A Woman's Heart (18 page)

He loosened his tie, unbuttoned the top two buttons of his white dress shirt, kicked off his shoes and was eyeing his door between the room and Nora's. Feeling like a nervous groom awaiting his bride, he was trying to decide whether he should knock or just take the bull by the goddamn horns and go in when the door suddenly opened and Nora stood there, still in the somber heather gray dress she'd worn to dinner.

Tension whipped through him like a whirlwind. He didn't speak. Amazingly he couldn't. On some distant level Quinn found it ironic that, after having wanted Nora since that first drunken moment he'd stepped out of the back of Sergeant O'Neill's patrol car and seen her standing in front of the house, backlit by the yellow porch light and looking like an ancient Celtic goddess, he now couldn't move to take what she'd come to offer him.

As if possessing the ability to read his mind, she smiled. Faintly. Softly. And he felt the iceberg encasing his heart crack a little more, as it seemed to do whenever she was near.

“Da made you uncomfortable tonight.” Her throaty voice proved devastatingly potent. “When he called you a good and generous man.”

She'd come to know him well. Too well. “Your father has an overactive imagination.”

“Aye.” She closed the door behind her. And did not look back. “He does, indeed. But like all
seanachies,
he's a student of human nature.” She crossed the room to stand in front of him. “Why is it that a simple statement of truth should make you turn the color of ashes?”

“Now it's you with the wild imagination.” His hand felt abnormally heavy as he lifted it to stroke her hair. The fiery waves felt like silk beneath his palm. He knew her skin was even softer.

“Oh, I've always been the practical one in the family. Ask anyone.” She went up on her toes and pressed her lips to his. “You are a good man, Quinn Gallagher. No matter what you say.”

The touch of her mouth caused a painful thrumming in his loins. He'd wanted her, all right. But now that he was on the verge of having her, Quinn realized that wanting was too simple for what he was feeling. Music drifted from the bedside radio, soft and dreamy.

“I just realized that as pleasant as dinner was,” he said, “we missed an important part of our evening.”

“And what would that be?”

“I'd intended romance.” He touched her hair again and looked down at her while she looked back up at him, both paused on the brink of something that had seemed inevitable from the beginning.

Her eyes were wide and innocent, and if he hadn't known better, he'd have thought she was yet untouched, as if waiting for him.

“I want to dance with you, Mrs. Fitzpatrick.”

“Why, that sounds lovely, Mr. Gallagher.”

He took her easily into his arms, his fingers spanning her waist, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder as they swayed to the romantic ballad.

His body was hard against hers, his breath a soft breeze against her temple. It surprised Nora that despite the difference in their heights, they seemed to fit well together. The tenseness that had gripped her body and heart since the argument with her father, the anxiety that had had her nerves screeching when she'd dared to open that door between their rooms slid away as she surrendered to the romance of the music, of this one stolen night. Sighing her pleasure, she lifted her arms and linked her fingers together behind his neck. Her eyes drifted closed.

Her soft curves were pressed against him in a way that made him ache. He nuzzled her neck and breathed in the scents of the same white soap and herbal shampoo he used in the shower every morning. There was also another faint fragrance that reminded him of Irish druids dancing in fairy rings. In the rain.

“You've changed your scent.”

“Aye.” Her eyelids fluttered open ever so slightly and in them he saw unmistakable desire. “I bought a bottle of ridiculously dear perfume at Monohan's.” Her smile was one of contradictions, managing to be both shy and vixen-alluring at the same time. “I was hoping to seduce you.” Her fingers stroked the back of his neck, playing with the dark hair that nearly brushed his collar.

“If that was your plan, you're succeeding admirably. And you definitely could have pulled if off without the new per
fume.” He touched his mouth to her temple. “But I like it, just the same.”

“I'm pleased. Since I bought the body lotion and powder, as well. It took such a long time to spread it on this evening, I was afraid I'd be late to dinner. Although I wash my skin every morning in the shower, I never realized how much I have.”

The idea of Nora wearing nothing but perfume and powder licked at his desire, causing it to flame higher. He drew back a little. “You know I want you.”

“Aye. That's what you've been saying. From the first.”

“The thing is…” Hell, her body was practically melting against his and the fingers stroking his neck were driving him to distraction. He stopped moving to the music and captured both her hands. “The thing is, you're an intelligent woman…”

“What a lovely thing to say. And although it's a fine compliment, I think I'd rather, just for tonight, that you tell me how beautiful I am.” Her hands were shackled in his, but that didn't stop her from pressing her smiling lips to his throat. “And how much you want to go to bed with me.”

