A Promise of Fireflies (38 page)

“When God closes one door, He opens another,” she whispered, and for the first time since her mother had recited the words to her, she understood.

“Laurie was all I ever needed. Or wanted. I believe once married, you’re married forever. In life and in death.” As he stepped back, the distance between them grew to a deafening measure.

The words stung as if he had poured salt in an open wound. But worse was the emotional withdrawal, and a feral chill burrowed into her heart. Her strength dissolved. She didn’t feel her legs give way, only Logan’s arms around her, his grip steady, his face inches from hers, and she took hold and clung to him like the sole piece of driftwood in a restless sea. The pain buried in his eyes refused to give way. And in hers, he searched for something she didn’t know if she had the strength to let go of.

“I’ve not looked at another woman since the day I met my wife, nor any day after her death. Until you.” His voice was hoarse, but he spoke the words searching her eyes as if branding them on her heart. “I stopped believing in miracles three years ago. But when I saw you on the deck I knew God sent you to me, to witness His majesty again,” he said pensively. “I prayed then. And again today at the falls. It’s been years since I’ve done so, and I begged God not to take you. This time, my prayers were answered.” She wadded his shirt in her fists and held fast. “I’ve seen the hand of God for the first time in more days than I can count. I don’t know what it means, but there’s one thing I’m certain of,” he said with a deliberate pause. “I’m falling for you, Ryleigh Collins, and it scares the hell out of me.”

A bubble of joy rose amid the chaos of emotions. She would have given her soul as comfort for his pain, but what she could give needed no persuasion and called for no words, simply the reassurance of human touch. Ryleigh buried the last whisper of hesitation and twined her fingers through thick curls, allowing a measure of time to sweep the pieces of shattered memories into place and lock them away. Alone, yet together, two lost souls joined in the knowledge of each other, a barrier against the shadows—not of darkness but those of troubled memories.

She rose on her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck. The brine of poignant tears, empathy’s sweet tang, and the keen ache of need collided in shifting patterns of sensation as she took his mouth. With a breath of wine still sweet on his tongue, he responded in an urgent, soul-searching kiss, fusing their undeniable connection as if he’d found something lost and wouldn’t let go.

And in a secret place of her heart, she knew it to be so.

Encompassed in his embrace, she closed her eyes and resigned herself to the man who touched a place so deep, who’d carved a piece from her only his lifeblood could fill. Compassion, honesty and trust were but a fragment of what lay beneath the rugged exterior. And he shared it selflessly. He knew no other way. And she allowed herself to be drawn fully into his protective cocoon.

He raised her hand in his and kissed each finger. Her skin shivered, each touch a moist, tender caress that settled on her heart. When each had been served, he pressed her palm to his cheek, the day’s stubble both shadow and comfort, an intimation of the man within.

Tentative hands sought the curves of her waist and hips, the need to feel the whole of her clearly written in eyes gone dark as sable mink. Delicate kisses bathed the hollow of her neck, his touch simmering in places reserved for the most intimate of embraces, and her skin met the kindled burn of his fingers as he worked the buttons of her shirt.

When the last button came free, he slid the cloth over her shoulders and it pooled around her bare feet, her panties a transparent whisper of cloth between them. Dark eyes stroked her from forehead to toe. Her nipples peaked under his scrutiny and waves of desire pooled in her belly.

Ryleigh pulled the T-shirt loose from his sweats and with her unspoken guidance, he raised it over his head and let it drop. His chest lay open before her, a mat of dark curls. She pressed a palm over each nipple, the muscle tensing under her touch and he winced as her fingertips skimmed the smooth indentation of a scar. She raised her eyes to meet his. With a gentle tug, the laces of his sweats loosened. They fell in a puddle around his ankles and her hands took no pause in sliding over the firm muscle of thigh and hip, and then reaching around, exploring in the flesh the profile of muscle that so nicely shaped the backside of his jeans. Gooseflesh rose in the wake of her touch and Logan drew a short breath between his teeth. A smile curled her mouth and she dug her fingers into the firm flesh and drew him against her, wanting—needing—the close intimacy, the bond of skin against skin in the joining of need. Her breath caught and she cooled the urge to lose herself as his arms folded around her.

