Her hair was still wrapped in a white towel, and Garrett gently unwound it and ran it slowly over her scalp, seeing her lashes resting on her cheekbones as she let him dry her hair, her skin pale in the sunlight.
He wanted to kiss those soft lips, which were natural and bare today, peachy in color. He wanted to slide his hands up her arms, touch her bare skin and memorize its texture, its color, its temperature. He wanted her eyelashes to flutter apart, so he could stare into her eyes and say something about the things roiling inside of him.
Instead, he finished drying her hair and tossed the towel onto the chair by the window. He shifted back to her side, noticing how she stiffened and tightened her hold on his collar until he wrapped his arm tightly around her again, and she relaxed.
He yanked off his tie and set it on the nightstand, and then wrapped his other arm around her waist and set his jaw on the top of her head. Her hair smelled of raspberries. He’d wanted to know? Yeah. He had his answer. And now his blood heated with one whiff. He grabbed the bed sheet and pulled it up over them both, not wanting her to notice his painfully pulsing erection if she opened her eyes.
She sighed and turned to him, snuggling closer. Her breasts brushed his ribs, and his body went crazy. He dragged his fingers down her shoulder and to her waist and stroked the little bit of skin exposed from her raised T-shirt.
He kissed her forehead. She didn’t stir. Sweet baby, she looked so vulnerable today. He knew she was strong, but he still wanted to coddle her. He looked at her lips and ran a hand down her damp hair. He’d never wanted anything more than to make this woman happy. And right now, he wanted to kiss her.
“You awake, Kate?” he asked, his voice barely recognizable, it was so gruff.
She was breathing evenly, which confirmed she’d fallen asleep. Garrett slid his hand up and down her arm, his heart pounding. He bent his head and kissed her freckles, a light, dry kiss, and then he stole a kiss from her soft, marshmallow mouth.
Intoxicating. Soft. Female. Perfect.
Coming undone, he drank in her expression. Her eyes remained shut, her lashes forming titian-colored half-moons against her cheekbones.
He stroked the back of one finger down her jaw. She was everything he’d wanted and never allowed himself to have, and she was breathing like a baby, sleeping like one. He heard his own haggard exhale as he tried to draw back. He bent down again, softly brushing his lips over her forehead, then her nose, her cheekbones, her jaw...until he fitted his mouth back over her lips and whispered, “Kate.”
She remained asleep, but sighed at her name and opened her mouth under his, her breath blending with his. Desire exploded in the pit of his stomach. The urge to splay his body over hers, open her lips wider, search her tongue with his, bury himself inside her, was so acute, he had to drag his jaw up her temple as he fought for control, completely infuriated with himself.
What was he doing?
Since when had he become a masochist?
He’d always known he couldn’t have Kate. He’d done everything in his power to stay away from her. He’d hurt her enough, and he didn’t truly feel he could ever make a woman happy when he had so many regrets on his shoulders.
It was hard to believe you were ever worthy when someone had died to give you your life.
But the thought of Kate leaving had set a beast loose inside him. He wanted to protect her and look after her, and just imagining that she could meet a man in Florida, a man she could have powerful feelings for, made him feel rabid to stake a claim.
Even now, when there were no states separating them and he was holding her snug in his arms, it just didn’t seem like he could get close enough to her. He’d spent years pushing her away, and now it felt like she wouldn’t ever let him back in.
And if she did, he didn’t even know what he’d do with himself or this wanting.
Four
More than a week later, Kate’s wood-paneled kitchen was a mess of cooking utensils as she, Beth and Molly fiddled around on the kitchen island. Kate and Beth had a looming deadline to cater a baby shower this afternoon. Worse, now only Beth would be going to set up, since Kate had had a last-minute change of plans.
Molly had been the one to deliver the plan-altering news less than an hour ago, when she’d casually mentioned that Julian had been asked to fill in for Garrett at the San Antonio Daily this morning. Garrett had come down with strep.
Kate had been floored. How could she not go and take care of him?
“You love that man like crazy, Kay. Just look at how you’re running to his side at the first sign of trouble! I just can’t see why you’re so determined to leave Texas,” Molly complained as she licked the remaining vanilla topping off a discarded spatula. Her cheek was smeared with a streak of red.
Since she was an artist, Kate’s little sister always had smudges on her clothes, hair or face, but it only enhanced her bohemian style and made her look even cuter—especially to Julian, who would always tickle and poke her whenever she was “messy.”
“You know, I thought you guys would bond over your strep throat,” Molly continued with a frown. “You still could now that you gave it to him. Did he kiss you?”
Kate clicked the oven light on and peered through the window to check on Garrett’s muffins. “Molly, please start supporting me a little more in my decision. I’ve told you I’ll fly over here to see you as much as I can. We can talk on Skype all the time, too. And of course we didn’t kiss. I’m not stupid! Who kisses a sick person?” Kate said in disgust.
“Someone who loves them.”
She snorted. “We’re not you and Julian.”
“Kate, the day Julian and I got back together, he and Garrett had a talk. Julian tells me that the man is severely and painfully in love with you and doesn’t even know it.”
Kate’s heart stuttered, and at that moment, her chest felt as spongy as the muffins she was watching through the oven window. She remembered the way Garrett had taken care of her the day she’d come home with strep.
He’d checked in on her every afternoon afterward, but that first day, he’d spent the night with her. A quiver raced down her skin when she remembered how they’d cuddled all night. He’d stayed dressed, like he had when he’d been drunk and crashed in her bedroom the night of his birthday, but he’d held her as if she was precious.
When she’d woken up in the middle of the night to realize he was holding her, she had been engulfed with such a feeling of happiness beyond what she’d ever felt before. On impulse, she’d stroked her fingers along his stubbled jaw, and he’d made a strange, groaning noise as he’d turned his face into her touch, his voice deliciously groggy. “You feel all right? Do you need anything?”