Into His Private Domain Page 7

  She gave a hiccupping sob and laughed unsteadily. “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one with a major brain malfunction.” She winced. “Were you sleeping?”

  “It’s 2:00 a.m.,” he muttered. “Yes, I was sleeping.” And having better dreams than hers.

  She shivered. He ran his hands up and down her arms, feeling the gooseflesh. “Will you be okay now?”

  She looked up at him…vulnerable, lost. “No. Will you stay? Please.”

  Gracie heard the words come out of her mouth and felt her cheeks flame with embarrassment. Could she be any more needy? She was clinging to Gareth like a port in a storm. The fact that she wasn’t imagining the attraction between them didn’t excuse her artless invitation.

  Was she the kind of woman who slept with a man on a whim? Or had losing her memory simply stripped away her inhibitions?

  Gareth went slack-jawed for a split second before his expression closed up, leaving no clue as to his emotions. He couldn’t hide the erection that pulsed between them, but then again, he wasn’t jumping at her offer.

  And it was an offer. She knew it, and he knew it.

  He stood up and ran his hands through his hair. “I can sit in that chair until you fall back asleep.”

  “But I could still have another nightmare after you leave,” she pointed out.

  “I haven’t had sex with a woman in eleven months,” he said flatly, clearly trying to shock her.

  “Why?”

  Her question seemed to perplex him. “Lots of reasons. I don’t bring women here so I have to go somewhere and seek it out. Do the dance. Stay at her place. It’s not worth it anymore.”

  “I see. But I didn’t ask for sex.”

  His eyes flashed. “Don’t be coy. We both know where this is headed. A man would have to be a real bastard to take advantage of a woman in your situation. And if I stay in this room with you—all night—you won’t be sleeping.”

  If she had been standing, her knees would have buckled at his declaration of intent. He was bare from the waist up, his broad chest rippled with muscle. A pair of cotton pajama pants hung low on his hips, but she had a sneaking suspicion that he had donned those on her behalf.

  “What if I take advantage of you?” she asked quietly. “You’re an amazing man, Gareth Wolff. Very soon I’ll be gone. Can you blame me for wanting to have you in my bed?”

  The fabric at his groin pulsed visibly. His jaw was granite. “I won’t make you any heartfelt promises. If you finally remember why you came, it won’t make any difference. I can’t give you softness and romance. I’m not that guy. This will be nothing more than two people scratching an itch…satisfying their curiosity.”

  His words hurt, though they were no more than she had expected. If she had some far-fetched idea that she could change this man, she was deluding herself. He’d been molded by tragedy, shaped by a childhood of fear and secrecy. He was as inflexible as the wood he crafted into beautiful objects.

  He was fair and considerate. And he had been remarkably generous in letting her stay. But Gareth Wolff was not the kind of guy to be manipulated by a pretty face or a night of raw, make-me-forget sex.

  She rose up on her knees, her body trembling in anticipation now, rather than fear. “I understand. I accept your terms.” She held out a hand. “And I still want you.”

  The night, already still and silent, seemed to freeze in time. Gareth could have been a statue were it not for the quick up-and-down bob of his Adam’s apple. His entire body was rigid. His hands clenched at his hips. For one long, aching minute, she thought she had lost.

  And then he exhaled visibly, his gaze stormy. “I’ll be right back.”

  He was true to his word, returning in mere seconds with a handful of plastic packets that he tossed on the bedside table. She could feel her heart beating in her ears as he shed his pants without modesty and put a knee on the mattress.

  His body was magnificent, beautifully sculpted…all the way from his broad shoulders, to his trim waist, to that most masculine part of him that thrust upward in either invitation or intent, or both.

  She was still on her knees, and he matched her pose. “Take it off,” he said gruffly. “Knowing Annalise, that damn bit of sin and silk probably cost a fortune.”

  Gracie lifted her arms as he pulled the wisp of fabric over her head, leaving her clad in nothing but a matching scrap of lace at the hips. His chest heaved, one deep breath, before he put his hands on her waist. His gaze was hooded, his cheekbones slashed with a flush of red.

