Page 54 of Smoky Lake

She giggled. Lord, she hadn’t giggled like that since middle school. Gil made her laugh. He came across as so rough and tough, but that was just on the surface. Underneath he was funny and sort of…humble.

“I really don’t understand why some woman hasn’t snapped you up. I’d marry you for that foot rub alone,” she said lightly.

“Done.”

Another giggle spurted from her lips. Gil was moving up to her calves now, his big palms soothing the tired muscles there. It felt so good, like a drug going directly to her brain. “You’re funny. I think I’ve had enough of marriage for a while.”

“Understandable.”

Was that a hint of something else under that flat comment?

“Sometimes I think getting married to John was a way to feel like a normal person again after my attack. John didn’t like to talk about it, or about anything below the surface. He just wanted to have fun. He couldn’t handle it when we started…having problems.”

His hands didn’t pause their stroking, but she sensed a shift in his mood. Why was she talking about her dead marriage when this incredible man was giving her the most sublime foot massage she’d ever experienced?

John had dominated her thoughts—her heart, her life—for so many years. Why was she letting him do it now?

No more.

She pulled away from his masterful hands and sat up, folding her legs under her.

“Sorry,” he said, surprised. “Did I hit a sore spot?”

“No. You’re perfect. It’s just…” She couldn’t put it into words, she had to just show him. Launching herself toward him, she flung her arms around his neck and kissed him hard on the mouth. His shock didn’t last long. A moment later his arms were tight around her and he was kissing her back…deep, arousing kisses, a man’s kisses, confident and sure, promising things that sent her head spinning.

She lost herself in the wild tumble of sensation. It drowned out every thought. Which was just how she wanted it. Escape, lust, bliss…it was all there in every sweep of his tongue.

Without moving his mouth from hers, he tugged off his jacket and tossed it aside. He teased her sweater off her shoulders and she squirmed to chase it from her body. She kept waiting for some note of caution to ring a bell in her head. It’s too soon. I don’t know him. I’m still in divorce recovery.

But nothing like that came. The messages pouring in from her body were the “get it, girl” kind. I want him. My god, his hands. Oh yes. Right there. More, more, more, don’t stop.

She abandoned herself to those strong hands of his, felt them move across her body removing clothing. Down to her bra now. Oh yes, his hands cupping her breasts, peeling down her bra, tongue lashing across her nipples. It was all about pleasure, nothing but pleasure, this was how it was meant to be, bare skin and hot breath and straining muscles.

It felt right, so right, when he slid his hand under the waistband of her jeans and met warm flesh. She rose onto her knees so he could pull her pants down. Then a flash of reality threw a spray of cold water over her pleasure.

He was going to see her scars. It was impossible not to.

In the next moment, she forgot all about that because he was sliding his finger across her wet lower lips and a blinding thrill of sensation chased everything else away. Moaning, she thrust against him, greedy for everything that hand could give her. And it offered everything. Nothing held back. As he worked his palm against her hot sex, she felt the orgasm gather, fast and furious. When it slammed into her, she went spinning through a world of stars and color and heat and pure physical bliss.

She fell back, gasping, clinging to his sweaty shoulders. His shirt was off. When had that happened? The muscles of his arms and chest flexed and bunched as he adjusted their bodies. He had to be the most physically fit man she’d ever been naked with—not that it was a long list. But that wasn’t what made her feel so safe.

No, it was his thoughtfulness that did that. With Gil, she felt both respected and desired. Sweet lord, that was a potent combination.

Her gaze dropped to his crotch. A bulge swelled between his thighs. It looked big and urgent. As far as she was aware, they didn’t have a condom. It had been years since she’d used a condom. Why would she, as a married woman trying to get pregnant? But that was standard protocol in the modern age, right? Gil probably used them all the time.

“Got a condom?” she said, going for jaunty to mask her embarrassment at being so out of the modern swing of things.

“No, I didn’t bother to grab anything like that when I left the house.” He cupped his hands around the back of her neck. “But it doesn’t matter. Watching you come was about as hot as it gets. We don’t have to go any further.”

Nice thought, but she wasn’t going to stand for that. She felt too good. He deserved some of that goodness too.

When you feel safe, you feel free. The thought flashed through her mind as she unzipped his jeans. He spread his strong thighs farther apart, then rose up on his knees. A quick pull on his briefs exposed the flesh rearing forth. She was drawn toward it, almost helplessly, this erection that she’d never seen before, had no relationship with.

Filling her mouth with him, hands roaming his flesh, she lost herself in his grunts and flexes. He pulled out before the end and pumped into his own hand. That gave her pleasure too, watching his arm muscles flex and cord, his hand wrapped around his cock.

“I wasn’t sure…” he gasped as he finished. “Didn’t want to assume.”

She nodded, still immersed in the movements shaking his powerful frame. She’d done that to him. She, Ani Devi, who barely two weeks ago had wondered if she was done with sex forever. She, Ani Devi, who’d mentally nailed a “condemned” sign over her own body.

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