“J.T., please...”
“What’s wrong?”
“You win.”
“What’s that?” He arched upright, torturing her, daring her to hold on. She couldn’t see anything but the deep peach of her blouse but knew that he was smiling.
“You win. I played dirty, you played dirtier and I don’t care. I need you now before I—”
The words were smothered by her blouse as he yanked it over her head. She gasped for breath, then gasped again as he stood, sliding her against him as her feet slipped to the floor, guiding her backward to the bed. They tumbled down, reaching, searching, shoving at waistbands and zippers and elastic.
“Thank God this place is small,” she murmured against his neck as she pushed at his shorts.
“Now you know why we called it the honeymoon cottage.” He stood again, and in an instant was naked before her. She wanted to take a moment to peer through the deepening shadows and look at him, really look, but then his hands were at her waist and he was fighting with the button on her stupid, stupid skirt. She reached to help him. His lips locked over hers. Fingers collided, meshed, flew in separate directions—his to weave through her hair, hers to fumble with the button until it popped free. She tugged at the zipper and his mouth slid lower, breathing a heated line from her neck to the valley between her breasts, then lower still until he rested over her navel and blew a shot of pure desire that erupted out through her extremities.
“The skirt’s ready,” she said, struggling for breath.
“Me, too.”
He gripped. Pulled. This time, mercifully, there were no games. He yanked the fabric down past her feet before returning for her panties. His erection brushed her thigh and she had to breathe, breathe, willing herself to wait, begging him to hurry.
“Just one more thing,” he whispered, reaching toward the nightstand. She heard the rip of foil and gave frantic thanks that she wasn’t going to have to wait much longer.
He kneeled on the bed and braced himself over her, one hand on either side of her head, dipping down for one kiss, two, while she pushed her legs against the thighs straddling her, hungering for him to take the hint before she had to beg.
“Lydia.” Her name echoed hoarsely beside her ear. “Lyddie, open your eyes and look at me.”
When had she closed them? She opened, searching the darkness to see him gazing down at her. No smiles. No joking. Just a mirror of her hunger and desire mixed with a desperate search for control.
“Last chance. You’re sure?”
Something like wonder fluttered in her heart.
“Positive.”
His eyes closed and a tiny sigh escaped his lips. “Thank God.”
At last he shifted, lifting first one knee, then the other, to settle between hers. Her hips rose to meet him. He brushed against her, searching, then thrusting, filling and stretching her, pushing away the doubt and the fear and leaving only him. Only J.T.
And he was so much more than enough.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
J.T. LET HIS HEAD DROP against Lyddie’s shoulder and hoped to hell he could remember how to breathe.
It wasn’t exertion that had knocked the wind out of him—hell, no. It was the fist to the gut that hit him when he realized that right now, with Lyddie lying beneath him and the sound of her final gasp still echoing within him, with her hair on his arms and her softness beneath him and her vanilla perfume surrounding him, he was the most complete he’d been in a long, long time. Maybe forever.
If he weren’t so utterly content, he would have been scared silly.
“J.T.?” Her voice had a breathy quality that went straight through him. Still too blown away to put words together, he settled for licking her neck.
She giggled and squirmed, sending dozens of energizing aftershocks through his body. It wasn’t much but it gave him the strength to untangle himself and slide onto the bed beside her.
“Too heavy, right?”
“No. I was just going to say thanks.”
He closed his eyes, let the wonder of her words sink in, opened them and searched for her face in the darkness. “I think I’m the one who should be thanking you.”
Silence.
He ached to hold her, to pull her close and pillow her head on his chest, but something made him hesitate. He didn’t know why. He’d never had a problem being tender after sex. True, he wasn’t much on pillow talk, but he liked the way it felt to hold the woman who’d just held him deep inside her.
But this, this was different. This was Lyddie. She was the one setting the pace here. And if he felt like he’d just been sucked into something ten times stronger than he’d expected, he could only guess what she was feeling.
He hadn’t given a moment’s thought to Glenn until this moment, and he was willing to bet she hadn’t, either. But now, in the quiet moments after, he was willing to bet she was thinking. And probably missing.
This might not be the best time to remind her she was in bed with someone new.
On the other hand, if she were having second thoughts, she could probably use a friend. They might have crossed that line, but there was no law that said he couldn’t hop back and forth as needed.
He raised up on one elbow and realized they hadn’t bothered pulling back the comforter. Who was he kidding? They were lucky they’d made it to the bed.
The night was growing darker by the minute, but he didn’t need light to guide his hand to her face. He pushed back soft strands of her hair, surreptitiously checking for tears. So far, so good.
“You know, this is the first time I’ve seen you with your hair loose.”
She turned toward his touch. Her lips brushed his palm. “I’ve always been on duty.”
“This is pretty unusual for you, isn’t it?”
“I told you, there hasn’t been—”
He pressed a finger to her lips. “Shh. I said that wrong. I meant, being off duty is unusual for you.” He traced her mouth in the gloom, letting his fingers memorize her shape, her feel. “You’re always working or with the kids. There’s not much time for Lyddie, is there?”
