Desperate to see her, desperate to talk, desperate to make up. His stomach tensed as the cab neared her apartment in the downtown core. He could probably walk there from Owen’s place in Coal Harbour, which was good to know because there was a strong possibility she wouldn’t let him into the building at all.
But he’d deal with that if it happened.
A chill wind cut across his body, tugging at the edges of his shirt as he climbed out of the cab. Travis shivered. The months in Aruba had made him sensitive to the cooler weather in the Pacific Northwest. Before he’d moved there, he’d been known to wear short sleeves year round and only in the coldest, wettest months did his jacket make it out of the closet. As for a scarf or gloves? Forget it. Unnecessary. But now, he could do with a scarf. Except he really didn’t want to look like a hipster. Or wear skinny jeans.
He strode to the building, feeling the twist in his stomach, knowing there was a chance she’d turn him away or wouldn’t even answer when he buzzed. There was a fancy touch screen glowing beside the building’s front door—into it he punched the numbers that would call Mal’s suite. Owen had coughed up that information, too, as well as the fact that Mal—like many women who lived alone—didn’t post any personal information that could be tracked back to her. Protection from stalkers, weirdos, ex-boyfriends.
The system rang, that computer-generated double ring. Brrp-brrp. Brrp-brrp. Brrp-brrp. She didn’t answer, and for a moment Travis wondered if she was home. His stomach grew tenser as did the muscles in his neck, his legs, his hands. If she’d gone home with that slick-looking guy, he was going to...well, he’d do something. Something he’d have to figure out, but breaking something or punching a wall sounded like a good start.
“What do you want, Travis?”
He blinked and stared at the computer screen, which was still glowing but no longer ringing. “Mal?”
“Why are you here?” She didn’t sound welcoming, but at least she had answered.
Travis glanced up the side of the cement building, past the rows of windows reflecting the city lights. Was Mal behind one of them? Phone pressed against her ear looking down at him?
“You’re on camera,” she said, as though she’d read his mind.
He blinked again. Of course. A place like this would definitely have a camera at the front door to allow residents to see who was calling before they decided to pick up or let someone in. He should have figured that out on his own. “Can I come up?”
“Why?”
Which was better than a no. “I’d like to talk.” He waited, and when she didn’t refuse, he pressed a little harder. “Come on, Mal. I’ve been calling you for weeks. I just want to talk.” He didn’t just want to talk, but he didn’t want to scare her, either. The simple fact that she’d answered and hadn’t yet hung up on him was an improvement on past interactions.
“Travis. It’s late.” But she didn’t sound sure or maybe that was wishful thinking.
“It’s not that late.” It was, but he wasn’t about to admit it, wasn’t about to let her shuffle him off so easily. He reminded himself that in the old days, they’d often worked until closing on Sundays and then gone out to an after-hours place. It wasn’t even midnight yet. “Mal?”
“I have to get up early in the morning. Why don’t we meet for coffee tomorrow before I head to work?”
Travis might have agreed a few weeks ago, before Mal had become a professional avoider of him, but now he knew what would happen if he agreed. She wouldn’t show up. The excuse would run along the lines of she was running late and was so sorry but they’d have to reschedule, a surprise morning meeting had been called and she couldn’t miss it so they’d have to reschedule, there were no cabs, the buses were full, her shoes weren’t made for walking so they’d have to reschedule. Regardless of the reason, the result would be the same. Him and no Mal. “I’m here now.”
“Travis.” But this time she didn’t follow up with any good reason or any reason at all.
“Just to talk.” He spoke slowly and calmly. The way he would to a disgruntled diner or one who’d imbibed one too many and required soothing. He heard Mal exhale, that soft waft of breath that used to waft across him. He could practically feel it and felt his response come unbidden. To reach for her, gather her close and kiss her until they were both breathless. God, he missed that. “So? Am I allowed in?”
She answered by pressing the front door’s buzzer. Travis didn’t wait for her to change her mind. He grasped the handle and was in the elevator in under sixty seconds.
* * *
MAL STARED AT her apartment door. It was fully bolted. Double locked with both the door handle and deadbolt. But she still didn’t feel safe. No, that wasn’t it. Not exactly. She still felt exposed. Even with the nearly two inches of steel between them, plus however far away he still was, she felt as though she was on display, bared, and that with one glance he’d see everything.
All those things she tried to keep hidden, even from herself.
Why had she agreed to let him up? Why had she buzzed him into the building? For that matter, why had she picked up when he’d buzzed? He wouldn’t have known she was home. She could have still been out with Josh. Maybe they were having a nightcap somewhere. Maybe she’d gone home with him. Maybe.
Mal swallowed. Maybe she was an idiot.
At least she looked good. If she had to face her ex-boyfriend—again—she was glad to be wearing a woman’s armor of a great outfit. She even slipped her heels back on. She’d still be shorter than Travis’s six-foot-three-inch frame, but four extra inches was four extra inches.
She didn’t even consider not answering the door when he knocked. Okay, briefly, but since she rejected the thought almost the moment it popped up, she was counting it as no consideration. He knew she was here. He knew her phone number. And it was clear that even if she didn’t deal with him now, she would have to deal with him at some point. Better to just get the whole thing over with.
