Loose Ends

by Kristen Ashley

  Kia sounded like she didn’t want to say her next. “I have to admit, I agree with that too, even if it isn’t right and you don’t owe that to Sam.”

  “Hap feels he does, and since he does, I’m here to support him while he does what he feels he must do.”

  Kia’s gaze was still sharp on her when she noted, “I can’t tell from what you’re giving me if I’m happy for you.”

  Luci forced her face to soften. “You can be happy for me, my friend.” She tipped her head to indicate the deck. “I’m just worried about what’s happening out there.”

  Kia’s words were now cautious. “If Hap allows Sam to—”

  Before she could finish that, Luci butted in. “He won’t. He’ll find it difficult if Sam reacts badly, but he cares deeply for me. He’ll be upset but he’ll move past it. No.” She shook her head. “It’s not that. It’s how I will feel if Sam hurts Hap, and in doing that, hurts me by hurting Hap and standing in the way of our happiness.”

  “Yeah,” Kia murmured, her eyes drifting back to the window. “I won’t be too happy if my man pulls that crap either.”

  “It’ll be all right,” Luci assured, and Kia looked again to her.

  “That’s my line.”

  It was at that, Luci finally smiled.

  Her smile didn’t last long before she tensed and looked to the windows.

  At what Luci saw, she instantly moved to the door.

  She was just arriving there when it was opened by Hap, his angry eyes searing into her and his voice was gravel when he declared, “Babe, we’re going.”

  Memphis yipped her greeting to Hap, but Hap ignored her, and Luci only glanced at a now pale Kia before she found her hand seized and she was pulled out the door.

  She was being led quickly along the deck when Sam called, sounding just as angry, “Hap, we’re not done.”

  “We so fuckin’ are,” Hap bit out, dragging her toward the ramp at the side of the house that led to the drive at the back.

  Luci looked back to see Sam had his feet planted, his arms crossed on his chest. Kia was out with him, her hand on his biceps, her head tipped back to look up at her husband, but Sam’s eyes were on them and his face was no less stony.

  Luci was angry at him even not fully knowing what was happening, but she had to see to Hap.

  So the only thing she gave Sam was a look of disappointment, a short shake of her head to further share that, and then she hurried along to catch up with Hap as he pulled her around the corner of the house and down the ramp.

  He took her right to her side of the truck, opening the door, and before she could even lift a foot to climb in, he had her in his arms and he dumped her in her seat.

  He also slammed the door.

  Luci let out a stunned breath.

  It was then, through the window, she fully caught the look on his face.

  Dio.

  This was the temper he’d been talking about.

  She watched as he prowled around the hood and angled in beside her, even that movement feeling violent, and switched the ignition like he held grave hostility toward his truck.

  He, however, did not turn around in the drive or pull out in a spray of gravel or a peel of tires like she expected him to do. He drove with iron control, carefully, deliberately, and again Luci found herself falling a little more in love with him because, even if he was clearly immensely angry, and perhaps would let some of that loose with his driving if he was alone, he was with her so he did not.

  She assessed her options and decided against saying anything, allowing him his thoughts as they made the short drive to her house.

  They’d stopped there when they’d arrived at the beach in order to bring in their bags before they’d gone to Sam and Kia’s.

  So now they had nothing to take up when he parked in front of one her two garage doors.

  “That bay is empty, bello,” she said quietly as he used great force to shove the truck into park. “I’ll get you the remote.”

  “Right,” he bit out, turning off the vehicle.

  She got out.

  Hap got out.

  He prowled to the foot of her stairs before her but stopped and swung his arm in an exaggerated move of gallantry to indicate she should precede him up the steps.

  She scurried to do so and used equal haste in unlocking the door.

  She’d just brought her keys and her phone, both she kept in her pockets, so she didn’t need her purse. Therefore, when she went in, she went to the kitchen and tossed the keys on the counter, pulling the phone out of the back pocket of her jeans to do the same.

