Heart and Soul by Carrie Elks
17
Meghan was sitting on the sofa, her legs curled beneath her, a cold cup of coffee cradled in her hands when the sound of the elevator cut through the silence of her apartment. It was still dark outside her window, though the nature of the light was changing, more of an inky blue than black as the sun began to rise.
A slow rap of knuckles came from the door.
She uncrossed her legs, wincing at the stiffness of her muscles, and walked across the apartment, pulling the door open to see Rich standing there.
There were shadows beneath his eyes. His hair was mussed up. And when his gaze met hers she saw a blankness there she hadn’t seen before.
“How is Gloria? Is she still there?” Meghan asked.
He nodded. “She’s stable. They’ve moved her to a ward.”
“Do you want to come in?” She inclined her head at her living room. “I can make you a drink or something to eat?”
“I don’t know.” His brows pinched. “I should sleep, but I don’t think I can.”
“Nor can I.”
He followed her into her apartment, his breathing soft as she led him to the kitchen. She slid a capsule into her coffee machine, then grabbed a carton of milk from the refrigerator. “Do you know what caused her fall?” she asked. Rich was slumped against the kitchen counter.
“I was right. It was atrial fibrillation. They’re putting her on some medication and will be keeping her for a day or two. But they’re talking about putting a pacemaker in.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “I should have known this was happening. If I’d just paid more attention to her.”
“How could you have known?” Meghan asked gently. “She never said anything. I saw her yesterday morning and she was fine. Or at least she said she was.”
He shook his head. “Turns out she’s been feeling off for days.”
Meghan walked across the kitchen, taking his hand between her own. “You didn’t know,” she told him again. “It’s not your fault.”
“It feels like it is.”
She reached up, cupping his jaw between her warm palms. Rich swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, his eyes heavy lidded as he looked down at her. She hated the exhaustion she saw in the depths.
“It’s okay,” she murmured, tracing his jaw with the pad of her thumb. “It’s not your fault. You saved her. She’s in the right place now.”
His brows pinched, three vertical lines appearing above the bridge of his nose. She wanted to smooth them away. To make it all better.
To make him smile again.
Rolling onto the ball of her feet, she pressed her lips against his hard, rough jaw. She could hear his breath catch in his throat. His eyes closed as he inhaled sharply. She kissed him again, brushing her lips along his jaw to his throat, kissing the warm skin of his neck.
“It’s okay,” she whispered again. “You’re okay.”
He wrapped his hands around her waist, his fingers digging into her hips. She could see a pulse flickering in his neck.
She trailed her lips down his throat, to the curve of his shoulder. He pulled her against him, her breasts pressing to his hard chest, the thick ridge of him prominent against her abdomen. A warmth washed over her skin.
“I’m sorry…” he whispered, as though ashamed of his need.
“Don’t be. Just let me touch you. Hold you.” She didn’t know what else to do. The need to comfort him mixed with a heady desire coursing through her veins, making her thigh muscles tense with every heartbeat. With her hands on his chest she traced the lines of his pectorals through the thin fabric of his t-shirt, brushing her fingers over his nipples, making him gasp.
The room was silent, save for his harsh breaths and the pulse of blood rushing through her ears. He held himself still, a willing participant to the comfort she was trying to give him. When she slid her hand down, beneath the hem of his t-shirt, and pressed her palms against his burning skin, he tipped his head back, his jaw tense, his eyes darkening with desire.
“Meghan… I…” he groaned. “Don’t stop…”
“I won’t,” she murmured, kissing his jaw again. Her hands traced a pattern against the ridges of his stomach, up his torso, her fingers spreading over his chest. “Let me make you feel better.”
He was as hard as iron. Long and thick against her. She lifted his t-shirt, and he held his arms up, only lowering them when she threw it to the floor. His beauty dazzled her. The warm tan of his skin, the tautness of his abs, the dark line of hair that ran from his navel to his waistband, inviting her in.
“Tell me what you need,” she said, pressing her lips against his chest. He smelled so damn good it sent her brain into a whirl.
“Kiss me.” His voice was low. Harsh. As if to underline it, he pulled one hand from her hip and pressed his fingertips to her chin, lifting her head until their gazes clashed. She could see the desire in his eyes, feel it against her body. This man was like a drug to her veins.
His lips were soft and heated. He brushed them against hers, making her toes clench. His fingers curled around her neck, angling her perfectly until he could deepen the kiss, his tongue sliding along the seam of her mouth until she willingly welcomed him.
His kiss was achingly sweet. Full of so many emotions it made her chest hurt. He held her face with one hand, the other sliding up her back, sending tingles down her spine as he kept her steady against him. She could feel the balance of power flip between them, as he took charge, kissing and touching her until her body felt like it was flying.
“Can we go to bed?” he asked, his voice heavy from their kiss.
She nodded, lacing her fingers through his, thanking god for the short distance between her kitchen and bedroom. Rich was right behind her, still holding her hand, using his other to pull the door closed. The sun was beginning to rise now, burnt orange shafts of light sneaking through the gap in her curtains. He released her hand, using his own to turn her until she was in his arms again, kissing her with a confident force that left her in no doubt that he wanted this.
