Chapter Eight #2
“Her mother’s with her. They need time alone together...in case...” She couldn’t hold back the tears any longer, sobs overtaking her.
Marshall knelt beside her, sliding an arm around her shoulders.
Her head fell to rest against his chest—she couldn’t resist—and she let herself take the comfort he offered.
His strong touch and the warm flannel of his shirt against her cheek seeped through her senses.
He didn’t try to cheer her. He simply held her and waited.
She sniffled against his chest, her breath steadying, although her heart began to pick up pace. “I’m sorry I can’t tell you more, but I’m not allowed to talk about patients at the hospital in any detail, not even as a volunteer.”
“I understand. I’m here for whatever you need.” His hand circled her back.
“Thank you. It means a lot to me.” All her pent-up emotion began to shift, to gather force seeking an outlet of another kind. Butterflies stirred in her stomach, her skin tingling.
“It must be difficult not talking about what you go through volunteering.” His breath was warm against her hair.
“Volunteering with Felicity helps,” she answered, her fingers playing lightly along his chest, “but yes, it’s not the same as being able to let it all out. I knew the rules, though, when I signed on...” Her words trailed off, and unable to stop herself, she tipped her face to his and kissed him.
His lips were hot and mobile on hers. Pressing.
Sliding. Parting. He groaned against her mouth, his lips sealing to hers.
An explosion of want showered through her at the feel of his tongue tracing along hers.
All the restrained attraction hitting her when she was too vulnerable to resist. Too many emotions bombarded her, but in him she found the perfect outlet.
She slid her arms around his neck, drawing him closer. Wanting more. Needing more.
Needing him.
Her breasts ached, and she craved the feel of him against her.
She inched closer. Closer still. She stood and he followed suit, their legs tangling as he pressed her against the wall, the contact only making her hunger for more.
He slipped free from his sling, his body fitting to hers, setting her senses on fire.
She burned for him. She trailed her hands down his back, digging into his hips and bringing him closer.
He eased his mouth from hers, his forehead against hers as he swept Tally’s hair from her face with broad, urgent hands. “Tally, no, not now.”
“Yes, now.” Her fingers gripped his shirt urgently. She was breathless with need. “You told me I only had to make the first move and you would follow through.”
“This isn’t the same. You’re too upset to think clearly. I can’t take advantage of that.”
“I want you.” She willed him to hear the truth in her voice. “I’m an adult capable of making my own decisions.”
“As am I. And I’m not going to have you regret this in the morning.” His words rang with a deep resolution.
And nobility.
Damn. He was a good man. And maybe he had a point. Even if it hurt right now to acknowledge as much.
Perhaps there was a middle ground. Her breath left her in a shaky sigh. “What if we sleep together tonight, and if I feel the same way when I wake in your arms in the morning...”
“Then I’ll take great pleasure in saying yes.” He looped an arm under her bottom and lifted her. “I’ll bring dinner up for us later. For now, we’ll just enjoy the moment.”
Delicious anticipation filled her as she realized his intent. She hooked her arms around his neck and wrapped her legs around his waist. A husky growl of appreciation rumbled in his chest. He secured his hold and began winding his way through the hall and up the stairs to his master suite.
Pausing in the doorway, he kissed her again in that soul-melting way of his.
As he leaned against the doorjamb, she caressed his beard-stubbled face, tracing the now-familiar strength of his jaw.
With a low moan, he lifted his mouth from hers, securing his hold on her again as he straightened from the doorway.
A fireplace crackled, beckoning her across the hardwood floor, drawing her attention to the far wall where floor-to-ceiling windows let snippets of moonglow in.
The room, dusky in the yellow firelight, was as large as her apartment.
Above the mantel, an oversize painting showed a herd of horses galloping across a valley.
A stuffed gray chair faced the fire, with a thick book sitting on top of a white blanket.
Simple. Modest. But not bare. Between the deep kiss at the threshold and his sure footsteps toward the bed, she felt her heart race. Hands touching his always-tousled black hair. Appreciating the softness of his locks as she felt the power of his muscles holding her up.
He lowered her to the plush white rug by the bed, sweeping back the spread. They stepped out of their shoes, leaving them side by side. He guided her to lay down beside him and covered them both.
