Hearts Out of Time

  Pleasure punctured her body, an eruption almost beyond her capacity to keep on a tight leash. But she didn’t want to lose her head. Not yet. She hankered for some sense of control over her actions, and she’d have it.

  She slid down on him. The sensation of their skins melting was outlandishly enticing, the sight of his drawn features even more so. He breathed hard now, his decisive gaze never leaving her face.

  Lower she went, the grazing of flesh causing her to tense the muscles of her buttocks.

  He gasped under the slight inner pressure and closed his eyes for a fleeting second, his whole body stiffening.

  She went down hard this time, all the way down to sit on him.

  They both moaned, physically and emotionally wired, free of their respective burdens, touching each other in ways they’d never been touched before.

  “Garrett, is that what you wanted me to do?” she asked with a coy look, her soft whisper sounding at once docile and defiant, subdued and rebellious.

  “Dear Lord, you set my blood on fire.”

  His panting matched the disorder of his heaving chest, but she stalled him when he abruptly put his fingers around her waist.

  “No.”

  He dropped his hands at her order, the fire in his eyes shifting from ardor to untamed excitement.

  Still clutching his shoulders, she rose and came down. Once, twice, three times. What was it that made each of her moves so sensual? So freaking carnal. She wanted to mount him over and over again.

  He half-closed his lids while he stroked her uncovered thighs, his ragged breathing making his stomach rise in fitful motions. He may have wanted release for her, but he was getting a whole lot more for himself.

  She increased her rhythm, a flood of sensations surging over her, their sighs breaking the silence of the underground lab. Their bodies yielded to her deep riding, their hearts surrendering to a force stronger than desire.

  “I need you to say it, Garrett. Is this what you wanted me to do?” She teased him with her erotic motions as well as her words, slowing down to relish the pleasure on his strained face.

  “Darling, you are a vixen.”

  His lustful tone spoke to her erratic pulse as he drew his hands up her thighs, and around her waist again. But she wasn’t ready for him to take charge.

  “Don’t. Let me.” She resumed her tempo, straddling him even more widely, feeling all her pent up anger and despair sluicing off her soul, cleansing her of the hurtful emotions she’d kept in check until now.

  He had challenged her to take this release, and in a twisted manner, he’d been so right. She was using him as much as she could now, yet her intuition yelled at her that he didn’t mind in any way.

  She thrived on the pleasure she drew from him. Muscles stiff, breathless, she didn’t stop him when his hands encircled her waist for the third time. He held on to her, relieving her from the strain, altering their rhythm to a lull.

  He heaved her up gradually to free himself. Why was he withdrawing when he was the one who initiated this thrilling encounter? An excited glint sparkling in his gaze, he steadied her with his hands and stood up.

  “Garrett, why—”

  “Hush, dearest.” He silenced her with his husky voice, the thrilled expression tightening his features, his warm fingers around her hips.

  “I presently request your beautiful body. Would you permit me to bestow my strength upon you?”

  She’d just been pounding on him like a wild creature, yet he asked for her permission to continue. Gosh, he was such a puzzling man. At best, infuriating in public, but so damn exciting in private. The juxtaposition left her speechless as desire wet her folds, and all she could do was nod her agreement.

  He took her face between his hands, closing in, kissing her lips, penetrating her mouth, fondling her tongue. A profound and tender kiss that set her heart stammering, her body calling for coupling.

  But he stepped back when she wanted more, his fingers tracing her lips, her neck, her shoulders. In a graceful motion, he turned her around and bent her forward, placing her hands on the back of the chair.

  Her whole body stiffened. She didn’t like that position, perceiving it as kind of degrading. It wasn’t a very up-to-date notion for a twenty-first century woman, but this particular position always brought to mind images of a cavewoman being dragged by the hair to the river, yanked by a caveman whose sole intent was to discharge his gun. No feelings involved. No sharing. No merging.

  Still, she complied.

  Cool air stroked her legs when he lifted her skirts and flipped them over her back. She felt bare before his gaze, uneasy, and pretty edgy.

  He paused. He must have sensed her nervousness while he held her hips. “Trust me, my love.”

  Even if she hadn’t already given him her complete trust, she’d have abided by his wish without a second thought. Because he said the two aching words she longed to hear. Because he called her my love.

  A slow caress ran up and down her thighs, shortly seeking out the fullness of her buttocks. He grazed her skin with his nails, and she gasped, gripping the chair tighter, opening up in spite of her prejudice.

  She heard a sound of fabric when he shuffled his feet to adjust his position, and she closed her eyes.

  He uttered a brief sigh as something hard brushed her inflamed folds. Something warm, and moist, and alive.

  Even so, he didn’t push on but seized her hips to pull her toward him. Not much, just an inch. When he touched the most sensitive part of her, an electrifying jolt pinned her down. She moaned, the satisfied noise seeming to fill her ears, chest, and lungs. She gripped the chair harder.

  He slid into her warmth a little more. He knocked the wind out of her, the staggering sensation drawing forth whimpers, her limbs quivering from the rushing need in her veins. So overpowering that all her muscles constricted when he exhaled.

