” he said softly.
Five
Holy hell, what was he doing?
He blamed the seven freckles on her nose. They made him do stupid stuff.
He blamed the strep, the fact that he was on steroids, antibiotics and some strange tea his mother had made him this morning. He blamed the fact that Kate smelled like spring and raspberries. He’d never been so hungry, and he didn’t know if a thousand men could tear her away from his arms today.
He was fixated on her lips. It was surreal, so surreal, having Kate in his bed. “Stop me, Katie,” he found himself saying, as he continued to run his hands u
p and down her thighs, and grip her lovely bottom.
He wanted to squeeze her so tight he feared he’d break her bones. He shouldn’t be touching her buttocks, but he was too tired to fight the urge and too sick to care. They felt too good. She felt too good.
He’d wanted to do this since he’d seen her slide into those purple panties and he’d been haunted ever since. Why had she done that little striptease? He couldn’t stop thinking she’d wanted him to see her. She’d wanted him to want her.
