by Deb Stover
"Sofie..." Luke sighed, bringing his hand up to stroke her hair. "I have so much to tell you."
The fire's heat and his embrace chased away the chill. "I'm listening."
"All right."
She rested her head against his shoulder again, slipping her arms around his waist. Desire made her feel warm and languid. She wanted him now more than ever, but she needed to concentrate on getting answers to her questions.
He cleared his throat and stroked her hair, now completely free of its tight braid. "Aren't you cold?" His voice sounded strained.
"My clothes are wet. Remember?" Reluctantly, she slid from the protective circle of his embrace and pulled a quilt from the bed. She should be ashamed, parading around nude in front of a priest, but a wicked part of her loved the way his gray eyes smoldered as he watched her wrap the quilt around her body. "There, is that better?"
Clearing his throat again, he removed his coat, hat and boots, then carried the wet items over and spread them out before the fire with hers. Sofie loved watching him. His movements were spare and precise, and well-toned muscles rippled enticingly beneath his shirt. For a priest, he was one fine hunk of man.
Focus on the questions, Sofie. Trying to ignore the coil of longing that settled low in her belly, she drew a deep breath. Luke was ready to provide answers, but she had to put her questions into words. Intelligible words. She could do this.
Preparing for the inquisition, she climbed onto the bunk and folded her legs, covering herself completely with the warm quilt. He returned and sat on the edge of the bed, his smile warm and his eyes stormy. Yes, he definitely knew something.
"I put some snow in a kettle over the fire to heat." He sighed, appearing resigned. "All right, ask your questions, then I'm going to fix us something to eat. I'm starved."
She kept the quilt tucked around her while she turned to face him. She wanted to watch his eyes. His beautiful eyes...
"What happened? Who am I?" There, that was pretty specific. "And why do I remember things that don't exist here? I can tell you understand some of those things, too. Please, Luke?"
"I..." He rubbed his eyes, then looked up to meet her gaze again. A muscle twitched in his jaw. "Well, I don't think plan A is going to work after all." He gave a cynical laugh.
"Plan A?" Sofie's heart thudded against her ribs. She knew something important was about to happen. "What?"
"Are you sure you're ready for this?"
She nodded, praying she wouldn't regret it later. "Go ahead."
"Something crazy happened that morning." He shook his head. "I...I don't know exactly how this happened, but somehow those explosions..."
"Somehow those explosions what?"
His expression grew somber as he met and held her gaze. "Sofie, those explosions threw us back in time over a hundred years."
She laughed. It was a crazy kind of laugh, sort of like The Bride of Frankenstein. After a moment, her laughter died. As crazy as it sounded, wasn't this the only explanation? Wasn't that why Redemption had seemed trapped in the past?
Because they were trapped in the past?
"I...I don't understand," she said, her voice sounding much calmer than she'd expected. "You're saying we're both from the future?"
"Yes." Luke sighed. "Instead of dying in that explosion, we were thrown back in time."
"Together." Sofie's throat clogged with unshed tears as the enormity of their situation struck her full force. "We should have died, but we were spared for some reason."
"Some would say divine intervention." He reached out to stroke her cheek with the backs of his fingers. "Sofie, you're so beautiful."
She swallowed hard, knowing there was more he hadn't said. "You really don't know my name?"
"No, but I wish I did." He tugged at his collar and rubbed the back of his neck. "Someone told me you were a doctor, but we weren't formally introduced."
"I see." She tilted her head to one side. "Where were we? What was happening there?"
"A, uh, an electrical experiment. Government stuff." He gave a nervous chuckle. Too nervous.
"A medical procedure?" She watched his changing expression, knowing he still hadn't told her everything. "Luke, I remember seeing you in a hospital gown. Tell me."
His face paled and he dropped his hand to his side. "Just an experiment. I really don't know much more than that."
Tears stung her eyes and she shook her head. "You're still keeping something from me, Luke." Her voice cracked and she wondered why and how she'd fallen in love with this man. How could she, when he continued to withhold critical information? "Tell me."