  She did this saying, “I also need to get you a key.”

  “Yeah,” Hap stated, and she turned to see him stalking to and up her stairs.

  When he disappeared, she looked to the sun shining on the sea in hopes that vision would calm her, as it often did.

  This time it did not.

  Then she hurried to the stairs and up them.

  She found Hap in her bedroom, hands in the pockets of his jeans, standing at the windows but with his side to them, also staring at the sea.

  She gave it a moment, but he didn’t turn to her.

  “Would you like time?” she asked gently. “Or would you like to talk about it?”

  He finally gave her his attention, but did it only twisting his head and shoulders her way.

  “Or would you like to shout?” she added another option.

  “I wish . . .” he began, but he trailed off, said no more, and looked back to the sea.

  “You wish what, luce mio?” she queried, taking a few more steps into the room.

  “What does luce mio mean?” he asked the sea.

  “My light.”

  “Your light,” he muttered.

  “I didn’t call—” she started.

  He twisted again to her and interrupted. “I know. You’d never do that. To him or me.”

  He was right. She would not. She called Travis cuore mio (my heart) or tesoro (treasure) and sometimes vita mia (my life), but she never called him her light or even bello.

  She fell silent.

  Hap looked back to the sea.

  Luci took another step toward him and prompted, “You wish?”

  “I wish they were alive.”

  She wasn’t expecting that, and getting it, even not exactly understanding who he was referring to, just the words made her entire frame go solid.

  Hap kept speaking.

  “I wish they were alive. I wish I could take you to Iowa and walk into a restaurant with you on my arm and they could meet you. I wish they could see the man I became, the woman I earned being that man. I wish they could see that it was worth all the effort and headache and pains in their asses to believe in me. I wish they could see that in the end, I didn’t let them down.”

  He was speaking of his grandparents.

  Oh, Hap.

  Her Happy.

  So much regret.

  So much melancholy.

  She unlocked her frame and moved across the room to stand with him. Once there, she gingerly lifted a hand to put it on his chest.

  He didn’t move, his body stayed tense, strung tight, a vein pulsing up his neck, a muscle twitching in his jaw.

  She said nothing, just stood there with him as he battled whatever demons were plaguing him.

  “I wish,” he went on, “they could come visit here. Stay downstairs. Have nothing to do but walk the beach, or Gram helping you cook and them opening the windows and falling asleep to the sound of the waves.”

  “I wish that too, amore,” she whispered.

  He didn’t nod, didn’t glance her way, he just kept speaking.

  “I wish I could sit with Gramps and buy him decent beer and you could have wine and Gram could have her tea and we could just sit on the deck, talking and laughing.”

  “I wish that too, Happy,” she said softly.

  Again, no acknowledgement of her words, he simply kept going.

  “I wish I could
buy them a little place, wherever they wanted to be, here with me, or in Iowa, or in Florida, I don’t give a fuck. Somewhere they liked. Somewhere where there were no worries. Gramps would demand that he mow the lawn and Gram would can and make jam, but they’d do that only because they wanted to, not because they had to. Nothing weighing on them. Nothing heavy. Nothing suffocating.”

  She shifted a bit closer and pressed her hand into his chest.

  “And I wish they’d come. One of them. Both of them. I don’t give a shit. But I wish they’d come when you were there. At my house. I wouldn’t lose my shit. I’d open the door and let them get a load of you and then tell them to fuck off.”

  He was now speaking of his parents.

  So she shifted even closer and murmured, “Oh, Hap.”

  “I actually wish they’ll come just so they can see you, see the man they had no hand in making, who made a woman like you fall in love with him, then shut the door in their faces.”

  Luci wished that too.

  But before she could share that, suddenly, he looked directly into her eyes and the feeling burning in his made Luci forget how to breathe.

