by Tia Louise
He stretches his long legs into the aisle. “What I wouldn’t give for a cigarette.”
Turning, I get comfortable holding her as I look out the window at the enormous peak rising through the clouds.
“Look, Jilly. Mount Rainier.” I tilt her little body so she can see out the window.
She’s busy sucking a clear blue pacifier, which Roland says will keep her ears from popping. How he knows this shit is beyond me, but I’m not in the mood for another crack about common sense.
We left New Orleans at eight a.m., but because of the time change it’s only eleven when we touch down. It’s noon by the time we arrive at the hotel.
“I’m sorry, sir.” The front desk attendant shakes his head, giving Roland a worried look. “You’re not on the guest list for Miss Hale’s room.”
“But… this is her husband and child.” He points to me, and I shift Jillian in my arms, going along with his half-truth.
The man smiles at us and does a little wave to the baby before turning back to Roland. “I’m sorry, I can’t give you a key to her room without her permission.”
His eyes light, and he pulls out his phone. “Do you have her phone number listed on her reservation?”
“Of course.”
“What if I call her, and she verbally agrees for you to give us a key?”
He frowns and looks down at the computer. “I suppose—”
Roland holds up a finger, and I see Evie’s picture appear on his phone face. He’s going to have Evie pretend to be Lara?
Catching his arm, I pull him to the side. “This is illegal. If she calls security, I can’t—”
“Trust me,” he says in a low voice.
Five minutes later, we’re in Roland’s private room waiting for maintenance to deliver a portable crib. The key to Lara’s room is in my pocket, and I slide my hands inside my blazer to remove my shoulder holster and gun.
“You’re trusting me with that?” He slants a smile at me, and I shake my head.
“I’m putting it in the safe.” I put the holster and my gun in the room safe and program it. Then I turn back. “I’ll leave Jilly with you for now.”
My insides twist with all the feelings I’ve battled for months. I’m not entirely sure what will happen when Lara and I see each other again, and it’s probably best the baby isn’t present.
“We’ll be here.”
Touching her back one last time, I’m amazed at how my baby girl’s mere presence, her warmth and adorable smiles, have managed to cool the burning anger in my chest. Roland’s descriptions of Lara’s tears and desire to protect my honor have further taken the edge off the betrayal I’ve felt since waking up alone in Nice…
But none of it unblocks my telephone number.
None of it puts me in the room when Jillian was born.
None of it restores my trust Lara won’t do it again.
The bitterness in my chest is smoldering, not extinguished, and I can’t deny my primitive need to take her by the arms and shake her until she tells me how she could do it. How she could walk away from everything we said, leaving me with only a note.
I’m not sure what it’ll take to make up for those wounds.
Her room is neat. Her suitcase is open and several outfits are draped over the edge. Toiletries are scattered across the bathroom, and a pair of heels is on the floor at the foot of her large bed.
She left the “Do not disturb” sign on the door, so housekeeping hasn’t made the bed, and the entire room smells of her soft, floral perfume. I go to the picture windows and look out at a white arched bridge with Mount Rainier a haze in the distance.
A sailboat slowly passes, and I’m still turning over these thoughts, battling the tension of my warring emotions, when the noise of the door card bleeps behind me.
Time is up.
She’s here.
Turning to face her, I almost lose the fight when she enters the room.
She’s still so fucking beautiful. I’m spellbound as she pauses to remove her trench coat and hang it in the closet. She holds the doorknob as she toes off her boots, bending down to slip off her white ankle socks. Her long hair falls around her arms in large curls, but when she stands, her expression is so sad, so broken.
On both the train to Canada and the beach in Nice, she still had a spark of determination. Now the light seems to have gone out, and it touches something inside of me.
All these observations occur in the half-second before she sees me. The moment she does, everything changes.
“Mark!” she gasps, blue eyes wide with shock.
