Love, Come to Me

by Lisa Kleypas

  She washed her hair and wrapped a towel around it, stepping carefully out of the bathtub. Unable to find her robe, she secured another towel around her chest, tucking the corner of it between the firm swells of her bosom. Walking into the bedroom, Lucy found that it was comfortably warm, and she knelt before the fireplace to dry her hair. The heat of the fire felt good on her face, enticing her to inch closer to the fireguard. She worked at the damp tangles of her hair with light strokes of a brush, pausing often to pry fine strands apart with her fingers.

  Dropping one smooth lock and reaching for another, Lucy discovered that some of her hair was caught in the fancy wrought-iron edges of the fireguard. With an impatient exclamation, she tugged at the entire screen to move it further away from the fire, and then she pulled again at the obstinate lock of hair. It was firmly caught. She was effectively trapped, kneeling on the floor. Yanking harder, she accidentally pulled a few hairs right out of her scalp, and the sharp sting of it caused her to swear. It was so infuriating that after a few minutes she almost found it funny, and a frustrated giggle escaped her. Rubbing her sore scalp and tilting her head to the side, she called for help.

  “Bess! Bess, can you hear me? Is anyone . . . oh, I don’t believe this . . . Bess!”

  “Cin? What in the hell are you doing?”

  Lucy twisted around in response to the low masculine voice and sighed in resignation. Heath was home. She had planned to have a dignified conversation with him about their differences. She had pictured herself, regal, calm, and forgiving as she talked to him, and instead, she was on the floor, half-naked and sitting in a wet heap of towels.

  “I was drying my hair. It got caught,” she said, feeling so foolish and wry that she started to giggle helplessly. Heath did not seem to share her amusement in the situation. His face was hard and expressionless as he closed the door and walked over to her in three strides. Swiftly he dropped to his haunches and brushed her hands away from the fireguard.

  “Let go. I’ll do it.”

  “I think it’s beyond saving,” Lucy informed him, her voice trembling with laughter. “It’s really not that much hair . . . if you have something to cut it with—”

  “Hush.”

  With a great effort, she swallowed her amusement and assumed a serious expression as she watched him free her hair, two and three strands at a time. “My back is hurting,” she said. “I’ve been kneeling here for the last ten minutes, and this wet hair is very heavy.” When she saw that there was no reply, she fell silent, observing his tedious progress until her back really did begin to hurt. “Heath, I’m getting sore.”

  “Lean on me.”

  “I’ll get you all wet.”

  Ignoring her halfhearted protest, he sat down beside her and reached his arms around her to the fireplace screen. There was nothing she could do but settle her back against his chest. Slowly she allowed her head to rest on his shoulder. Occasionally she felt the firmness of his jaw brush against her temple as he worked at her hair with infinite care. Around him lingered the fragrance of shaving soap and expensive linen, the after-work scent of printers’ ink, the warm, masculine smell of his skin. The combination of scents was something she associated only with Heath, and it was comforting and pleasant.

  “I talked with Damon,” Heath said.

  Her eyes were alert, but because of their position she couldn’t see his face. “He told you everything?”

  “Knowing him, probably not everything. But enough.”

  “Heath, I have some questions—”

  “I’m certain you do. But I have one to ask you first.”

  “Ask me whatever you want. I want us to be open and truthful with each other.”

  “I want that too. I’ve never lied to you.”

  “You kept something from me that I should have been told, which . . . isn’t a lie, but it’s not being truthful, either.”

  “The truth,” Heath said quietly, “is that I couldn’t tell you. For all I knew, you’d fall to pieces if you found out Raine hadn’t left Boston. I’m usually on the mark when it comes to guessing what your reactions are going to be . . . but not where Raine is concerned. So when I received her message, and found out that she wouldn’t leave until she and I had a chance to talk privately, I thought the best thing to do was take care of everything myself. Cin, I know what it must look like, but you don’t really believe that Raine and I . . .” He stopped abruptly. Lucy knew what he was asking.

