He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. The refrigerator in the kitchen hummed, the only sound for several moments.
“Mac? Talk to me,” she whispered.
She’d almost given up hope that he would answer when he said in a hoarse voice, “I don’t know how to begin.”
She moved to sit on the coffee table, directly in front of him, trying to get close enough to hear. “Why don’t you start with what you think about when you can’t sleep.”
Crouching forward in his chair, he brought his face out of the shadows and into the moonlight. He rested his elbows on his knees and stared at the floor. “I think about…how I don’t want to sleep, because as soon as I close my eyes, I’ll see that night happen all over again.”
She assumed he was talking about the shooting but to be certain asked, “What night? What happened?”
He cleared his throat. “I was off duty, at a gas station, filling up my car, when I heard a woman screaming. She was in the station’s convenience store, kneeling on the ground, with her arms raised in surrender. The cashier had his arms up too, and by the expression on his face, I knew he was being held up.”
Emily listened intently, knowing how the story would play out but dreading the ending just the same.
“I ran up and saw the gunman waving a pistol around. The woman noticed me coming, I think. I was already taking aim, waiting to get just the right angle, when the gunman turned to see what she was staring at. He aimed right for me, and I fired.”
A muscle in his jaw twitched, and he swallowed convulsively. “He was just a stupid kid,” he whispered. “The gun was fake…none of it had to happen…” He trailed off, putting his head in his hands.
Emily slid from the coffee table to kneel before him, gently grabbing his forearms to pull his hands away from his face, wanting him to look her in the eyes. “You did exactly what any other police officer would have done in that situation.”
“I know. I know,” he whispered. “It’s just—”
“Just what?” she coaxed.
“I keep thinking—he’s never going to get to go to college or have his first real job. He’ll never get married or have children. All because of me.”
Comprehension dawned. “And so, you think that because he’ll never do those things—you can’t either.” Why hadn’t she realized this sooner? She of all people should have recognized the signs of self-persecution. This was why Mac thought he couldn’t be in a relationship—he didn’t think he deserved it.
He didn’t deny her supposition and she placed her palms on either side of his face. “Mac, you deserve to live your life. You deserve to be happy. You don’t need to punish yourself for what happened. There was no way you could have known.”
He wrapped his hands around her wrists and bobbed his head in agreement, but Emily knew he didn’t believe a word she’d said.
She returned to her perch on the coffee table, but stayed close to him, their knees touching. “I suppose Sean’s told you how our parents died.”
He looked up curiously at her change of subject. “He said it was a car accident.”
She nodded. “Did he tell you I was driving the car when it happened?”
“No, he didn’t mention that.” He took her hands in his, giving them a sympathetic squeeze. “That must have been horrible.”
“It was raining that night. I was driving because we’d been out to dinner, celebrating my high school graduation, and my dad had had a couple of drinks. My mother didn’t like driving in the rain, so I volunteered.” She fought the tightness in her throat, focusing on the warmth of his strong hands around hers. “I tried to stop for the red light…I hadn’t been going that fast, but I hydroplaned and went into the intersection.” She paused, closing her eyes, though it did little to block the memory of those last terrifying seconds. “A pickup truck hit the passenger side. It killed them both instantly.”
Wordlessly, he pulled her into his arms, reversing their roles as he comforted her. Grateful, she sat sideways on his lap, her head tucked naturally under his chin, as if they were two pieces, perfectly made to interlock.
She breathed in his clean, familiar scent. “My head hit the window—hard. I was in a coma for weeks, and when I came out of it, I asked Sean how our parents were. He told me they had died, and we cried together…Ten minutes later, I asked him again.” The even rise and fall of Mac’s chest paused beneath her cheek, his breath suspended. “The doctors called it Traumatic Brain Injury and it’s what caused my short-term memory problems. I learned ways to retrain my brain through therapy, and it got better. But I will never be the way I was before the accident.”