I’m across the room in five steps, and she tries to back away, slamming against the closed door. Her eyes close, and her hands go up in a defensive pose.
Without hesitation, I clutch her upper arms in my fists, pulling her against my chest. The heat of her skin is against mine, and her warm breath skates across my neck.
“Surprised to see me?” It’s a low, husky growl, and my insides hum with all the emotions swirling tightly into a ball of rage and relief and fucking love for this woman.
She’s panting, and with every breath, her breasts strain against her thin shirt.
“What are you doing here?” she asks.
My face is close to hers, our noses nearly touching. “Did you think I’d ever stop looking for you? Did you think I wouldn’t find my daughter?”
Her eyes blink up to mine, ocean blue touched with tears. We gaze deeply into each other’s souls for the beat of two hearts, and in that space I feel my wall of anger start to crack.
With a groan, I lean down and take her lips. I push them apart and sweep my tongue inside. She’s off her feet, her hands in the sides of my hair, and our mouths chase each other’s. We’re biting and pulling lips, tongues entwining, the flavors of mint and sugar mingling in our mouths.
I lift her ass and carry her to the large bed in the center of the room, tossing her roughly onto her back. She makes a little cry, moving to her side as she watches me wide-eyed. I rip off my blazer, followed quickly by my tie.
“What are you doing?” Her voice is thick with need.
“You know what I’m doing.” My shirt is over my head, and her eyes darken as they slide down my bare torso.
“Take off your clothes,” I say, and she immediately grasps the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head in a sweep.
Dark hair cascades around her shoulders, around her bra, which is sheer black lace. I see her dark nipples straining through the fabric, and my dick is an iron rod in my pants.
“All of it.” I grasp my belt, then the button on my slacks.
She unfastens her jeans and lifts her hips to shove them off. I take them from her, dragging the tight fabric down the length of her silky legs. Stepping back, I drop them on the floor and admire her new curves. My tongue passes over my bottom lip as my eyes zero in on the triangle of fabric covering her bare pussy.
She whimpers, and I put a knee on the bed, climbing toward her like a lion stalking its prey, claiming what’s mine.
I grasp the tiny scrap of lace and rip it off her body. She emits a little cry, and I bend down, pushing her thighs apart and sliding my tongue up the sweet spot between her legs. Her body falls back and she moans loudly as I focus my efforts on her clit. Holding her down, I circle that sensitive bud as her fingers thread and pull my hair, her nails curling and scratching my shoulders.
“Mark… Mark…” She chants my name as her hips rotate in time with my tongue.
Her taste is in my mouth, and I feel as the tremors rise in her legs, moving higher into her belly, her moans growing louder.
“I’m coming,” she gasps, trembling more.
With one last pull, I kiss my way up to her navel, to her breasts still covered in black lace. Shoving the cups down, I pull a tight nipple into my mouth.
“Yes,” she hisses, holding my cheeks now, her elbows bent beside her body.
She’s squirming beneath me, shimmering on the edge of orgasm, when I rise
up and look into her eyes. She’s desperate with desire, flushed and needy.
“What do you want?” I demand, holding her shoulders with my hands.
She blinks rapidly. “You,” she whispers.
“What did you say?” My brow is lowered, and I let her see a bit of the rage that’s tormented me for three months.
“You,” her voice cracks as she says it louder.
I move higher and claim her mouth again, twining my tongue with hers, swallowing the moan that aches from her throat when I move her thighs apart with my knee. My erection hangs heavy and thick between us, and she rocks her hips up to mine, ready to meet me.
But I hold back.
Pulling away, our mouths part with a little smack.
“No,” I growl. “I want to hear you say it. What. Do. You. Want?”
She closes her eyes and yells. “You! I want you! Please, Mark…” Her voice breaks in a sob as she says my name, and it’s enough for me.
I cover her mouth again, thrusting my tongue to hers as I drive my cock to the hilt into her hot, slippery depths.