  “No,” she said simply, and she felt his body relax as if in relief. “I don’t believe you would ever be unfaithful to me, even if you were in love with another woman. You have too much honor. You have too much—”

  “I’m not in love with her.”

  “I . . . I didn’t think you were.”

  “I never was.”

  “All the same, you shouldn’t have avoided telling me that she was still here.”

  “At the time it seemed like the best way to handle it.”

  “I understand that,” she said carefully. “But when I found out she was in Boston after I thought she had left, I was afraid for a few minutes that I couldn’t trust you. If we’re afraid to be honest with each other . . . then this marriage is nothing but a sham.”

  “Don’t say that.” Heath let go of the skeins of hair in his hands and settled his hands just below her breasts, almost causing them to spill out of the towel as he pulled her back against him. “You have to trust me. I’m the only one in the world who cares more for your happiness than for his own.”

  She covered his hands with hers, her heart beginning to pound as she heard the gentle obstinacy in his voice. “I want you to be able to trust me in the same way,” she said. “More than anything else, that’s what I wanted to tell you tonight. And if you’re willing, let’s just forget about the past few weeks and start off tomorrow with a clean slate.”

  “And . . . that’s it? No arguments or—”

  “You’d prefer to have an argument?”

  “I’d expected a minor battle, at least.”

  “Not over this. There’s nothing to argue about. We both want the same thing, don’t we?” She caressed the backs of his hands with her palms, and her whole body tingled with pleasure at being near him.

  “Apparently so,” he said, sounding faintly bemused.

  “I just want to know one thing . . . why did Raine stay? I told her before she left the house that I wouldn’t let you go.”

  “She wanted to see if the old days still meant anything to me.”

  “And what did you say?”

  “That they didn’t.”

  “I hope she believed you.”

  “I know she did. Because I told her one other thing.”

  “What?”

  “I told her that I love you.” He felt the quiver that ran through her, and he rubbed his cheek against the softness of her hair. “Lucy, my beautiful girl . . . I thought you’d known it for a long time. But I should have told you out loud, long before now. I fell in love with you a year ago, the first time I held you in my arms.”

  Lucy licked at a tear that had suddenly trickled down to the corner of her mouth. “There’s something you don’t know about me.”

  “What is that?”

  “I’m the kind of woman that needs to hear those words often.”

  “I love you,” he repeated, and there was a smile in his voice.

  “Every day, and every night. Say it again . . . please.”

  He repeated the words behind her ear, and against her throat, and in the tender hollows of her body as he bent his head and began to unwrap the clinging towel.

  “Ouch!” Lucy’s hand flew to her head as her hair was pulled sharply. Immediately Heath shifted her and cursed, turning his attention back to the remaining strands of hair tangled in the wrought-iron fireguard. Despite her own frustrated passion and Heath’s hungry impatience, Lucy began to snicker. “If you don’t hurry, I’m going to have a bald spot.”

  “I’m in no mood for laughing.”
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  His scowl only aggravated her giggling. “I can’t h-help it . . . for so long we’ve wanted to . . . and now that everything is fine, we have to wait . . . so you can—”

  He smothered her words with his lips, kissing her as he had wanted to for weeks, until her laughter had dissolved in a flood of wanting. She made a slight noise, soft and imploring, and he increased the seeking pressure of his mouth. His fingers worked busily at her hair until it came free, and a purr of satisfaction vibrated low in his throat. Staggering to his feet with Lucy in his arms, Heath kissed her as he carried her to the bed, miraculously managing to keep from stumbling or dropping her.

  Lucy pulled him down to her as soon as her back touched the mattress, her slender arms clasped around his broad shoulders, her slim body arching up to his. Desperately she pulled at the tenacious buttons of his shirt, wanting to feel the strong, naked slide of his body over hers. Together they tore at his clothing, both of them intent on stripping away the layers of cloth that separated them. Suddenly Heath gave a ragged laugh at her impatience and anchored her head to the pillow with his hands, interrupting her progress with his shirt in order to kiss her roughly. Their tongues mated in hot, smooth strokes, lips sealed more tightly together, bodies entwined in a snug embrace.

