Page 40 of The Matchmaker's Melody
Suddenly, her arms were around his shoulders, crushing him to her, and he needed no more encouragement to respond in exactly the same way. How long had he dreamed of this, hoped without hope, tried to push the feelings away? And now it was happening, it was real. She cared for him, too!
Every other thought vanished as he welcomed her embrace, returned her kiss, with all the passion he had been hiding for so long. Their mouths fused, their kiss deepened, and he fell into the world of love she had just opened to him.
This was heaven.
CHAPTER20
THE MATCHMAKER’S MELODY
Emma openedher eyes to see Gordon’s face inches from hers on the pillow. His eyes, deep and brown, were open, the look on his sleepy face wondrous.
“I could hardly believe I wasn’t dreaming,” he breathed. “Am I awake? Is this real?”
Her lips curled into a soft smile.
“If you’re dreaming, we’re sharing the same dream, and I don’t want to wake up.”
She shifted until she was pressed up against him, half on her side, her head nestled by his neck. Her free hand traced random patterns through the light hair on his chest, and he let out a sigh of absolute contentment.
They had hardly talked last night, after his desperate confession. Emma’s heart, so recently wounded by Halli’s words, had overtaken her brain, and all she was able to do was show in actions what she was unable, at that moment, to form into words.
She was hardly one to throw herself at a man, but when he opened his soul like that, what could she do but dive right in? Her first tentative kiss was met and answered, and mouths and hands had spoken more clearly than any long speech could ever do.
When had they fallen onto the couch? When had they moved to her bedroom? She hardly remembered, although she did recall every touch and caress. Oh heavens. Had she even remembered to lock her door?
“You love me,” she sighed.
“I do. I have for so long. But I never dared to hope that you might love me, too.”
She pressed a kiss onto the side of his neck, now rough with an overnight growth of beard, and nuzzled his ear, which elicited a series of rather yummy groans.
“Oh! You’re sensitive there. I think I need to find all the sensitive places.” Her hand started wandering.
“You’ll kill me.” He laughed. “You do love me, don’t you?”
The hand stilled. “Are you worried? Do you think I'm just using you for your body? I didn’t know I loved you. I don’t know what I thought. I only realised it last night, but when I look back, I think I’ve loved you for months. I was just too blind to see it. Isn’t that silly? Here I was, making matches for everyone else—”
“Emma, we discussed this.”
“Still nagging me? Annoying man.” She tickled his ribs, and he responded with an answering attack that lasted until they were both breathless with laughter.
“That’s what comes from making matches, wench,” he joked.
She planted a kiss on his lips. “I was only making them in my head. I learned my lesson with Halli and Phil. But I was so busy pairing up everyone else, I never examined myself. Or, rather, not clearly. I’m so used to showing my public image to the world, showing everyone else what they want or need to see, I never thought to really examine myself. I was a fool.”
She fell silent for a moment, and Gordon wrapped a strong arm around her shoulder.
“Sometimes,” she added after a minute, “when we turn the mirror on ourselves, we don’t always like what we see.”
“I like what I see.”
He moved his head for another kiss, and Emma answered hungrily, and all further discussion was forgotten for a long time.
Eventually, hunger for something other than each other pulled them from Emma’s bed. It was nearly noon when they found their clothes and drove in Emma’s car over to Gordon’s house, where he set about making breakfast… or lunch… or whatever it was that you ate when your first meal of the day was in the early afternoon.
Regardless, coffee and pancakes were soon filling the house with their tantalising aromas. Emma sat at the small kitchen table, watching Gordon as he expertly poured rounds of batter onto the skillet and flipped them, perfect little golden disks. He worked with an economy of movement, every gesture controlled and elegant.
“You’re beautiful, you know,” she told him. She held a hot mug of coffee in her hands, enjoying the sensation as much as the taste.
