Gwen followed Shiloh up the back twin staircase and into the kitchen. The air coming from strategically placed vents quickly cooled her fevered body. He led her down the two steps into the dining area and through the open space to the family room. A tray on a beveled glass-topped rattan table held a glass pitcher filled with iced tea and lemon slices, and a plate with twisted dough sprinkled with chopped nuts.
“Oh, my goodness. You cooked.”
“Very funny,” Shiloh drawled, as he seated Gwen on a love seat covered in an off-white Haitian cotton fabric. “I asked Ian to make them for the Memorial Day gathering.” He sat down next to her. “I was disappointed when you didn’t come.”
“I couldn’t because I was expecting telephone calls from home.” She hadn’t known her mother was going to call, so what she’d told Shiloh wasn’t entirely untrue.
He studied her delicate profile. Soft black curls framed her face and grazed the nape of her neck. “I was under the impression that St. Martin Parish was home.”
Shifting slightly, Gwen stared at Shiloh. She’d committed the slant of his luminous eyes, shape of his strong mouth, sweeping curve of his black eyebrows, and the slightly flaring nostrils of his nose to memory, but each time she came face-to-face with him she never failed to marvel at how much he affected her.
“It is,” she said in a quiet tone, “but it’s going to take me a while to think of it as home.”
“How long, darling?”
Gwen held his gaze. “How long what?”
He leaned closer. “Will it take you to think of…to…” His words halted as he placed light kisses along the column of her neck.
Closing her eyes, she slumped weakly against him. “Don’t, Shiloh,” she pleaded without conviction. “I came here to interview you.”
“You want to know about the accident?”
“Yes-s-s.” She’d slurred the word. She couldn’t think straight with his mouth mapping the nape of her neck.
Easing back, Shiloh smiled. “Do you have a tape recorder?”
Gwen opened her eyes. “Yes. Why?”
He extended his hand. “Give it to me, Miss Taylor, and I’ll tell you what you want to know.”
Reaching for her handbag, she took out the palm-sized instrument and handed it to him. Shiloh pushed the record button. “Hey,” Gwen said, trying to take the recorder from him. “I need to ask you some pertinent questions,” she said when he cleared his voice.
He held it out of her reach. “Let me interview myself. If there’s anything else you need to know, then I’ll answer your pertinent questions.”
He was the sheriff of St. Martin Parish and she was the crime reporter for the Teche Tribune. And because she needed his eyewitness account of the traffic accident that was on the lips of every parish resident, she decided to capitulate.
Gwen’s head went up and down like a bobble head doll. His unwillingness to let her direct the interview told her more about Shiloh Harper than he’d disclosed during their prior encounters. He was used to being in control.
Just this one time, darling, she mused, flashing a wry smile.
Settling back against the plump pillow, she listened as Shiloh spoke into the tiny microphone. It took less than five minutes for him to answer all of her questions and those she hadn’t thought of asking.
She closed her eyes, listening to the hoarse quality of his voice when he told of pulling the tiny burned bodies of the little girls from the van, then their father, and finally the pregnant woman. It changed to a tremulous whisper when he recounted how he’d delivered the tiny baby boy and wrapped it in his soot-covered shirt. It changed again, hardening ruthlessly once he retold how Willie Ray Benton, in a drug-crazed rampage, tried to escape.
Shiloh paused. “Jimmie arrived along with three other deputies and the EMTs. I rode along in the ambulance with the baby, who was later airlifted to a neonatal unit of a Baton Rouge children’s hospital. Willie Ray was read his rights and hauled off to jail.” His gaze widened as it fused with Gwen’s, and the beginning of a smile tipped the corners of his mouth. “That’s it, Miss Taylor. The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.”
Gwen held out her hand for the recorder, and she wasn’t disappointed when he turned it off and placed it on her outstretched palm. “Thank you, Sheriff Harper.”
Bracing his left arm over the back of the love seat, Shiloh smiled at her. “You’re welcome. Now, can I stop being Sheriff Harper, Miss Gwendolyn Taylor?”
She lifted an eyebrow. “Is there a difference?”