  “I’ll never take this for granted,” Lucy whispered, turning her head away and refocusing her attention on his clothes. “Being close to you . . . being able to love you . . .”

  His mouth traveled down her neck in a moist, wanton caress. “This was never making love before . . . not before you. I knew how different it was going to be with you the first time we kissed.”

  “You knew that . . . just from a kiss?”

  “I’ll have to remind you about that kiss.”

  Somehow Heath shed the rest of his clothes, and he gathered her to him, whispering words that caused her to flush all over. And then, unexpectedly, their movements became slower, languid, reverent. With the knowledge that there would never again be walls between them, all cause for desperation was gone. Trembling, Lucy wound her fingers in his gleaming golden hair as his head moved over her breasts. His mouth captured a soft rose peak and aroused it with a gentle pull. The sleek texture of his tongue soothed her awakening flesh and readied it for another excruciatingly tender tug of his mouth. Her body was filled with a sweet, heavy ache—slumberous and yet aware of every light touch of his hands, every brush of his hair-roughened legs against hers, every short, burning puff of his breath on her skin.

  She wanted to tell him how good it was, but words fluttered beyond her reach, eluding the pursuit of her lips and tongue. Instead, she drew her fingertips down his back in a light, scraping touch, causing him to shiver and catch his breath. And then she saw the bright flash of his smile before his mouth wandered to the fragile skin below her breast, the fragrant undercurve where she felt the teasing flicker of his tongue. Her knees were urged apart by the weight of his body, and she opened to him willingly, tensed and eager to feel him inside her.

  “Not yet . . . not yet,” he said softly, slipping his hands underneath her. Smoothly he rolled over onto his back, taking her with him. Lucy found herself straddling his thigh, her pliant curves flattened on top of his hard-muscled frame. As she read the invitation in his glowing turquoise eyes, she clambered gamely over him, inching upwards until their mouths were even and the tips of their noses were touching. Her hair flowed over him in a shining deluge, and he smoothed it away from her face. He held her hair back until their lips met, and then he let it drop to form a silken curtain around his face as their kiss deepened. Lucy writhed on top of him, against the masculine hardness of him pressing between her legs, until his hands clamped over her buttocks to keep her still.

  “Don’t move,” he said hoarsely, his fingers flexing gently into the sleek roundness of her flesh. “After all the waiting you put me through, I’m going to be the one that decides how, when, and where.”

  She smiled and offered her mouth to his with sweet generosity. “Then all you have to do is tell me,” she breathed against his lips. Her eyes danced with an impish light. “Don’t be shy.” She pressed a kiss on the corner of his mouth. “How?” Another kiss, on the firm line of his jaw. “When?” A last, soft kiss on the side of his neck. “And where?”

  Deftly he flipped her onto her back, his mouth taking a fleeting taste of hers before he lifted himself away from her, and she was bereft of his touch. “Heath?” she asked, suddenly bewildered, and her eyes flew open to find him. She could only see the dark silhouette of him against the bright firelight. “Heath—”

  “Shhh. I’ll answer all your questions at once.”

  She felt the warm palms of his hands curve over her bent knees, prying them open and spreading them wide, sliding over her inner thighs until she fell back against the pillow helplessly, her mind reeling at the burning touch of his fingertips. His head settled between her thighs, his hands suppressed the sudden flinch of her body, and then his mouth was opening over the softest, most private part of her. Her legs flexed involuntarily as she instinctively sought to protect herself from this utter vulnerability, but her ankles were pinned underneath him. His tongue stole out to stroke her trembling flesh, and his hand slid over her hip bones in a slow, circular massage. Subsiding back against the pillows, she said his name weakly, her voice a shadow of sound. She sensed the depths of the pleasure it gave him to hold her helpless and trusting in his hands, knowing her as no other man ever would. Her blood surged with startling force, so that all she could hear was its pounding in her ears, and then ecstasy convulsed her with a violent caress.

