Page 63 of Legacy of Lies
He stared at her like a low-carb dieter watching cookies rise. Images of chocolate chips melting on his body made her weak in the knees.
“You calm me.” The words blew by her like a caress. “Being around you somehow makes the bad shit in my life seem bearable. Hell, being around you, I forget all my responsibilities and problems.”
Hold on a minute. Didn’t he want her because he desired her as a woman? Or did he want her as a stress reliever, like a pill or a soak in a bubble bath? Was he using her?
Decision time.
Enjoy the moment in a quick fling with the hottest man she’d ever met, or take the safe route and wait to see if a respectable relationship that no one would gossip about might develop later down the road? What about her plans for the future, beyond Copper River? Still there. A fling did not a relationship make. And no way was she creating entanglements here. Nope.
He brushed his mouth over hers, nipping at her lower lip until stars swam in her vision. Whatever he was doing with his hands, kneading and palming her breasts, should be illegal. She couldn’t breathe. How could she make an informed decision here?
Forget safe.
She’d done safe, and it bit her in the butt.
Rising on tiptoes, she met him, passionate kiss for kiss.
After a moment, he pulled back and held her head in his hands. “Damn. Listen to me before I lose my mind with you, Sara. It’s not all about me. If you don’t want ... more, you have to let me know. I’ll respect what you want, I swear.”
If the pulsing sensations low in her groin were any indication, her body had made up its mind.
“I want you, Garrison.”
Relief and intense need scrolled over his features like the news ticker on Times Square.
“Me too.”
“But here? Kerr and Eric might come back inside.”
“Good point. Guest room, let’s go.”
Still cradling her face in his hands, he kissed her again, drifting his mouth up her jaw and sucking gently on her earlobe. The puff of his breath in her ear shot a wave of excitement right to her clitoris. Sliding her hands up his corded forearms, she reveled in the hard muscles and the roughness of the hair under her fingers.
He stroked down her neck and under her sweatshirt.
Goose bumps rose on her skin, and she shivered.
“Damn it.” He held her at arm’s length. “We’re never going to get to the guest room at this rate.”
She grinned as he tugged her down the hall to an empty wing of the sprawling home. Old high school pictures on the walls and knickknacks barely registered in her hungry mind as she followed him into a room with an antique dresser and a queen bed with a neat but worn quilt on top. He shut the door with a firm, final thud and flipped on the bedside lamp, bathing the room in a cozy glow.
“Last chance, Sara.” He grinned and stroked her face with his rough fingers.
What would those fingers feel like elsewhere on her body?
Sara needed to know.
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
Answering questions had become way too complicated. She gasped, “Yes. I want you, Garrison.”
She grabbed the fabric of his shirt and tugged at him to bend down and meet her lips. Almost climbing up him, she worked her hands over his shoulders and then curled her fingers in the hair at the nape of his muscled neck. He didn’t resist.
Quite the opposite. Clutching her to his frame, he pivoted and spun her toward the bed.
When he gently pushed her onto the quilt, she giggled and brought him down onto the bed with her.
