by Anne Hope
“No.” Rebecca lifted her hand, allowed it to stroke the child’s hair, surprised when the act didn’t sting. “The angels aren’t broken. They’re strong and they’re whole and they’re watching over you. Every day and every night, they’re watching over us all.”
She lifted her gaze to rest on Noah, and this time his eyes locked with hers. There was anger and pain in them, but hope, too. In his turbulent stare she sensed a desperate need to believe that the bad really could be kept at bay.
Kristen hugged Lindsay’s sweater. Pulling her favorite teddy bear close with her other arm, she turned on her side. “I don’t want to disappear,” she muttered into the brown fur.
Rebecca shocked herself by doing something she didn’t believe she was capable of doing. She leaned over and brushed a kiss on the girl’s forehead. “You won’t,” she promised. “I won’t let it happen. Ever.”
She didn’t know who Pat had been talking with on the phone or why he’d gotten so angry. But she knew one thing—an adult always had to be on guard around children, because they listened, and they heard, even when they didn’t seem to be paying attention. Every inadvertent word spoken had the potential to plant doubt and the power to devastate.
She waited until Kristen drifted off to sleep and Noah finally decided to climb into bed. Then—her heart heavy yet full—she tiptoed out of the room, down the stairs and out into the cool night, where the sea beckoned her.
So they’d gotten through another day. That was how Zach measured success now—not in terms of award-winning advertising campaigns or multi-million-dollar accounts, but in terms of meals consumed, games played and a minimum number of tears shed.
The sun had set over an hour ago. The sky was a deep indigo spattered with stars. Silver moon shadows hopped along the edges of the water, making it pulse with a neon-blue glow. Normally, he didn’t have much use for the ocean. It was a death trap, if you asked him. Still, he liked the sound the waves made when they slapped the shore. He listened to that sound, let it soothe him, while he sat on the porch steps staring into the black void of night.
Life looked so simple from this vantage point, and he almost convinced himself everything would sort itself out. He was probably a fool to think they could all start over, but he didn’t give a shit. He wanted to savor this strange peace that had fallen over him.
The kids were safe, healthy, able to smile occasionally. That was something, he guessed. Yeah, they were torn to shreds inside, but that would right itself in time. It had to. The body had a self-preservation mechanism that forced you to survive, whether you wanted to or not.
Take Becca, for instance. She was living proof that time healed all wounds. He could see the change in her. There was something solid and composed about her that hadn’t been there before. Something that told him maybe history didn’t have to repeat itself. She could smile through her pain, wrap her arms around a crying baby, listen to a mother talk about her children without shriveling inside. And that gave him hope. Maybe she’d learned to accept what she couldn’t change. Maybe she’d finally made peace with fate.
Just the same, he couldn’t help but wonder if she could ever really be happy with their makeshift family or if she’d always feel cheated, always crave the one thing he couldn’t give her.
The harbor shivered, and from its depths a figure sprang. She walked toward him, bathed in starlight, her body glistening, her hair streaming wet and wild down her back.
Zach’s next breath snagged in his throat.
A siren, he thought. A mythical creature rising from the sea to seduce him.
His lungs felt crushed, deprived of air. The walls of his throat narrowed as an electrical charge pulsed across his nerve endings.
Then he realized the siren was Becca. She’d gone for an evening swim. She loved swimming at night because the water was always warmer then. Shadows played along her curves, making her hips rounder, her stomach flatter, her breasts fuller. Her hair was a deep bronze, her skin a translucent ivory in the pale light of the moon.
His body instantly responded to the sight of her, hardening, aching, until he couldn’t remember why he’d vowed to keep his hands off her. None of it seemed to matter anymore.
She grabbed a towel from the porch railing and swathed it around her figure, and it took all of his self-control to bite back the protest that scratched at his throat.
“I was wondering where you disappeared to,” he muttered instead. His voice sounded gruff.
