Overnight Sensation (15 page)

“I probably shouldn’t stay too long,” she said without conviction. “It’s almost daybreak. People will start talking.”

Garrett turned and arched an eyebrow at her, the expression in his eyes telling her he knew how insincere her words were. He stretched back out on the mattress beside her, pulling the sheet over their bodies. Ivy had no time to protest as he drew her back against his body and wrapped his arms completely around her, spooning her against his chest.

“Three days,” he said softly against her ear. “That was the deal.”

Was he serious? Had she been serious? Ivy found she couldn’t think clearly when he was this close. She had asked him to give her three days, but she hadn’t really had a precise idea of what those three days would entail, except that maybe they’d hook up once or twice during that time.

“Are you saying we’ll stay here—in your cabin—for the entire three days?”

He smoothed her hair back behind her ear and nuzzled her neck. His jaw was rough with whiskers and caused delicious shivers of sensation to finger their way across her skin. “You’re the one who set the terms, sweetheart.” He pressed a lingering kiss to the sensitive area just below her ear, while his big hand brushed over her body, to settle at the juncture of her thighs. “‘Three days of no-strings sex. ’Your words, not mine.”

Ivy laughed uncertainly. “Well, yes, but I thought…I didn’t think…” She gave a small groan of frustration and twisted her head to look at him. “You don’t really intend for us to be locked together in this room for three days nonstop, do you?”

His grin was swift and appreciative. “Trust me,” he said, catching the lobe of her ear lightly between his teeth, while his hand slid between her thighs to explore further, “there’s nothing I’d rather do.”

He pressed his hips meaningfully against her, and there he was, hot and hard once more, against her buttocks and ready for round two. But instead of pressuring her to accept him, he pulled away from her and lay back against the pillows, arms bent beneath his head.

Curious, Ivy peered at him over her shoulder. In the indistinct light, he was all sculpted muscles and bare skin, and almost against her will, she found herself turning to face him. Of its own volition, her hand reached out and traced the hard ridges of his stomach, then lower to where his arousal begged for her touch. She enclosed him in her hand, feeling him pulse beneath her fingers.

“Oh, yeah,” he murmured. “See what you do to me? Just thinking about you makes me hard. And when you touch me—” He gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Christ. Three days of this might kill me.”

Unable to help herself, Ivy laughed. “I won’t let that happen. I’m your guardian angel, remember?” She dropped a kiss on his shoulder. “Besides, I don’t want to disappoint Finn with some mediocre love scenes. You’d better show me everything.”

Garrett grinned, a slow, wicked grin of promise. “With pleasure.”

SHE WAS WARM, AND MORE comfortable than she could remember being in a long time. With a soft sigh, she snuggled deeper into the cocoon that surrounded her. She was dreaming, a sensual dream of exploration that slowly aroused her and had her seeking more. Hands smoothed over her body, soothing and exciting at the same time. She stretched languorously, practically purring with contentment, and shifted to get closer to the source of the wonderful contact. Her breasts pressed against something hard. But when a callused hand skated along the length of her bare thigh, then lifted her leg to settle it across hips that were unmistakably male in their hardness, her eyes flew open.

This was no dream.

She found herself staring into eyes the shade of dark honey, drowsy with sleep and the beginnings of sexual awareness. Daylight streamed through the windows, penetrating the gossamer netting that surrounded them, gilding his skin with sunlight.

Gradually, she realized her breasts were indeed pressed against the muscled hardness of Garrett’s body and one leg was draped over his hips. She could feel him, hard and hot, against the juncture of her thighs. For a moment, she couldn’t move, couldn’t even breathe. She could only stare into his eyes. The blackness of his pupils almost drowned out the hammered bronze of his irises.

Then, slowly, as if in a dream, he slid his hand down over the curve of her buttock. He briefly cupped the firm mound before his hand moved lower, dipped between her legs, and his fingers found the most intimate part of her. As he drew his fingers along her cleft, her breath caught and then shuddered softly out.

