Hello Stranger (The Ravenels, #4)

by Lisa Kleypas

Ransom’s presence had been so quiet and unobtrusive that one might have taken little notice of him, except that his dark good looks were too striking to ignore. His face was lean, the mouth firm and distinctly edged, the nose strong with a slightly thickened bridge, as if it had once been broken. His eyes were piercing and heavy lashed, deeply set under straight thick brows. She couldn’t recall the color. Hazel, perhaps?

Everything about Garrett Gibson was . . . delicious.

Garrett regarded him coolly. “You think me naïve?” Ransom shook his head. “I see no fault in you,” he said, with a quiet sincerity that threw her off guard.

“Would . . . would it help if I fetch a glass of cold water?” she dared to ask, in a timid voice that didn’t even sound like hers. Ransom replied with his forehead leaning against the wall. “Not unless you pour it down my trousers.”

Ransom stared at her as if spellbound. “A queen, you are,” he said softly. “I could travel the world the rest of my life, and not find another woman with half your ways.”

Ethan Ransom could never fit in with the pattern of her life as it was now, nor in any of its possible future shapes. He was an anomaly, dazzling and temporary. A shooting star, burning up from the friction of its own velocity. But she wanted this man. She wanted him with an intensity that was beginning to make a number of deranged ideas seem like sensible plans of action.

He wanted her so badly, it had put the heart crossways in him. This woman, in his bed, spread beneath him . . . he actually trembled at the thought of it.

There had always been a cold streak in him, but he couldn’t seem to find it now, when he needed it most. He was breaking apart inside. He would never be the same after this.

“Christ, you’ve ruined me,” he whispered.

She guided his head down, and he lost the battle, all his will vanquished as he began to kiss her as if the world were about to end. For him, it was.

He was so famished for her, had worshipped and wanted her for so long, but he’d never expected to have her in his arms. He’d never imagined she would yield to him like this, her response natural and searing. Nothing had ever devastated him the way she did.

“I’d love you night and day, if I could,” he whispered. “There’d be no limits for us. No shame. You and me, in the dark . . . that’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Thinking about him could drive her mad, if she let it.

The thought of her was deep inside him, at the center of every thought and sensation, as if he existed only as a vessel to contain her.

“You’re more beautiful every time I see you.

His gaze caressed her face. “Garrett Gibson . . . as long as I’m on this earth, I’ll want to be wherever you are.”

In that brief, private moment, Ethan looked as if he really did prefer her to everything else in the world. As if he saw all of her, the good and the bad, and wouldn’t change a thing about her.

His voice was scratchy. “Monotonous. Irishmen know but one position—well, maybe two—and we go at it like the devil beating tanbark.”

His strong hands moved over her slim body with gossamer-light strokes. “I’ve dreamed of this for so long,” he whispered. “The first time we met, part of my brain said, ‘I want that one.’”

“There was no need to leave a lamp burning in your room,” he whispered. “I could find you anywhere, in daylight or darkness.”

“You wanted to find out how much I could make you feel. You wanted to know what it was like to lose yourself in passion, and find yourself safe in my arms afterward. Now I’m here, and I’m going to love you with everything I have.”

Eventually he moved up beside her and gathered her in his arms. She made a frazzled little sound against his shoulder, drawing a chuckle from him. “You liked that,” he said with masculine satisfaction. Garrett nodded dreamily.

His eyes were dark and slightly glazed as they stared into hers. “Being inside you like this . . . I wouldn’t have thought I could feel so much without dying of it.”

“Tell me what to do.” “Don’t move. Stay like this. Feel how much I want you.”

“The first moment I saw you, I knew you were my share of the world. I’ve always loved you. If I could choose my fate, I’d never be parted from you. Acushla . . . pulse of my heart, breath of my soul . . . there’s nothing on this earth more fair and fine than you. Your shadow on the ground is sunlight to me.”

“Tell me you love me,” he whispered. Panicked words fluttered and darted inside her . . . I love you I need you Oh God please stay with me . . .

She had no principles when it came to Ethan Ransom. She only loved him.

It had struck West as a highly improbable pairing, the doctor and the government agent. But after seeing them together, he realized their connection didn’t have to be understood by anyone except the two of them.

“This is mine.” Her fingers spread wider over his heart, collecting precious heartbeats as if they were scattered pearls. “You’re mine, you belong to me now.”

Taking her hand, he brought it down to his chest and pressed her palm flat against the strong beat. “The love I have for you—I feel it, right here. My heart beats faster for you all on its own. It aches when we’re apart. Nothing tells it to do that.”

“Stay in my arms where you belong, cushla macree.”

A grin crossed his lips. “Hot little wench,” he said near her ear. “You’ll have your fill of me, if that’s what you want.”

Her breathing hastened, and she melted against him, letting him guide her easily. Every awareness converged as he went deeper and deeper into the mysterious soft depths of her, and there was no world but her, no breath, no language, no sun, no stars, nothing that didn’t begin and end with her.

She felt her body clinging to him, reshaping itself for him. She felt him in every part of herself, in her blood and bones, in the primal earthly rhythm of pushing and pulling, opening and closing, rising and falling.

“My life is yours,” he said huskily. “You own every minute I have left. You know that . . . don’t you? . . .”