“I... Well, no.”
“And when you did get some time, you chose to spend it with me.”
“That wasn’t exactly a hardship.”
The slightly jealous male in him preened.
“It wasn’t the worst favor I’ve ever done for a friend, either.” He shifted closer, daring to ease his way back to her.
“Is that what we are now? The whole friends-with-benefits thing?”
“Let me think. We make each other laugh. That’s important in friends.”
“We can talk to each other.” She turned toward him, pillowing her head on her hands.
“We’ve been honest with each other. We trust each other.”
“We do, don’t we? I never thought of it that way.”
He ran one hand slowly down her side, shoulder to ribs to hip, learning the silky curves that hunger had forced him to skim past the first time around. She was softer than he’d expected. A shiver ran through her. He thought about yanking the blanket over them, but then she shifted in his direction and he realized it wasn’t the temperature making her react.
“So I guess we’re friends.” His hand rested on the rise of her hip but he kept a steady distance as he leaned forward to brush her lips with his own. Hands and mouth were the only points of contact, yet still he was as aware as if they’d been pressed flush against each other.
She sighed. The muscles beneath his hand tensed, as if she were stretching, then settled back into softness. He stroked her with his thumb, slow and light, giving her time to breathe, to decide what should happen next.
“J.T.?”
“What?”
“Does your definition of friendship always include licking?”
He kissed her forehead—still light, though he had to admit that with the aroma of raw sex still scenting his every breath, “keeping it light” was getting harder by the moment.
/> And that wasn’t the only thing.
“Licking is a new one. But it beats the hell out of tossing the old pigskin around.”
One hand crept from beneath her head to follow the dip of his lips, just as he had done to her. His breath caught somewhere in the middle of his chest.
“Lyddie.”
“Hmm?”
“Two things.”
“I’m all ears.”
All ears? More like, all he ever wanted, needed or would wish for. For the rest of his ever-loving life.
“First one. Remember how I said that you could change your mind at any point? That still goes. If you want to do something else with your nights, or take a break, whatever, just say the word. You’re still calling the shots.”
“Okay. Next time, I want music.”
“What?” His ability to think was temporarily derailed by the combination of her closeness, her request and the fact that she’d said right away there would be a next time.
God, he should have come home years ago.
“Music, huh? Anything special?”
“Donna Summer. Disco.” She ran a finger down his cheek, returning to play her thumb back and forth across his lips. “I kind of liked that sofa thing. It brought out my inner lap dancer. But dancers need music.”
First thing in the morning, he was downloading every Donna Summer and Bee Gees song he could find.
She inched closer. “What was the second thing?”
“The second thing—uh, right...” It was something important, he knew that, but Lyddie was rubbing her cheek against his chin, like a cat against a door, and his center of concentration was rapidly moving south.
“Why do you do that?”
“What?”
“Rub against my jaw.”
“Oh.” She stopped abruptly. “I’m sorry. Does it bother you?”
“God, no. Just wondering.”
“It— I—” A tiny sigh echoed between them. “It’s so masculine. The roughness, I mean. I missed it.”
His hands slid around her waist. “That reminds me of the second thing I need to know.”
“What is it?”
“Are you okay?”
“Oh.” She giggled just a bit. “I’m sorry, I’ve never been a screamer, but you don’t need to—”
“No, not that. I mean here.” He tapped her chest, drawing on every bit of strength he’d ever had to refrain from letting his hand slide back to the swell of her breast. “Any regrets?”
Again there was silence. She stayed quiet for so long that he worried he’d pushed too far, but she never even flinched within his embrace, so he held his breath and stroked her hair—the only touch he would allow himself—and waited.
“I will always miss Glenn.” Her voice was small but steady in the darkness. “I’ll never understand why he chose to face off against that guy. There are a million regrets around him, and a million things I’ll never understand, and I will always, always wish we hadn’t lost him.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“No, I know that’s not what you were asking. But I want you to know. I loved him. I still do. It’s different now, but it’s still there. Always will be.”
In that moment, he knew that he could never tell her about Glenn and the fire. No matter what happened or didn’t happen between them, he would stay silent.
“But as for this—this wild version of friendship we’ve found—believe me, I have no regrets whatsoever.”
A piece he hadn’t known he was missing fell into place. “You’re sure?”
“Positive.” She slipped closer, sliding against him in a way that ignited both body and heart. “The only regret I could have had about this is if I hadn’t had the guts to ask you for it.”
“I’m damned glad you’re a gutsy woman.”
She smiled against him in the darkness, her lips teasing the corner of his mouth while her hands moved up and down his back.
“And I’m damned glad that you were gutsy enough to accept the challenge.” She hooked a knee over his leg, bringing them closer still, making it absolutely clear that she had no intention of backing out now.
“You up for another challenge?” he asked as he buried his face in her neck.
