Fortune's Legacy (11 page)

Rosita's wide, dark eyes filled, but she only nodded jerkily and turned for the stairs.

Alone again, Lily stood in the late afternoon sun-washed hallway and faced the coming emptiness with a heavy heart.

 

It took about a half hour for the paralysis to ease.

Every muscle in Kyra's body ached, even a few she'd never been aware of before. But on the whole, she felt good. Too good.

Reaching for their wineglasses, Kyra took a drink from hers as she handed the other to Garrett. He propped himself up on one elbow, took the glass and drained the ruby liquid in one long, thirsty gulp.

Kyra's mouth watered as she watched him, and she had to wonder how this had happened. How had they gone from enemies to friends to lovers all in the span of one day?

And now that so much had changed between them, how were they supposed to handle it?

“You're thinking again,” he said. “I can almost see the wheels in your mind turning.”

She didn't deny it. What would be the point? “There's a lot to think about.”

“Yeah, I guess there is.” He set the glass down on the floor beside him and sat up to face her. “But before you start thinking too much, I want to say I'm not sorry that happened.”

“Oh,” she said with a quick, rueful smile, “me neither. It might be easier if I were sorry. Then I could call it a mistake and forget about it.”

“Is that what you want?”

“No,” she admitted. No sense in lying about this. “I don't want to forget about it, but I don't know what to think about it, either. So I guess I'm feeling confused more than anything. But sorry? No. Hard to be sorry about something that was so great.”

Yet even as she spoke, she reached for the blanket she'd come to think of as her toga. His hip pinned it to the floor, though, and as she tugged it free, he grinned.

“A little late for modesty, isn't it?”

She flipped her hair back from her face and clutched the blanket in front of her. It didn't really matter that her backside was still naked. “It's not modesty. I know it sounds silly, but this is different. When we're naked and…busy, it's okay. When we're naked and chatting, it's weird.”

But she hoped he wouldn't feel the same. It would be a shame to have him wrapped up in a blanket again. She really liked looking at his body, hard and muscled and oh, so very talented.

A hum of something nearly electrical buzzed through her and Kyra sucked in a gulp of air.

“You should know,” she blurted, before she could
think better of it, “this whole, spontaneous sex thing is so not like me.”

“I figured.”

“Oh, really. Why's that?”

“Hell, Kyra. You're at the office practically twenty-four hours a day. When do you have time to be spontaneous?”

“Good point. But I just wanted you to know that this was out of character for me.”

“Well then,” he said, grinning again, “my congratulations. You're damn good at it.”

She smiled, then shook her head. “I'm trying for serious here.”

“Right.”

“It's not that I don't like sex. It's fine. Warm and comforting and nice enough.”

“High praise indeed,” he said wryly, reaching for the wine bottle.

“Not you,” she said quickly. “I was talking about the other times. Not so many, either, because I don't want you to think I'm easy or anything. Not that I'm a prude, by any means. But I don't want tonight to give you the idea that I'm all about ‘Call Kyra for a good time,' because that's not who I am, either, you know?” Oh God, she was babbling again. Words flew from her mouth like water rushing from a broken dam.

There didn't seem to be any way to stop herself. Her mouth was in full throttle. Neither could she avoid looking at his eyes and watching them widen as she just kept talking. Oh, God, could a person actually die from embarrassment?

“And I think you should already know all of that without me having to tell you because you've actually known me for years, and if there's the slightest chance that you're going to lose all respect for me because of this…” She gestured with the wineglass and sloshed some of the liquid over the rim and down her hand. “Then I have to remind you that you're my boss, for heaven's sake, and respect runs two ways and—”

Garrett leaned in and kissed her. He was figuring out pretty quickly that the only way to shut her up when she was on a roll like this was to give her mouth something else to do. Something he was more than happy to help her with.

After a few long, amazing minutes, he pulled his head back to look at her. A faint smile curved her lips, and her eyes were hazy with renewed passion.

“Was that a blatant attempt to get me to stop talking?”

“Oh, yeah. Did it work?” he asked, taking her glass to set it aside, then grasping her hand and slowly licking the wine from her flesh.