He kissed the top of her head. “And yet, you went on to get a master’s degree,” he said, his voice hoarse and slightly muffled by her hair.
“I did, but it was so hard. I had no social life during that time. Every minute of my life was devoted to studying, and even then, I was just barely getting by.” She paused, hoping he would see the parallels in their stories. “I thought that was pretty just punishment though. It seemed like an appropriate cross to bear for killing my parents.”
“Emily, no. God, you didn’t deserve that. It was an accident.”
She straightened in his lap, bringing her eyes level with his. “I know that now. I’ve forgiven myself, and I’m trying to move on.” She touched his cheek, holding his brown-eyed gaze. “I didn’t deserve a brain injury any more than you deserve a lifetime alone. You have to forgive yourself.”
He closed his eyes, resting his forehead on hers. Beneath her palms, she felt his jaw muscles tic and knew he was fighting for control. He didn’t need to do that for her—didn’t need to hide behind a stoic facade. Wanting him to know she didn’t see emotion as weakness, she whispered, “Let it go, Mac.” At his quick intake of breath, she ran her fingers through his hair and then cupped his cheeks once again to force his gaze back to her face. “You need to let go of the guilt.”
* * *
Emily’s words washed over him, and he fought to rein in a violent swirl of emotions. He’d been drowning in guilt and self-recrimination for over a year, and now, she was offering him forgiveness. Not her forgiveness of course, but rather the possibility that it was okay to forgive himself. His chest felt tight, as if he had been swimming in a deep lake, but was now approaching the surface, about to break free to the promise of air. Air, after a year of holding himself under.
One arm hugging her close to his chest, he used his free hand to gently pull her hands down from his face. Holding one of her hands in his, he stared at where they were joined and stroked the backs of her fingers with his thumb.
“I can’t—” His voice broke and after clearing his throat, he tried again. “I can’t get any closure. I can’t let the guilt go, because I can’t even tell his family—his mother—how sorry I am.” He continued stroking her hand, running his thumb over her finger like a worry stone. “The lawyers have forbid any communication, saying that if I said I was sorry about what happened it would be construed as an admission of guilt.” His short laugh was completely devoid of humor. “How’s that for fucking irony? I can’t stop feeling guilty unless I admit I’m guilty.”
Seconds of silence, filled with his unspoken thoughts and regrets, ticked by until Emily asked softly, “If his mother were here, right now, what would you say to her?”
He didn’t even have to think. He’d already said it a thousand times in his head. “I’m sorry. I’m so goddamned sorry. If I could go back in time and undo it, I would.” Emily’s arms came around him, and he pulled her closer, drawing courage from her warm touch. “I’d tell her that I think about him every day—that not a single day goes by that I don’t wonder what he’d be doing if he was alive. And I’d ask her to please understand that I never ever would have fired if I hadn’t believed with every fiber of my being that he was going to shoot me or someone else.”
Mac never would have believed that by simply giving voice to his sorrow, his grief, his regret, he could find s
uch relief. The tightness in his chest eased, and he felt as if he could breathe again. He longed for the forgiveness of the boy’s family, but in forgiving himself, he could at least tread water again, and that was more than he’d been doing for a very long time. Something in him had changed, his world had shifted, and it was because of Emily.
He held her close, breathing her in, the warm scent of her skin, the clean smell of her hair. And then…he just…breathed…
* * *
Emily wasn’t sure how long they’d stayed like that, wrapped in one another’s arms, her head resting on his shoulder. She was fairly certain that at some point she’d dozed off. She listened to the even sound of Mac’s breathing and couldn’t help smiling when she realized he’d fallen asleep. Finally. After all these sleepless nights, Mac had found peace.
He couldn’t be very comfortable though, sleeping in a chair with her on his lap. She loathed doing anything that might wake him from his hard-won rest, but truth be told, she wasn’t very comfortable now herself.