His face reddened beneath a few days' growth of beard, and the expression in his eyes was haunted. "Sofie..."
She rose onto her knees and faced him, gritting her teeth as anger warred with the love she still felt for this beautiful, lying man. "Tell me."
"I'm not a priest, Sofie. Never was."
Her blood roared through her veins and pounded in her head. "You're..."
"Not a priest."
Shock spiraled through her. "Not a priest?"
"Never was," he repeated.
She stared at him, watching the expression in his eyes carefully. He was telling the truth. "I don't understand."
He sighed and shook his head slowly. "How could you?"
"Why, Luke?" Dumbfounded, she watched a light flare in his eyes as his gaze drifted down the front of her, as if he could see right through the patchwork quilt. Her confusion made way for the hunger she'd struggled to keep buried all these weeks. The full meaning of his confession, and all its implications, hit her suddenly and without mercy.
The man she'd been lusting after and fallen madly in love with wasn't a priest? They were two consenting adults thrown back in time together, with no sacred vows standing between them.... "Really not a priest?" Her mouth went dry and the flush of desire swept through her.
"Really not." He gave her a boyish grin, then reached out to cup her cheek again.
Her other questions could wait. After weeks of self-denial, her physical needs were cutting in line. No more waiting. She knew what she wanted, what he wanted, and now there was no reason not to....
With trembling hands, she opened the front edges of the quilt covering her aching breasts, enjoying how his smoky eyes darken from gray to obsidian. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth and she let the quilt fall from her shoulders.
She loved the way his gaze caressed her bare flesh. Her nipples hardened beneath his scrutiny, aching for his touch. And his mouth. Oh, she definitely remembered his mouth. Her breathing quickened and the emptiness within her became unbearable.
"Well, then..." She bit her lower lip, then ran her tongue over it slowly. Sensuously.
His soft intake of breath assured her he understood her unspoken invitation. How could he not? Like a bow drawn too tight, her body quivered in anticipation.
Slowly, he trailed his fingers from her cheek, down the column of her throat to the curve of her shoulder. He rose onto his knees to face her, placing his hands on her shoulders. "Sofie, do you understand what you're doing to me?"
She nodded. "I don't know what kind of woman I am–was," she said, violent need rocketing through her. "Naughty or nice, all I know is what I want–what I need. Now."
"Now?"
"Luke, do I have to draw you a picture?" She pulled his hand from her shoulder and dragged it to her bare breast. "An x-rated picture?"
His gaze drifted down the length of her, then back to her face. "You're sure?"
"Now, Luke." Her voice fell to a husky whisper. "Now."
Her nipple burned a virtual hole in Luke's palm. Something snapped inside him. Desire, love, relief? Yes, everything hit him at once. The woman offering herself to him was much more than a hot, naked babe sending out an invitation.
This was Sofie–the woman he loved.
Even in the dimness, her eyes were wide but not frightened. She lifted her lips to his in offering and he was lost. With a guttural
growl, he hauled her firmly against him in a single powerful tug.
Lightning flared between them, hot and thick, crackling with an intensity that stole his breath. He took her mouth gently at first, but she made it clear that gentleness was not what she wanted. Or needed.
That suited him fine. The fire flared too hot and out of control. Their only defense against the blaze was to let it burn.
Lips, tongues, teeth, nothing held back, Luke took and gave in turn. That urgent, commanding kiss was the catalyst that broke the dam of reserve for them both. Suddenly they were all hands and mouths, touching, stroking, tugging at his remaining clothing.
Naked and panting, he pulled back to gaze into her eyes, drowning in their blue brilliance. Savage need spiked from her and into him, urging him to take her without preamble.
"Now, Luke," she urged, seeming to read his thoughts. "Now."