“Oh, God!” Her mouth breaks away with a loud cry, and her hips rock fast in time with mine.
We thrust and grip, arms circling and pulling in a primitive ritual, a union of need and long-delayed gratification. I catch her knee in my arm and lift it higher, allowing me to go even deeper. Her head falls back, pressing into the pillows.
“Mark… yes,” she gasps, and I run my tongue up the length of her throat, kissing and pulling the delicate skin between my lips and teeth.
A bright red mark appears, and satisfaction blooms low in my stomach. Her inner muscles ripple and pull as her orgasm rises faster. It triggers mine, pulling and massaging my cock deep inside her. I groan again as my mind starts to blank.
White-hot pleasure snakes up my legs, pulsing in the place where our bodies are joined. She breaks with a loud moan, and I’m right there with her, holding steady as we lift off the ground, as we soar through the clouds, past the highest peak, our arms and legs entwined and our bodies sparkling together, blanketed in orgasmic reunion.
I hold her, and her eyes are still closed. She’s under me, and I’m inside her. Our bodies float gently down, shimmering and relaxing together as we find our way to calm.
We’re breathing fast. She slowly blinks her eyes open, blue clashing with blue, and for all the anger I’ve held, for all the words I still need to say, having her this way, feeling us skin against skin as everything around us melts, I realize I’ve only been this happy one other time in my life—when I first held my daughter in my arms.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” she says, and I kiss her again.
6
“I’ve never met a strong person with an easy past.”
Lara
My fading orgasm is like warm honey beneath my skin, and my lips are sealed to Mark’s. Our tongues entwine, curling, tasting, still hungry after so long apart, desperate for more. He’s like water and oxygen, a deep breath of fresh air at the top of a tall mountain.
“Mark,” I whisper as his lips move to my cheek, my ear.
I’m in his arms, and it feels so right.
And it’s not an illusion.
It’s very, very real.
He pulls me closer, we’re skin against skin, and we rotate to the side. I place my palm against his cheek and look into his eyes… an ache moves through my stomach. I see so much love there and so much hurt. I want to take it all away, atone for what I’ve done, but I don’t know how.
“What do you see?” I ask.
He doesn’t smile. “You’re looking at me the same way you did in Nice.”
Reaching up, I trace my finger along the line of his jaw, smiling, hoping he’ll smile back. “Like I love you?”
“Like it’s a lie. Like you’re going to leave again.”
My brow falls, and I take my hand away. “How did you find me?”
“You returned to the scene of the crime.”
“What?” Panic briefly grips me.
“Your concert with Roland at the piano bar. It was featured on a local website.”
“Oh.” I relax again. “I should have realized. Nothing’s private anymore. Cameras are everywhere.”
“Almost everywhere.”
My lips press together briefly, and I dare to meet his angry eyes. “I’m so sorry, Mark.”
“Stop.” The blaze of anger burns hotter. “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”
“I do mean it. More than you could ever know.”
He pushes into a sitting position, the muscles in his torso flexing as he moves. I reach out to trace my finger down his side, and he catches my hand, holding it away from his body. It hurts that he doesn’t want me to touch him now.
I move to sit up beside him, clutching the duvet around my naked body. “What can I do? Is there any way I can make this right?”
His square jaw moves, and I want to touch him. Having him again, then having him pull away so quickly makes the pain of loss even more unbearable. “You’ll have to prove I can trust you.”
“How?” I’m eager to do whatever it takes.
“Leave here with me now. Come to Alaska, bring the baby, bring Molly… We can get her the help she needs—”
With every word my chest grows tighter. “I want that… I want all of that. I’m just not sure I can convince Molly. And, well… Would you be willing to wait just a few more days?”
His eyes flash. “So you can go after Gavin?”
“Roland told you that?”
“He told me this time it’s more than Molly. This time it’s for you.”
“Yes, but not in the way you think. I want answers. He knows so much of my past…”
“And if the answers only lead to more questions? When does it end, Lara?”