If she could just ease off of him, without waking him—nope, no go. His arms tightened reflexively around her when she tried to stand up. He murmured something unintelligible and then resumed sleep breathing.
“Mac,” she whispered.
His sleepy, hooded gaze met hers and her breath caught. He tilted his head toward her, his eyes clearing and then focusing on her mouth. Her pulse quickened at the realization he was going to kiss her and at the realization that she wanted his kiss more than she’d ever wanted anything else in her life. She had the sense she was falling, taking a leap of faith that this man was worth risking her heart.
He pressed his lips, warm and soft, gently against hers. Timidly, she tasted him with her tongue and relished the groan that came from somewhere deep in the back of his throat. He demanded more then, burying his hands in her hair and clasping her to him with an urgency that made her feel utterly desirable. Emboldened, she adjusted in his lap to straddle him, pressing herself against his rigid desire and exploring further with her tongue. He tasted of mint and chap stick.
His hand snaked beneath her shirt, moving up her torso to cup her breast, his slightly calloused palm sending shivers of pleasure everywhere it touched. He moved his thumb back and forth across her nipple, and she arched further into him.
Pressing herself against him, feeling his hardness meet her softness, she had only one thought. She had to be closer to him—had to feel like their bodies were melded together as tightly as their souls. He must have felt the same way as he was frantically removing the clothes that separated them. He lifted her shirt over her head and bent to take the nipple he’d been teasing with his thumb into his mouth. At the feel of gentle suction, Emily’s eyes fluttered closed. She tugged at his t-shirt and marveled at how his mouth seemed to never leave her body even as the shirt went over his head.
Holding him to her chest, her head dropped back, and she sighed. “To the bedroom?”
With surprising speed, he stood, pulling her legs around him, and carried her to his room. Never releasing his hold, he laid her back on the bed, covering her with the delicious weight of his body.
Emily’s skin felt hot, and an overwhelming sense of urgency overcame her. She wanted him. Needed him. Now.
He removed the rest of her pajamas and pulled back for a moment to study her body from her toes to her face. Running his palm over every exposed inch of her skin, his gaze followed the path of his hand, and rather than feeling shy as she would have expected, she felt powerful. Desirable.
“I’ve wanted this since the moment I first saw you,” he said, his voice thick with need. “And you’re so beyond anything I could have imagined.”
“Please—” She reached for him, and he came to her, kissing her lips and invading her mouth with his tongue in a rhythm that sent echoing sensations between her legs.
Still kissing her, he reached clumsily into his nightstand, and she heard the crinkle of a foil packet.
“Here. Let me,” she said, shocking herself with her boldness. When she took him in her hand, his head snapped back in ecstasy, and a powerful rush surged through her. She took her time with the condom, stroking and teasing until he was rock solid in her tight grip.
“Oh, God,” he hissed. “Please, tell me you’re as ready as I am.” Without waiting for her answer, he touched the soft wet petals of her womanhood, stroking and circling until she thought she might spontaneously ignite. She murmured in his ear, unable to speak coherently, but communicating her need just the same. He positioned himself between her legs, entering in slow degrees. She felt stretched, but she was more than ready and desperate to be filled. Running her hands down his back to his bottom, she urged him closer and then tightened reflexively when he entered her fully.
He froze, pulling back to look at her face, his eyes questioning. “Em?”
She breathed deeply, trying to relax.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked.
“No. Please, Mac. Don’t stop.” When he didn’t move, she added, “Please, I need you.”
His mouth descended on hers, his breath a thousand whispered endearments against her lips.
He moved over her, quickly finding a rhythm that took them both to the brink, and when she could take it no longer, she pulled him to her and cried out, her body tightening around him. Her release sent him over the edge as well, and his body trembled when he emptied himself inside of her.
She closed her eyes and savored the feeling of being one with him. And when an insidious voice whispered in her head, reminding her that she could lose him at any moment, she brushed it aside. Because right now, in this moment, she had everything she needed.