  “I didn’t lie. If something happened to me, I saw you lose Gordo, I wouldn’t want that for you. That would kill me again, a thousand times, just the thought of it fucking destroys me, Luci. I’d want you to move on. I don’t care if it’s a man, a woman, a dog, a fuckin’ alien, whatever you needed to make you happy, I’d want that for you. I’d want you to find that. My spirit would lay restless or wander lost until I knew you were happy.”

  Not expecting this, or the depths of emotion behind it, a noise came from her nose as the tears spilled over her eyes, but Luci said nothing.

  “But I would pine,” he whispered and made another sudden movement. So sudden, she jumped as his hands caught her on both sides of her head, pressing in, and his eyes were all she could see. “If I lost you, I would pine. I would drink myself stupid, trying not to feel. I’d waste every second, every breath of my useless life if you were no longer in it. I’d be pissed, at God, at man, at the sun, at every-fucking-thing, that you were taken from me, and I’d never get over it. I would pine, Luci. There would not be another for me.”

  And as sudden as his movements, Luci was understanding.

  Understanding all the reasons he tried to push her away.

  Understanding just how deeply Hap Cunningham was in love with her.

  And understanding, the man he thought he was, why he feared that and why he wanted to protect her from it.

  She lifted her hands and caught his wrists, holding tight, begging, “Don’t say that, Hap.”

  “It’s true. I knew it the minute you leaned into me that first time you kissed me. A room lights up when you walk in it. A shit day becomes golden the second you smile. I tasted you on my tongue and I was lost forever.”

  And there was that look that she’d never fully comprehended explained.

  That was the most beautiful thing she’d ever heard in . . .

  Her . . .

  Life.

  But . . .

  Still.

  Fat, wet drop after fat, wet drop slid down her cheeks as she moved her hands to hold his head like he was holding hers, pressing in, and she hissed, “Don’t say that, Happy.”

  “It’s true, baby. I get I need to share your heart with him and I’m okay with that. But you’re the only one who will ever have mine.”

  A sob burst from her throat as she pleaded, “Please, please, life is so unkind. Don’t say that, darling.”

  “You gotta know.”

  “I’d want you to be happy.”

  “That would never happen.”

  Brokenly, she beseeched, “Please don’t say that to me.”

  His thumbs slid through the wet on her cheeks, and he whispered, “You gotta know.” He angled his head, touched his mouth to hers with his eyes wide open, staring into hers, and again repeated, “You gotta know.”

  Luci closed her eyes and more wet was forced out, coursing down her cheeks.

  And then she tipped her head back and Hap’s lips were on hers, his tongue gliding in her mouth.

  She arched her body into his, doing this completely, giving him her weight, and his arm moved around her shoulder blades, his other swept down her back, her bottom, to her thighs. He lifted her up, swinging her lower half to his side, and carried her to the bed, all the while kissing her gently, but deeply.

  On the bed, after all that emotion, she thought it’d go fast. Hungry. Frenzied.

  But Hap didn’t let it.

  He drank from her mouth and roved his hands over her body, taking his time. Even when he rolled over her and pulled her sweater over her head, it was tender and sweet. His mouth then on her neck, his fingers unbuttoning the shirt she wore under her sweater, his lips tracing the path he opened.

  He gently tugged the shirt over her shoulders and Luci helped him take it off. Even if his work was languid, she felt the pulse of promise and tried to quicken his pace, but she got distracted when his mouth closed on her nipple over her bra.

  She arced into the touch, the feel.

  Then she gave herself over to it. His hands light and restful and beautiful slowly warming her to a soothing, exquisite heat.

  Her bra was gone and she had no idea when he’d taken it off when he got up on his knees, straddling her thighs.

  She started to push up, watching him tug his sweater and tee over his head.

  Once it was gone, his wide, muscled chest exposed to her, he looked down at her and ordered quietly, “Lie back. Arms over your head.”

  “I wish to touch you.”

  He put a hand to her chest and gently pushed her back, commanding, “Do as you’re told, baby.”

