by Joan Swan
Everything’s fine. You’re safe. I’m here.
A bittersweet sensation pressed beneath her ribs. Having someone who knew you so well could be a beautiful thing. Unless that someone ignored what you needed even when they knew it was essential. Then it could be damn painful. But Luke’s reassurance settled her crawling skin. She inched toward the hole, craning her neck to look inside. Steps led into a tunnel with rock walls and a cement floor. Her dungeon had been dirt and rotted wood. A damp, bug- and rodent-infested hole under the house. More tension eased. The fewer the similarities, the better.
Their host looked up from his crouched position. “This tunnels beneath the property about a quarter mile, exits in a safe room just below a back road.” He pulled keys off a hook by the light switch. “Keys to a Jeep parked ten feet from the exit, equipped with two Glock nines and two Colt subguns.”
Luke nodded his understanding, but Keira’s mind had turned from her troubled past to new questions. The reality of a place like this in the middle of nowhere held disturbing connotations. As did the fact that the man owed Mitch favors of this magnitude.
He turned off the light, closed and locked the floor hatch, kicked the rug back into place, then pointed to a speaker on the wall. “Intercom directly to my house. If we need to communicate, we use this. Your cells won’t work in here. There’s no phone that could be tapped.”
The four of them stood there in a moment of silence. Keira cleared her throat. “I’m . . . speechless.”
Luke smirked at the man. “Lucky you.”
Their host laughed, and the smile that cut across his face took fifteen years off his appearance. “If you need to use the car and the weapons, just give me a call to let me know where I can pick them up when you’re finished.”
Luke stretched Keira’s jean jacket across the desk and scrubbed at the blood. Fresh clothes were not an option, and he didn’t want her having to put on bloody ones in the morning. After the way she’d reacted to that tunnel, he wished he could wrap her up and take her far, far away. Anywhere those stomach-churning fears would disappear.
Her fragmented thoughts as the owner of the safe house had shown them the escape hatch had shredded Luke. He couldn’t piece together what had terrorized her about the tunnel, and was furious with himself that he didn’t already know. How could he have spent so much time with her, been so intimate with her, loved her so much, and still not known something that had shaped her so deeply?
Whatever it had been stemmed from her childhood. That part of her life she’d never wanted to talk about when they’d been together. Tonight, the thoughts that leaked from her mind had been in the eerie voice of a little girl.
I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.
Please, don’t make me go in there!
Can we come out now? The babies are hungry.
The shower turned off, and Luke’s brain veered back to the present. He chucked the washcloth at the jacket. “Fuck!”
Mateo, already asleep in the bed closest to the bathroom, stirred. Luke moved close and rubbed his back, murmuring apologies. The exhausted kid went right back to sleep.
Luke picked up the washcloth and tossed it on top of the towel he’d used after his shower. Keira had been putting Mateo to sleep.
Now she emerged, hair in tousled wet black waves, long legs extending beneath the hem of his gray T-shirt. He ignored the squeeze of his chest and brought her a bottle of water and several ibuprofen tablets. “Take these.”
“Thanks for the shirt.” She scanned his bare torso before tossing the medicine back and taking a long drink of water. “You look really good, Luke. Aside from the bruises, I mean.”
You look . . . beyond amazing. He kept that thought to himself and turned toward the bed. “I got most of the blood out of your clothes.” With a flick of the covers, he opened a spot beside the boy. “Get some sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.”
“Can we, um, leave the bathroom light on? I’ll close the door. I just want . . . to be able to . . . see.”
His heart tugged. He’d never known her to need a light before. “Sure.”
“It’s just that this place is kind of freaky and after everything that happened today—”
“You don’t have to explain. It’s fine.”
She closed the bathroom door so only a slice of light flowed underneath and returned to the bed. Still holding the water bottle, she hesitated, her gaze on the bed as if considering and hope skyrocketed in his chest.