He leaned closer. “Of course. As Sheriff Harper I wouldn’t be able to do this.” Placing his right hand against her waist, he drew her to him, lowered his head, and slanted his mouth over hers.
Gwen jumped, as if she’d been jolted with a bolt of electricity. The mere touch of his hand burned her flesh through the fabric of her blouse. The heat spread, moving lower and even lower, until the area between her legs ignited in a throbbing that craved to be assuaged.
Her fingers unclenched, the recorder falling between the seat cushions, as she reached up and cradled Shiloh’s bearded face. She felt his warmth, inhaled his scent, and luxuriated in the strength of his solid body. One hand moved up to his shoulder, and higher still where her fingertips grazed the soft strands on the nape of his strong neck.
Shiloh, who prided himself on his rigid self-control since his divorce, yielded to the rush of desire that made him unable to stop the blood pooling in his groin. “Please, darling.” His plea was a tortured groan.
Gwen locked herself into his embrace, wanting him, needing him like she’d never wanted or needed any man. She knew Shiloh was asking to make love to her, and she wanted him to.
“Yes.” The word was barely off her tongue when she found herself in his arms as he rose to his feet. “Your arm,” she whispered against his ear.
Smiling, he adjusted her weight. “It’s okay.”
“I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”
A knowing smile parted his lips. “Right about now, it’s not my arm that’s aching.”
Tightening her grip around his neck, Gwen moistened her lips. She knew what was about to happen yet was helpless to stop it because she didn’t want to. She wanted the man, needed the man holding her to his heart.
“I need you to protect me, Shiloh. I can’t get pregnant now.”
Jaw clenched and eyes narrowing, Shiloh glared at the woman in his arms. Annoyance temporarily overrode the throbbing desire threatening to tear him asunder. “I know. You don’t want a baby.”
Gwen opened her mouth to refute him, but the retort died on her lips. She hadn’t said she didn’t want a baby, but that she couldn’t afford to get pregnant. Not when she’d hadn’t done all she’d planned to do.
Relaxing in the strong embrace, she closed her eyes as Shiloh mounted the staircase to the second floor. Fear, need and desire merged to leave her heart pounding wildly under her breasts. Strange and foreign questions surfaced, shattering her resolve. It had taken four years to open up enough to sleep with a man, and only a month to find herself in love with that man.
“It’s going to be all good, darling.”
She opened her eyes and smiled. There was something in the way Shiloh looked at her that said he was right, the time was right, and she was ready for what was to come.
CHAPTER 12
Shiloh placed Gwen on his bed, his body following hers down. He put pressure on his left elbow rather than his forearm, and cradled her face between his hands. The large dark eyes staring back at him were filled with fear and another emotion he was unable to identify.
“It’s been longer for you than it has for me,” he said softly, “so why don’t we do this together. I’ll undress you and you can undress me.”
A tender smile broke through the expression of uncertainty freezing Gwen’s features. “Thank you,” she whispered before she closed her eyes and let her senses take over.
She felt the gossamer touch of her soon-to-be lo
ver’s fingers as he reached down and removed her shoes, undid the buttons on her blouse, then her slacks, instinctively raising her hips to aid him in removing them. Her breath quickened when he eased the tank top up her chest, baring her breasts to his heated gaze.
Shiloh expelled a lungful of breath. Gwen’s clothes had artfully concealed a pair of full breasts, hips and a flat belly. Lowering his head, he pulled a nipple into his mouth, sucking gently. It swelled and hardened at the same time she arched off the mattress, gasping. He released it with a soft pop before giving the other breast equal attention. Her moans, his groans mingled as rising passions spun out of control.
Gwen did not remember when Shiloh divested her of her tank top or bikini panties. Navigating through a sensual haze bordering on hysteria, she removed his top, unsnapped his jeans, and pushed them and his briefs down around his hips and legs. Tears welled in her eyes, her hands shook, and she bit down on her lower lip to keep from crying out how much she wanted and loved Shiloh Harper. Straddling him, she wrapped her arms around his neck.