* * *
Mac rolled onto his back, pulling Emily with him and holding her at his side. He stared at the ceiling in wonder. What was that? That hadn’t been sex. It had been more than that. Much more. Never had he lost himself so completely. Never had he lost all control as he had with her. He was amazed at how fully she gave of herself and humbled by the suspicion that he might be the only man she had ever given herself to.
“Em? Was that—” How should he ask this? “Was that your first time?”
She didn’t answer, but instead hid her face against his shoulder, and he suddenly felt foolish for thinking there was any possibility that someone as alluring as her had remained a virgin.
She peeked up from her hiding spot, her cheeks turning an adorable shade of pink. “That obvious, huh?” She rose up on her elbow, covering herself with the sheets. “I’m sure I could get better, with a little pract—”
“Better? Jesus, Em, if you got any better, I’d probably handcuff you to the bed and never leave this room again. In fact, I’m sort of tempted to do that now.”
She raised a disbelieving brow, and he experienced a moment of doubt. Maybe she hadn’t had the same soul changing experience he’d had. “Trust me, it couldn’t have been any better for me, but for you…If I had known…that it was your first time…I would have gone slower…I’m sure it will get better for y—” Her laughter cut him off.
“Oh, Mac.” She sighed, lightly kissing his lips. “It was wonderful. Perfect. I never dreamed it could be like that.”
Relief came knocking, but he wasn’t able to answer just yet. He still didn’t understand, and he was suddenly very concerned that he’d just pushed her into breaking some sort of religious vow. “I don’t mean to sound like a jaded ass, but how? How is it possible?”
She shrugged, and the sheets revealed more of her perfect breast, momentarily distracting him. “It’s like I was telling you. I had so much on my plate with my recovery that I never had a social life when I was in college. Then I went immediately into my master’s program, and when I started working, well, I guess I just got wrapped up in that. None of it came easy. I always had to study longer, work later, just to keep up with everyone else.”
“Can I make a confession?” he asked.
Her eyes widened mischievously, her mouth gaping open in mo
ck surprise. “You’re a virgin, too?”
“Ah, no.”
“Then what’s your confession?”
“I’m selfishly thrilled. I’m glad you never had time for anyone else, and I’m sure that makes me an asshole, because it couldn’t have been easy for you all those years. But it’s true. I’m glad I was your first.” And shockingly, he wanted to be her last. Her only.
“Me too,” she said, kissing him again and smiling against his lips.
She moved closer, lying on top of him, and a new wave of desire poured through him. He tried to gently roll her off of him. “Keep that up and you’re going to get more of me than you bargained for.”
She smiled wantonly. “Maybe that’s what I want.”
“It’s too soon. You’ll be sore.”
She laughed and rolled over him, boldly straddling his lap. “Oh, please. I’m a modern woman who’s used modern feminine products for fifteen years. This is hardly the first time I’ve been breached.”
He laughed incredulously. “I’m sorry. Are you comparing me to a tampon?”
“All I’m saying is that I’m not some fourteen-year-old maiden from medieval times. I’m not going to be sore, except for maybe some muscles that I don’t normally use.” She leaned over to kiss him again, sneaking her hand down between them where she found him already hard.
He moaned and teasingly whispered against her lips, “You wound my pride my lady. Surely, after having someone as…substantial as myself, you would feel a little bit sore.”
Her blue eyes twinkled with delighted laughter. “Oh yes, most certainly. But I think the pleasure just might be worth the pain.”
“Mmm. Well, who am I to argue with that?” He kissed her into silence, cupping her breasts and using his thumbs to swirl patterns of pleasure over her nipples. She purred and ground against him. He resisted the urge to flip her on her back and devour her again. She seemed to be enjoying toying with him, and he was happy to relinquish control. He just hoped he could last against her exploring hands and mouth, which were making the blood rush to his cock and leaving very little for his brain.
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