The Valentine: The Wedding Pact #4 (5 page)

He grabbed the remote off the table and turned it off, then tossed it onto the sofa. He stared into her tear-streaked face. “I wasn’t on that plane. I’m here with you now.”

“You were supposed to be,” she whispered, sounding scared.

“But fate intervened, just like it intervened when Nana Ruby insisted I be a groomsman at my cousin’s wedding.” He stepped between her legs and cupped her cheek, tilting her head back to look up at him. “We’re meant to be together. Don’t you get it, Blair? We’re meant to be.”

Her chin quivered as she nodded.

He worked quickly on her foot, flinching with her when he pulled out the glass. The cut was deep, but she insisted she wouldn’t go to the hospital, so he closed it up with butterfly bandages, hoping to convince her later. After he’d wrapped it with gauze, he washed his hands and then got her a couple of ibuprofen and a glass of water.

“I think you’re going to need these,” he said.

She took them without complaint, then set the glass on the counter. “I need you more.” Her voice broke again as she tugged him closer, reaching for the buttons on his shirt.

“I’m yours, Blair,” he said with a ragged breath. “I’m always yours.”

He leaned down and kissed her gently, cradling the back of her head in his hand. He wanted her to know how precious she was to him.

But Blair had other ideas. She deepened the kiss, her tongue searching out his as she continued to unbutton his shirt. Then she pulled the shirt free from his pants. Her hands skimmed his chest, sending a bolt of electricity through his blood and straight to his groin.

Her mouth broke free from his and skimmed down his jaw, along the taut tendons of his neck, and down his chest. His hands rested on her waist, then slid up and under her breasts, his thumbs brushing her nipples over the lace of her bra.

She released a low moan as her teeth raked over his nipple.

“Bed. Now,” he grunted as he slid his hands underneath her ass, lifting her so she straddled his waist. He stopped and searched her face. “How’s your foot? You okay?”

“Shut up and kiss me, Garrett.”

A grin spread across his face. “Gladly.”

H
e was her miracle
. A miracle she didn’t deserve, yet she claimed it anyway. He carried her into their bedroom, kissing her so thoroughly she had no idea they’d even reached their destination until he lowered her gently to the bed. She lay on her back, her head on her pillow, and she stared up into his face, amazed at the love and adoration in his eyes.

“What did I do to deserve you?” she asked breathlessly.

“You’re mine, Blair. Forever mine.” He straddled her waist, putting his weight in his knees. His hands made quick work of the buttons on her shirt before he lowered his mouth to her neck, leaving a trail of kisses to the edge of her bra cup. “Try as you might, you can’t drive me away.”

“Why?” she asked, close to tears again. She’d never felt so raw and exposed. “Why would you put up with me?”

“Put up with you?” he asked, sounding incredulous. He lifted his head to look into her face. “Blair, I wish you could see yourself through my eyes, even if only for a second. You’re beautiful and brilliant, and your heart is so big and so full of love, even if you keep it shielded. You help so many people—your friends, your family, the desperate women who come to you for help. You never once think about what you’ll get out of it. You do it because it’s the right thing to do.”

She stared up into his loving face, a tear slipping out of the corner of her eye and down her cheek. “But I can be such a bitch.”

His eyes narrowed. “Don’t you dare apologize for the way you fight for your clients or your friends.” He ran a finger along her collarbone. “Later, I’ll tell you how much Kelsey needs you too.”

“What’s wrong with—”

“She’s okay. She’ll be okay. I know you’ll make sure she is. And at the end of the day, there’s no one I’d rather have in my corner than you.”

“But I treat you so badly sometimes.”

“I’m not going to lie, sometimes it’s hard, but I understand how deeply your father hurt you. I know how much
I
hurt you. It’s going to take time, Blair, but I’m not going anywhere. When you get too…”

“Bitchy?”

“Grouchy,” he said with a smile. “But I’m here to stay.”

She reached up and pulled his lips to hers, but he took over, claiming her mouth as his hand lifted the bottom of her skirt up to her waist before working on his own pants. He kicked them off while she shimmied out of her panties.

He paused and looked down into her face as he poised at her entrance, searching her eyes to make sure she was okay.

She gave him a soft smile, and the joy in his eyes as he slowly entered her was her undoing. He filled her so completely, both body and soul. Then he began to move in slow steady strokes, watching her face as he took her higher and higher. She wrapped her legs around his waist and grabbed his ass, pulling him deeper.

He took what she offered, giving so much more in return, but what did she expect? This was Garrett, the person who knew her better than anyone else, even better than she knew herself.

They came together, their eyes still locked, and Blair felt a connection deeper than she’d ever felt before, even with him. She belonged with him,
to him.
By opening up her heart just a little bit more, she felt closer to him than she’d ever expected.

Still panting, Garrett lay next to her and gathered her into his arms, holding her chest flush with his.

“I love you,” she whispered. “I love you so much it hurts.”

He picked up her hand and laced their fingers, then kissed her knuckles. “Growing pains, Blazer. That’s all. It’ll be worth it in the end.” He rolled her to her back. “Happy Anti-Valentine’s Day.”

“Anti-Valentine’s Day version 2.0,” she corrected grinning. “I made plans, by the way. We have hours-old Chinese takeout and a horror movie.”

He shuddered. “I think we’ve had enough horror to last us a lifetime.”

She would give him no argument there. “If we’re not going to celebrate Anti-Valentine’s Day, then you don’t expect to celebrate the real holiday, do you?”

He laughed, then leaned over and brushed her lips with his. “Actually, I made a reservation for us at Austin’s.” He grimaced. “I don’t know why, now—I guess it seemed like a married couple thing to do. But we’re not like other couples. We don’t have to celebrate this made-up holiday. You’re covered from now until the end of time. You’ve already given me a Valentine’s gift.”

“And what could that be?” she asked lazily, overcome with exhaustion.

“The best gift I could ever hope for. You’ve given me you.”

N
ew York Times
 and 
USA Today
 bestselling author Denise Grover Swank was born in Kansas City, Missouri and lived in the area until she was nineteen. Then she became a nomadic gypsy, living in five cities, four states and ten houses over the course of ten years before she moved back to her roots. She speaks English and smattering of Spanish and Chinese which she learned through an intensive Nick Jr. immersion period.  Her hobbies include witty Facebook comments (in own her mind) and dancing in her kitchen with her children. (Quite badly if you believe her offspring.)  Hidden talents include the gift of justification and the ability to drink massive amounts of caffeine and still fall asleep within two minutes. Her lack of the sense of smell allows her to perform many unspeakable tasks.  She has six children and hasn’t lost her sanity. Or so she leads you to believe.

You can find out more about Denise and her other books at
www.denisegroverswank.com

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