Shiloh combed his fingers through her curls, holding them off her face, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I feel you, baby.” He could feel and smell the rising scent of her desire, an aphrodisiac that shattered the vestiges of the iron-will control he’d erected to protect his emotional stability. He’d loved and lost, and since meeting Gwen he hadn’t wanted to risk losing his heart to another woman. But something told him that he could love and trust her completely.
Gwen couldn’t stop the shudders rippling through her body. She was close enough to Shiloh to feel his heartbeat. She was in his bedroom, naked, her body pressed to his, and she was scared witless.
Shiloh’s hand moved up and down her spine in a soothing motion. “Relax, darling. That’s it. Take a deep breath. Now exhale.”
She followed his instruction, slowing down her heartbeat. A soft moan escaped her when he cupped her buttocks, pulling her closer as she anchored her arms under his shoulders.
Smiling, Shiloh buried his face in her fragrant hair. “We don’t have to do anything.”
Gwen froze. “What do you mean?”
“We can just sit and hold each other.”
Easing back, she stared up at him staring down at her. “Are you a voyeur?”
Vertical lines furrowed his forehead. “No. Why would you ask me that?”
“If I’m going to take off my clothes and let you see my business, then I expect you to do something.”
Shiloh chuckled softly, the sound rumbling in his chest. “I just want to know if you’re ready for what we’re about to share.”
Gwen gave him a long, penetrating stare. She was more than ready. What she hadn’t known was that she was ready for Shiloh the night he’d come to answer her nine-eleven call.
“Yes, darling,” she crooned. “I’m ready. Are you?”
A sensual smile softened his mouth. “You can’t imagine how ready I am for you.” His hands moved from her hips to cradle her face between his large hands. “I adore you, Gwendolyn Paulette Taylor.”
Gwen pressed her mouth to the fading bruise on his cheekbone. “This is one time I’m going to forgive you for using my government name.”
He chuckled again. “Thank you.”
Her kisses became bolder, moving from his jaw to his chin, the column of his strong neck, collarbone, and lower to his chest. He gasped loudly when the tip of her tongue swept over his chest.
There was a time when Shiloh pleaded with Gwen not to move, but not now. The pressure of her hips and the soft crush of her breasts against his chest was his undoing.
The stirring flesh between his thighs hardened quickly, and he told himself that he needed to go slowly—for Gwen and himself. Both had been denied sexual gratification for a long time. He’d promised himself that whenever he shared a bed with a woman again it would be because of unspoken emotions that couldn’t be translated into words, and not to slake his sexual frustration. For that he didn’t need a woman.
He kissed her mouth, softly, tenderly. His tongue outlined the shape of her mouth before he eased it between her parted lips. His tongue touched the roof of her mouth, grazed the ridge of her even bite, the smoothness of her inner cheek before it touched hers, tentatively testing her response.
Gwen literally inhaled Shiloh—his unique body scent mingling with a clean, citrusy cologne. Her mouth was everywhere: the pulse at the base of his throat, shoulders, and chest. It was as if she couldn’t get enough of his smell, the firm muscle and sinew under her fingertips, and the unyielding strength of his large, solid body.
She tried ignoring the throbbing under her hips, but failed. Her hips began their own dance of desire as she rocked back and forth on Shiloh’s powerful thighs. A rush of moisture preceded the scorching heat taking over her mind and body.
“Please,” she gasped, quickening her movements. Gwen knew she was close to climaxing as the flaming heat inside of her became more intense with every passing second.
Shiloh reached over and opened the drawer to the nightstand and grasped a condom. Using his teeth, he tore it open, unaware that his hands were shaking. He eased Gwen down to the mattress, looming above her while slipping the latex sheath over his erection.
Time stood still, the world stopped spinning on its axis, when his gaze met the woman, who within mere seconds would become his and he hers. He’d thought her magnificent when dressed in the revealing burgundy gown and adorned with precious jewels, but that image paled in comparison to what he now gazed upon. Gwen transfixed him with her pouting mouth, heaving bosom, and the sensual way she stared up at him through her lashes.