  She did, because his command was exciting. She did, because that was what Hap wanted. And the instant she did, his fingers went to the button of her jeans. He undid them and slid them down, taking her panties with them, pulling off her boots and socks at the bottom.

  She then fought squirming or preening as his eyes roamed her naked body. This battle proved harder when his hands did the same, leisurely. And it was nearly impossible when he added his mouth, those lips, his tongue.

  “Hap,’ she breathed.

  He took his time opening her thighs, and she watched as he dipped his head and felt as he lapped at her between her legs.

  “Hap,” she whimpered, eyes rolling back, moving her arm to cup his head and hold him to her.

  He lifted up and kissed the strip of curls between her legs.

  She looked down, and he whispered, “Arms over your head, Luci, keep them there, honey.”

  She stared into his eyes and what he was doing, what she was feeling, what was happening suddenly dawned on her.

  Luci nodded and moved her arm back over her head. His gaze grew soft and lazy before he went back in, lapping and licking, gently suckling, softly nibbling, his fingers trailing on her hips, her belly, up to cup a breast and rub her nipple with his thumb. All easy, slow, like they had centuries.

  Hap made love, but he did it fucking.

  But Hap was not making love to her now.

  Luci knew what it was.

  He was worshiping.

  She felt it in every stroke of his tongue, every trace of his fingers.

  It wasn’t restful, it was reverent.

  He didn’t want her to touch him because he wanted this to be that.

  Adulation.

  Exaltation.

  Luci fell into it. Cocking her elbows toward the ceiling to clutch at the comforter with her fingers, she offered her body, her sex, to his ministrations, giving him the only thing he wanted in return—her noises, her writhing, her whimpers and pants.

  “Amore,” she breathed, so close, feeling the burn like a banked fire, spread for him, smoldering.

  He came to his knees between her legs and she opened her eyes, finding it difficult to focus on him.

  But she did and he was pulling his wallet out of his po
cket.

  “Just you, bello, please,” she begged.

  “Shh, baby,” he shushed. “Lift your knees high and wide, stay open for me.”

  Luci did as asked, feeling the thrill of doing that for him instead of disappointment he’d pulled out a condom and put the packet between his teeth. His eyes on her darkening now with hunger, the condom dropping into his open palm as he bit his lip when he yanked his jeans to his thighs and his hard, thick cock sprang free.

  She whimpered.

  He tore open the packet.

  “You’re so goddamn beautiful,” he growled.

  “I need you inside me.”

  Done rolling the condom on, he wrapped his hand around his cock and bent to her, catching the back of her knee in the biceps of his other arm and planting his hand in the bed.

  This did not make her happy. It kept him away from her.

  “Closer, caro,” she whispered.

  She felt him as he fed himself to her.

  “Closer, caro, please,” she whimpered.

  Slowly, he slid inside.

  Her eyes closed, her neck arched and her hand came up blindly to find him. It did, clamping at the side of his neck.

  “Back over your head, Luci.”

  She righted her head and opened her eyes to look at him. “Happy.”

  “Over your head, honey.”

  It took effort, but she did as told, and only then did he move.

  She bit her lip at the gorgeous feel of him gliding inside and a low snarl rolled between his lips when he saw her do it before he grunted, “Fuckin’ beautiful.”

  “Faster,” she pleaded.

  He slid his free hand over her side, her belly, and down, and found her clit with his thumb.

  She jerked, the beauty of that tearing through her, and she panted, forcing her eyes open, pulsing her hips to meet his torturously slow thrusts, the rolling of his thumb driving her mad.

  “Hap.”

  His head was bent, watching her take him, his eyes roamed up and his mouth muttered, “Fuckin’ fuck me, so goddamn beautiful.”

  Yes.

  He was worshipping her.

  “Hap,” she forced out, her body trapped by the position, what he was doing and his commands, the movements she could make were desperate as she tried to deepen their connection, drive him to give her more, the sensations surging through her overwhelming.