The Best Bride. Susan Mallery

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      He drew her into his embrace. He was warm and comforting, all the things her life lacked.

      “Don’t touch me,” she said, willing herself to fight, but not able to find the strength. “I’m incompetent. I ruined my life and Mandy’s, and—”

      “Never,” he whispered. He rested her head on his shoulder and stroked her back. “Never.”

      “It’s true. I am. I’m—”

      He silenced her with his kiss. His firm lips brushed against hers, his mustache tickled her skin. He tasted salty; then she realized it was her own tears. She clung to him, to his strength, letting herself believe that this was real. Even for just a second, it was enough. His powerful body acted as a shield from the horrors of her past. In his arms, she could forget her part in the debacle that had been her life. She could ignore how it had affected Mandy, and caused them both to be cut off from friends and family. Even her parents didn’t know the truth. She couldn’t face telling them.

      She turned her face away, breaking the kiss. “I wish you didn’t know,” she said, inhaling the scent of his warm body, knowing he would soon remove his strength from her reach and she would be alone again. “I wish I didn’t have to see the disgust and pity in your eyes.”

      He touched her chin, forcing her to look at him. “What do you see in my eyes?” he asked.

      She saw the flames that had been there the last time they’d kissed. She saw compassion, and something she couldn’t identify.

      “You haven’t had time to think it through,” she said, not willing to believe it was that easy.

      “Give me a little credit for knowing myself.”

      She didn’t say anything because she knew he was wrong. In time he would get angry at her for being so young and blind. Her friends had. She’d certainly gotten angry at herself. She was used to the weight of disapproval.

      He rose and pulled her to her feet. Then he bent over and picked her up in his arms. She thought about protesting, but she didn’t have the energy. She wrapped her arms around his neck and savored the feeling of being safe.

      He carried her down the hall into his bedroom. She’d never been in here before. There was a large sleigh bed pushed against one wall. It dwarfed this room, but would look perfect in the master suite. An antique rocker stood in one corner. He settled down on the seat. She started to struggle.

      “I’m not Mandy,” she said. “I don’t need to be treated like a child.”

      “Maybe not,” he said mildly, “but you need a good holding anyway and this is the best way I know to do it. Relax, Elizabeth. Everything is going to be all right. I promise.”

      “You can’t make it all right.”

      “Sure I can. Even if I can’t make it right forever, I can fix it now. Close your eyes. Don’t think about it anymore.”

      He held her head against his shoulder. His other hand moved slowly up and down her back. The comforting embrace weakened her resistance. She felt the tears forming. She clutched at his shirt and gave in to the pain.

      It filled her, surrounding her. All the days and nights she’d lived with her shameful secret, all the lies she’d told, willingly and unwillingly. She’d hoped for a fresh start in this small town. Nothing was the way it was supposed to have been. This shouldn’t have happened to her.

      Travis murmured quiet words of encouragement. Her sobs lessened. She drew in a ragged breath and turned her face toward his neck. His shirt was damp against her cheek, his legs hard beneath hers. Big strong hands held her gently, as if she were the most fragile of creatures. Something precious. She wanted to believe his embrace. She wanted to know that she was fragile and special, something of value.

      “Better?” he asked when she’d been silent for several minutes.

      Elizabeth nodded slowly. “Thanks for understanding. Sometimes I’m 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 СКАЧАТЬ