Tell me you want to sleep with me. Keeping thoughts from crossing his mind was far more difficult than keeping something from coming out of his mouth. He wanted to hold her so badly. Wanted to feel that tight body up against his. Wanted to feel her hands on him again. Hear her whisper his name. Slide his hands up her sleek thighs, over her ass. Pull her against him. Slide into her. Deep into her . . .
She flicked a look his way. Then set the water on the nightstand and settled under the covers alongside Mateo.
His air exited in a long, slow stream of relief, disappointment, and loss.
Smart girl.
With her dark hair fanned on the pillow, her face freshly cleaned, new strips secured on her cuts, those freckles smiling up at him, it took all his willpower not to climb in right next to her. He braced his arms on either side of her chest and looked down into those sparkling blue eyes.
“It’s really good to see you, O’Shay,” he whispered. “And for the record . . .” He hesitated, scanned that sweet, sweet face again, his chest so filled with regret he could barely breathe. “I’m sorry, too. And I should have tried a hell of a lot harder.”
When a little smile turned her lips, he leaned down and pressed his mouth to her forehead. She sighed. Her warm breath caressed his chest. And he wanted more. So much more.
Push away now. Before you can’t.
He reached up and clicked off the nightstand light, then forced himself to shove off the bed. The bathroom glow cast a barely there shimmer over the room. In the dark, he peeled off his jeans and eased his broken, aching body onto the other bed. When he closed his eyes, the day’s events flashed before him. Endless questions, teeming uncertainty, excessive fear, senseless loss.
He floated in and out of an uncomfortable doze, sometimes waking from pain in his body, sometimes from a violent memory. This time, he came around for no apparent reason. He lay still, staring at the ceiling, trying to fade off into the edges of another dream. A pleasant dream that included Keira and him, naked . . .
A shadow moved in his peripheral vision. He tensed.
As slowly as he could make his muscles move, he slid his arm up, scooted his hand beneath the pillow, and wrapped his fingers around the grip of his Glock.
Sniffle.
Luke turned his head, just enough to get a better view of the intruder. The shadow slid along the wall. Stopped. Drifted the opposite direction.
Sniffle.
His breath slipped through his lips in relief. Not an intruder. Keira. Up and pacing the room. Fighting tears.
He released the gun. Another ten years down the drain.
Turning to his side, Luke readjusted the pillow and watched her wander as his heart rate slowed. His mind reached out, tried to connect with hers.
Who the fuck am I? What have I turned into?
An amazingly gorgeous, sexy force to be reckoned with, that’s who she was, what she’d turned into.
She shook her head, moaned, and dropped her face into her hands to cover the sound.
You’re torturing yourself. How long is it going to take before you ask for what you need?
She lifted her head and whispered, “Are you awake?”
“Yes.”
Silence.
Her breath leaked out of her lungs. “I’m sorry. I was trying not to wake you.”
“I know.”
Another silence.
“Keira?”
“Yeah?”
“Come here.”
She didn’t move. “W-why?”
&nb
sp; “You know why.”
“I . . . don’t think—”
“Keira?” He closed his eyes, visualized his body cooling. He couldn’t be wound this tight when she finally caved. And she would.
“Y-yeah?”
“Come to me.”
She hesitated. Took her first step. Crossed the room and stood beside his bed. He scooted back, making room for her. Still, she waited. When he lifted one arm in invitation, she finally dropped onto the bed and curled into him, much the way Mateo curled into her.
She pulled her knees up against his thighs, pressed her face to his shoulder, her hands to his chest, and broke. Her sobs raked through the knots in his chest, pulling and ripping. He held her tight, smoothed his hand over her hair.
“Shh, baby,” he whispered. “It’s okay now. We’re all okay. Shh.”
God, she felt heavenly in his arms. Warm and soft and curvy. She smelled mouthwatering. But it was the vulnerability that cut through every argument for pushing her away. The weakness she never showed anyone else that had made him fall in love with her the first time around. And this was no different. Only, when his heart surrendered and opened, he realized he’d never stopped loving her in the first place.
