by Lara Lacombe
Bea smiled and continued, still refusing to look at his face. Red-gold hair dusted his chest, tapering down his torso to form a line that bisected his taut stomach. She ran her hand over it, shivering as she imagined the feel of it against her bare skin.
She took her time, exploring him at a leisurely pace. The Micah she had known was still there, the foundation of the man she saw before her now. In many ways, it was a relief to find him. Micah had been so good to her over the past few days, but she could tell he was holding something back. Getting to know his body in this way made her realize the young man she’d known was still there, that his core hadn’t changed at all. It was only natural he’d be worried about this new beginning. Bea had told him repeatedly she still wanted him, that she wasn’t going anywhere. But actions spoke louder than words. Hopefully she could convince him with her body that her love for him was still going strong.
It took a few seconds for her to unbuckle his belt and unfasten his pants. They dropped to the floor with a thud, leaving him in a pair of boxer-briefs that did nothing to disguise his arousal. Her mouth went dry as she took in the evidence of his desire, and she reached out to touch him.
Micah’s hand grabbed hers before she could make contact. She glanced up to find him staring down at her, his eyes bright with a swirl of emotion. “Not yet,” he said, his voice little more than a growl. “My turn first.”
Bea nodded and dropped her arm, submitting to his request. Micah gave her shoulder a gentle shove, pushing her onto her back. He stepped between her legs, looming over her. His expression was a mixture of satisfaction and anticipation, and she got the impression he was going to pay her back for every touch, every tease she’d just administered to him.
Her skin felt tight, her nerves raw and exposed. Micah reached for her shirt, his fingers brushing her neck as he moved. It was just a graze of skin against skin, but it was enough to make her squirm.
Micah climbed on the bed, straddling her hips. He noticed her reaction, and his answering smile was wicked and full of promise.
“Oh, yes,” he murmured. “I’m going to enjoy this.”
* * *
Micah’s muscles trembled with leashed energy as he carefully worked the buttons on Bea’s blouse. Her exploration of his body had left him so aroused he could barely see straight, but his first glimpse of the creamy skin of her shoulders helped him focus.
She was lovely—that was the only word he could think of that did her justice. Bea had always been beautiful, but seeing her now with her blond hair fanned around her face and her pale skin flushed pink with need, she was breathtaking.
He pulled the edges of her blouse apart, baring her chest. Her bra was plain, a serviceable white cotton that screamed practicality. But on her it was transformed into one of the sexiest things he’d ever seen. Micah took a moment to simply stare, drinking in the sight of her. He’d never thought he’d see her this way again, and a rush of gratitude filled his chest, making it hard to breathe.
Bea wriggled underneath him. “Is everything okay?” She sounded a little self-conscious, and Micah realized she was worried about what he thought. He smiled down at her and ran his fingers along the edges of her bra straps. “Never better,” he said softly.
She relaxed and he leaned forward to nuzzle the soft skin under her jaw. Her scent was intoxicating, the floral notes of her soap filling his nose in a potent bouquet that made his head spin. How he had missed this! Missed the feel of her, the warmth of her body next to his own. The sound of her breathing, the soft moans she made when he touched a particularly sensitive spot. It was everything he remembered, and so much more.
He took his time getting reacquainted, enjoying the new lushness of her curves and the gentle slopes of her body. She had filled out in all the right places since their last encounter, and the feel of her soft, smooth skin was nearly enough to push him over the edge.
Moving slowly, carefully, he removed her shirt and bra, then slid her pants off her hips and down her legs. Seeing her like this, exposed and vulnerable, made a lump of gratitude form in his throat. Bea was such a remarkable woman. He’d spent the last year of high school both amazed and humbled that she had chosen him out of all the other guys around. He’d figured he’d used up his lifetime allotment of luck then and there. But knowing that she wanted to be with him again, after so many misunderstandings and after so much time had passed made him figure someone must be looking out for him.
Not many people got a second chance in life. He wasn’t about to waste this one.
He kissed her reverently, worshiping her with his lips and tongue. There were parts of his life he couldn’t share with her, dark places he didn’t want her to see. But here and now, he could show her how much he loved her.
He moved down her body, enjoying the sound of her soft moans as he touched and kissed her, relearning her secret places. Finally, when he could stand it no longer, he reached over to the drawer and removed a condom.
He fumbled with the wrapper for a second, then frowned. “Damn,” he muttered.
“What’s wrong?” Bea’s voice was so relaxed she sounded almost drugged.
“The condom is out of date.” Disappointment was a heavy weight in his stomach as he hastily reevaluated his plans. It would be all right, he decided. He could still make it good for her—
“It’s okay,” she said, reaching up to take the package from him. “I’m on the pill, and my most recent doctor’s appointment didn’t reveal any surprises.”
“Me, too,” he blurted. “Not the pill part, I mean. But I’m clean. And I haven’t been with anyone in a really long time.”
She smiled up at him, her eyes full of understanding. “Me, neither. No one ever measured up to you, so I kind of stopped looking.”