But her well-thought-out, well-reasoned plan didn’t stop her heart from trying to pound loose or keep that niggle of panic from making her spine tingle or a low ringing from filling her ears. She swallowed, wished she had something stronger than white wine to drink and that she had time to uncork the bottle and take a swig. And waited.
Fortunately she didn’t have to wait long.
The knock came at her door a couple minutes later at most. Mal focused on that as she went to answer the door because it was easier than thinking about Travis on the other side of it.
It was late, she had to get to work early and he wouldn’t be staying longer than two minutes, three tops, she consoled herself.
She wiped her palm on her skirt, flipped the deadbolt and pulled the door open. “Travis.”
He stared back at her. For a moment neither of them moved, their eyes locked. Mal’s pulse picked up in tempo. She wanted to pretend she didn’t know why, wanted to act as if she was simply glaring at him, letting him know that his presence was not required or appreciated. She wanted to think she was staying quiet because she was waiting for him to say something first.
But it was more. It was always more with Travis Kincaid. With his dark hair, broad shoulders and muscled arms that could throw a punch as easily as defend one. Her fingers itched and she curled them against her palms. He wasn’t hers to touch anymore.
Mal sucked in a small breath but didn’t move, fearful it would be construed as weakness or an invitation, unable to decide which would be worse. She shouldn’t still want him, shouldn’t care how he looked or what he said. She felt herself rocking forward, toward him, getting closer. “Why are you here, Travis?”
He rocked closer, too. So close that she could feel the night air wafting off him and smell his clean woodsy scent. “For you.”
Mal didn’t want to hear that, couldn’t. She curled her fingers more tightl
y into her palms until she felt the edge of her nails mark the skin and closed her eyes. But when she opened them, he wasn’t gone, hadn’t disappeared in a puff of smoke or slunk away like an unwanted stray.
No, he stood closer, so close that she couldn’t take in any air without smelling him, tasting him, wanting him.
“I’m here for you, Mal.” He didn’t wait for her response, but stepped all the way inside and swung the door shut behind him.
She shouldn’t have let him in. Her head was quite insistent on that, even as her body softened, yearned to touch him and to feel him touch her.
He leaned against the door, all hot eyes and bad-boy tattoos. “You still going to tell me there’s nothing between us?”
Mal dragged in a breath. She should tell him that whatever they’d had was gone, explain that her hurt had gone so deep it had cauterized all feeling, leaving her a numb shell. But she didn’t feel numb. Her senses felt sharpened, alive. “What do you want me to say, Travis?”
“I want you to be honest.” He pushed himself away from the door and came toward her. She felt the heat rolling off his body, swarming and surrounding her. “Why did you let me up here if there’s nothing between us?”
Mal’s mouth felt dry. She swallowed. “I’m not sure.” Maybe because she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Travis during the rest of her date. Maybe because she’d already decided that she wasn’t going to see Josh again. Maybe because she worried that until she got Travis completely out of her system, she’d never be able to move on. She looked up at him. “I don’t want to feel like this.”
“Like what?” He leaned closer, his breath whispering across her ear, making her shiver.
Like she was stuck. Living a half life, neither here nor there.
“Mal?”
But she wouldn’t tell him that. She reached up, stroked the side of his face, felt as well as saw the shudder that rolled through him. Felt an answering one roll through her. It would simply be a final goodbye. A way to exorcise his memory, to push him out and make space for someone new to slip in. “This doesn’t change anything,” she said. Then she rose onto her toes and kissed him.
“Yes, it does.” He slid his hand up her back, cupped her head, captured her mouth more firmly under his.
Mal melted against him, into him. It had been so long. Incredibly long. The entire length of the written history of time long. And she was so lonely.
A little gasp built up in her chest, but she shoved it down. Cold and ruthless. She did not have room in her life for gasps. Not for sighs or moans, either—though she wasn’t as successful in stopping those.
Her hands tangled in his hair. He hadn’t been to get it cut and it was still too long to be considered businesslike, even in laid-back yoga-pants-at-the-office and jeans-at-the-theater Vancouver. But she liked it. Heat built through her. She liked it a lot. Tugging her fingers through his hair, she grabbed on and twisted it around and around as her head spun from his kisses, from the fact that he was back and here for her.
Mal had known before he kissed her that it would lead to this. She’d never have let him up to her apartment if she hadn’t been willing to go there. Had wanted to go there.
She pressed her breasts into his chest. Despite the weight she’d lost, she still had breasts—Travis had always loved them. As if on cue, he groaned, his free hand moving between their bodies, sliding up her stomach to knead her breast through her dress. Her nipples rose. Both from his attention and knowing the effect it was having on him—on both of them.
Oh, yes.
It would only be for tonight. Closure, a last goodbye, whatever she might decide to call it in the cold light of day. What she wouldn’t call it was a new beginning, a reminder of how good they’d once been and could be again. Because tomorrow morning she would be one hundred percent completely over this.
But for tonight, tonight Mal just wanted to be in this with Travis.