“After I tucked Noah and Kristen in, I decided to go for a swim. You were busy with Will, and I can always use the exercise.” She lowered her body next to his, smelling of the sun and the sea. Water dripped from her hair. Rivulets trickled over her shoulders and slid down her arms.
Unable to stop himself, he captured one of the drops with the back of his index finger. It was cool against her warm skin, silky. Their gazes locked, and awareness sizzled between them.
“Did Will go to sleep okay?” Her question pierced the cloud of lust enveloping him.
“Yeah.” He let his hand fall away before he was tempted to explore more of her. “He was exhausted after all that crying.”
“Not to mention all that fun in the sun.” A hazy smile ghosted across her lips. “We had a pretty full day. The kids were really excited, weren’t they?” The tenderness on her face shook him. It was the same look Lindsay always used to get whenever she spoke of the kids.
He eyed her steadily. An image of her playing in the waves with the pack earlier today flashed through his mind. “You’re really something with them.” He couldn’t suppress the note of wonder in his voice. “I never expected it.”
She gave a self-deprecating chuckle. “Half the time—correction, most of the time—I feel like I’m in way over my head.” Bolt ambled onto the porch to sit beside her, and she stroked him absently. Zach’s gaze was drawn to the gentle rhythm of her fingers as she threaded them through the dog’s lustrous coat. He remembered how those hands had felt on his body when she’d massaged him last night, the way they’d twined in his hair and chased the tension from his limbs.
“But I understand them. Understand how they feel,” she added, oblivious to the dangerous path his thoughts were taking. “I get Noah’s anger, Kristen’s totally delusional hope, Will’s tantrums.”
Zach made a sound that was half laugh, half snort. “At least one of us does.”
“You’re being too hard on yourself as usual. You’re great with them. I can see how much they look up to you.”
“That’s because I’m tall.”
Her heartfelt laughter filled the night. God, he’d missed hearing her laugh. The sound of it made a strange energy pulsate in his pores and burrow deep within the marrow of his bones. It took all his self-control not to reach out and touch her again. Instead, he clasped his hands together and let them hang between his knees.
“Can you answer a question for me?” He stared at his joined fingers, unable to look her in the eyes for fear of what he would see there.
“Sure.”
“When I suggested adoption, why did you refuse? I thought maybe you believed you couldn’t love a child that wasn’t biologically ours. But now that I see you with these kids I can’t help but wonder—”
“You thought I couldn’t love a child I didn’t give birth to?” She sounded offended.
He ventured a glance in her direction. Even in the dark he couldn’t miss the indignation that flamed in her cheeks.
“I didn’t know what to think,” he answered honestly. “You were so set against it.”
“Because I was angry. Because if I couldn’t have what I wanted, then I wanted nothing at all. It was the injustice of it, the unfairness. Why should I be deprived the joy of feeling my child grow inside me when it came so naturally to everyone else? Adoption felt like acceptance, like throwing in the towel.”
“Would that have been so bad?”
“At the time, yes.”
“And now?”
She hesi
tated. The light breeze lifted her wet curls from her shoulders, sent them rioting around her face. “It doesn’t really matter anymore,” she whispered. “The choice is no longer mine to make.” He barely heard her past the whoosh of the waves.
“That sounds oddly like acceptance.”
“Maybe it is. Even I have to give up sometime.” Her inflection held a hint of amusement, but he wasn’t buying the flippancy.
“Is that what this feels like to you, giving up?”
She was quiet for a long time. The waxing moon haloed her head and made her eyes sparkle like liquid gold.
“No,” she answered with more conviction than he’d expected. “It feels like family.”
Vulnerability sparkled in her eyes, more potent than her glistening skin, her clingy swimsuit, the small towel wrapped around her breasts and hips. Zach lost the battle and extended his hand to cup her face. Her skin was soft, an odd blend of velvet and satin. It tickled his palm as a strange current traveled up his arm and thrummed along his flesh.
