Hello Stranger (The Ravenels #4)(57)

He reached between them, adjusting the angle of his erect length, rubbing the broad, hard head of it against the vulnerable cove between her thighs. She tensed in readiness. But he didn’t push, only maintained a gentle, constant pressure, a heated presence there at the entrance of her body. His mouth teased and sucked at hers, invading playfully. Cupping her breast with his hand, he rotated his palm gently over the stiff tip before taking it between his fingers.

She couldn’t help squirming at the wickedly experienced caresses, the undulation of her hips working against the head of his shaft. The opening of her body smarted and stretched. The intrusion felt impossibly wide. Daunted, she tried to hold still, but his beguiling hand slid down, fingers dancing over the folds of her sex, spreading and teasing her. Hunger knotted deep in her belly, and she was overcome by the impulse to press herself into those erotic, tickling caresses. He was mercifully slow, letting her accept him at her own pace—oh, those fingers felt so good—

“Breathe,” he whispered.

She gasped, stretched, ached, quivered on his shaft. He helped her with gentle pushes, inching gradually in a slow, patient possession. Leisurely minutes passed while his wet fingertips stroked, kneaded, and circled until, unbelievably, the pleasure crested again. This time, she was filled so tightly that her muscles could barely clench around him.

When the last ripples of release had faded, he changed their position, lifting her easily, sitting up and letting her slide down until she was in his lap with her legs wrapped around his waist. His hands cupped beneath her bottom, carefully controlling the depth of his penetration to keep from hurting her.

Bewildered, she sat with her arms around his neck.

His eyes were dark and slightly glazed as they stared into hers. “Being inside you like this . . . I wouldn’t have thought I could feel so much without dying of it.”

She leaned her forehead against his, their breaths mingling in unsteady surges. “Tell me what to do.”

“Don’t move. Stay like this. Feel how much I want you.” He panted and trembled, his deeply muscled thighs flexing beneath her. The small motion sent a rain of sparks across her vision. He adjusted the angle of her hips until she felt him pressing against something deep and sensitive inside her, nudging in a steady rhythm.

She brought her lips to his, and he rewarded her with a rough, ardent kiss. Devouring her soft moans, he kept up the ceaseless rocking of his hips while her insides quivered over the stiff length of him. His body was so powerful, beneath her, all around her—he could crush her so easily—but his hold was careful and cradling, as if she were something exquisite he was afraid of breaking.

Lowering her mouth to his shoulder, she savored the taste of salt and maleness. He was very deep now—her body had relaxed enough to take more—she rode the upward nudging of his hips, and everything was soreness and delight and wonder. The heavy muscles of his back twitched with pleasure as her fingers scored lightly over the surface, leaving invisible markings of ownership.

His breath stopped as release caught up to him at last, the rhythm breaking. Blindly he nuzzled at her throat and made a quiet sound like a lost, wild creature. She curled her arms around his head, rubbing her mouth into the satiny locks of his hair, while her body contained the shocks of his release, the liquid heat, the slow, unfolding relief.

They lay in a tangle, drowsing and caressing, as the night gradually thinned into a sharp white dawn. At the first hint of approaching daybreak, Ethan stretched and sat up, lowering his feet to the floor.

Garrett rose to her knees and hugged him from behind, her breasts flattening against his back. Don’t leave, she longed to beg, but instead said quietly, “Come to me as soon as you’re able.”

Ethan was silent for a long moment. “I’ll try, acushla.”

“If things don’t go as they should . . . if you should have to go away somewhere . . . promise you’ll take me with you.”

Ethan turned to face her then. “Love . . .” He shook his head slightly. “I wouldn’t do that to you. Your family and friends, your patients, your practice . . . everything is here. It would ruin your life to leave all that.”

“It would ruin my life not to have you.” As soon as the words left her lips, Garrett realized it was the truth. “I could be a doctor anywhere. I have a little nest egg set aside. Once we settle somewhere, I’ll be able to earn enough to provide for us until you find a suitable occupation. We’ll manage. I’m afraid we would have to take my father with us, but—”

“Garrett.” A rapid succession of emotions crossed Ethan’s face, an odd smile twisting his lips. Taking her head in his hands, he imprinted a brief, hard kiss on her mouth. “You wouldn’t have to support me. I have enough to . . . well, it doesn’t matter. It won’t come to that.” He pulled her head against his chest and rocked her slightly, crushing a kiss against her hair. “I’ll come to you if I’m able. I swear it.”

Closing her eyes in relief, Garrett slid her arms around him.



The next evening, Ethan walked along the footway of Blackfriars Bridge, a structure that was cinched across the lowest banks of the Thames like a buckled luggage strap. Five wrought-iron spans set on enormous red-granite river piers supported the bridge’s steep gradient. No matter which direction vehicles or pedestrians came from, it was a long dead pull to get to the other side.