“Oh, Christ.” The words, and the groan, were ripped from somewhere deep inside him. “My point is…and I do have one,” he managed to say on a gasp as her tongue dampened his hot flesh, “is that a decent intelligent woman like you shouldn't be here like this. You deserve a man who can give you what you need.”

“And if I need you?”

The softly spoken words were part question, part request. Never had Quinn had more difficulty drawing air in and out of his lungs.

“Dammit, Nora, you should take off running.” Her lips felt like a brand, making this the hardest thing he'd ever done. “While you still can.”

“Oh, Quinn.” She shook her head, her eyes shimmering with a host of complex emotions. “Don't you see?” She skimmed her mouth over his jaw, until it was a mere whisper away from his grimly set lips. “It's too late for running.”

The touch of her soft succulent mouth against his was like a spark against dry tinder. “Too late,” Quinn agreed roughly as he hauled her against him. “For either of us.”

Towards the Mist

Q
uinn released her hands, but only to grab her hips, lifting her against him, thigh to thigh, chest to chest, greedy lips to lips as he half carried, half dragged her to the bed.

Sweep the widow Fitzpatrick off her feet,
he heard Laura's voice echoing through his heated mind.

And wasn't he doing exactly that?

Unable to remember when he'd felt so free, Quinn laughed as they landed on the double mattress in a tangle of arms and legs. Her hair wound around them, wrapping him in fragrance. He kissed her, a long deep wet kiss that made him quake from within.

“God, you're sweet.” His hands dived into the silk strands of her hair and pulled her mouth back to his. “And potent. I've never been with a woman who can make me as drunk with a single taste as you can.”

“And I've never been with a man who made me feel like the type of woman who could make a man drunk.” She
dragged her mouth away and lifted her head. “It's a fearful feeling.”

“Ah, sweetheart.” One hand smoothed its way down the back of her dress in a reassuring gesture while the other delved beneath the gray skirt. When he realized she wasn't wearing the expected panty hose, but stockings that ended with a border of lace high on her porcelain-smooth bare thigh, Quinn felt his blood begin to boil.

The feel of his hand on her skin made her stiffen ever so slightly. “It's okay,” he crooned. “You don't have to be afraid.” His palm edged higher. “I'd never hurt you.”

He knew that was a lie even as he said the words. For he
would
hurt her. He could only hope that someday years from now, when she was happily married to some easygoing Irish farmer who adored her and the children they would undoubtedly have together, Nora would forgive him for tonight.

“It's not you I'm fearful of, but me. Of how you make me feel.” He felt her soft sigh against his mouth, felt her body relax as he continued his caressing touch up her leg. “And you've had so many women…”

“None like you.” Easy words, designed to trip off the tongue as they had in so many similar situations. But never had Quinn meant them more than he did at this moment.

“I'm afraid of disappointing you.”

He couldn't help himself. He laughed at that as he rolled them over on their sides. A rough lust-edged sound that was half groan. “Honey, I've already told you—if there's one thing you can't do it's disappoint me.”

“I'm not very experienced.”

“Don't worry. I am.” In contrast to the sexy lace at the top of her stockings, her panties were white cotton. The type, Quinn thought, as he slipped a finger beneath the elastic leg band, a former would-be nun might wear. But hearing
her soft moan as he stroked her intimately, knowingly, he reminded himself that she'd left the convent a very long time ago.

“You'll see, Nora,” he murmured as he continued stoking the fire between her legs. “You'll be perfect.” Her eyes were huge as they looked up into his. But in them he read absolute trust. “We'll be perfect together.”

Nora had never known her skin could be so sensitive. Never known desire could be so sweet and so strong at the same time.

“Quinn—” His mouth drank from hers, swallowing what she'd already forgotten she'd been intending to say. “I need…” Her voice was weak. Slurred. “I need…”

“I know.” And to prove he did, indeed, understand her ragged plea, he used his thumb on the vulnerable nub hidden in her slick folds.

It was as if he'd reached into the sky, pulled down a sparkling white-hot star and touched it against her ultrasensitive flesh. Nora gasped, then trembled as release shimmered through her.

“Oh,” she said on a sigh, as the brilliant sensation ebbed, “that was lovely.”

“Lovely is good.” He planted a trail of lingering kisses down her throat. “For starters.”

