The Best Bride. Сьюзен Мэллери

so overwhelmed by all of it. Not just what went wrong with Sam, but for everything we’ve lost. I wanted to give my daughter a perfect home with two loving parents.”

      “Mandy is fine. You have a new job, you’re healing from the surgery. You’re both going to make it. So what’s the problem?”

      She stared at his neck, studying the way his evening stubble roughened his skin. She wanted to touch him there, to see what he felt like against her fingers, but she couldn’t. It wasn’t right to repay his kindness with her own selfish needs.

      “I can’t marry again. I would never trust myself to pick the right man.”

      “That’s a big decision to make, based on one mistake.” She sat up and glared at him. “It was a hell of a mistake. Who are you to be telling me what I should think about marriage? You’ve had one bad experience, and you’re never getting married again.”

      One corner of his mouth turned up in a smile. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.” She tried to wiggle out of his lap, but he held her firm. “It wasn’t just one experience,” he said, resting his hands on her waist.

      She stopped fighting and sagged against him. “Does it hurt you, too? Does it hurt to know you’ll always be alone?”

      “Yeah. It hurts like hell.”

      He reached down for her at the exact moment she raised her head toward him. Their lips met. Unlike their other kisses, there was nothing gentle this time, no soft exploration. It was hard and hot, hungry and desperate. She could feel her own pain and his pain. The hurt, the bleakness of their futures compounded one another, growing until they were both close to drowning in need.

      She clung to him, to his arms and shoulders, shifting to move her body closer. His strength would be her salvation. Just for this night, just for this tiny slip of time, she would steal what she had to, give all she could so he would be saved, as well.

      His mouth angled over hers, his lips parted. She welcomed him, welcomed the sensations he brought, the forgetfulness of pleasure. That is what she needed, she thought, feeling his tongue with her own, tasting him, being tasted. She needed to forget everything in her life.

      He touched her face, her hair, her shoulders, her back. Whisper-light touches that barely grazed her skin. They set her on fire. She moved closer so that her side pressed against him. Her breasts ached. She wanted him to touch her there, touch her everywhere. The heat of the fire helped her forget. She could get lost in the smoke. Disappear into the flames. He made her come alive in ways she’d forgotten existed.

      His hands rested on her waist, then began to move higher. Her breasts swelled, her nipples puckered inside her bra. Against her hip she felt the hard ridge of his erection. An answering wanting moistened her panties.

      “Travis,” she breathed in anticipation as his fingers stroked her rib cage.

      He buried his face in her neck, kissing the sensitive skin under her jaw, nibbling on her earlobe, whispering her name like a prayer. His lips were warm and damp.

      His hands moved higher still, at last cupping her full breasts, taking their weight into his palms. His thumbs swept across her nipples, sending sharp jolts of pleasure down to curl her bare toes. She arched against his caress, searching for more and more of his touch. But instead of assuaging her need, he moved his hands up to her shoulders, then slipped his fingers through her hair and held her head in place.

      She opened her eyes and stared at him. The fire burning in his dark irises left no room for any emotion other than passion. She reveled in the need and desire that matched her own.

      Never taking her eyes from him, she touched his face. Her fingers traced the straight line of his nose, the shape of his jaw. She heard the rasp of her fingertips against his stubble, and felt the smoothness of his mustache. She touched his damp mouth, tracing the shape, enjoying the heat. He parted his lips and licked the tip of her finger.

      She laughed. He smiled at the sound; then his smile faded and she saw the questions forming in his eyes. Questions that quenched the fire and overpowered the need.

      The loss was more than she could bear. “Don’t,” she whispered.

      “Elizabeth, you’re reacting. It’s too soon.”

      The disappointment tasted bitter. “I thought men always wanted to get women into bed. I guess it’s not true.” She tried to slide off his lap, but he held her in place. She flushed. “Or it’s not true with me.”

      He thrust his hips forward, pressing his erection hard against her. “Do you need more proof that I want you? I’m trying to keep you from having regrets in the morning.”

      “You’re thinking about my past.” It hurt to be rejected out of hand. The feeling was made worse by the fact that he was the first man she’d been attracted to, or had even kissed, since Sam. She hadn’t made love for over a year. She’d never once been tempted to stray, and since she found out the truth about her marriage, she’d been too ashamed to try dating. Nothing had changed. She was still the shy little nobody. The girl who didn’t understand boys or know how to attract them. The boys had grown into men, but she was just as lost as ever.

      “I’m sorry I embarrassed you,” she said stiffly, wishing she wasn’t turning bright red.

      “Damn it, Elizabeth, what do I have to do to prove to you that I’m trying to act like a gentleman?”

      “Nothing at all— What are you doing?”

      He placed one arm around her back and slipped the other underneath her legs. As he rose to his feet, he pulled her against his chest. He walked four steps to the bed.

      “You are the most stubborn woman,” he growled as he bent over and placed her on the comforter.

      “Stop. You don’t have to do anything. In fact, I’d rather you didn’t.” She started scrambling off the other side.

      He grabbed both her hands in his. One he held down at the mattress, the other he drew to his crotch and placed against him. Even through his jeans he was hard and hot. He held on to her wrist and moved her palm up and down. A tremor shot through his body, and he gritted his teeth.

      “Had enough?” he asked, his eyes once again burning with the fire.

      “No,” she said truthfully.

      “Elizabeth, don’t tempt me like this. You’re still recovering from your surgery. You’re upset about your past. I don’t want you to wake up and hate my guts. I like you too much for that.”

      If he’d promised to love her forever, she would have never believed him. If he’d said the truth didn’t matter, she would have never forgiven him for the lie. But liking her she could believe. She liked him back. He was the closest thing in the world she had to a friend. He knew the truth about her and hadn’t turned his back on her. He might tomorrow. He might pity her or get angry. But for tonight he was her friend.

      She reached for the first button on his jeans. “It doesn’t have to mean anything. It could just be about tonight.”

      “Hell.” He brushed her fingers away and bent down and kissed her.

      He didn’t wait for an invitation, but thrust inside her mouth savagely, hungrily, as if he’d been given permission to devour that which he most desired. He sucked on her lower lip, nipped her chin, then moved lower to the neck of her T-shirt. He paused long enough to slip off the offending garment and continue his journey of exploration.

      His hands led the way, unfastening her bra to bare her breasts. The evening air was cool, in contrast to the heat of his mouth trailing ever closer. Damp kisses ignited her skin. His scent surrounded her, filling her with images of the man who touched her. She reached out to embrace his body, feeling the muscles in his arms and back, touching his short dark hair.

      He murmured her name over and over again as if it were an incantation. His fingers reached for and found her puckered nipples, toying with them, readying them for his mouth.