The Lemon Sisters (Wildstone #3)(55)

“I’m not nearly as inebriated as we were that night.”

“No.” Caressing her soft skin, he leaned in and painted her in kisses while his fingers slid down her belly and beyond, absorbing her every passion-filled moan and sigh.

One night only, his ass. But just in case, he’d use his mouth and hands and body to make this count, make her remember what they’d once been to each other, if nothing else. She gasped when he nudged her barely there panties to the side. Her nails dug into his biceps as he brought her to the very edge and held her there. Watching her lose control was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen, and he drew out her pleasure, making sure she felt every sensation, every teasing stroke, every nibble, every kiss. And when she shuddered and cried out his name, he gripped her hips to keep her from sinking down on him and taking him deep.

“Now,” she whispered, wriggling to get him in place. “Please, now.”

“Brooke.” Catching her, holding her still, he met her gaze. “I don’t have a condom.”

She stared at him, her eyes glittering with hunger and a need for him that humbled him to the core. “We don’t need one,” she whispered. “I’m clean, Garrett.”

He kissed her softly. “So am I, but—”

“Remember? Pregnancy isn’t a problem anymore.”

Shit. He tried to cuddle her into him, but that wasn’t what she wanted. Instead, she sank down on him, slowly, so damn slowly that it was sheer, beautiful torture, and then he could no longer think, at least not with his brain. Fisting his hands in her hair, he brought her mouth to his as they both began to move. Didn’t take much to rev her up again, and hell, he was already there, and as she shuddered and cried out, he did the same, completely lost in her.

And fairly confident she was right there with him.

BROOKE CAME AWAKE to pain blooming throughout her entire body. Opening her eyes, she stared up at a startlingly blue sky and a helicopter rotor blade. She was on the ground, flat on her back, the only sounds the hiss of something from the downed helicopter and the innocuous song of insects humming in the otherwise silent day.

She jerked and . . . opened her eyes again?

Not in the jungle. Not on the ground where she’d been thrown from the crash.

Instead, she lay in Garrett’s dark, soothingly cool bedroom, hugged up against his warm body while the crushing fear, dread, and horror lingered. She took a very careful, slow breath, hoping she hadn’t woken him. One breath, two breaths, three . . . four. One breath, two breaths, three . . . four.

But the usual self-calming technique didn’t work. She could still see herself lying on that mountain, covered in her own blood—

She slid out of bed, grabbed a shirt—his—and padded into the kitchen, followed by three curious cats.

She was standing at the sink sipping a glass of water when she felt him. He came up behind her and turned her, hugging her into him, his hand brushing her hair back from her face.

“I’m okay.”

He gave her one of his patented long, steady looks and said nothing. Garrett was very good at silence.

She, however, was not. “Sometimes I have dreams.”

“Because you’ve been hiking again? Climbing?”

She hadn’t been climbing at all, but interesting that he assumed she had been. That she was brave enough. Because she wasn’t. “Maybe,” she murmured, but that wasn’t true, either. She was pretty sure it was the fact that she was opening herself up to emotions again. The seven years of numbness hadn’t been great, but the sparks of feeling after going so long without hurt like hell. She was way too vulnerable after lying so intimately wrapped around Garrett for the past few hours.

He just continued to hold her close, projecting warm, safe, calm vibes, and she began to relax. She hadn’t really even noticed she was shivering until it began to slow and then subsided entirely.

“Hungry?” he asked.

“Yes.”

She watched as he pulled stuff from the fridge and got out a pan. In no time at all, he produced two grilled cheese sandwiches. She stared, fascinated by the way he moved around the kitchen with the same calm efficiency he had when he was working. And it was all so effortless. How did he stay in such constant control? Was he really that good at compartmentalizing? And where did she sign up for a class?

“Admit it,” she said. “Grilled cheese sandwiches are still the only thing in your arsenal.”

“Hey, grilled cheese sandwiches are life. Sit,” he instructed, cutting up the sandwiches and stacking them on a plate, adding a mountain of chips. All the while, she watched him. She couldn’t help it. There was something incredibly sexy about a man wearing only a pair of jeans, making snacks in the kitchen at two in the morning after he’d made you writhe in pleasure for most of the night.

After they ate, he drew her back to his bed. She opened her mouth to say she needed to go, but he kissed her softly, gently, then tucked her into him, running his hands slowly up and down her back until she melted against him. He had a way of doing that, making her forget everything bad.

So yeah, okay, maybe she’d stay, just a little bit longer.





Chapter 12


All her other demons would just have to get in line.

Mew.”

Brooke sucked in some air, opened her eyes, and . . . drew a blank.