Page 35 of All I Need (Hearts of the South)
He tried to catch his breath, because suddenly all the oxygen was merely gone. He wrapped his fingers around the doorframe until his knuckles ached with the pressure. “Why are you here, Savannah?”
“Because I’m tired of being buried.” Her voice cracked on the whispered words, and she lifted a hand to cover her eyes, glittering with tears. “Because as much as it hurts to want this, it hurts more to stay away.”
He reached for her wrist and drew her into him. Arms about her, he cradled her close, near enough that he felt the shivery sobs that wracked her. She wrapped her arms about his neck and leaned into him, her face pressed to the curve between his neck and shoulder. Eyes closed, he rested his cheek against her temple and soaked in the sensation of having her in his arms again—soft curves yielding to the harder planes of his body, the clean just-showered scent of her warm skin, the way having her near stopped his heart and electrified his nerves all at the same time.
A slight turn of his head allowed him to nuzzle her cheek, to press a kiss to her temple, to whisper against her ear. “I’ve missed you.”
She cried harder. He flexed his arms, cradling her head in his hands, tilting her face to his.
“Don’t,” he murmured and brushed his mouth over hers. With his thumbs, he smoothed glistening tears from her cheeks. “Don’t cry.”
On a choked laugh that was more of a sob, she shook her head. “I don’t know what to do.”
He continued stroking the pads of his thumbs across her cheekbones. “Stay with me.”
For some reason, that renewed her weeping, and he drew her closer, backing them inside. He’d never glimpsed this vulnerability, and Bennett’s assertion that she wasn’t as tough as she appeared beat in his head. Somehow, this openness seemed rooted in a soul-deep weariness that made his chest hurt. He rotated to nudge the door closed with his elbow and turned them toward the bedroom. “Come on.”
She went, leaning into him. With shaking fingers, she brushed more tears away. “This is ridiculous.”
“No.” He stroked his palm over her hair above her nape. “It’s not.”
He really didn’t get why she was crying, but he knew she wasn’t crying over him. Whatever it was, though, it had brought her to him tonight, and he was grateful. He leaned down and tossed his school materials onto the chair in the corner of the room. She’d turned slightly away, a hand over her eyes, trying to get herself together. Behind her, he laid gentle hands on the curve of her bare shoulders and pressed his mouth to the slope between neck and shoulder.
He massaged the tense muscles under his hands and trailed kisses up her neck. “You’re tired.”
Silently, she nodded, and he wrapped a protective arm across her sternum.
“You can rest with me,” he murmured. With his other hand, he hooked her hair behind her ear. Eyes closed, he mapped the line of her neck with his fingertips, then the slope of her shoulder, his thumb playing over her camisole strap. Cheek against her hair, he nuzzled at the curve of her ear. Some of the tension drained from her body, and she relaxed into him. He traced the back of one finger down her arm and back up, and gooseflesh rose in the wake of the easy caress. He stroked the little prickles away, then let his hands trail to her waist. Still rubbing his nose along her ear, he hooked the waistband of her pants and eased them down until they puddled on the floor and she stepped free.
The muscles in his leg protested, but damned if he was going to let her go. He eased to sit on the edge of the bed and brought her onto his lap, his chest to her spine. With an arm draped easily across her waist, he returned to caressing her arm and shoulder with the back of his finger. Her own hands lay loosely against his outer thighs.
He eased her camisole strap to one side, letting it fall down her arm, and pressed his mouth to her shoulder. He traced the top edge of the garment with a fingertip, barely stroking the smooth skin at the swell of her breast. She rewarded him with the quietest of exhales, relaxing further into him.
He wanted her boneless, wanted all the hard edges between them gone.
With that intent in mind, he lowered his mouth to her neck once more, suckling a little, and skimmed a caress across the curve of her breast. He dipped his fingertip into her cleavage, danced a shadowy touch under the edge of her camisole.
Tonight, he was going to be all she needed—soft and easy and slow.
He took his sweet time, simply learning her softness and curves. Every so often, one of those quiet, breathless sighs escaped her, and he touched and stroked and loved until she was melted into him. He circled her knee with two fingertips, then slid them slowly along her inner thigh. Muscles quivered under the feathery contact. He skimmed a fingernail up and down the smooth hem of silken panties, and she drew in a breath. With the index finger of his opposite hand, he circled over the jut of a hardening nipple.
“Oh.” That breathless exclamation greeted him delving his fingers under the silk. She was wet and warm and open, and her head fell against his shoulder. He played and toyed and teased, one hand between her thighs, the other at her breast. Nuzzling her neck, he listened as her breathing became sharp and shallow. She tilted her hips, rocking into his hand.
On a quiet moan, she tightened her hold on his thighs. Under his fingers, her orgasm trembled, and somehow he kept himself from squeezing her against him as it receded.
Holding on to her too tight was the worst thing he could do. She’d come to him, and he had to hold her with the gentlest touch possible. Truly melted into him, draped against his chest, she barely breathed. He tightened his arms for one brief moment and laid his mouth against her temple.
No way was he risking this with words.
* * * * *
Awareness came to Savannah in layers. Strong arms embraced her, and her nose mashed against a warm male throat, the carotid pulse steady against her skin. For a moment, her exhaustion-fogged brain expected for her to open her eyes and find Gates holding her, to find them wrapped up in the bright, sunny bedroom they’d shared in Valdosta.
Only Gates was gone, and the man holding her was very much alive. She kept her eyes closed a moment, not yet ready for the reality of sharing another man’s bed.
What had happened last night, those soft kisses and softer caresses, a wash of fulfillment…that went so far beyond sex without emotion that she wasn’t sure how to process it.
“Quit thinking so hard.” Emmett flexed an arm and tugged her closer. “You’re giving me a headache.”