She shivered, blew out a shaky breath and admitted, “Oh, yeah. It worked great. Now, do you think you can stop me from thinking, too?”

“I'll do my best,” he promised, and tugged the blanket away from her truly gorgeous body.

“Well,” Kyra said, leaning into him and wrapping her arms around his neck, “I happen to be in a position to know that your ‘best' is really, really good.”

“You ain't seen nothing yet,” he promised and pulled her down on top of him.

T
his time it was even better.

Kyra's mind fogged over as Garrett smoothed his palms up and down her body. The man had patience. He didn't leave a single square inch of her skin unexplored. He used his hands, his fingertips, to drive her body higher, higher.

Her vision swam and she had to fight for breath.

All she could focus on was Garrett and the magic of his touch.

He kissed her lazily, languorously, as if he had all the time in the world. As if he wanted to taste her as he would a fine wine, the subtle scents and textures. His mouth was an instrument and he was a maestro.

His tongue swept over hers, sending tingles of anticipation through her that settled low in her belly. Her own tongue explored his mouth, the warmth, the intoxicating depths of him. Chills raced along her spine, and her heartbeat quickened until the furious thump of it filled her ears, deafening her to all but the thunderous pounding.

Firelight played on his features as he pulled back from her and let his gaze travel up and down her body with the same thoroughness as his hands.

“I can't seem to see enough of you,” he admitted, reaching to stroke his fingertips across her abdomen.

Her stomach muscles quivered and she arched into his touch, wanting more, wanting everything.

“I know just what you mean,” she said, enjoying the shift of light and shadow across his bare, muscled chest.

He smiled at her and Kyra wondered why she'd ever thought him cold and distant.

The man who was with her now was just the opposite. Warm, giving, a generous lover. He was sure enough of himself to be able to laugh during sex, and confident enough in his own masculinity to enjoy himself when Kyra took the lead.

She'd found more in Garrett Wolff than she'd ever expected. Found more in herself when she was with him than she'd ever expected.

But she would think about all of that later, consider what it all meant another time.

At the moment all she wanted was more of him.

More of what happened when they came together.

Garrett shifted position, moving to kneel between her legs, and Kyra's breath caught in her throat. A swirl of something hot and needy pooled in her belly and her mouth went so dry she couldn't even swallow.

She reached one hand toward him. “Garrett—”

He caught it in one of his. Smiling at her, he shook his head.

“My turn again,” he whispered, then turned his face into her palm and kissed it, nibbling at her skin with the edges of his teeth. She shivered, closed her eyes and sighed.

“This is so not fair,” she murmured, bracing herself for the sensations she knew were just about to start.

“Who said anything about being fair?” he asked, and scooped his hands beneath her bottom, lifting her off the floor.

“You're an evil, evil man, Garrett Wolff.”

“And you like it,” he countered, lowering his head until his breath gently dusted her most sensitive flesh.

“Oh, yeah. I really do,” she confessed, staring into his eyes, letting him see the hunger wracking her.

“Just what I wanted to hear.” Then he stopped talking, lowered his head and took her heat with his mouth.

Kyra hissed in a breath and instinctively rocked her hips into his kiss. His tongue swept over her flesh, smooth, soft, silky. He teased her, tasted her, taunted her, and she hoped wildly that he'd never stop.

Heart pounding wickedly in her chest, she lifted her legs to his shoulders and gave herself up to the unrelenting crash of sensations. One after another they slammed
into her, pushing her higher, faster, than she'd ever been before.

Never had she felt anything like this. No man had ever taken her so intimately. So deeply.

No one had ever touched her in so many ways.

No other man had ever touched her heart with such deadly accuracy.

His big hands kneaded her behind, squeezing, exploring. His tongue stroked her again and again. His lips and teeth worked her innermost flesh, tantalizing her with fresher, wilder sensations every second.

Kyra struggled to breathe. Struggled to hold on, to keep the release clamoring inside her at bay. She didn't want him to stop. Didn't want this to end.

