He frowned and squinted at the oncoming sight. Was Coraleen letting the kitten win? Jesus, how absolutely adorable.
In the great room, Coraleen scooped the kitten up and then plopped onto the couch, squealing with delight when she saw the pizza box. “Foothills Pizza? Oh my god, you are treating me so right. Please tell me there’s a Popeye’s in that box.”
“Yep.”
“Seriously?”
“Your favorite still, right?”
She placed the kitten on the couch next to her, leaned forward, and flipped open the lid, then closed her eyes as she took in a deep breath, imbuing herself in the scent of freshly baked pizza dough, pine nuts, spinach, and feta cheese.
“How is it that you would remember a random detail like that?” She opened her eyes and scooped out a slice, then took a bite. Moaning, she closed her eyes again.
“Must have stuck in my brain somewhere along the way.” But he knew exactly when: the day he came to see her in AZ/PC he’d asked what she’d miss about Meadowview besides her grandpop—hoping she’d say him. Instead, she’d responded with “Foothill Pizza’s Popeye, extra-large.”
She opened her eyes and gave him a look he wasn’t quite sure he could read.
“Thank you,” she murmured quietly around a large mouthful of pizza. “That was sweet of you. And I do really appreciate you letting me stay here another night. Dave called here—said my car should be ready tomorrow night.”
A sudden spasm shot up his neck. Damn, that hurt. Seemed like he’d had a lot of that lately—maybe he should go see the chiropractor. “Glad I could help,” he said instead of what half of him really wanted to say. Which would have gone something along the lines of, “Stay. Stay always. Stay for forever.”
Instead, he kept his mouth shut, settled down next to her on the couch, and grabbed a slice.
A half-hour later, with almost the entire pizza gone, additional logs added to the fire, and the kitten settled down for the night—well, at least for the next couple of hours—he was ready for a discussion. He hoped she was, too.
“I tried looking into who bought Visada again today. I’m so sorry, Coraleen. I can’t find anything out about your horse,” he said.
She let her head loll back on the couch and sighed. “Another thing I’m grateful to you for. Thank you. I’ve asked everywhere, too. No one knows who bought him. Where he is. Hope it’s okay, but I borrowed your laptop this afternoon. Tried Googling for information on him—I have before, but thought I would again. Didn’t find anything. Just his registry with the Jockey Club and his lip tattoo, but—”
“His what? Why would a horse have a tattoo? And why on his lip, of all places?”
She gave him a half-giggle. “All racing thoroughbreds get a tattoo on the underside of their upper lip when they’re young. The Jockey Club has that identification. Not that it does me any good—I already knew his tattoo number by heart. And I didn’t find any other mention of him on the internet.”
“I wish I knew what to say to you, but I got nuthin’.”
Sighing, she added, “I’m thinking of heading out to Pop’s place tomorrow to look around the barn. See if there’s anything there that would lead me to his new owner. I couldn’t bear going out to the old place before, the thought hurt too much, but I’d rather get hit with a smack-down wave of nostalgia than let a chance to find Visada go by.”
“It’s private property now, Coraleen,” he reminded her gently.
“So I’ll knock on the door. Ask whoever answers if I can go into the barn.”
He shook his head. “It’s empty. There’s no one to ask.”
“What, I can’t even go check it out?”
“Not without permission. That would be trespassing. And I don’t know who bought the place, or I’d ask for you.”
She sank further into the couch and let her arms fall to her sides. “I think the bank still owns it, but maybe not. God, that’s so unfair I can’t even go out there. I need a lead.” She blew hard against a lock of hair that had fallen over her face. It flopped back over her eye.
“I really am sorry. Not much of a consolation, I know. Seems like I’ve been saying that a lot lately. I mean it, though.”
He reached out and brushed the stray hairs back, tucking them in behind her ear. Then left his hand there, lightly stroking her hair.
She sucked in a breath, flicked her gaze to his face, then glanced back at the fire. But she didn’t pull away from his touch.
