Chapter Thirteen
Garth’s internal body clock always woke him before sunrise each morning. He opened his eyes with a start this morning as the first rosy tinge of dawn tinted the sky. The ceiling fan was swirling lazily, and he yawned as he watched it. He lay there for a moment and then jumped up when he remembered Lucy.
“Shit,” he muttered beneath his breath. He’d hit the couch for a five-minute nap last night and must have gone out like the dead.
He crossed to the window but his ute was still there. Lucy hadn’t borrowed it, and he hoped she still had enough country savvy not to walk home last night. Her computer was still plugged into the wall and open on his desk, and Garth ran his hand through his hair in frustration.
How did she get home? Bloody hell, how rude could a man be?
He padded silently to the kitchen and looked around. Both of the coffee mugs had been rinsed and were draining on the sink. He frowned. Her bag was still on the bench where she’d left it last night, and a smile crossed his face. Her boots were by the back door where she’d slipped them off.
He crept up the hallway and checked the guest room, where there was a queen-size bed. He’d never made it up, but the bed was empty. He pushed open the door of the second bedroom where there were two single beds, but they were both empty, too.
With a frown, and hope unfurling in his chest, Garth pushed open the door to his room. Cool air from the spinning fan greeted him, and he peered into the dim room; the blinds were closed. He closed the door quietly behind him and walked across to the bed. A slender, bare leg greeted him where the sheet had been pushed back. Lucy lay on her side, her cheek resting in her hand. As he watched, her eyes opened slowly and she stared up at him.
“Good morning, Goldilocks.” His voice was husky as he met her gaze.
“I hope you don’t mind me sleeping over. I didn’t have the heart to wake you up. It was after midnight when I pulled the pin.”
Garth sat on the edge of the bed and reached over and pushed her tousled hair back from her rosy cheeks. “Not at all. I’m sorry I was such a rude host.” He frowned. “Won’t they be worried over at Prickle Creek?”
Lucy rolled over onto her back and stretched. Garth tried hard not to stare at the round breasts clearly outlined by her tight T-shirt. He looked away, and his attention landed on her jeans lying on the floor beside the bed.
Bloody hell. Lucy Bellamy was in his bed and seminaked.
“No, I called Jemmy and told her I was staying the night.”
“But won’t they think—”
Lucy sat up and put her finger over his lips. “Shh, I’m a big girl now. If I want to spend the night in a man’s bed, that’s my choice. Nothing to do with anyone else.” Now her voice was husky and held a teasing note that sent his blood pressure rocketing up near the fan.
Bloody hell. She’s flirting with me.
He lifted his hand and held her fingers against his face. Slowly and gently he turned it over and placed his lips on her open palm. Her skin was warm as he murmured against it. “No one else? What about the man? Does he get a say in the matter?”
“Depends on whether the man wanted me in his bed or not.”
“Hmm, let me think.” Garth ran his hand along her arm, until his fingers reached around to the back of her neck, and he gently tipped her head back until her eyes met his. “I guess it depends on whether the lady wants to be there or not.” With each word he moved his head closer and watched as Lucy’s lips parted.
“I think she does” was the reply he wanted to hear. Garth let his lips hover over hers, her breath warming his skin.
“I think she’s got too many clothes on,” he whispered.
“I think he does, too.” They were eye to eye, and his breathing quickened as Lucy dropped her hands to the bottom of his T-shirt and pulled it up slowly. When his chest was bare, he reached for her shirt.
“Fair’s fair.” Her body was soft, pliant against his, and he drew a shuddering breath as he lifted his head. It had been a few months since he’d last been with a woman, but it was more than the time between sexual encounters that was fuelling this need in him.
“Are you sure, Lucy-Lou?” His voice was throaty with need and he held her gaze.
“I’m sure.”
Her mouth was soft beneath his, their first real kiss bringing memories of her sweetness; no one had ever come close to Lucy for Garth. He ran his lips over her mouth, her cheeks, and her forehead, before pressing kisses on her eyelids. As he returned his tongue to the curve of her lips, she opened her mouth to welcome him. Aching with need, he took a deep breath as he lifted his head.