He never should have allowed himself to touch her. Now the need to kiss her blinded him. It was a physical ache, sharp and insistent. She turned her cheek into his palm, moved closer…
“Becca—” Her name tore from his throat, both a desperate plea and a growl. In the same heartbeat, his mouth crushed hers. Fire shot through his veins, sent his resolve straight to hell. Need raged through him, and every minute he’d spent without her only seemed to stoke the blaze.
Her lips parted to receive him. He wasn’t sure whether the sound she made was a gasp or a sigh, and to be honest he didn’t give a damn. He just wanted to taste her. Her mouth was moist, inviting, as he slid his tongue in to mate with hers. She brought her palms to his abdomen, let them glide across his ribs and around his back, and he knew she wouldn’t put up a fight. A part of him was hoping she would because, right about now, he wasn’t exactly thinking with his head. Not the one on his shoulders, anyway.
She had no intention of making this easy for him—the way the movements of her lips matched his, the way she edged in closer and flattened her breasts against his chest.
She had no idea what she was doing to him. Or maybe she did. He couldn’t be sure. He tasted boldness on her tongue. Boldness and a trace of desperation.
All of a sudden he wanted more. He wanted to feel every inch of her, to recapture what he’d lost, to once again anchor himself to the one woman who could keep him rooted. She was his purpose. A man had to have purpose or he drifted, got swept away by the tide.
Decisively, he stood and pulled her to her feet so the length of her damp body pressed against his. He felt every hot curve, every sea-scented curl, the wild tempo of her heart as it galloped in perfect beat with his own.
There was no more room for doubt. With a groan, he clumsily pushed open the door, and they stumbled into the house. He tugged at the straps of her swimsuit, his mouth traveling down her neck and over her shoulder as the unrelenting agony in his groin sharpened. The towel slid to the ground. His hand found her breast, yanked it free. She moaned and dug her hips into his until he thought he’d explode. He wanted to tell her to take it easy, but he couldn’t find his voice. All he managed was a grunt.
Then he was lifting her off her feet and carrying her to the bedroom, with nothing but the moon and stars to light his path.
Chapter Twenty
Rebecca’s senses swam, as if she suffered from heat stroke, only the heat wasn’t coming from the sun but Zach. It poured over her in waves, singeing her from the inside out, as his mouth drank from hers and his hand closed over her breast. She’d forgotten what it felt like to be loved by Zach. It was like being swallowed by a firestorm—wild and hungry and all-consuming. His kisses chased every thought from her head.
His mouth never left hers as he carried her to the bedroom. Once there, he spread her out on the bed, his face awash in eagerness and something else—amazement. She didn’t understand it. He was far more magnificent than she was. His skin was smooth, like polished gold, his arms strong and muscular. She tugged the shirt from his body, marveling at the splendid perfection of him. Whorls of dark hair covered his chest and slowly tapered down to his abdomen, where thick muscles bunched. She couldn’t help but explore those muscles, loving the way they strained and rippled beneath her fingertips.
He was incredible, and he was hers. After all these years, he was still hers.
Her hand ventured lower. She unbuttoned his jeans, deliberately ran her thumbnail over his zipper. Muttering an oath, he grabbed her wrists and pinned them over her head. His mouth slid down her throat—hot, demanding. The silky feel of it flushed her system, made her skin purr and her body throb.
He carved a burning trail toward her breast, and she trembled in his arms. It had been so long since he’d loved her this way. So long since she’d allowed herself to dissolve in his arms and let the current carry her.
His lips slid down toward her navel, and he had no choice but to release her arms. As soon as he did, she buried her fingers in his hair and pulled him closer.
He peeled the swimsuit from her body, exposed her to his heated gaze. “You taste like the sea,” he muttered as he flicked his tongue over her belly.
Pleasure whipped through her. “You don’t like the sea.”
“I like it just fine on you.” He glided up toward her breast again.