“Why didn’t you kiss me that day, Coraleen?” he asked quietly.
She glanced at him, her face scrunched up into a puzzled expression “Um, I did. You kissed me, I kissed you back, then I told you not to do it again. Surely you remember—it was just last night.”
He shook his head. “That’s not what I was talking about. I meant that day on your grandpop’s porch. Five years ago.”
“Oh,” she said quietly, and dropped her gaze to her lap.
“I was about to kiss you. We were right there—our mouths were a fraction of an inch from each other. But you pulled back and told me to put you in handcuffs. And not in a fun way,” he added, injecting a level of false levity into his tone.
She chuckled, the sound a little forced, a little tight—but she’d clearly accepted his unspoken offering to soften the mood. They could go serious here, or skim the surface. Didn’t matter to him, but he did want answers.
And he didn’t want to stop touching her hair.
When she didn’t respond, he continued. “I always figured it was because you already knew you were going to confess and didn’t want the entanglement.”
“Did you ever consider that maybe I didn’t feel the same way about you?” she asked, trying to scoff but not getting away with it.
She was hiding something.
“And when I came to see you in AZ/PC, you pushed me away. Hell, Coraleen,” he swore, “I believed you when you said you hated me because I was a cop. Was that even true?”
A strange, choking cry came from somewhere deep in her throat. “Do you not understand how hard that was for me to see you that day? I had a full sentence to serve. Five years.”
“You did want me,” he said gently.
“Of course I wanted you!” she exploded. “How could I not?”
“But you pushed me away.” The tension in his chest surprised him. “Why couldn’t you have been honest with me?”
“I was already halfway in love with you back then. It wouldn’t have taken much, just one glance, one kiss, one promise, for me to fall totally and completely in love. And I couldn’t let that happen.”
“Why not?” Without realizing it, he’d stopped stroking Coraleen’s hair.
She turned to face him then, eyes glittering with unshed tears. “You don’t get it, do you?”
Apparently he was more dense than his cousin Susan thought—and let him know on numerous occasions, usually whenever girls dumped him.
“Get what?” he asked, but it all fell into place. He knew. He understood why she’d pushed him away. He’d always suspected she cared for him the way he cared for her. But he’d felt so damned helpless, leaving her in prison, not being allowed to help her through the time she had to serve.
And damn—he was angry at himself for letting her push him away. Pissed as all get-out that he bought her bullshit about hating him because he was a cop.
“There’s no such thing as a knight in shining armor,” she continued, her voice quaking. “No such thing as happy endings. No such thing as hope. And if I’d let you into my life, if I’d told you how I’d felt, I’d have been living with hope for a reality that could never exist.”
He blew out a breath. “Seems like you’re taking one line from Nietzsche a little too seriously.”
She surprised him by bursting out laughing. A shaky, emotionally-charged laugh, but still a genuine laugh.
“What about now, Coraleen?” he asked.
“Now?”
“You and me.” His hand resumed stroking h
er hair, the long blond strands gleaming in the flickering firelight.
“There is no you and me,” she said simply. “There can’t be.”
“But you want me. And I want you. God, I want you.”
She hitched a breath, sudden and sharp, and he knew—
Oh, god, he knew.
And this time he wasn’t going to let her push him away.
He shifted, shoved his hands in her hair, cupped her face in his hands, and then took her mouth, hard and strong and unyielding…and she didn’t hesitate. Not for one second. She fused to him, kissing him back with intensity and passion and oh sweet Lord who knew what else. All he knew was he was flying high, immersed in her scent and taste and silky skin as he kissed her and kissed her and kissed her again.
When she pulled back, gasping for air, he hesitated, then dropped his hands. She had to come to him now. It had to be completely her decision. Utterly in her control.
“I want you,” he said simply. “All of you. I want to be inside you. I want to cover your body with mine. I want to make love to you. And I want all that now.”