  Face to face and chest to chest, their lips met. Tentative nips and tastes segued into harder, longer, drugging kisses. He was masterful, in control, clearly experienced in the ways of pleasing a woman. Gracie gasped, buffeted by waves of longing, dragged under by a hunger so strong she felt light-headed.

  Beneath her questing hands, his skin was hot to the touch…as if his big body was a furnace ready to consume her. He tasted of mint and coffee, and pressed against him, she could feel the thunder of his heartbeat. He took her down to the mattress, spreading her thighs and settling between them.

  She tensed. “I don’t know how to please you…what you want.”

  He toyed with the band of lace that rode high on her thigh. “Time enough for that later,” he said, his words guttural. “The important question at the moment is do I know how to please you?”

  Without ceremony or warning, he scooted down in the bed and used his hands to spread her legs even wider. She shoved at his shoulders. “I don’t think so…”

  He glanced up at her, a glint of amusement in his dark eyes. “Oh, but I do…”

  When he removed her panties and tasted her center, her hips came off the bed. The sensation was indescribable, and for a split second, she acknowledged the certainty that she had never allowed any man this liberty.

  But Gareth wasn’t waiting for approval. He set about destroying her completely with long, slow passes of his tongue. She was embarrassingly damp, even before he began his assault. Soon, her body shuddered wildly, lost to sensation. She grabbed handfuls of his soft, thick hair and clung helplessly while Gareth sent her rocketing to a climax so intense, she saw stars and fell softly back to earth.

  Though she was scarcely aware of it, he moved up in the bed and gathered her in his arms. She wanted to weep at the beauty of what he made her feel. But she couldn’t. Tears were for sadness, and with Gareth she was happy, perhaps happier than she had ever been in her life.

  He stroked her hair, her back, the curve of her bottom. When she shivered, he covered them both with the comforter. His voice was a low, sexy rumble. “You’re beautiful,” he said softly. “And I love the way you come for me.”

  “Stop,” she groaned, burying her face in his shoulder. “I’m not used to talking about it.”

  He kissed her brow. “So you want me to just do it. Okay, Gracie. I can oblige.”

  “That’s not what I—”

  Her inarticulate protest was lost as he made quick work of donning a condom and then entered her with a forceful thrust. Her breath caught in her throat. He was big and powerfully aroused. Her body struggled to accept him.

  He stilled, clearly feeling the same incredible connection. “You okay, little Gracie?”

  She nodded, mute.

  Slowly, so slowly she wanted to beg him to hurry, he began to move in her. Her legs wrapped around his waist, deepening the penetration. She heard him curse.

  He withdrew and thrust again, sliding in and out with a lazy rhythm that stoked the fires of a hunger she had thought quenched. But rapidly, her body responded again, eager for a repeat of the singeing pleasure only he could give.

  Their skin slicked with sweat. Breathing labored. He reared up suddenly and looked down at her. “Promise me you won’t regret this. Tell me Jacob won’t have my hide.” He was panting, but his eyes sparked with mischief.

  She gazed at him sleepily, feeling a twinge in the vicinity of her heart. He was too damned gorgeous for his own good. “No pro
mises,” she dared to taunt. “Remember?”

  His eyes narrowed. “Witch. If that’s the way you want to play it…” He manacled her wrists in a gentle grip and held them over her head. “Beg me,” he growled.

  Her eyes widened. “For what?” Her tongue moistened her lips as her heart thudded wildly.

  “You know damned well.” He flexed his hips. “You may not remember the past, but I’ll make sure you remember this, Gracie Darlington.”

  His head came down and his mouth found hers.

  In between strangled gasps, she obeyed. “Please, Gareth. Make love to me.” Even as she said the words, her heart wept. Gareth didn’t love her…he didn’t even know her. The only reason he was in her bed was to satisfy a need.

  The delicious friction as his body stroked into hers brought her to the edge again. She felt him stretch her almost painfully as he gave a hoarse shout, and then she went with him, falling, falling into a blissful, dizzying tumble.