  “Oh, Christ.” He fastened his hands on her hips, his fingers embedded in her skin, his erection rock hard. The high and mighty man who told her off many times since their first meeting didn’t exist anymore, replaced with a passionate lover who held her sanity between his hands.

  Flashes of rapture ricocheted in her brain. She quivered and gasped, her knuckles popping as she squeezed the bar of the chair.

  He inched his way in when she loosened up to suck in his strength, to absorb his stiffness. She knew he was holding back, allowing her to overcome her apprehension, or maybe giving himself a chance to regain his control.

  She perceived his tension, sensed that he wasn’t far from bursting in her. And that was when she got the meaning of power. Real power didn’t lie in the position but in the emotional state it fostered. Swiftness and possession would have uplifted her, his slowness and restraint blew her away.

  Colors sparkled behind her shut lids. A low moan escaped her lips while he moved, burrowing his path, sinking into her as deep as he could. Her whole being in turmoil, her mind a jumble of incoherent sparks, she clung to the chair for support, dimly aware that he was already driving her to fulfillment.

  He glided out in the same way, slowly, branding her skin, leaving every ounce of her ablaze. He pulled out, his raucous pants proclaiming the extent of his passion, the fervency of his surrender.

  “God Almighty.” Squeezing her waist, he crept in again, thoroughly rubbing her erected flesh.

  This time, she jerked from the flaming sensation. A torrid gust engulfing her body, she let out a wail of blinding pleasure. “I’m coming.”

  He curled his fingers in the curves of her hips to draw her to him in an ever slower motion. His hard-on seemed to pulsate, to live and beat along with the drumming of her frenzied heart.

  She felt him inserting his erection into her core, felt him quivering at her cries of agony, but she couldn’t stop.


  He groaned as he withdrew, never hastening, bringing them up to an almost intolerable height. He breathed like a drowning man when he emerged.

  She trembled from head to toe, eyes now staring at the seat of the chair, mouth agape. She couldn’t bear the wait anymore, couldn’t stand this torturous lingering. “Do it, Garrett.”

  “My love, I can’t hold back—”

  Born of impending ecstasy, his forceful groan called forth the urgency streaking her belly as she blurted out, “Do it now.”

  The tip of his shaft touched her, penetrated her, cut through her like a blunt knife. She climaxed before he was halfway in, overcome by a shattering blast, an unbounded shout of rapture pouring out of her.

  He buried himself into her with a last push, grunting like an animal. Her heart thumping wildly, her throat dried out from shouting, her whole body shuddered while spasms of bliss jarred him. He slumped against her back and grabbed her shoulders, binding her to him, forcefully twitching inside her.

  Neither of them moved until their breathing evened out, until their spirits and bodies recuperated from the experience they’d just shared. He, stretched on her back. She, using the chair as a prop.

  She listened to the decreasing beats of her heart.

  Now, definitely confronted with an embarrassing silence, he let go of her and pulled up his pants as she straightened to face him.

  He picked up her panties and handed them over. “Here, Miss Richardson.”

  He’d never learn, would he? She snatched the underwear with a sigh, bristled at his use of her last name. “Garrett?”

  “Yes?”

  “Don’t call me ‘Miss Richardson’ anymore. Ever.”

  He tensed, but she turned her back on him. Exhausted and drained of all energy, she walked to the large bed and sat on the edge before lying down with no regard to time or place. She wished she could turn a deaf ear on him because she was positive one of his little speeches was on its way. She pouted when he merely agreed.

  Although reluctance laded his tone, she believed he might call her Tracy from now on.

  But he wasn’t done. “I most certainly hope you feel like yourself again. However, bear in mind that I granted you a favor. Let’s keep it at that. Please, do not read more into it.”

  A favor? Yeah, right. Appreciating the firmness of the mattress under her back, she cast him a glance. “Oh and something else, Mister Burnes.”

  His shoulders stiffened. A shadow of concern flittered on his not-so-prim features while she kept her tone casual. “You will do that to me . . . again.”

  Chapter 14

  When she woke up, Tracy noticed that Garrett’s long body was entwined with hers. Sleeping, lying on his side, one arm under the nape of her neck, the other on her stomach, one of his legs across her own. At some point during the night, he’d thrown a blanket over them to keep them warm. Wasn’t he considerate when sleep robbed her of speech?

  For now, she felt rested, and satisfied. She tilted her face toward his, careful not to disturb his slumber, wanting to study him first.

  Eyelids closed, his intense, stern gaze remained concealed. That was good. She needed a little time to moon over Garrett the lover boy before Garrett the conscientious and dutiful man woke up.

  She contemplated his handsome face for a while: his smooth forehead, taut cheeks, strong jaws, sensual mouth, tousled dark hair. Even asleep, he gave an impression of strength, dependability, and starkness, also of vulnerability in a subtle sort of way.

  Well, he’d been vulnerable last night.

  She had, without doubt, the knack of getting him to shed his armor while they made love. When desire took hold of him, he behaved toward her as though she was the only woman in the world. Unique.