Just like the night he'd awakened her from that erotic dream, she knew exactly what words would drive him over the precipice. Yes, he'd take her now. He had no choice and she obviously shared his urgency. Raw need slammed into him with a violence that stunned him.
Naked and breathless, they faced each other, waiting for the other to make the next move.
Then she nearly killed him.
Reaching between them, she took his erection in both hands. Like a shotgun with both barrels cocked, he nearly exploded on contact. Of course, Sofie had no way of knowing how long it had been for him...how little sexual experience he really had.
Feel your way, Nolan. He could do this. On the job training was the only way to fly. For every action, there should be a reaction, or something like that.
She'd touched him right where it counted, so now it was his turn. Cupping her bottom in his hands, he lifted her up and against him, savoring the gasp of shock and pleasure that erupted from her.
"Please," she whispered, her tone almost pleading.
Her arms slipped around his neck and she kissed him again as he dipped his hand between her legs. She was hot and ready, and she jerked her mouth away from his, arching her neck backward.
She moaned a sultry, sexual, sound and wrapped her legs around his hips. Desperate, he answered her primitive growl with one of his own as he lowered her to the bunk. As agile as a gymnast, she shifted her legs from his hips to his waist, pulling him closer.
He froze over her, his throbbing tip against her warm, moist folds. She was hot, and he knew she'd be tight. A shudder of longing rippled through him, but–one more time–he searched her face for reassurance. Her eyes were wide, glazed with passion, begging for release.
"Come home, Luke," she said.
And he did.
He thrust into her. Powerfully. She pressed her cheek against his sweaty shoulder, urging him on with words that would've shocked the good citizens of Redemption. Her words and moans floated around him in an erotic cloud as he drove into her again and again.
She contracted around him in primal hunger and need–her nails raked his shoulders. Hot, so hot. She met him, drew from him, demanded all he could give, arching and writhing against him and with him.
Like a vise, she swallowed his full length and cried out in completion. Luke strained and exploded within her, culminating their mutual need.
Home at last.
Mere inches from his lips, Sofie savored his expression for her future memories. They stayed like this, staring and panting, for what seemed like forever. The only sounds she heard were the howls of the wind outside and the slowing thunder of their heartbeats.
He lifted his upper body from her, though he remained buried inside her. She wriggled slightly against him, smiling when he winced.
Gazing down at her, he said, "I love you, Sofie." Simply. Clearly.
Exhilaration shot through her. He's not a priest and he loves me. "I love you, too. So much..." A tear spilled from the corner of her eye and he kissed it away.
All the weeks of denial and guilt were gone forever. Now she could love and be loved. Nothing else mattered. All that mattered was his gentleness stirring the fire in her heart and soul, and–at long last–her body.
"Sofie." His whisper caressed her cheek as he lowered his lips to hers.
A moan rumbled from deep in her throat as her insides sprang to life all over again. His mouth was silky yet demanding–filled with promise. Luke broke their kiss and gazed into her eyes again. His pupils were huge, obliterating all but a thin ring of silver around their black centers.
"I want you," she said.
"Again?" He chuckled, waggling his eyebrows.
"Always."
He pulled her more tightly against him, flaunting his renewed ability to satisfy them both yet again. Lowering his mouth to hers, his tongue converged with hers in a primitive and unmistakable reproduction of what their bodies had just experienced.
On fire, she was at the brink of losing conscious thought yet again. She'd hungered for this–denial was futile. Ever since that night on the parlor floor, she'd dreamed of completion, of consummation, of victory.
And once tasted, she knew she'd never get enough of this man.
He raised up to stare down at her again. Her heart thundered in synch with her libido as candid hunger and desire flared in his smoky eyes. Even that brief moment of tranquility was imbued with sinful yearning. Wild, fundamental, human need.
This was much more than just great sex. Love fueled her, drove her, weakened yet empowered her at the same time.
Sweeping her lips with the tip of her tongue, she gave him a lingering smile. She rested her cheek against his shoulder, cherishing the texture of his skin. "Make love to me–with me–again. Now."