“Oh, I couldn't. Not again.” Once was an event in itself. Something to celebrate when she could think again.

“Wanna bet?”

His grin was rife with masculine satisfaction as he began to unzip her dress. He wanted to rip it off her, but because he was determined to savor, not just for her, but for himself, Quinn forced his touch to remain slow and gentle as he lowered the zipper tooth by metal tooth.

Not surprisingly, given what he'd guessed about her up-bringing, she'd turned absolutely passive. After he'd peeled
the somber wool away, she lay on her back again and closed her eyes, offering herself up like some early-Christian martyr.

At any other time such lack of participation from a woman would have irked him. Tonight, because it was Nora, it made Quinn smile. It also made him all that more determined to prove to her exactly how satisfying sex with the right partner could be.

Her bra was cotton, as well, and took only an instant to unfasten. He tossed it aside, where it fluttered onto a nearby chair like a white dove.

The way he'd opened her bra with such a clever deft touch reminded Nora yet again exactly how much more practice he'd had at this, and yet again she fretted that she'd prove a disappointment to Quinn. But then his mouth was on her breast and all her worries fled, blown away by the hot winds of desire.

“You're going to have to tell me what you like, love,” he murmured as his tongue soothed the tingling flesh. “This first time.”

“I don't know.” Her eyes remained closed, her long lashes, which he suspected had never known mascara, looking like threads of gilt silk against her cheeks.

“We'll take it one step at a time, then.” His tongue drew slow wet lazy circles around her breast from the tip outward. “Do you like this?”

“Oh…aye.” Nora felt herself opening to him, like a flower unfolding its petals to the warmth of the morning sun.

“Good. Let's try the other one.”

His mouth, his hands, somehow managed to be both tender and rough at the same time. When his sucking caused a corresponding tug deep in her womb, a warmth that spiraled outward, all the way to her fingers and toes, needs
rose again, so strong and insistent Nora thought she might go mad with the wanting.

No longer passive, nor pliant, she strained against him in a mute desperate plea for relief. She would have begged, had she been capable of coherent speech, which she wasn't, but fortunately that proved unnecessary as he whipped off her panties and cupped her heat.

It was wonderful. Terrifying. Thrilling. He showed her what passion could be, found secret points of pleasure Nora had never even known existed.

When he dug his fingers into her hips and lifted her against his mouth, she was shocked and suffused with momentary shame, tried to close her legs and pull away. But Quinn was relentless, holding her tight, feasting on her as if she were succulent ripe fruit. Guilt proved brief, washed away by rising desire that pounded inside her like a tidal wave.

His tongue stabbed into her dewy feminine cleft; his teeth nibbled at tingling flesh. Nora moaned from the ache, gasped from the forbidden pleasure. Her breath had clogged in her throat, and when she tried to catch it to cry his name, she couldn't.

Just when she was certain she would surely drown in such swirling heated depths of feeling, her body convulsed and she was swept away on the dizzying crest of a turbulent tide.

Watching the uncensored passion move across her face, Quinn found himself wishing that they could just stay here hidden away in this room forever.

That idea sent shock waves ripping through him, so strong that for a fleeting second he wondered if another bomb had gone off nearby. He'd never been a man to think about staying in one place, being tied down to one woman.
He'd been emotionally on his own all of his life, and that was the way he liked it.

But dear Lord, she was so incredibly unbelievably sweet. Unable to concentrate on any tomorrows when his body was so caught up in the grips of today, after stripping off his clothes and putting on the condom he was never without—no bastards or shotgun marriages for Quinn Gallagher—he lowered his body over hers and felt the sizzle of hot flesh against flesh.

“Nora.” He brushed her tousled hair back from her face. “Look at me, sweetheart.” He touched his lips softly to hers. “I want to see your eyes.” He wanted to watch the flare of passion when he took her over the edge.

She made an inarticulate sound. As if rousing from hypnosis, she slowly lifted her lids, her eyes glowing like rich green meadows shimmering beneath the sun after an afternoon rain. She was at this moment the most heart-wrenchingly beautiful woman he'd ever known. And she was his.

Quinn nearly froze at the power of the possessiveness he was feeling. But then she smiled at him, a soft sweet smile, and it took his breath away and clouded his mind.

He linked his fingers with hers in what was, oddly, the most intimate gesture of the night. Fighting the urge to thrust into her, he eased his tip into her silky heat and felt her tense again.