  Yet he closed up again as soon as the moment was over. Why couldn’t he care for her at other times? What did it take to open his mind to her? Was he simply detached or way too inhibited?

  While she reflected on her lover’s attitude, she recalled Weedon’s allusion at Garrett’s very formal upbringing. Did his parents turn him on purpose into a robot lookalike? For what reason?

  Given his reaction to her, he couldn’t be indifferent. That much was for sure. She knew what only having sex meant, and that had nothing to do with what went on between her and the man lying beside her.

  They did make love twice.

  Real fucking love.

  Picturing their bodies entwined, their slow motions toward rapture, she almost touched his soft skin, but thought better of it. If she awakened him, her daydream would be ripped to shreds.

  She seized the sheet instead. Although it was all well and good to dwell on Garrett’s unfathomable feelings, what about hers? Was it love? What was the name given to this compulsion for physical and intellectual closeness, this desire to feel unique, this irresistible longing to share and care?

  Gosh, life in an alternate nineteenth century challenged her far more than a simple time travel. Especially one man. She’d wallow in wishful thinking if she pondered the daunting matter five more minutes, and that course of non-action would not lift her spirits.

  No, sir, it certainly wouldn’t.

  Stuck in her father’s underground lab, she had no way to tell the time. She’d been a dumbass to leave her watch in the guest room of the mansion. It must still be on the nightstand where she’d left it as she got dressed for her first formal meal. She didn’t want to look anachronistic.

  Listening to Garrett’s regular breathing relaxed her, largely because the man was unable to speak just now. Unfortunately, that could not last. If she didn’t get a move on, he would, soon enough.

  Recalling the way he grunted and twitched inside her the previous night, she wondered if she’d worn him out so much he was never going to wake up. That was the power she had over him, and it made her smile.

  Still watching him, she edged sideways in an attempt to free her legs. His eyes flew open. Somehow, his unbending dark stare agreed with her, not mellowed at all, therefore remarkable in its consistency.

  A new day had begun and she felt like poking fun at him, maybe teasing him to death. But she waited and let him speak first.

  “Good morning. Have you been awake long?”

  “Good morning to you, Garrett. Not very long, no, but I can’t move. Looks like I’m your prisoner.”

  He seemed to realize he’d kept her enfolded in his embrace all night. Clearing his throat, he disentangled himself and sat up on the bed. “I beg your pardon. I was sleeping.”

  He delivered his poor excuse as though his slumber reestablished the right order of things between them.

  “It’s okay, no need to apologize. I didn’t mind in any way.”

  His gaze darkened at her reply.

  You heard me right, big boy. Deny reality all you want, but I won’t play that stupid game.

  She got up, strolled to the kitchen area, and started rummaging through the cupboards, soon coming upon a pack of instant coffee. “Gee, I’d love a coffee.”

  “As breakfast goes, I’m afraid we might not find much in this place.” Although he followed her into the kitchen, he didn’t get too close when he saw the deliberate smug expression on her face.

  “Well, I’m not in the least hungry. It’s funny, you know, but this morning I woke up feeling kind of . . . well, I guess the phrase is ‘fully satisfied.’ Strange, don’t you think? I wonder why that is.”

  If looks could kill, she’d have been toast.

  He filled the coffee machine with water and switched it on.

  She got two mugs from the cupboard while he brooded in his corner, and even managed to locate the sugar.

  Before long, they were sitting at the table across from each other, sipping the revitalizing hot drink, both contemplating the walls. The deep silence beca
me strained, but she wasn’t the one to break it.

  “We ought to find a way out,” Garrett said. “Jessica and Weedon must be beside themselves with worry, and I hope Jake had the decency to stay in place and wait for us.”

  “Do you think he could have ditched us?” she asked.

  “He is indeed capable of it.”

  “I guess you’re right, but he has no reason to leave us here. Besides, Jessica would have nixed that idea.”

  “I wish I could be so confident.”

  She straightened her back and set her coffee down on the kitchen table as, out of nowhere, he regarded her without a trace of friendliness. She also wondered whether his coldness included Jessica.

  “Jeez, Garrett, you sound so like Dad sometimes. All gloomy and cryptic. Lighten up, will you? Jessica is a good person, and I trust her.”

  “Because you put your faith in everyone and his brother. Have you ever considered being more cautious in giving your trust?”

  Was he thinking of Jake? Although his tone would have cooled the contents of her mug, she believed he gave her what he considered sound advice. Some people were not very tactful in expressing their thoughts, and maybe she was getting to know her perplexing lover a little better.

  “Garrett, are you trying to tell me that you don’t trust your own friends? Or is this payback time?”

  “Payback? How so?”

  “As in me bothering you and pestering you. You and I are well acquainted by now, wouldn’t you say? It’s way too late for politeness, so you can be upfront about it. Come on, I piss you off.”

  She knew perfectly the precise manner to shock him. Yes, she did. Taken aback by her uncouth use of the English language, his mug clanged on the table, the noise reverberating in the vast room.