Blindly staring at the ceiling, she watched, mesmerized by the play of light and shadow on the broad, wooden beams and planks overhead. From outside, the sigh of the wind sounded, and beside her, the fire still crackled with a cozy warmth that seemed to wrap the two of them in a separate world, one where only touch mattered. Where senses were filled and tomorrow didn't exist.

Then she shifted her gaze, looking at Garrett.

She couldn't take her eyes off him. Watching him as he took her was somehow even more exciting than the act itself. She reached for him, stroking her hand through his hair, holding his head to her. “Garrett, I feel…”

Everything, her brain whispered. She felt it all. Absorbed it all. And knew without a doubt it would never be enough. Even while her body prepared for another rocking climax, Kyra knew the hunger for him wouldn't end.

She would only want him more.

He groaned and stroked his tongue across the tiny nub at her core. Lightning bolts shot through her body, leaving her shuddering, gasping, poised on the edge of an explosion that would surely shatter her.

He used his tongue skillfully, caressing that one small piece of flesh again and again, feeding on her sighs, reacting to her hissed breathing and pants of need.

And when she couldn't stand the sweet torment any longer, Kyra surrendered to it. Still holding him to her, she shouted his name and allowed herself to splinter into a wild burst of colored light.

And while her body still shuddered in release, he laid her down, covered her body with his and slid inside her. He entered her swiftly, surely, impaling her with his length, filling her to completion.

Kyra wrapped her arms around him and held him to her tightly, scraping her hands up and down his broad back, scoring his skin with her nails. “Again,” she murmured, tucking her face into the curve of his neck, kissing him, nibbling the base of his throat. “Again.”

“Yes,” he muttered, his voice a sharp scrape of sound.

“Garrett,” she whispered, “take me now, and this time come with me.”

He lifted his head to look into her eyes. “You touch me, Kyra. More than anyone ever has.”

He dropped his head to take her mouth in a hard, fierce kiss. Then he stared into her eyes and watched passion flare as he rocked his hips against hers.

She groaned and locked her legs around his hips,
pulling him even deeper within. Deep enough that she hoped he would never be able to find his way out again.

His hips rocked again and again, setting a rhythm that was as fierce as the emotions jolting back and forth between them.

She matched him move for move, stroke for stroke. Their bodies slapped together and the sound was earthy, elemental. Here, Kyra thought, here was what she'd waited for most of her life. Here was what she'd been missing.

Her body felt eager, alive, ready. It seemed that she was always ready for him. A look. A touch. Anything from him could spark this overwhelming need engulfing her.

And though a part of her was terrified of what she was feeling, Kyra was honest enough with herself to admit that she'd given up on finding this kind of magic long ago. And now that she'd found it, she intended to enjoy it for as long as she could.

Because it wouldn't last. She couldn't allow that.

This was the one special man who could breach her defenses.

This one man could have the power to hurt her.

She pushed those thoughts away. She didn't want to think. Didn't want to plan or worry or fret. For now she wanted only to feel. To surrender herself to him. To what the two of them could create, she and this amazing man.

 

It was amazing, Lily thought, through her grief. As she looked around at the faces of those gathered in
Ryan's bedroom, she could actually feel the outpouring of love surrounding her.

They'd come to say goodbye. To show Ryan that death couldn't end what he'd begun.

Moving closer to the wide bed, where the man she'd loved for most of her life lay dying, Lily fed on the strength of their family. She drew on it, knowing that it would be enough to get her through this last, most difficult journey.

Ryan lay so still. Lamplight splashed across the brightly colored quilt that covered him. His breathing was shallow now, slowing until she counted seconds between each one. From outside, she heard birds singing and the wind sighing through the trees. Life was going on all around her.

Even though her own was ending.

Gently, she sat down on the edge of the bed and reached for one of Ryan's hands. Behind her, Ryan's daughter Victoria sniffled and muffled a sob. The woman's brothers, Matthew and Zane, and her twin, Vanessa, were all here with their children.

“Mom?” Lily looked up, responding instantly to her son Cole's concerned voice. “Is there anything we can do?”