Hands seasoned in gentleness lifted her face and he took her mouth with eager passion. The gentle power of his tongue parted her lips and slipped inside. Every nerve sang in response, emptying her mind to all thought to fill again with only those of skilled hands sweeping over her body. His heart thundered against her ribs and her breasts grew heavy with desire.

Warm breath tickled her skin. “Is this truly what you want?”

“More than you know,” she whispered.

“Once we take that step—”

“I’m sure.” She traced the outline of his jaw, the lines beautifully carved over time by the propensity of wisdom, sorrow and compassion.

He cupped her face, tenderness colliding with urgency in his dark eyes. “God knows I want you,” he said, his breath warm and moist and tasting sweetly of wine and husky spice uniquely his. “But—”

She intercepted the thought with her mouth. “Sometimes words get in the way.”

Apprehension slipped from his face. He kissed her deeply, lifted the chain over her head, and let the dog tag slip through his fingers to the floor. The urgency with which he laid claim rose in her, the desire absolute.

WITH THE TASTE
of her mouth still heavy on his tongue, Logan took her hands and lowered his eyes to hers, seeking the solace in her eyes, searching the cool green pools for something to break the undeniable connection, to calm the emotions flooding through him. Tears clung to her lashes like tiny drops of dew, and the need trembling in the wake of her fingertips stared back at him through eyes a verdant sea of passion. With an inherent desire to ease the remnants of her emotion, he kissed her eyes, first one and then the other, the delicate skin a cool balm to the fire burning inside him. A faint whisper of a summer breeze rose from her skin and hair and settled in every fiber of memory.

Her arms circled his neck. With both hands cupped to her bottom, he scooped her up, long legs wrapping around his waist. Logan crushed her against him, the proof of his desire pressed hard against the cleft of her legs, silk panties the last barrier to a crumbling defense.

With her fastened in his arms, he carried her to her bed and held her in his lap. Every muscle trembled, every nerve thrummed where her skin met his. A wisp of hair drifted across her face and clung to moist lashes. “There’s still time,” he whispered, brushing the hair aside.

She shook her head.

Logan matched her hesitant smile with one of his own, her answer as quiet yet as palpable as snow falling on pine boughs. He ached to pull her closer. To mold his body around her. To fuse the very air that separated them. “If we take this step—”

She pressed her fingers to his lips. “I want this. I want you.”

He swallowed hard. “If you honor me by giving me your body—”

“You already know my answer.”

The lines between his eyes deepened. “It’s not something I take lightly.”

“Nor do I.” She smiled, one of hesitance that faded quickly. “There is one thing…” She leaned over and tugged the drawer open, placed a foil package on the nightstand (mentally thanking her wickedly perceptive friend), and wiggled back into his lap. “I’m sorry, but—”

“I understand.”

“It’s not you. Or me. It’s an unfaithful ex-husband. I don’t know—”

He took her face in his hands and kissed her. And she kissed him back, her consent as sweet and deep as he’d imagined, as sure as if she’d written it on his heart.

“If you’re sure,” he said, brushing the tops of her breasts with the back of his hand. “You’re so beautiful. I don’t know if I’ll be able to control myself.”

In answer to his unspoken plea, she reached behind his neck and pulled him down beside her. “Then please, don’t stop.”

With both hands, Logan slid the thin barrier of silk from her hips and allowed a moment to fully embrace the miracle that lay before him, and as if blinded to everything except the woman before him, his senses took over and every ounce of willpower failed.