He’d made his desire known. Whatever happened next needed to be initiated by Coraleen.
Holding his gaze with hers, she sucked in several ragged breaths, seemingly steadying herself for…for what?
When she lunged forward, pushing him back onto the couch, it was clear what she wanted. Who she wanted.
Him.
She was like a wild animal, tearing at the buttons on his uniform shirt, barely able to wait until he ripped it off. Biting, licking, kissing—his face, chest, biceps, fingers. Gasping and panting and full of fury and desire and wanton need. She straddled his hips, pressing him back down into the couch cushions, and with her tongue lathed his nipples, first one, then the other.
He responded, sliding his hands up her T-shirt (oh thank you Jesus, no bra) and flipping the top right off her, then shoving her pajama bottoms down (Jesus, Joseph and Mary, no undies, either) and then found her breasts with his hands, his mouth. Made her moan. Shake. Shudder. Coaxed her to come down onto him and kiss him as if there were no tomorrow and all they had was this moment.
But they didn’t have to rush. That moment could—and would—merge into the next, and the next, and the moment after that. He finally had Coraleen. That was all that mattered.
She tore her mouth from his and raised herself upright, coming up to sit on his hips. She ripped open the button on his pants and then single-handedly lowered the zipper and suddenly clasped him in her hand—
“Condoms,” he growled out, bucking against her touch.
“Where?”
“My wallet. Back pocket in my pants. Hold on.” He let her slide off his body and sit shakily on the floor as he shoved his uniform pants down, then off, leaving his erection to tent the boxer briefs he wore underneath.
Then she grabbed his now-empty pants, dug around in the pocket until she located his wallet, and with shaking fingers tore out the contents. His ID, a few twenties, and old grocery receipts were flicked out one by one onto the Berber carpet and then she found what she wanted. It took her three trembling tries before she could rip open the package and hold out the condom.
He took it, sheathed himself, then eased her onto the floor. Covered her naked form with his. Stroked the side of her cheek. Let his fingers slide down the thin column of her neck, dip into the hollow at the notch of her clavicle, then lower, tracing patterns across her breasts and belly and touching her there, at the apex of her thighs. And lower, still. She was warm and wet and ready.
“I’ve waited for this for a very long time,” he whispered, lowering his forehead to meet hers. “Are you sure?”
“More than anything,” she whispered back.
He took her then. Soft, at first, letting her adjust to his width, his length, watching as her eyes fluttered shut and her mouth parted. Then he moved, loving the way her body hitched forward with each of his thrusts, loving the way she moaned, loving the way she wound her fingers into his hair and pulled tight. Loving…
Loving Coraleen. At last.
He never wanted this night to end.
Morning came faster than Coraleen could ever wish it would. She lay in Remy’s bed, cuddled up next to his strong, male body, wrapped in his arms with her head on his chest, luxuriating in the sensation of his chest rising and falling with each breath. The sheets lay tangled around their hips and the blankets were who knew where. They’d been thrown off the bed during the second go-around. Or had that been the third?
“I know you’re awake,” Remy murmured. “Want to talk about last night?”
“Um…not particularly.”
“We should, though.” He stroked her hair, then wound his fingers through a long strand. “Get a few things clear. For starters, I’m not sleeping with anyone else.”
“Same here. I’ve been on hiatus.”
He chuckled. “I have to be honest with you, Coraleen. I never go straight from kissing a woman to sex the way we did last night. If that was too much, and way too fast, then I’m sorry.”
“Some day you’ll stop apologizing to me for every little thing. Not that last night was a ‘little thing.’ Quite the opposite, in fact, big boy.” She nudged him with her leg.
At his soft chuckle, she added, “At the risk of being a total cliché, I do hope it was as good for you as it was for me. I only had sex with one other guy, and that was way back in high school. It’s clearly been a while.”