Pressing against him felt so good. As much as she wanted to have sex with him tonight, she also knew she was in no state to think straight. His restraint, his nobility, meant so much.
She rested her head on his shoulder. “Tell me about when you were a child.”
Shifting, she sank deeper into the mattress, into him. She folded into his body, curving around his chest, legs tangling together. His fingers moved down her back, and she could feel the tight strength of his muscles in the way his arm flexed.
A sigh rippled through her, and she breathed in his musky scent. Wishing she could suspend this moment in time forever. Let this time play for infinity. The feel of the sheets against her skin. His strong touch.
“My maternal grandmother used to tell us local legends as bedtime stories. But Mother found inventive ways to keep us in touch with our Alaskan Native heritage.” His deep voice was a rumble in his chest and hers, too.
Her fingers stroked over his flannel shirt, the cotton fabric and pearl buttons warm from his body. The button fly of his jeans pressed to her hip, the steely length of him letting her know what this restraint cost him.
Her hands tunneled beneath his flannel shirt and found their way to his skin, striking his chest. “How so?”
“Have you heard of an ulu?” He traced small circles down her back.
“It’s a kind of hunting knife, right?”
“Yes, used for seal and walrus skinning.”
“I’m not sure this bedtime story is sounding very peaceful.”
He chuckled lightly. “My mother used the knife as a pizza cutter—no seals or walrus were harmed at her hand.”
A soft laugh in response filled the raw spaces inside her. “That’s priceless.”
“She was an incredible mom.”
She caressed his jaw, fingers appreciating every angle. “I’m so sorry you lost your mother.”
“I’m sorry you lost yours.” He pressed a kiss to her palm, his stubble a sweet abrasion against her skin. “Thank you for listening to me talk about her. How about I get us both some supper now and bring it back up here? Then I would like to hear about yours.”
“I would like that,” she said, settling back into the pillow and watching him walk across the room, his broad shoulders and long legs a feast for her eyes.
The flex of his muscles as he moved spoke of hard work and strength.
He’d ditched his sling and held his cast arm against his chest. He moved like a caged animal, desperate to spring into action.
Her heart stung over the frustration he must feel.
He was getting harder to resist on so many levels, like in how easily they’d talked.
Already she thought about telling him of her mom, and the fairy-tale collectable ornaments they’d picked out each Christmas.
Her dad had usually been on a bender, holidays particularly bad for his drinking.
The ornaments had gotten lost when her father died, and sorting through even their meager belongings had been so very difficult.
She only had the mermaid ornament left, the one she kept as a charm on her key chain.
But if she told Marshall about her mom, then it would inevitably lead to talking about her dad.
And she selfishly wanted to hold on to this connection with Marshall for a while longer.
Yes, she and Marshall both knew life wasn’t always fair. But for tonight, here, it felt more incredible than she could remember.
Marshall’s dreams had been filled with images of making love to Tally since the day she’d arrived.
Of his mouth on her. Her lips on him. He pushed aside his concerns about being with her, because, damn it, he wanted her.
Even more now that they’d been together in what was the most incredible night he’d ever experienced.
His body was coming alive hard and fast with the realization she was kissing him awake.
He tunneled his hands through the covers to find her, the room still dimly illuminated by moonlight streaming through the windows and flames flickering in the fireplace.
His internal clock told him it wasn’t quite morning yet, but they’d both slept.
And then his brain went on stun with the sweet wriggle of her body against his. “Tally...”
She nipped his bottom lip, her leg between his, her thigh pressing against his erection. “You said if I still wanted you in the morning that you would be happy to comply.”
“I did.” And while he hadn’t expected her to still take him up on it, he was damn glad she had.
“Well, it’s morning. Or close enough.” She writhed against him with unmistakable intent. “And I still want you. So very much.”
Her words fired through him, stoking his ever-present desire for her.
He cradled her bottom in his hands and wished the damn cast was off. “I’ve wanted this since the first time I laid eyes on you.”
“That can’t be so.” She kissed along his ear, her voice husky. “You told me to leave.”
He rolled her to her back, pinning her with his body and his gaze. “I said I didn’t need a housekeeper. That’s totally different.”