How long had they slept? Had it been hours—or minutes—since they’d last made love? Her body felt sated and deliciously sore in places she hadn’t even known existed, but as his fingers found her center, moisture swamped her and desire laced through her. She gave a ragged sigh of surrender and pushed closer to him, sliding her own hand over the flat hardness of his stomach, feeling the ridges of muscle contract beneath her fingers.

He growled approvingly, and his fingers tormented her slick flesh as he gently circled a finger over her clitoris. She moaned and pushed against his hand, wanting more of the delicious sensations that caused a sensual heat to build between her legs.

How was it this guy had the ability to arouse her so quickly? Or so easily? Maybe it had something to do with the languorous pace he set, as if they had all the time in the world, despite the fact his own arousal was more than apparent.

Without a word, Garrett caught her mouth with his, feasting on her lips. She ran her hands up over his shoulders, marveling anew at their width and strength. Her hands moved over the hard muscles of his back, reveling in the smooth rise and fall of bone and sinew. But then her fingers encountered a ridge of scar tissue near his hip. Her exploration stilled. How had she not noticed this earlier? Was it another gunshot wound? A knife to the back, perhaps?

How many scars could one body carry? How many times had his life been threatened? She’d asked him to help her with the love scenes, but the realization hit her that this was no actor she held in her arms. He wasn’t Bruce Willis or Vin Diesel, who took one punishing blow after another and still managed to overcome the bad guy and walk away; this was a real man who had put himself in real peril and suffered real injuries as a result.

“What is this from?” she asked, gently probing the damaged flesh. “Another bullet wound?”

He reached behind him, pulled her hands away from his back and stretched them over her head. “Shrapnel,” he murmured, pressing warm, insistent kisses against her skin. “Got me just below my vest. It was no big deal.”

No big deal? Ivy felt as though she’d been doused with cold water. She couldn’t believe he could be so cavalier about something that might have killed him, that had killed countless other soldiers. Soldiers like her brother, who hadn’t been so lucky. She struggled briefly against Garrett’s hold on her.

“How many times have you been injured?” she asked, hating how her voice broke. “How many times has somebody tried to kill you?”

He lifted his head to look at her, and as he searched her face, something flashed in his eyes. Comprehension. Remorse. Sympathy.

“Aw, shit,” he muttered, and rolled to his side, pulling her with him and hugging her to his chest. “I’m sorry, babe. I wasn’t thinking. I forgot…you lost a brother.”

“You—you know about my brother?” Her voice was muffled against his shoulder.

He hesitated, then bestowed a kiss on her temple. “Yeah. Iraq, right?”

She nodded before easing back to consider him. “How do you know about him?”

Garrett hesitated, then raised her hand and placed his mouth against her palm. “Finn does a complete background check on every actor,” he finally said, entwining his fingers with hers. “When he realized your brother was in the service, he mentioned it to me, since obviously it’s something I’d relate to.”

“Oh.”

His arm tightened around her. “It must’ve been rough for you.”

“Devon was all I had left.” She cleared her throat at the constriction there, willing herself not to cry, but she couldn’t stop the tightness in her chest that always accompanied her memories of her brother. “My dad died in a car accident when we were both in elementary school, and Mom was diagnosed with cancer while Devon was serving his second tour of Iraq.” Ivy bit her lip at the memory. “He didn’t make it back in time to say goodbye to her. It really bothered him.”

“I’m sorry. That must have been tough on your mom, raising two kids alone. Were you close to her?”

Ivy smiled at the memory of her exuberant, free-spirited mother. “Oh, yeah. Losing my dad was really hard for her, but I think it just made her more determined to live her life to the fullest. When I wanted to ditch college and head straight to Hollywood, she didn’t try to stop me. She simply reminded me that some of the best actors also had undergraduate degrees. And she didn’t try to talk Devon out of enlisting in the marines, either, even though she didn’t agree with the war.”