She reached for his hand and squeezed it, then shifted her gaze to encompass everyone there. “You're doing it,” she said softly, looking from one to the other of the sober faces clustered around the bed. “Just by being here, you're doing everything you can.”

Then Lily forgot about everyone but Ryan. Turn
ing back to him, she studied his familiar face and wondered why he could look so much like himself. His features were still handsome, still darkly tanned, and his thick black hair still made her fingers itch to touch it.

When his eyes opened and focused on her, she forced the smile she knew he would want.

“Lily.” His fingers twitched against hers.

His eyes were clear for the first time in days. There was no more pain clouding their inky depths. He glanced briefly at his family, gathered close, and worked his mouth, trying to find the strength to speak. When he managed it at last, there were only three words for them to cling to.

To remember.

“Love each other,” he whispered, his voice a faint echo of what it once was.

Lily crumpled, holding his hand tightly to her breast, as though if she held on long enough, hard enough, she might tether him to this world. To her.

She watched his eyes and saw the light slowly fade. He slipped away in inches, a quiet exit from a life lived so thoroughly.

When the silence in the room became a living, breathing thing, Ryan smiled and whispered suddenly, “Pa?”

Then he was gone.

 

Snow was still falling outside, and Garrett approached the window warily, almost as if he expected the drifts to spill through the glass. Wearing his now dry
clothes, he leaned on the window frame and tipped his head to see the black sky above and the white flakes drifting from it.

The storm had lasted hours already and showed no signs of stopping. Hell, if this kept up, they could be stranded here for days.

As that thought occurred to him, he glanced over his shoulder at the woman sleeping curled on the rug in front of the fire. Not necessarily a bad thing, he conceded as his body reacted instantly, going hard and needy in the space of a heartbeat.

Straightening up, he scraped one hand across his face and tried to get a grip on the rampaging desire galloping through his system. Damn it, he hadn't reacted to a woman like this since he was in high school, trying to coax Sandi Brewster into the back seat of his dad's Buick.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, he strolled barefoot back across the cabin. Then he hitched up his slacks and squatted beside Kyra. Her wispy blond hair lay in uneven fringes around her face, making her look like an exhausted pixie.

Firelight shimmered on her skin, creating a rich glow that tempted him to touch. But he curled his fingers into his palm to keep from giving into that urge. He'd already done enough instinct-following today.

Lifting his gaze to the cheerful fire, he stared unseeing at the flames dipping and swaying in the chill wind slipping down the chimney. His mind wandered back to just an hour or so ago, when he'd looked down into
Kyra's eyes as their bodies joined. When he'd felt her surrender, and allowed himself to do the same.

He pressed the heel of his hand to his chest and rubbed, as if that motion could get rid of the nagging ache in his heart. But even as he tried, he knew he'd fail. Kyra had slipped inside him. Somehow or other, the woman who'd been a pain in the ass at work for eight years had become
important
in just a few hours.

But maybe, he thought, it wasn't as sudden as all that. Maybe this had been coming on for years. All of the arguments, the friction between them. Maybe it had all been leading them here.

“You look awfully serious.”

Her quiet voice drew him out of his thoughts, for which he was grateful. Because despite what he was feeling at the moment, Garrett had no idea how they were going to handle this change in their situation.

“Still snowing,” he said, and lowered himself to sit on the floor beside her.

“Wow.” She glanced at the window, then looked back at him. “When Colorado has a spring blizzard, they do it up right.”

He smiled and reached out to smooth her hair off her face. She rubbed her cheek against his hand and smiled back at him. “You got dressed,” she said accusingly.

He shrugged. “Went out to get more firewood. Clothes seemed like a good idea.”

She nodded and pushed herself up into a sitting position. Leaning back against his chest, she looked into the fire. “I didn't mean to fall asleep on you.”

“You were tired.”

She tipped her head and grinned at him. “Not tired. Exhausted.”

Her smile caused a jolt of reaction inside him and Garrett wondered why he'd never taken the time to see past her cold, hard-at-work attitude before now. How could he have missed her warmth, her humor? How could he have been immune to the sexual pull of her direct, blue-green eyes?