“Just relax, sweetheart.” Sweat beaded his burning flesh. Every muscle in his body was quivering from the strain of holding himself back. “I promise not to hurt you.”

“But you're too—”

“Shh. It's going to be all right, Nora. Just relax, baby.” His lips plucked at hers, soothing, enticing, as he ruthlessly checked his passion. “It's going to be so good.”

“Oh, aye,” she breathed as her body began to adjust to accommodate him.

“That's my girl. Lord, you feel good, sweetheart.” He began to fill her. Slowly. Inch by throbbing inch. “You're so tight. So warm.” He rubbed his cheek against hers. “So wonderful.”

She gasped when he plunged the rest of the way into her. Then she sighed, a soft shimmering breath of sheer pleasure. With his eyes on hers, he began to move, slowly at first, then faster, his thrusts hot and driving.

The sounds of the traffic from the street below faded away, replaced by the thunder of pounding hearts. And although he couldn't understand the Irish words Nora was whispering in his ear, her meaning, as her hands stroked his sweat-slick back and cupped his buttocks, pulling him deeper inside her, were all too clear.

Responding to instincts as ancient as her mystical homeland, Nora matched his driving rhythm as he took her higher and higher, to where the air seemed to sparkle with a diamond-bright brilliance.

Nora tumbled first, calling out his name as she flew over the edge. Seconds later, fingers linked, his mouth on hers, Quinn took the fall.

 

Magic. As he lay on his back looking down at a sleeping Nora in the pink, pearly predawn light, Quinn decided that was the only word that could possibly describe the night they'd just spent together.

As good as the first time had been, the second had been even better. Once he'd managed to overcome her initial physical shyness, she'd turned incredibly responsive, surprising herself, he thought, with her ability to experience passion. Surprising him not at all with her generosity in returning it.

It should have been enough, Quinn thought. At least for one night. Especially after the grueling day they'd had. But he'd found himself waking up sometime around four and wanting her all over again.

It had only taken the touch of his mouth on her lips to awaken her. The touch of a palm to a breast to bring her to full arousal. She'd been as wet and willing as he'd been hot and hard, and Quinn knew if he lived to be a hundred, he'd never forget the sight of her pale skin gleaming like pearls in the moonlight as they'd rolled over the bed.

Now she was curled against him like a kitten, her fiery hair spread across his chest. There was none of the wanton who'd bucked like a wild horse beneath him, no sign of the woman whose cries of pleasure he'd captured beneath his mouth. She looked as pure as a vestal virgin, reminding Quinn that it had been that enticing blend of innocence and sensuality that had attracted him to her in the first place.

And while his first response had been sheer lust, things had changed between them. First had come admiration and respect. Then affection. And now…

What? Quinn was shaken by how appealing the fantasy of staying right here amidst these tangled sheets with Nora for the rest of his life was.

She murmured something inarticulate in her sleep. Then smiled. When she pressed her mouth against his bare chest, his penis instantly responded, hardening to granite.

The woman had him thinking foolish thoughts. Impossible thoughts. It was only sex, he reminded himself as hunger pooled hot and heavy again in his groin. Friendly sex, maybe. But that was all it was. That was all he would allow it to be.

As if his thoughts had infiltrated her sleeping mind, Nora's eyes fluttered open and she smiled up at him. “Good morning.”

“Morning.” Because the warmth of that uncensored smile pulled dangerous cords, he made his tone inappropriately gruff, and his expression returned to its earlier scowl.

A more cautious woman would have heeded the warning. But having shed the last of her caution in the arms of this man, Nora refused to let him ruin the gilt-edged pleasure that lingered from their magical night together.

She brought her hand to his cheek, ignored the tensed muscle there and stroked her fingers downward to circle his grimly set lips. “You lied.”

“About what?”

“You told me not to expect pretty words. But unless this room is haunted, it must have been you telling me all those wonderful things last night.” She paused, then, “Unless you didn't mean them?”

Quinn swore as he watched the anxiety chase away the joy in her lovely eyes.
You really are a bastard, Gallagher.
In an attempt to protect his own heart he'd been unreasonably cruel. He'd acted like his son-of-a-bitch father would have undoubtedly behaved under similar circumstances.

“Of course I did.” He dragged his hand down his face and reminded himself he'd known from the beginning that getting involved with this woman would prove to be trouble. But such delicious trouble, he considered, remembering the taste of those sweet, succulent lips.