“I don’t know.” My eyes are on my twisting fingers, and I remember how I felt last night, longing for Mark. Feeling like I’m in over my head. I remember the panic of eminent confrontation, and wanting him to hold my hand, tell me to breathe.
Slowly, I lift my eyes to his. “Would you help me?”
The smallest crack appears in the tension between us; the door keeping me out opens slightly. “What do you want me to do?”
Taking a chance, I put my hand on the back of his hand. He doesn’t pull away this time.
“I don’t want to do this alone. I want you to help me get the answers I need.” His hand turns over, and our fingers thread, our palms slide together. I lift my eyes to meet his. “Will you help me find the peace I need? Help me banish this last demon?”
“I’ve only ever wanted to help you.” His brow is still furrowed, but he’s softening. “I’ll tell Roland we might be staying a little longer.”
That makes me jump back. “Roland’s here? But who’s watching—”
“Jillian’s with him. With us—she’s down the hall in his room.”
He’s still speaking as I rip the duvet off me and run to the closet to grab one of the white robes. I hastily tie it around my body, and I’m out the door, trotting down the hall when I realize I don’t know the room number. Stopping, I look back to see Mark wearing only his slacks, following me with a smile on his face. A real smile that warms me to my toes.
“It’s Room 522,” he calls, and I let out a little squeal, scanning the doors.
It’s right across the hall, and I tap soft and fast on the door. It opens almost at once, and I do another squeal when I see her on his shoulder, bright blue eyes round and curious. As soon as she sees me, she smiles and makes her cute little baby noises, and I take her in my arms.
“Oh, Jilly!” My eyes heat, and I kiss the side of her head repeatedly, inhaling her baby-powder scent. “My little sweet potato. Did you miss Mommy? Mommy missed you so much!”
She makes a noise and scrubs her face against my shoulder. She presses her head against me, and I hug her close, swaying gently as I hold her little body, kissing her over and over. She fills me with so much calm a
nd joy.
“I know I’m a step above chopped liver these days, but I’m glad to see you, too,” Roland says, a wry smile curling his lips.
“I’m glad you’re here.” I step forward to kiss his cheek.
“Are you?” A dark brow cocks. “I was afraid you’d be livid with me for all of this.”
“I thought I would, too,” I say in a soft baby-voice, rubbing my nose against Jillian’s skin. “But I’m so happy to see my sweet girl.”
She coos, and the warmth at my back tells me Mark has joined us. His hands cover my shoulders, and I lean my back against his chest as he circles us in his arms.
“She really is a beauty,” he says at my ear, and she perks up at the sound of him. She smiles and blinks, and he takes her out of my arms. “She’s daddy’s girl,” he says, and Jilly leans her head against his bare chest, a chubby finger in her mouth.
“Well, of all the things.” I put my hands on my hips, pretending to be offended, but the truth is I’m thrilled. She already seems to know and love her daddy.
“He’s getting better at helping with her,” Roland observes, leaning against the doorjamb, arms crossed.
“Hey, I’ve never been around babies before.”
“I told you it isn’t rocket science.”
“Oh, ignore him,” I fuss, placing my face close to Jilly’s, my hand on her back. “He thinks he’s the baby whisperer because she rarely cries for him.”
“She only cries when her needs are not properly met.”
Lifting my chin, my eyes meet Mark’s, and we both laugh. Jilly’s eyes blink slowly, and her little ear is pressed right above her daddy’s heart. I wonder if she can hear it beating.
“Let’s go to our room,” I say softly. “When was her last bottle?”
“A few minutes before I opened the door. She’s burped and changed and ready for a nap.”
“What’s going on here?” The impatient female voice causes me to take a step back. “What are they doing here?”
“Well, hello, Molly,” Roland says in his usual play-formal way. “It’s great to see you, too. Isn’t the weather nice for Seattle?”