“Please forgive me,” he breathed.
“Nothing to forgive. You owed me nothing. You belonged to someone else.”
His eyes snapped open. “No.” He caught her other hand and pulled her gently towards him until she stood close enough to feel his heat. “I did not.” His hands traced up her bare arms to the edge of her gypsy blouse, over her shoulders; his thumbs rubbed back and forth along her collar bones.
“My love, don’t you know?” His hands went round the back of her neck to tangle in her hair. “I was yours since that tower in Wales when you threatened to kick me in the balls.” He leaned closer and kissed her forehead. “From the lunch when you made me forget to be a vegetarian.” He moved his lips to kiss her temple. “The way your eyes sparkled when you laughed, the walk we took along the harbour wall, the beautiful song you played for me.” He pressed a lingering kiss on her cheek. “And most definitely from the moment I saw you sitting in the garden here in the sun painting green grass on your Wellies.”
His hands tightened in her hair making her body arch against him as their lips met. The kiss had been coming a long time, but no dream could have matched the full lips that took hers softly, meltingly at first, then more hungrily until her arms were around his neck and she was pressing herself into his body, just as hard as his arms crushed her to him.
They were both panting when they finally broke the kiss.
“I think we should close your bedroom door,” he rasped.
“Hmm,” she agreed against his mouth and they were kissing again, even more fiercely.
“Someone might see.” She broke the kiss this time.
“Don’t care.” He groaned lifting her up in his arms and taking her mouth again.
It took them a few more tries before they finally stopped, and he went to close the door.
Looking around her room, she wailed, “Oh no.” They had been stumbling around a bit and had stepped the photographs on the floor.
“Leave them,” he said, coming back to her.
She dropped to one knee and started to gather them. “Your lovely pictures.”
He knelt beside her and helped her shuffle them tidy and push them back into the envelope. “You do know I can reprint them.”
She took the envelope from him and hugged it to her heart. These pictures, slightly bent and trampled, even tear-stained, were very special to her. She had missed him so much, and for a few minutes, these pictures had been all she had of him. Even though he was close now, parts of her still hadn’t caught up with the updates, parts of her were still afraid she would never keep him.
“Hey, hey.” Gabriel held her close and lifted her up to her feet with the pictures still clutched to her heart. “I’m not going anywhere. You know that, don’t you?” he asked.
She wiped at the silly tears on her cheek. “You haven’t changed, you can still read my mind.”
He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger and tipped her head up so she could look at him. “You can read me too.” His eyes travelled over her face and settled on her lips. “Tell me what you can read.”
Desire. She could read desire.
Rising up on her toes she kissed him and there were no more words, no more talking, and no more waiting. She couldn’t wait anymore.
They stumbled into the room, kissing. His arms around her, his chest, his smell, the feeling that in his arms she was coming home.
They were peeling clothes off, getting tangled in sleeves and collars and shoes, walking sideways, or backwards until they reached her bed. Then he pulled away. “Stop, stop” he panted, placing a hand over hers. She’d been about to pull down the straps of her bra.
“What?” she stopped uncertainly.
“I want to look at you like this,” his eyes roamed over her. “In your bra and knickers and wellies. The way I saw you in Wales in that tower when you pulled me out of the sea …”
He pushed her to sit on the edge of her bed and knelt on the rug in front of her. Then he looked at her, all of her for a time, two minutes, two and a half weeks…
“Do you have any idea how many times I have pictured you like this?” his voice was suddenly husky. “You still wear matching footwear and underwear.” He indicated her blue bra and pantie set. “Promise you’ll never change your style.”
“Promise you’ll shut up and make love to me.”
For answer, he lifted her foot and placed it on his thigh as he slowly eased the Wellington off.
Epilogue
