Page 33 of A Match Made in Heather

“I missed touching you.” His hands slipped up her inner thighs, coming to rest at the crease where they joined her pelvis. But his thumbs—oh those wicked, wicked thumbs! They continued to move slowly upward until they stroked between her legs, lightly grazing against her soft folds. “I missed the way you trembled beneath my hands, how you’d lose your breath in those little pants that proved how much you enjoyed it.”

His thumbs traced back and forth along her cleft in teasing circles that fueled the throbbing just beneath his fingers rather than soothed it away. Then he delved deeper and touched the sensitive nub buried in her folds. A sharp gasp tore from her. When she managed to catch her breath again, it came just as he’d described . . . in shallow, rapid pants that made her heart race even faster. How well he knew her most intimate secrets, even now.

“I missed giving you pleasure, Arabel,” he rasped as he nuzzled his cheek against her lower belly.

She grew wet and aching as he continued to swirl his thumbs against her. The pulsating tingles grew more intense with each flick of his thumb, yet somehow never quite at the right spot, never quite hard enough to soothe the need building inside her. A whimper of frustration fell from her lips.

Knowing what her body craved, he slipped his thumbs into her folds and spread her wide. Then he lowered his mouth and claimed her.

She moaned with pleasure. Her fingers dug into his hair as his tongue thrust into her core and ripped her breath away. He did it again and again, plunging into her with wet little noises that were the most erotic sounds she’d ever heard, coiling the throbbing ache impossibly tighter.

“Garrick,” she cried out. The swirling thrusts came in a wonderfully erratic rhythm that kept her off balance and forced her to cling to him. Writhing herself against his mouth, she shuddered as a wickedly delicious sensation engulfed her.

He eased his sweet torture just enough to allow her to catch her breath, then closed his lips around her aching bud and sucked. The soft sensation pounded through her with the force of cannon fire, and a second cry tore from her, a deep and throaty wail of joy as her folds quivered against his mouth in sweet release.

Her legs went boneless, and she sank slowly toward the floor and into his arms. He murmured tender words against her bare shoulder, but she heard none of them as she clung to him, lost in the pulsating pleasure he’d given her.

He lifted his head and kissed her breathless lips. “I’ll give you more, if you’ll let me.”

“Yes,” she whispered.

He lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed. As he slowly lowered her, he kissed her with such raw affection that she shuddered. Surely, if he could kiss her like this, if he could touch her so tenderly and bring her such joy, then he must feel something for her beyond lust. There must be love still lingering inside him, even after all these years.

She clung to that hope of love to keep the nervousness at bay when he moved away to strip off his breeches. Then he returned to her, placing kisses across her hips, belly, and breasts before finally claiming her lips as he slid up over her. She trembled with anxious excitement at the sensation of his naked body touching all along hers, and when he took her hand and slid it down between them, to invite her to discover for herself how much he wanted her, hot need flared inside her.

Her fingers gently explored him. She’d forgotten exactly how wonderful he felt, how steely hard beneath and velvet smooth on top. How thick his girth as her fingers wrapped around him and stroked, how heavy he hung in her other hand as she cupped his bollocks against her palm and gently squeezed.

He gave a low growl of pleasure as he rose up on his forearms to give her more room to work her hands on him. Growing impossibly harder and larger beneath her fingers, his erection jumped against her hand when she rubbed her palm over the smooth head and the drop of moisture clinging to his tip, smearing it over him until he grew slick.

“I want you, Arabel.” He settled into the cradle of her thighs and guided his hard length against her. “I’ve never stopped wanting you.”

Her heart ached at the emotion darkening his face. “Garrick,” she whispered, running her fingers through the silky hair at his nape as his handsome face blurred beneath her tears. “I love—”

He shoved his hips forward and plunged inside her, in one smooth motion fully sheathing himself in her tight warmth to the hilt.

A sharp pain pinched inside her, and she gasped, unprepared for having him inside her so quickly, filling her so completely. But as he began to move and she relaxed, the discomfort melted rapidly into pleasure. Her body remembered his and welcomed him. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and joined his rhythm as she arched up to meet each thrust of his hips, each one taking him deeper inside her.

She abandoned herself to the joy of being in his arms, of simultaneously being vulnerable beneath him while also bringing him such pleasure that a soft groan fell from his lips at each plunge and retreat. Only because she loved him could this joining be so exquisite; only with Garrick could it feel as if they were melding not only bodies but also souls.

Panting with exertion, he hooked his arm beneath her right knee and lifted her leg to her chest. That small shift of their bodies brought him even closer and impossibly deeper. As the flames licking at her toes sparked a wildfire that threatened to consume her, she moaned with pleasure.

“Dear God,” he rasped out. “You’re so tight.”

“Because there’s only ever been you,” she whispered.

With a groan, he captured her mouth beneath his as his hips gave a plunging swirl, one born more of possession than passion.

The emotion she felt inside him surged into her with an intensity so fierce that she broke. A cry tore from her as she clenched around him, then released with a breath-taking shudder. A wave of exquisite pleasure washed over her, then another and another, and she could do nothing more than cling to him and let the euphoria carry her away.

“Arabel.” Her name was a plaintive growl on his lips as he thrust deep once more and held himself there. She felt him jerk inside her, then a rush of warm liquid. He rested his forehead against her shoulder, his teeth clenched as he strained between her thighs to empty every drop of himself inside her.

She clung to him, never wanting to let go. And the tears finally came.

* * *

“Arabel,” Garrick murmured, his heart breaking when he saw her tears. The bliss he’d found with her vanished, instantly replaced by concern. He shifted to lie beside her and gathered her into his arms. That was when he saw the blood on the coverlet, as if he’d claimed her innocence a second time. Ten years for her—Damnation,he should have realized . . . Guilt flared inside him, that in his desire for her he’d caused her pain. “I’ve hurt you. I’m so sorry.”

She shook her head, her eyes closed and refusing to look at him.