"I think now is your favorite word. Woman, you make me crazy." He nuzzled the side of her neck, driving her mad as he traced slow, lazy circles. "I love you so much it scares the hell out of me."
"Good. Hold that thought." She smiled a secret smile against his warm skin. He loves me. Joy swept through her all over again, leaving her agog for a few breathless moments. They were companion time-travelers, spirit-mates.
This was their destiny.
"Wait right here."
He climbed off her and ran across the room, returning with the kettle of melted snow and a rag. Her gaze feasted on every delicious inch of him as he dampened the rag with steaming water. After setting the kettle aside, he bathed her very gently with the warm rag. The texture of the soft cloth against her skin drove her mad with desire.
Then she took the rag from him and returned the favor, savoring the feel of the warm dampness skimming over his skin. She paid special attention to certain areas of his anatomy.
Growling, he tossed the rag to the rough wood floor and playfully shoved her down to the bunk again. As he covered her again, she glanced between them at his aroused state. Her insides clenched as she contemplated the feel of him buried deep inside her again.
Her physical need was powerful, but even that paled beside the love she felt for this man. She'd been prepared to carry that love to her grave, without ever touching him or being touched by him.
This was nothing less than a miracle. Tears filled her eyes. Yes, physical love fueled by spiritual love was truly a miracle.
She had it all.
Moaning, Luke kissed her, plundering and seeking. But just as quickly, he abandoned her mouth for new territory.
He definitely didn't need her to draw him a picture.
She groaned as his lips blazed a path down her throat to the slope of her shoulder, sketching warm, wet circles. He bent down and kissed her just beside her swollen breast.
"I've dreamed of kissing your butterfly," he muttered.
Sofie laughed softly, then gasped as he made his dream come true. With his tongue, he outlined the shape of her tattoo, gradually easing his way up the curve of her breast.
Her entire body grew heavy and boneless as he lingered over her for a few profoundly erotic moments. She thrust her hips against his, urging him to take her.
"You are an impati
ent wench," he murmured against her flesh.
"Only for you."
He gave her a roguish grin, then dipped his head to her breast. Coaxing her nipple deeply into his mouth, he suckled until she thought she'd die from the want of more. Watching him augmented her desire and reminded her of the miracle of their love.
He cupped her breasts in his hands, sharing himself between them. She lost herself to rising need, lacing her fingers through the dark curls at his nape, savoring the conflicting textures of this man she loved.
Brushing his tongue across her tender flesh, he glanced up at her. The hunger shimmering in his eyes made Sofie simply dissolve in a puddle of love and need.
She wanted to touch him...taste him. Fair was fair, after all. Very gently but firmly, she pressed his shoulder. Releasing her, he gave her a questioning glance.
"My turn," she whispered.
Her wicked smile should have warned Luke he was about to face his Waterloo. She nudged until he was flat on his back, then she slithered over him.
Life could be worse.
He wanted and needed her more than anything or anyone he'd known in any century. Nothing could be better than being stranded in a blizzard with Sofie. Nothing.
She kissed and nibbled his lower lip, then moved lower to linger over his chest and nipples. He hadn't realized his nipples could be so sensitive as she nipped and licked until he groaned in full surrender. She maneuvered her legs between his as the tips of her breasts tantalized the skin of his abdomen.
He reached for her, wanting to bring her back to his mouth, where he could kiss and be kissed, taste and be tasted. Eluding him, she kissed his thighs and the base of his engorged sex. Scattering punishing kisses where he'd never expected to be kissed, she paused just when he thought he couldn't take anymore. "Sofie..."
He wove his fingers through her hair and didn't breathe. He didn't dare. His inexperience was showing, and right now he didn't want to lose control. Wincing when he knew he couldn't take another moment of her delicious torture, he shifted away. "No...more."
Though he desperately wanted to experience what she'd been about to deliver, the time wasn't right. This was all too new and explosive for him. Later...