She wanted it, too. Wanted him. He reached down to cup her breasts through her pajama top, making her thighs clench deliciously against each other.
And then he lifted her up, and carried her to bed.
* * *
Just touching her chased all the shadows away. Rich climbed between her thighs, using his own, more powerful legs, to open hers a little more, and kissed her again, marveling at how sweet she tasted. She was like a drug. He couldn’t get enough of her. Laying on the bed beneath him, she felt like a gift meant only for him.
“Can I take this off?” He ran his finger along the hem of her tank. Meghan nodded, her flaming hair a halo as it cascaded over her white pillow. He inched it up, his mouth dry as he took in the paleness of her skin. She was flawless, her body taut, yet soft. Her flesh was warm as he traced his fingers over her. And when her top was off, he pressed his own bare chest against her, letting out a groan as his almost-painful excitement pressed against her warm, damp core.
Her breasts were as beautiful as the rest of her, peaked with dark nipples that hardened as he traced his finger around them. He brushed his lip against one, softly swirling his tongue against the peak, pleasure surging through him as she gasped when he sucked her in.
He could feel the drum of his pulse as it throbbed through his erection. Could feel the heat of his blood as it rushed around him. And then there was her. Meghan. The woman he’d fantasized about way too many times, looking up at him with those soft green eyes that haunted his dreams.
“You’re beautiful,” he said, his voice a rasp.
“So are you,” she whispered, a smile playing at her lips as she traced the line of his stomach, down to the waistband of his jeans.
“What do you want? How far should we…” He blinked, trying to find the right words.
“I want you. All of you,” she said, her voice gritty.
Damn if that didn’t make him harder still. “I haven’t got anything,” he told her. And he wasn’t willing to leave her now. The spell they were under was too enticing, too perfect.
He’d give her pleasure the way he knew how. It would be enough to see her fall apart beneath his touch. But then she shook her head.
“I’m on the pill. And I’m clean.” She pulled her lip between her teeth and looked up at him. “It’s been a while.”
His desire surged. “For me, too. I got tested this year.” And now all he could think about was her. How perfect she was. “I can’t believe you’re here beneath me.”
Her eyes held his. “Believe it.”
Sliding his hand beneath her head, he pressed his mouth to hers. The soft warmth of her lips teased him as he slid his tongue against hers. She arched her chest against him and it made his body tighten. He had to close his eyes to steady himself.
Pulling back until he was on his knees, he crawled back down the mattress, his fingers hooking around her thighs to pull them even further apart. She was wearing a pair of thin cotton pajama shorts, and he slid his fingers beneath the hem, blinking hard when he felt how soft and bare she was.
And wet. So damn wet. A gasp escaped from her lips as he traced the outline of her, closing his eyes because he never wanted this to end. He was lost in her, consumed by their mutual desire. Sliding his finger inside her, he ached when she called out his name.
Pulling her shorts off, he slid his head between her thighs, his breath catching as he pressed his tongue against her. Her legs tightened around him, her fingers tangled in his hair, and when he licked her where she needed it most, she arched her back from the mattress.
It took less than a minute to send her soaring. She cried his name again, and it sent waves of pleasure through him, his body swelling against his jeans, the pressure almost painful. Meghan urged him upward, her breathing heavy as his lips connected with hers, and she tasted her pleasure on him, her frantic kisses telling him she needed more.
Her fingers tugged at his waistband and he had to help her, shucking his jeans and shorts off until he was naked over her. She looked so delicate beneath him, made him feel a hundred feet tall. Then she smiled deliciously, hooking her legs around his hips, pulling him until he was exactly where he needed to be.
When he slid inside, it was like driving into oblivion. A perfectly enticing void where only the two of them existed. She was everything he knew she would be. Warm, welcoming, and so tight he had to fight not to let the pleasure overtake him.
She reached up, brushing his hair from his brow, kissing him sweetly as she hitched her hips to meet his. Her breath was coming in little sighs, their rhythm matching the roll of his body into hers.
He was lost in her eyes. Lost in the whole of her. He never wanted to leave. She comforted and teased, consoled and delighted. She was everything he never knew he needed until he was there.
And when she tightened around him, her back arching again until all he could feel was the sweet grip of her, he knew he was close. He slid his hand beneath her behind, his fingers digging into the soft flesh, hitching her leg around his waist so he could go deeper. Their kisses were hard and needy, making him breathless and dizzy. Hot pleasure was building inside of him until the release was inevitable.
Then he was coming so damn hard, he had to brace himself on the mattress to stop himself from smothering her. She hooked her arms around his neck, her lips opening as she joined him in that sweet oblivion once more. He was tensing, convulsing, emptying himself into her, and at that moment he knew there was nothing else for him.
Nothing but her.
And damn if that wasn’t the most frightening thought he’d ever had.
The waves of pleasure softened, and he found his breath again, his panting heavy and thick as he stared into her eyes. They were soft, and so achingly perfect. As though she knew exactly how he was feeling. The home he never realized he’d wanted until he’d seen it for himself.