If he’d thought his life was rough since their breakup, it was now headed for severe turbulence if he had to continue living without her.
Ten minutes of crying was all it took for her to detox. As she calmed, her breaths slowed from chaotic spurts to shaky wisps of warm air with an occasional hiccup.
“I . . . I . . . I killed them.”
“Because they would have killed you. Or me. Or Mateo.”
She sniffled and nodded. “Have you ever . . . killed anyone ?”
“Does wanting to count? ’Cause I was about to take Tony’s head off at the hospital.”
She laughed softly. Her legs uncurled, and that warm skin brushed his as they stretched the length of the bed. Excitement spiked through his body. Want rushed his system. All he could do was shift his hips away from hers. But not before his erection brushed her thigh. He sucked air against the flash of white-hot lust. Knew by the way her bright eyes darted to his face that she’d noticed. Goddamn, it had been a long time. His body felt as if it were twisting inside out with need, and everything he wanted was lying in his arms, yet he couldn’t risk the reach.
He purposely averted his mind from searching hers. Any negative thought would hurt like hell. Any positive thought would push him over the edge. He wasn’t stable enough in the moment to control either emotion.
Her lashes swept down to cover the sharp glint of her eyes as she looked at his bare chest. “He’s a lousy kisser. Does that help?”
“Uh . . . No.” Hell no.
“Hmm. Sorry.” She bent her knee and slid it along the outside of his thigh. His throat thickened. “He’s not near as hot as you. Does that help?”
“Hardly.”
Her hands slid over his shoulders, his back, rounded forward to stroke his belly. Luke’s body jerked in response. The warmth of her touch pushed a moan out of his throat. At her back, he closed his hands into fists to keep them from roaming, but had to open them again to grab her hands and still them as her fingers toyed with the waistband of his boxer briefs.
His breathing had picked up by the time she slid her fingers into his and flattened their palms. “His body doesn’t even begin to compare to yours.”
“You know . . .” He was caught between searing jealousy and a sexual need so primal he was ready to chew his own arm off to fill it. “The fact that you’ve kissed him and seen his body doesn’t make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.”
A short, disgusted laugh scraped her throat. She pushed his hands back, rolled toward him, and whipped one leg over his hips until she was straddling him on her knees, his hands secured on either side of his head. God help him, she was gorgeous. She looked down at him with those eyes, those freckles, tossed her hair to one side, and licked her lips. “If you really want to ruin the moment, I could drag out all your . . . affairs . . . since we broke up.”
Impatient for the weight of her hips on his—even while knowing it would be better for them both if she changed her mind and climbed off him—he moved beneath her. “You make it sound like I had a different girl every night. I don’t know what you heard, but—”
“But it doesn’t matter now. Unless you’re seeing someone.” Her eyes grew intense, her body still. “Are you?”
“Uh . . . no.” A flicker of panic—that she might actually go through with this seduction and he’d be so pathetically helpless to stop her once it started—had him struggling to get up. Actually struggling. She was a hell of a lot stronger than she looked. Which only turned up the heat in his flaming body. “Keira, let’s back up a second—”
“Let me clear this up for you, because I know how you can beat one subject to death.” She made one hard push of his hands against the bed, stilling them. Her eyes shone with residual wetness, but the mind behind them had shed any weakness. The warrior was back. And she had her sights set on him.
She bent her knees and lowered her hips until that sweet, hot center pressed against his straining erection, separated by only two thin layers of fabric. Lust kicked through his system. His eyes closed, hips rose automatically. Keira responded by rocking against him, the silk of her panties sliding along his length.
“Ah, God. Baby, what . . . ?” He’d started to ask what they were doing, but he knew damn well what they were doing. He also knew asking that question might very well stop what they were doing, and he didn’t think he could. Not now. After so long without her. So many dark nights. So many unfulfilled fantasies. “Christ, Keira.”