“You were amazing. Besides, it’s like riding a bike. Only way better than riding a bike, and vastly better with you. Amazingly better. Wait—I said ‘amazing’ already. Let’s see…it was brilliant, marvelous, spectacular—heck, let’s throw the entire thesaurus at last night.”
She giggled. The morning had dawned warm—the night before, right after laying her down on the low-level bed, Remy had opened the bedroom windows. Now warm air billowed the gauze curtains, bringing the heady scent of blooming lilacs into the room. The foothills had fully entered spring. There would be no more chilly nights, no more nip in the air.
Remy shifted, rolling onto his side, then slid his leg over hers. Collected her in his arms. Kissed her neck. Nudged his hard length against her hip. She let out a long, slow sigh, and wound her arms around his shoulders, tracing the lines of the muscles that bunched over his shoulder blades with the tip of her fingers. He captured her mouth with his, kissing her.
And she let him.
Took him in.
Asked for more.
His hand slid between their bodies, and he cupped her breast as he kissed her jaw, her neck, her clavicle. Then he rose up slightly, nudged his knees between hers and braced himself there. She wanted him. God, how she wanted him.
“I need you,” she whispered, then was shocked at the way her mind had switched the word. Need? She’d meant to say want. Needing was for someone who had a future in mind. She couldn’t go there.
“I need you, too,” Remy whispered back. “I need you in my life, Coraleen.”
Something warm and fuzzy and fluttery moved around in her chest when she heard those words, like a gentle knock on the iron gates that stood firmly shut over her heart. Could she open herself up to the chance they could be together? Her breath caught in her throat.
The breeze billowed the curtains again, a welcomed distraction, because the thought of a future with Remy was too overpowering. She had only here and now and the future was something she could worry about later. For now, she had Remy.
Oh, god, did she ever have Remy.
She focused on the silky-smooth sensation of his skin, how his light brown hair fell into his dark brown eyes, how the stream of sunlight cast soft shadows over the contours of his muscles, his bones.
In moments he’d found yet another condom, sheathed himself, then sank into her. She flinched slightly—it had been a while and they had gone at it numerous times the night before—but god, being stretched by Remy was a delicious sensation.
They moved as one
, in a rhythm built on a shared heartbeat. Last night had been about desire and passion and intensity…the morning brought a sweetness and effervescent light to the bed. She breathed, he breathed. She moved, he moved. She cried out, he called her name. She came, he came.
After, Remy cradled her in his arms, nudging the side of her neck with his nose, smelling her hair, and Coraleen could swear she could still feel the rhythm of their lovemaking in her bones, the way it felt after being on a boat for a while but afterward you were still able to sense the movement even after coming to shore. She hoped that sensation would never go away.
Remy reached for her hand. She let him take it. Holding it up, he entwined his fingers with hers.
“There’s something I need to ask you, Coraleen,” he said.
The words, although spoken softly, carried a thread of tension in them. Whatever it was he felt he had to ask wasn’t something he really wanted an answer to. Or maybe he was afraid of the answer.
“Can we play Twenty Questions another time?” she asked, trying to dodge his request.
“No. We need to talk. Now.”
Dodging not accomplished. She should have known; she’d sucked at Dodge Ball as a kid.
Yes, they needed to have The Talk, but not right now. Not when her mind and heart were still soft and fuzzy from their lovemaking the night before and the morning light seemed to coat everything in a gentle veneer of perfection. This moment was gauzy, delicate, beautiful…like butterfly wings. Too ethereal to tarnish with reality.
“Coraleen? Did you hear me?”
“We’d better get going,” she prevaricated. “You should get to work, and I still want to go into town. Maybe there’s someone there I haven’t yet asked about Visada.”
There wasn’t, of course, but it seemed like a plausible excuse. But she’d given up on finding her horse. She couldn’t hold out hope forever, and she couldn’t let her heart get hurt again.
Always the One: (Meadowview Heroes # 2) (The Meadowview Series Book 6) (Meadowview Heat) Page 15