  Slowly Heath raised his mouth, nuzzling the damp triangle of curls at the top of her thighs, and despite what they had just shared, Lucy went scarlet at the sight. His eyes twinkled as he saw her discomfiture, and he eased back up to kiss the side of her neck. How intimate he was with her, as if no part of her should remain secret from him. She had never dreamed that any man would want to know her so well; she had never imagined when she first met this man that someday he would possess her thoughts, her heart, and her body so completely. And yet, perhaps she had known. Who was to say when love began? The first glance, the first kiss, the first promise—it didn’t matter. She looked at him with her heart in her eyes, and the gentle suggestion of a smile lurked in the corners of her mouth.

  “I love you, Heath. I love you.”

  He rose above her, and the dispersed light from the fireplace played over the scarred sleekness of his skin. Fire and gold, sinew and strength—he was a marvel to her, and she reveled in the knowledge that he had given himself to her. Filling her slowly, he waited with unsteady gasps as he felt the delicate inner stretch of her body, and then she lifted her hips to accept him more deeply. Endless moments were theirs as their flesh was joined. She answered his long, heavy strokes with the same perfect rhythm, with the tender strength of her love. His muscles tightened, and he thrust into her one last time, the heat of him spreading through her in a searing flow. They held each other tightly, reluctant to allow any separation between their bodies. Splaying her fingers through his hair, she kissed the salty dampness of his temples, his cheeks, his lips. He smiled and rolled over lazily as he was suffused with pure masculine contentment, pulling her on top of him so that she could continue the rain of kisses undisturbed.

  She cuddled closer against him while their warmth combined under the covers. “Now I’m even sorrier for all those nights we didn’t spend together.” Her hand wandered across the ridged flatness of his midriff.

  “I’m not. We both had some learning to do, some thinking to do.”

  “Are you saying you didn’t miss me?” she demanded in mock outrage.

  “Settle down,” he said, and chuckled, pulling her closer against his side. “Hell, yes, I missed you . . . I spent most of those nights staring up at the ceiling or pacing the floor. But I needed that time alone in order to figure out what a stubborn fool I had been for letting my pride come between us.”

  “Yo
ur pride?”

  “Those weeks after I was sick . . . I realized how much I depended on you . . . and it was hard on my ego.” A touch of sheepishness entered his voice. “I was raised to think a man should take care of everything and be in control at all times. And then all of a sudden I was at everyone’s mercy, especially yours. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you, but I felt I had to put some distance between us, until I felt more . . . in control again.”

  “Maybe I was a little bossy. But I was frightened for you. I’ve never been so afraid about anything—”

  “You weren’t bossy. You were exactly the way you should have been. I know all about what you went through, and what you did, and God knows I wasn’t so much of a fool that I didn’t appreciate what a woman you turned out to be. On the other hand, a man’s pride is easily bruised, Cin.”

  “I’ll take care to remember that,” she said with exaggerated solemnity, and yelped as he made a move as if to tickle her.

  “Sass. I try to talk to you about something serious, and all I get is sass.”

  “Heath . . .” She crawled on top of him and lay her head on his chest, “I wish it could have been like this in the beginning. Now I can hardly believe there was so much anger between us, and that I was actually afraid of being . . . intimate with you—”

  “We didn’t know each other then. And I should have been more patient with you. After all, I’d taken you away from Daniel—”

  “You were doing me a favor.”

  “True, but you didn’t know that at the time.”

  “Conceited thing.” She made the words sound like an endearment as she strung kisses along his collarbone.

  “But I’ll always have a little guilt about the way I got you away from Daniel. I should have done it another way. That morning after Emerson’s fire . . . I knew if I could get you in a compromising position, someone was bound to see us. It was just a coincidence that it happened to be Daniel and Sally.”