She stilled against him and waited until Luke cracked his lids to continue speaking. “Not including tonight, because he kissed me without my consent, Tony and I kissed once. I’ve seen his body during workouts at the gym. I was not involved with him, nor did I sleep with him. Nor did I ever want to.” She lifted her brows, lowered her face closer to his, which pressed her hips harder against him. “Better?”
“Aaaah . . . God, yes.”
“We were amazing together, Luke.” She leaned closer and whispered. Her breath caressed his jaw, his neck. He squeezed her hands hard and curled his toes to keep from pushing against her. “Do you remember? How hot, how sexy, how fun? Do you remember how you taught me everything? How to touch you, how to ride you—”
“Keira.” With an irritated, wanton bark, Luke opened his eyes and stared past her beautiful face toward the ceiling.
He hadn’t been her first lover, but neither had she been experienced when she and Luke had finally slept together. He’d never dreamed she would end up being as much a teacher as a student.
She released one of his hands and caressed his jaw. His mouth opened against her palm. Don’t kiss her. Don’t do it. If you start, you’ll never stop. He growled and closed his teeth on her skin instead.
She gasped, the sound more surprise than pain. He hadn’t put enough pressure behind the bite to hurt her, just enough to snap them both back to reality. “You’re playing with fire here, baby.” He looked directly into her eyes with all the fierceness built up in his body, wanting her to understand exactly what she was unleashing. “It’s been one hell of a long time and I’m locked and loaded.”
Something hot jumped in her eyes, and a slow, wicked smile slid over her face just before her hips tilted in a slow erotic lunge. “Bring it on.”
Excitement shot through his hips, up his chest. He arched and groaned. She combed her fingers through his hair, pressed her mouth to his chest. An electric wave of sensation flowed from her body to his. An overwhelming passion surged in one wild undulation, shoulders to thighs. His cock swelled until it ached.
Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. The fire mellowed and his brain came back online. “What the hell was that?”
“That was us,” she whispered, her mouth at his ear. “You’re so right; it’s been one hell of a long time, Lucas. Too damn long.”
<
br /> Longer than he cared to think about. Far longer than she knew.
“What?” She lifted her head, a frown of suspicion on her face.
He slid his other hand out from under hers and cupped her face in both hands. Ran his thumbs over her freckles. This reading minds thing was getting dicey, especially under these conditions. “What, what?”
“Don’t what, what me. What did you just think?”
If he wanted to ruin the mood, all he had to do was answer that question honestly. Fess up to the fact that it had taken him a year to even come to terms with the realization that she wasn’t coming back. That he would actually have to attempt to move on. After which he’d spent another year haphazardly dating and sleeping with every type of woman from corporate executives to free-spirit artists just to find out where he belonged. Only to discover each morning after that the hole inside him had grown a little wider, a little deeper, a little darker. Until he couldn’t face one more excavation.
His solution had been to stop having sex altogether. About a year ago.
And at this moment, he would give almost anything to be able to take every one of those nights back just to be able to tell her he’d never been with anyone after her. Wished he’d been smart enough to know this was where he’d always belonged. That he hadn’t shoved that barrier between them and broken the bond they’d shared.
Second chances don’t happen as often as people think.
“You’re thinking pretty hard there, Ransom. And working pretty hard to keep me out.” Her fingers drifted across his forehead, down his nose to his lips. “How long is it going to take before you ask for what you need?”
He caved. It didn’t even take a second.
He lifted his head, drove his fingers into her hair, and kissed her mouth before he could change his mind. She sucked in a breath of surprise, siphoning the air from his throat, then returning it on a groan as she sank in and kissed him back.
Her mouth was just like he remembered, supple, warm, wet, and so willing. Unable to wait, he swept his tongue inside. And groaned again. She still tasted wild and sultry, and now with the tang of salt from her tears, a little forbidden, a little frightening. Her tongue met his in a slow, circular sweep that made his muscles quiver.