They shared a smile, he easing his swollen flesh into her waiting body. His eyes darkened in passion as Gwen closed her eyes, sighing softly as he penetrated her inch by slow, erotic inch. Once joined, they sighed in unison.
Waves of ecstasy throbbed through Gwen as she welcomed the slow, deliberate cadence that elicited a pleasure that was pure and explosive. Her body melted with the heat flowing through her like warmed honey. Shiloh anchored his hands under her bottom, lifting her hips off the mattress and angling her body for maximum pleasure.
She couldn’t disguise her body’s reaction to a lovemaking that had awakened a dormant sensuality she’d forgotten existed. The tremors inside her thighs and groin quickened, and she surrendered to the raw act of possession that bound her to the man who freed her from an existence filled with doubt about whether she would ever love again.
Gwen opened her eyes at the exact moment Shiloh’s passions erupted in a fireball of erotic pleasure. He closed his eyes, going completely still, and growled out his satisfaction as her pulsing flesh pulled him in, making them one.
He collapsed facedown on the bed, struggling to slow down his runaway heart. Shifting slightly, he wrapped an arm around Gwen’s waist, pulled her closer, and dropped a kiss on the end of her nose.
“You are incredible,” he whispered reverently.
Satisfaction pursed Gwen’s mouth as she closed her eyes. Shiloh wanted to talk when all she wanted to do was sleep. Snuggling closer, she rested her head on his shoulder and fell asleep.
* * *
Gwen woke to find herself in total darkness. She sat up, glancing around her. It wasn’t until she moved her legs and felt the tightness in her thigh muscles that she remembered where she was and whom she was with. Easing away from the prone figure and bringing her left arm close to her face, she peered at the glowing hands on the watch strapped to her wrist. It was after nine o’clock. She went completely still. Cocoa! She had to go home, feed the puppy and let her out.
Moving quietly off the bed, she crawled around on the floor, hoping to retrieve her shoes and clothes without waking Shiloh. She gritted her teeth in frustration. She’d found everything except her panties.
Clutching her discarded clothes to her chest, she tiptoed on bare feet down the staircase. The only illumination was baseboard lighting. She pulled on her clothes, ran her fingers through her mu
ssed hair, and literally felt her way to the family room to get her handbag. As she reached the compartment for her car key, she froze. Her tape recorder was missing!
Standing in the middle of Shiloh’s family room, Gwen tried remembering if she’d put it back in her handbag. Biting down on her lower lip, she mentally replayed the interview with Shiloh. He’d taken the recorder, given it back to her, and she’d dropped it. Going to her knees, she felt under the table. A raw expletive had formed on her lips, then she remembered. Lifting a cushion on the love seat, she found it.
She didn’t know whether Shiloh had reset his house alarm, but she would soon find out as she made her way to the rear door. Turning the knob, she eased it open, sighing. Unless there was a silent alarm, she had made it out undetected.
Gwen got into her car, started up the engine, and drove away from the private development and the man she loved beyond description.
* * *
Shiloh turned over on his left side, and woke immediately. “Damn!” he gasped. He’d put too much pressure on his blistered forearm.
He quickly dismissed the pain when he detected the floral fragrance on the pillow next to his. Smiling, he reached out, but his smile vanished within seconds when he grabbed a handful of linen.
Turning on a bedside lamp, Shiloh glanced around the bedroom, looking for Gwen. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, and looked down: her clothes were gone. The only thing that remained was a scrap of silk in a soft powder blue that lay on the floor next to his shirt and jeans.
He picked up her panties, left the bedroom, and made his way down the staircase, wondering where she could’ve gone without her underwear. It wasn’t until he stared at the space where her car had been that he realized she’d left sometime during the night.
Shiloh tightened his grip on the silk fabric, his expression a mask of stone. He didn’t know what had sent Gwen fleeing his bed but he intended to find out.
* * *
“What the—” Gwen didn’t complete her sentence when Cocoa’s barking joined the chiming of the doorbell. Putting the puppy in her bed, she went downstairs to answer the door. Peering through the security eye she recognized the distorted face of Shiloh scowling at her.
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