“You’re on.”
He smiled. “How do you feel about gliders in the moonlight?”
* * *
A COUPLE OF AFTERNOONS later, J.T. punched a button on his cell phone, ending the call that should have been welcome but instead left him feeling unsettled and suspicious. He left the shade of the grape arbor to rejoin Iris in the middle of her row of pole beans. She glanced up when he approached and looked at him with open curiosity.
“Well? Who was that?”
“The Realtor. We have an offer on the boathouse.”
“Oh.” Surprise and disappointment warred in Iris’s eyes, a perfect match for his own conflicting emotions.
“I know.” He reached through the long green leaves and snapped off a couple of beans. “I hate to see them go, too, Ma, but even with you spending summers up here, you won’t need this many places. One cottage, maybe another to run that brothel you’ve always wanted, but—”
“Oh, you.” She threw a bean at him, grinning the way she used to when his dad was around, and for a moment all was well. But her smile faded as she looked around the yard. J.T. watched her drink in the sights he knew she would ache for, watched her eyes absorb the hundred shades of green in her garden, saw them linger on cherry tomatoes and pink snapdragons and then lift to watch the river in the distance.
“It’s so brown out there,” she said at last. “I’m going to miss the colors.”
“It’s only for the winter months.” He reached through the mass of vines, found her fingers and squeezed. “We’ll fill your place with plants. And you can paint the walls pink or purple or even bright red if you want.”
She smiled, but her heart wasn’t in it. “I know I’ve asked before, but I have to do it one last time. Are you sure there’s nothing that would keep you here?”
“I’m sure. So you can stop leaving those ads for physics teachers on the table.”
“Children need to learn those things here just as much as down in Arizona.”
“I know they do, but I’m not—”
“What about the person who’s been keeping you out until all hours of the night?”
For a moment it was as if Lyddie was in the garden with them—that was how real she was to him, even when they were apart. The leaves brushing his hand were her hair, the robin’s trill was her laughter, the sapphire-blue river in the distance was her eyes. He needed her and wanted her and wished to God he was in the cabin, holding her. But still—
“No,” he said softly. “Not even for her.”
He stood still while Iris watched him, her hand shading her eyes against the sun as she studied him. At last she spoke.
“You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Does she know?”
“Not yet.”
Sadness shadowed her face. “Will she go with you?”
He couldn’t answer. Saying no would make it too real. Saying yes would tempt fate.
“She’s rebuilt her life once already,” Iris said. “I see why she wouldn’t want to do it again.”
“How did you know it’s—”
“Justin Tanner Delaney, I may be old, but I’m not blind. I can still put things together.” She peeked through the vines, shook her head and moved on to the next pole. “Besides, she’s the only woman you’ve mentioned since you came back.”
That sounded reasonable. Still—
“There’s no talk in town about her, is there?”
“None that I’ve heard. Of course, they don’t discuss you around me, but I think I would have noticed something like that.”
“Good.” He nudged a bit of dirt with his foot. “I don’t want things to be awkward for her when I’m gone.”
“Is that why you can’t stay? To make
things easier for her?”
Where was she going with this? “Mom, this isn’t about me.”
“Don’t you dare say it’s all because of me. There’s more to it than that, and you know it.” When he opened his mouth to protest, she rushed in. “Wait. Be honest. If things were different—with me, I mean—would you ever consider moving back? Maybe not here, in Comeback Cove, but somewhere around here. Upriver, or even in, say, Ottawa?”
The automatic denial was halfway to his lips when he stopped.
Would he?
Two months ago he would have laughed at the idea. Even two hours ago, if Iris had posed her question right after he got the latest phone call from Jillian accusing him of tearing the town apart. But now? Seriously?
He’d thought that twenty-five years away would have loosened the hold this place held on his heart, but once he came back...back to the river, the hills, the hint of cold weather that tinged the night air even in summer...
They were a part of him and always would be. They were bred into him. Tucson was home now, yes, but despite all that had happened, Comeback Cove would always be the place he came from. The place that a part of him would always want to return to.
“I’ve missed a lot of it. More than I realized.” It was all he dared say, walking the fine line between the honesty she’d asked for and the guilt he knew she would quickly embrace if he said more than that.
“I thought so. You have that look about you.”
“What look?”
“Settled. Content. Not when you’re in town, or on the phone, but when you’re here. When you don’t think I’m watching, and you sit out on the deck and look at the river. I can see you soaking it in.”
Okay. He’d give her that.
“You know,” she said as she plucked a ladybug from the trellis, “last winter was very bad for me, but until then, I always managed. Your father knew what I needed. He made sure I took care of myself.”
“Uh, did I miss a step in this conversation?”
She sighed and rapped a fist on his forehead. “J.T., the biggest danger for me isn’t the lack of sun. It’s the lack of support. What I need most of all is to be with family, with people who won’t judge me for being...ill...and make sure I get to the doctor and do my light therapy and take my medication.”
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