  Gareth rolled to his back, lungs burning, eyes gritty. Good God. What had he done?

  Gracie lay quietly against his side, one of her slender arms curled across his chest and one of her legs tucked between his. He tried for humor. “Not bad for a first go…”

  Her lag in response time told him she was as off balance as he was. She moved restlessly. “Any man can impress an amnesiac.” The tart bite in her joking words bemused him. Gracie Darlington was no pushover. Even hampered as she was by her hopefully temporary condition, she seemed determined to hold her own with him. He nuzzled her hair. “Come to Washington with me. The cherry blossoms are in bloom.”

  “I don’t have anything to wear. Annalise outfitted me with casual clothes, but nothing that would work for a fancy dinner.”

  “She can shop anywhere. I’ll call her in the morning and get her to send what you need directly to the hotel. It will be fun. You can forget about your problem and we’ll paint the town red.”

  “My problem?” She shook her head. “It’s a little more than a problem. I have no life, Gareth.”

  “Potayto…potahto…”

  “You’re such a compassionate man.”

  “It’s one of my best qualities.” He pulled her on top of him and arranged her like a doll, ready for action, but not quite there yet.

  She blew a curl out of her eye. “Can I ask you something?”

  He tensed, and then forced himself to relax. “I suppose.” It was difficult to deny a woman anything when she was fulfilling every fantasy he’d had in recent memory.

  “Why do you wear your hair so long?”

  Not what he expected…not at all. “You don’t like it?”

  “On you, it’s sexy and gorgeous and you know it.” She leaned forward to winnow the fingers of one hand across his scalp, coincidentally squishing her small but lovely breasts against his chest as she moved. “But you and Jacob are so different. The family resemblance is striking. So I’m guessing there’s a reason he looks like a rich doctor and you—not so much.”

  Gareth chuckled. She had a point. “You remember I told you I enlisted in the military for less than stellar reasons?”

  “To rebel against your dad?”

  “Yeah, but the army was good for me. Turned me from a boy into a man, you know the cliché. I was a damned good soldier. In almost every way. But conformity is not my strong suit. I swore to myself that when I got out, I’d never again have a buzz cut.”

  “And there’s no middle ground?”

  “I get it cut occasionally.”

  “For D.C.?”

  He shook his head, running his palms over her soft, perfect ass. “I’ll be playing a role for the senator. The untamed Wolff in a tuxedo. His party will be the talk of the season.”

  “That’s pretty cynical.”

  “I’m a pretty cynical guy. People love a good story. And when they don’t have one, they’ll make one up.”

  She was silent for too long, her cheek resting over the steady bump of his heartbeat. “I’ll have to go home after we return from D.C. My father will be back by then, surely. Will you go with me? Take me, I mean?”

  “Yes. But you don’t have to be afraid, Gracie. I’m guessing everything will come flooding back as soon as you’re on home turf.”

  “And if it doesn’t?”

  “One day at a time.” He reached out to grab protection. “You haven’t answered me yet. Will you come with me? I’ll take you to this great boutique hotel near the Capitol. A million thread count sheets. Pillows so soft you’ll never want to get out of bed. Fresh flowers every day. A view of the Washington Monument…”

  “Have you taken other women there?”

  The note in her voice was hard to decipher. Nothing as simple as jealousy. If he hadn’t known better, he’d say it was pained resignation. He shifted her off him long enough to sheath his eager erection. No amount of pillow talk had deflated it. “Does it matter?”

  He lifted her again, fitting the head of his straining penis to the warm heart of her. She braced her hands on his chest, looking down at him. Her lips curved in a wry half smile. “Apparently not,” she muttered.

  “So you’ll go with me?”

  She nodded slowly, crying out as he joined them with one sharp upward thrust of his hips.

  “Is that a yes?” He gritted his teeth and squeezed shut his eyes, trying desperately not to come like a green kid. Being inside Gracie was the closest he’d come in recent memory to peace. To sheer, God Almighty, too-good-to-be-true physical nirvana.