“Maybe you should join me for a midnight swim sometime.”
Shadows played across his back, outlining the thick tendons that stretched over his shoulder blades. “I’m sure you could persuade me if you set your mind to it.”
Her fingers traced the length of his spine. “I’m always up for a good challenge.” She loved the strength, the sharp leanness of him. Loved how delicate she felt when she was pressed against him.
Then his mouth closed over her nipple. Her mind went blank. She couldn’t think, could barely breathe. She just wanted to feel, to lose herself to passion, to drown in this one moment and forget the past, for once stop questioning the future.
His need bulged against her inner thigh, branded her with its heat. She arched into him as a short burst of air escaped her lips. Desire hollowed out a place in her heart only he could fill, a gaping crevice that begged for completion.
He was holding back; she could tell. It was evident how badly he needed this, but he was taking his time, desperately clutching the tenuous string of self-control, trying to savor even as everything inside him screamed to devour.
She didn’t want to be savored. She wanted to be consumed. Clasping a handful of his hair, she pulled him up, brought his lips to hers. With eager fingers, she pushed down his jeans and wrapped her legs around him, surrounding him with her heat. He groaned as a shiver quaked through him. Instinctively, his hips dug into hers. She welcomed him, urged him without words to enter her, but he pulled back.
A whimper of disappointment rose to lodge itself in her throat. Laughter rumbled next to her ear.
“You never were very good at being patient.”
Frustration slow-danced with need, made her blood simmer. “And you were always too damn good at it.”
He chuckled and drew her earlobe into his mouth. Frissons of pleasure poured through her. His hand ventured down her body, stroking the curve of her backside, the length of her leg. His fingers felt like coarse silk, rough and soft at the same time. He was driving her insane.
Hoping to get even, she rubbed against him until he grunted and shuddered. Need hardened every fabulous inch of him. Victory coursed through her. Any minute now he would cave to the persistent ache begging to be appeased and claim her the way only a man can claim a woman.
“I was right. You really are a siren.”
“And you think way too much.”
She covered his mouth with hers, cutting off his next breath. She knew the precise second his control snapped. A pained growl shook his chest and he wedged himself more firmly between her legs. Then he was inside her, possessing her. Her world spun and cra
shed. Each thrust was like the aftershock of an earthquake, fierce and mind-shattering.
Her body surged and bucked, rapture submerging her in blinding sheets. He cried out her name, convulsed against her, sending warm tremors skittering along her flesh. His pulsing heat inside her made her own body violently contract around him, then go limp and boneless.
Afterward, she lay spent in his arms, trying to remember how to breathe. Sex had always been intense between Zach and her—explosive, totally mind-blowing. If only they were as good together in other areas besides the physical, their marriage might have fared better. Would things go smoother the second time around or were they heading down the same dead-end street again?
“What now?” She didn’t want to shatter the mood so soon, but the question slipped out before she could stop it.
A beat of silence followed. “I haven’t got a clue.” His gaze was riveted on the ceiling, his expression unreadable. “Why don’t we just take it one day at a time?”
She could live with that. Life was easier to deal with in small chunks. She closed her eyes, snuggled closer. Peace was a funny thing. It crept upon you when you least expected it, spread its golden branches inside you. Before you knew it, hope took root in your heart. She prayed this time she could contain it, that it wouldn’t grow to smother her.
Slowly, sleep rolled over her—a numbing mist that closed around her mind and sent her floating toward the realm of dreams, where the only sensation was a tender echo of contentment.
Dawn swept in, a diamond-flecked haze that flooded the room with light. For once, Zach awoke without any help from Will—his own personal alarm clock. Becca slept soundly in his arms, all delicate curves and fragrant heat. She fit beside him perfectly, completed him like the missing piece of a jigsaw puzzle. The part of him that had died along with their marriage had spun back to life last night, and he found himself smiling up at the ceiling like an idiot.