Vickie Taylor Gargoyles 1 Carved in Stone

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nag about calling more often, and remind her to keep at least a half tank of
gas in her car in case of emergency.
Now she realized how wrong she'd been.
She'd long since grown past the need for advice, a sympathetic voice on the
other end of the phone, or even a place to come home to when life got rough.
Thiswas what she needed: a man to stand with her, to fill the dark hollows
and empty places inside her. To pull her from the grasp of nightmares and make
her feel whole.
A man to chase away the shadows.
She'd thought Nathan was that man; she wanted him to be that man.
Except he wasn't a man at all, was he?
He felt like a man inside her, stretching her, pushing deeper into her than
she'd believed possible. Driving her inexorably up the pleasure peak.
She was willing to pretend he was a man, just for a few minutes, to reach the
oblivion of release. To hide from the possibilities he'd waved before her, the
doubts in her own mind.
As long as she didn't have to look at him, to see the dark shock of hair that
fell over his forehead, ruining his otherwise impeccable look, the dark eyes
that saw so much more than what the rest of the world saw, she could pretend
he was a man.
And for that, she was ashamed.
The water had cooled to tepid. She realized Nathan had bent over her, warming
and shielding her, and the simple gesture tore at her pride. Ruined her
self-respect.
Bracing one hand against his hip, she stepped forward, away from him, and
shut the water off, then slowly turned and lifted her gaze to his face.
His own self-respect was more than a little worn, by the looks of him.
She'd done that, she realized. She'd hurt him, and he loved her anyway.
Afraid he'd change his mind now and push her away, she eased her arms around
his neck and pulled herself up to stand nose to nose with him. She sucked in a
breath when the hair on his chest razed her nipples. He gasped when his
erection pressed against her belly.
"I think I'd like to finish it this way," she said, and reached up to smooth
the harsh lines of regret from his face.
He captured her hand and kissed, then suckled each fingertip. "I can live
with that."
He lifted her, pinned her against the cool tile, and surged into her again.
And again. She threw herself back at him, using the wall for leverage. Their
bodies slapped and slid and sucked. Their mouths devoured. Their hands mapped
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every nook and cranny of each others' bodies, found every erogenous zone,
tweaked every jumping nerve as if they knew this would be their last time
together.
The certainty of that crashed down on Rachel at the same time as a stupendous
orgasm. The barrier she'd constructed around her mind crumbled and Nathan was
there, all around her, inside her, and she was inside him. She couldn't stop
it, didn't want to stop it. All she could do was dig her fingers into the
heavy muscle of his back, bury her head against his shoulder, and try not to
let him see her tears as she came. "Nathan!"
His name was still ringing in her ears when his back stiffened. His hips
bucked once, twice more, heaving himself as far inside her as he could
possibly get.
"Ah, god. I'm coming apart." His arms tightened around her until she could
hardly breathe. "I can't "
Whatever else he'd meant to say was lost in a gurgle, then a groan, as he
came inside her in three long, shuddering spurts. She held his body while his
consciousness drifted somewhere beyond her reach.
When his arms finally loosened around her and his breath evened out, she
unwrapped herself from him and stood on her own rubbery legs.
He lifted his head and stared at her knowingly. He'd been in her mind. He
knew everything she knew. "You're still leaving."
She resisted the urge to cross her arms over her chest even though she was
cold. "I have to."
His brows drew together furiously. He pulled out of her, backed up until his
shoulders rattled the glass door. "So this was a good-bye fuck? You could have
just sent a card."
She shoved past him and into the bathroom.
He followed. "Did it ever occur to you that we might not let you leave? You
know too much."
Snatching her clothes from the vanity, she pulled on her bikini-cut underwear
and kicked her legs into her pants as she walked. "What are you going to do,
lock me away in your tower here for the rest of my life? Or just kill me and
be done with it?"
He blocked her march toward the door with his naked, dripping body. His very
angry, naked, dripping body. "Les Gargouillendon't kill innocent people."
She sighed. Forced herself to unclench her fingers, touch his shoulder, and
speak softly. "I know that. With all my heart I trust that you won't hurt me,
Nathan." She pulled her shirt on, flipped her hair from beneath the collar,
and wrung out the last of the chilled water with a nonchalance that was pure
charade. "Which is why I know you won't stop me."
Check and mate.
She winced as she pushed past him.
Poor choice of words.
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Chapter Twenty-six
Rachel clomped down the stairs toward the groundfloor with Nathan on her
heels.
He stumbled, stubbing a toe, and swore. "You want to leave. Fine. Go anywhere
you want. Just know that I'll be right on your heels every step of the way."
"And if I said I don't want you on my heels?" She glanced over her shoulder
at him.
He smiled like a hungry wolf. "I'd ask what made you think you had a choice."
Rachel frowned, figuring out what he was up to. She'd guessed right when
she'd said he couldn't stop her from leaving, so he was doing what came
natural to every male on the planet when outwitted by a woman.
He bullied her.
Only Rachel Vandermere wouldn't be bullied.
She looked back at him as she turned the corner at the bottom of the stairs.
He'd thrown on a pair of jeans, but hadn't taken the time to button them. His
feet were bare and he was tucking the tails of his shirt very gingerly into
the front of his pants. If the man wasn't in love with her, he was at least in
lust. He'd watched her dress with heavy-lidded eyes, and was already aroused
again.
She clucked. "You might not want to follow so close with that thing sticking
out in front of you. I'm liable to slam it in the first door you try to follow
me through."
He curled his lip at her in response.
Too late, she realized she should have been watching where she was going
instead of ogling the impressive specimen of manhood trying to break free of
the captivity of Nathan's worn denim jeans. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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