  “Yes,” she whispered. She sat up straight, lodging him to an incredible depth. Slowly, with all the confidence of a siren, she rode him to heaven and back.

  His hands gripped her hips. “Slower,” he pleaded. He didn’t want this to end. Not ever. The desperation he felt might have alarmed him in a less fraught situation. As it was, he ignored the flashing lights in his brain, attributing them instead to mere frustration.

  Gracie shuddered when he slid a finger over the spot where their bodies joined. He nudged the tiny swollen nerve center and she went rigid, clenching him with inner muscles in such a way that his eyes rolled back in his head, his climax hit him like a Mack truck, and they both fell, sated, into a messy tumble of arms and legs and ragged breathing.

  Eight

  “Are you insane?”

  Gareth winced at the incredulity in his brother’s voice. They were seated in Jacob’s large office with its picture window that looked out at the forest. Rain droplets drizzled down the wide single pane. “What can it hurt?” he asked calmly. “She’s making herself crazy trying to remember. A trip to D.C. will give her a break. A change of pace. Fresh scenery.”

  “If this is about you not trusting her, I’ll let her stay here with me until you get back.”

  “It’s not that,” Gareth protested. “Or not entirely.”

  “You can’t take someone with amnesia and let them loose in an uncontrolled environment. Anything could happen. She has no self-protection, Gareth. You might as well let a toddler play in traffic.”

  “Isn’t that overstating things a bit? C’mon, Jacob. She can handle ordinary daily tasks. She’s impaired, not stupid.” He shot to his feet and paced.

  “You’re deliberately misunderstanding me.” Jacob’s face, so like Gareth’s own, creased with concern. “Gracie is terribly vulnerable right now, as anyone in her condition would be. She doesn’t have a framework for making rational decisions. Emotionally she’s a wreck, even if she hides it well.”

  Jacob’s words pricked Gareth’s conscience. He moved restlessly. “You’re too late with your advice. We…talked last night. I invited her and she accepted.”

  “Good Lord. You’ve slept with her.” Jacob rose to his feet, his hands-on-hip stance combative. “How could you? She’s a woman in your care, under your protection. I’ve never known you to be so cavalier about an innocent.”

  Jacob knew him far too well for subterfuge. Gareth’s instinctive urge to defend himself mingled with the sick certainty that
Jacob was right on all fronts. “It just happened,” he muttered.

  Though in truth he’d been imagining sex with Gracie almost from the first instant he laid eyes on her. She made him feel emotions he’d thought long dead and buried. The warmth in her smile and the admiration he felt for her poignant fortitude thawed the ice castle to which he’d condemned himself. Even if her reasons for coming were unacceptable, Gareth still wanted her. At least for now.

  Jacob still glared at him.

  Gareth didn’t care. “She had a bad dream. I comforted her.”

  “Shit, Gareth. That’s the lamest excuse I’ve ever heard. You could have walked away. You should have walked away. You didn’t have to screw her.”

  “It was her idea.”

  “And you went along with it like the saint you are.”

  “I tried to say no. She’s very persuasive.”

  Jacob threw up his hands in disgust. “I give up. You’ve obviously lost your mind. But swear to God…if taking her on the road makes things worse don’t expect me to mop up the pieces.”

  “You’re a doctor. You took an oath to help people.”

  “But I never promised to cover for your sorry ass.”

  Gareth rubbed his neck. “She has to go home. After D.C. And she wants me to take her.”

  “Did you agree?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You know she’s scared.”

  “I get that. But there’s still the matter of why she came in the first place. And what her father had to do with it.”

  Jacob shrugged. “Clearly she’s not a threat. Even if she’s a reporter, what kind of story could she write? You’ve never even taken her up to the house to meet Father. Is that intentional?”

  “Of course it’s intentional.” Gareth joined his brother at the wide, plate-glass expanse that turned a dry medical office into an inviting arboretum. “He’s not been feeling well. Her tenure here is extremely temporary. It seemed pointless to involve him.”