Harnessing his own desire, he explored the delicate skin on the inside of her thighs and took her breast with his mouth, a firm peak rising to meet his tongue. Pebbles of gooseflesh rose on his skin, her subtle movements and rousing sighs as pleasing as her moist, bare skin beneath his fingers. A short breath hissed through his teeth as she traced the dark line from his navel and her hand closed around him, the ache peaking beneath her capable hands. With a longing that drowned all sense of reason, he pulled her against the testimony of his need.

THE EVIDENCE OF
his pleasure pressed hard against her, the flesh beneath her fingertips smooth and slick and eager. She reached for the packet on the nightstand, tore it open, and covered him first with her hand and then the thin shield of protection. With a needful groan, he pulled her against him, and with his hips fitted firmly to hers, she surrendered fully, the pleasure of her smile nestled in the softly curled mat of chest hair.

Logan’s heart beat strong and fast against her cheek and echoed her own pulse humming in places intimately roused from a long, dormant spell. Hands seasoned in intimacy rounded her shoulders and possessed her breasts with such eager tenderness, sensitive peaks rose in the wake of his touch. Fully awakened, her body molded itself to the curve of his, the touch of his hands nourishing her as his pleasure became hers.

His hands lingered over the hollow of her back and then lowered to the swell of her bottom and with patient assurance, pulled her firmly against the undeniable proof of shared desire. The hunger of a deep sigh rumbled in his chest, and when his mouth found hers, she guided him into her, warm, wet and eager to accept his unspoken invitation. He entered her with such tenderness she drew in a breath and he answered, his presence deep and intimate, filling not only her body, but the empty spaces of heart and soul.

In the refuge of heightened sensation they became as one flesh, their movements as slow and easy as the words of a lullaby. As they moved as one, the world dissolved around them, and took with it the reservation of doubt, burying the painful ghosts of haunted memories, their bond complete.

The moon rose above the mountains and bathed the room in subtle light. Her head lay in the crook of Logan’s arm as she dozed, her breath a whisper on his skin, and the feel of her against him natural, as if born by innate design. He raised himself to one elbow, content to simply watch her dark eyelashes kiss the faint suggestion of freckles above the delicate slope of cheekbone, the placid smile buried in the corners of her mouth, and with each breath, the peaceful rise and fall of her breasts beneath the sheet. But it was the curl of moist lips, the echo of her laugh, and the sparkle of green eyes that tugged at the places in his heart he thought dead.

Her eyelids fluttered, the intimation of dreams hidden in the surf of those passionate green eyes. Dreams he wanted to know. Eyes he could be lost in forever and never grow tired of the infinite passion that lurked behind them.
“Dormi, la mia tresorina preziosa,”
he whispered, touched the tip of her nose with his finger, and slipped away to clean up.

Moments later, Logan slid quietly back beside her and covered her shoulder with the sheet. As if shielding her and refusing to concede to the dissonance infringing its way into his thoughts, he pulled her closer—covering her with his body, his own blanket of protection.

Ryleigh stirred, her toes a cool flutter against his ankle. The glow of lovemaking had blushed her cheeks and he tightened his embrace. But even skin to skin would never be close enough. Traces of amber highlighted her light brown hair and he let the fibers slide through his fingers. She opened her eyes, the color as deep and paralyzing as a cabochon emerald, her drowsy smile a tempting simper against his skin. This woman wore passion like he’d never known, and God, it looked good on her. She had branded his soul with the whole of her, and without a doubt had staked her claim. And he’d given it freely, and without pardon.

WITH A LEISURELY
sigh, Ryleigh traced the lines of his jaw to the cleft of his chin. Soft stubbles with a dusting of silver aroused the ache to sink into the safe haven of his embrace with nothing more absolute than their bodies joined as one.

Logan closed what little distance lay between them and she welcomed an intimately lazy kiss. Intensely aware of the desire stirring in him again, she nurtured every exploratory touch with a selfless one of her own. And as she reacquainted him with the pleasure of applying protection, his restless sighs matched the touch of her hands. No words were exchanged; there was no need. Their needs, their desires, their movements, were written in silent song.