She stopped playing with his hair, mourning the loss even before she slipped her hands free. She could go back later, investigate the change, let her hands run through it, shape it and see how it felt pressed against her cheek, her wrist, the inside of her thigh. She stroked his chest through his T-shirt, splaying her fingers to feel everything he had to offer. His heart thumped beneath her touch, made hers skip a beat in return.
They’d always been like that, in tune with each other even when she didn’t want them to be. She fisted her hands in his shirt instead of thinking about it.
He hadn’t stopped kissing her, hadn’t let her catch her breath and she didn’t want him to. Didn’t want to think beyond getting into her bedroom, removing her clothes and having her way with Travis Kincaid.
He went where she followed. His mouth fused with hers, one hand glued to her breast, rolling her nipple back and forth and back and forth until her knees grew weak and her steps began to stutter. But she didn’t care if she fell, not tonight. Travis would catch her and she wouldn’t mind being swept up in his strong embrace. Feeling his bulk wrap itself around her, cocoon her as though she was delicate and breakable. Precious.
This time it was her heart that thumped. Hard.
She told herself it could be anything. Her family had a history of heart disease. Maybe it was lack of oxygen. Or she was tired. There was no proof that the cause was anything out of the ordinary. That it had anything to do with the big, sexy man currently making her remember in exquisite detail how much she’d missed this. With him.
Travis put his hands on the doorjamb as she led him into her room, pulling them both to a stop. Rather than separating and allowing the cool rush of sanity to flow between them, she stayed plastered to him. Her feet paused when his did, his body curved to fit hers, their mouths teasing, tongues tangling.
“Babe?”
Her breath shuddered. No one had called her babe since Travis. She wouldn’t have allowed it if they’d tried, but the simple fact was that no one had tried. She hadn’t let anyone get close enough to even consider it.
“Only if you want.”
Only if she wanted. Mal paused, still pressed up against him, fingers wrapped in his shirt. Oh, she wanted. She wanted so badly that her entire body shook with it. Despite everything that had happened between them, everything that still needed to happen.
“Travis?” She could feel the puffiness of her lips, already responding to his touch and wanting more. She rose onto her toes, so they were nearly eye to eye.
He reached out to brush a lock of hair away from her face. She felt the softness of the strands and his touch. His eyes stayed on hers. Open, warm, hopeful.
She could choose. She could choose just for tonight. She leaned forward, so he had to bear the majority of her weight or send them both tumbling. She wanted someone to carry her, just for a little while. “Yes.” Her voice was more breath than sound. “I want this.”
Which she’d known before she even answered the door.
“Mal.” His arms tightened around her, squeezing the air from her lungs. The hope flared brighter in his eyes, making them more silver than gray. She would have to tamp that down. But not tonight. Tonight, she needed this, needed him. And she was going to take it.
Travis started moving again, faster now as though the brief pause at the door had taken a millennium instead of a minute.
His hands were everywhere, sweeping along her shoulders and down her back, pulling her close and tangling in her hair, sliding over the delicate curves of her hips and thighs. And where his hands weren’t, his lips were. Trailing a line from the hollow of her collarbone up to her ear, licking a path to her jaw, taking her mouth and demanding more.
Mal barely noticed when they reached her bed and dropped onto the soft, silky comforter.
It shouldn’t have felt familiar. She hadn’t seen him in more than a year, hadn’t been intimate in longer than that. A
nd yet, everything slipped so easily into place. Her body in lock step with his, the way he tumbled them to the bed, careful to protect her so that she landed with barely a bounce, their fingers, mouths, everything back in sync. As though they’d never been apart.
Travis shifted his attention to the hem of her dress, sliding it up her legs, his fingers cleverly stroking her thigh at the same time. Mal released a low, shuddering breath. Even as she ached for more, she wanted to enjoy every moment, roll it around in her mind and wring every bit of pleasure from it. Make it take as long as possible, keep Travis here as long as possible.
“Babe?”
Mal squeezed her eyes shut, and then her heart. She would not be done in by an easy endearment. She would not be so weak. She spread her legs and pulled him closer, so he was cradled between them. “Stop talking.”
She felt as much as heard his surprised laugh, the rumble that crested from him to her, linking them, and felt her emotions shake. She refused to give in to them, to let the little voice that wondered if maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t being honest with herself and what she wanted. This was only for tonight and it was a release, closure. It wasn’t more. It couldn’t be.
Mal gripped the back of Travis’s head, letting the long strands of his hair slide through her fingers as she pulled his mouth to hers. She wanted to stop thinking and wondering—wanted only to feel.
Travis seemed happy enough to oblige, turning his attention to thoroughly exploring the inside of her mouth, his tongue darting out to swirl and circle in the way she knew so well. His hands shoved her dress up to her waist. Mal lifted her hips to help.
Her shoes slipped off, landed on the floor with a thump that barely registered. His hands were rubbing her waist, sliding around to dip into her navel and then around to cup her butt. His long, gentle fingers that had played with every inch of her body. Mal shuddered again.
This time Travis didn’t say anything, just pulled back slowly. Mal tried to stay with him, leveraging herself up and clinging to his biceps. But she was no match for his determined movement. Then he looked at her, just looked, smoothing her hair off her face.
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