Garrett hugged her tighter and pressed another kiss to her temple. “She sounds like a special lady. I’m sure she was very proud of you.”

“She used to have these big, crazy parties for me whenever one of my movies came out, even if it was a box-office flop. She always had so much faith in me. I think that’s part of the reason getting cast for this role means so much to me. It’s like I’m not letting her down.” Ivy twisted her face to look at him. “What about you? Do you have family?”

Garrett laughed. “Oh, yeah. I have four older sisters, and my folks are still alive and well in northern California.”

“Four sisters? Wow.”

Garrett chuckled. “Yep. My mom always wanted a son, and she wasn’t about to stop until she got one.”

Ivy laughed. “I guess you’re lucky you only have four sisters, then.”

“Trust me,” he said wryly, “four was enough. They used to dress me up like a little girl—at least, until I got old enough to outrun them. It’s probably one of the reasons I joined the military. I felt like I had something to prove. At any rate, I’m sorry about the loss of your brother. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Ivy drew in a deep breath. “It’s okay. I guess it’s just…seeing your wounds brings everything back.” She met his eyes. “Even reading the script and knowing you really had to go through all those horrors doesn’t make it as real as—as seeing your scars does.”

If anything, her scars made her realize how lucky he’d been to survive, and how fortunate she was to be holding him, warm and alive, in her arms. Two weeks ago, she hadn’t even known Garrett Stokes existed. But now that she knew…she couldn’t even think about the possibility of him being killed and not have a shudder go through her.

“Hey.” He cupped her face, staring down at her. “I’m okay. I survived.”

“I know, but—”

“If I hadn’t had those experiences, I wouldn’t be here, holding you.” He searched her eyes. “If being tortured and shot and hunted like an animal in the jungle was the price I had to pay to be here with you, I’d do it all again in a heartbeat.”

Ivy’s breath caught. There was no mistaking the sincerity of his words, but a part of her couldn’t help but wonder whom he was talking to—her or Helena? She wasn’t even certain she wanted to know. For now, it was enough that he was here, with her.

“So here’s the thing,” he said, his voice a little rough. “I really want to make love to you again, but if you’re not up to it…if I repel you somehow—”

She lifted her head and pressed a swift kiss to his lips, interrupting his words. Pulling back, she covered his hand where it still cradled her face and slowly drew it downward until it covered her breast, then watched in fascination as his eyes darkened.

“It’s not too much,” she assured him. “And there’s nothing repellent about you, as you very well know. In fact, I need…”

“What?” A whisper of air was all that separated his lips from hers. “What do you need?”

“You,” she breathed, and closed the infinitesimal space to cover his mouth with her own. Slipping her arms under his, she edged nearer, wanting to absorb him, to surround him and keep him close to her, as if by doing so, she could prevent him from ever being hurt again.

He slanted his mouth over hers and she opened for him, welcoming the sweet intrusion of his tongue against her own. She lost track of how long they kissed, long and deep, while their hands roamed freely over each other. She stroked her palms over his back and lower, to grasp his firm buttocks and pull him against her hips.

“Oh, man,” he groaned, “see what you do to me.”

His erection throbbed against her belly, stiff and begging to be touched. Ivy complied, wrapping him in her hand and stroking him until his breathing changed, became shallow and ragged. Easing back, she watched his face as passion drew it taut and turned his eyes to molten bronze. Her response to him was just as strong. Heat coiled low in her womb, and she knew that if he was to touch her, she’d be slick and wet.

He shifted and prepared to pull her beneath him, but Ivy stopped him with a hand on his chest. He raised his head, his eyes smoky.

“What?”

“Not like this,” she whispered, and pushed against the solid planes of his chest until he lay on his back beneath her. “Like this…”

She straddled his thighs, scooting back just enough that she could still touch him freely. She continued to stroke him, greedily devouring him with her eyes, reveling as he responded to her touch.