Her words made his heart swell with love. “I know exactly what you mean.” He leaned down and kissed her gently, once again humbled at the knowledge of her feelings for him.
Bea’s fingers threaded through his hair, then moved down to graze lightly across the skin of his shoulders. Moving in unspoken agreement, they shed the last of their clothes and she bent her knees, planting her feet on the mattress. Micah broke the kiss so he could watch her face as their bodies joined. She met his gaze, her hazel eyes shining with joy as they reunited in the most basic, elemental way.
“Micah.” His name was a whisper of sound, part benediction, part sigh.
“I’m here,” he said, settling into a smooth, easy rhythm. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m never leaving you again.”
Chapter 16
The bed was shaking.
Bea came awake with a sudden start, her brain foggy with sleep as she tried to process what was happening. The mattress moved for another second, then stopped. What was going on?
Earthquake?
No. She dismissed the thought almost at once. But what, then?
The movement started up again, and she realized Micah was thrashing next to her. His body jerked and shuddered, causing the whole bed to shake with his movements.
She rolled onto her side, peering at him in the gray light of dawn seeping around the edges of the curtains. He was frowning deeply, his muscles tense as he kicked and rolled, fighting an unseen enemy.
Bea scooted to the edge of the bed and hesitated, not sure of what to do. She’d read somewhere it was dangerous to wake a person when they were in the middle of the nightmare, but he was clearly suffering. Could she really leave him in that hellscape of a dream when she had the power to free him from its clutches?
He let out a pained moan, the sound tearing free from his throat with an effort that broke her heart. Consequences be damned, she wasn’t going to let this go on any longer.
Moving carefully, she slipped out of bed and walked around to the other side where he lay, breathing hard. His head rocked back and forth on the pillow, as if he was trying to deny something or erase it
from his memory. She considered her options for a beat, trying to figure out the least jarring way to wake him.
In the end, she settled for placing her hand on his lower leg, just under his knee. If he woke up swinging, hopefully she was out of range of his fists.
She shook him gently. “Micah,” she said softly.
He moaned but otherwise didn’t respond. She tried again, shaking him a little harder this time. “Micah,” she said, louder.
Without warning, he jackknifed up on the bed, fists at the ready in a boxer’s defensive stance. Bea let go of his leg and scooted back, giving him space. She knew Micah would never intentionally hurt her, but she also knew he’d never forgive himself if he accidentally lashed out and hit her.
His chest heaved as he gasped for air, and his eyes were wide and unfocused. She knew he wasn’t really awake yet, so she spoke to him, trying to keep her voice even and calm.
“You’re having a nightmare. It’s time to wake up now. It’s just a dream. It’s not real.”
He stilled, his body going stiff as she spoke. After a few endless seconds, his shoulders relaxed and he dropped his head.
“Bea?” Her heart ached at the sound of his voice, tired and almost defeated, as if he’d lost some internal battle.
“I’m here.” She moved back to the bed and sat, placing her hand on his knee. “You’re okay.”
“Did I...” He trailed off, and she heard him gulp. “Did I hurt you?”
“No.” She took his hand, squeezing for emphasis. “Not at all. I woke up because the bed was moving, and when I realized you were having a nightmare, I couldn’t let you go on. It sounded awful.”
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “They can be pretty intense.”
“Do you have them often?”
He shook his head, but the light was too dim for her to see his face clearly. “Not anymore. I mainly get them when I’m stressed about something.”
“The case.” It wasn’t a question—she knew he was upset about finding the bodies in Joey’s backyard and the delay in the investigation. He hadn’t talked to her about it in detail, but his mood all evening had been proof enough.
He nodded, confirming her suspicions.
“What usually happens when you have a nightmare?”
“Chunk wakes me up. But since he’s not here...”
“I think he’s still asleep in the kitchen,” Bea said. “Maybe he figured I’d take care of you, so he could have the night off.”
“He’s earned it,” Micah replied.
He leaned back against the headboard, and Bea rounded the bed and slipped in beside him again. The sheets were cool, so she snuggled up against his warmth. He put his arm around her, holding her in place.
“Was it about the war?”
He stiffened slightly, and she wondered if she’d made a mistake asking him about the nightmare. But she wanted to know what was bothering him, wanted to help him work through it in any way she could.
He was quiet for so long she began to wonder if he was going to answer her question. When he did finally speak, his voice was no louder than a whisper. “Yes.”
“Do you want to talk about it? Maybe if you do, it will help you work through things.”
“No.” He shook his head, his chin brushing against her hair. “There’s no way I’m going to expose you to that. You can’t handle it.”
Bea bristled at his statement. “I’m tougher than I look,” she said, trying to keep her tone light.
Micah ran his hand down her arm. “Some things are too terrible to know. It’s better for you to stay in the dark.”
She processed his words, trying to see things from his point of view. But all she heard was another man in her life who thought he knew what was best for her.
Frustration welled in her chest, and she suddenly didn’t want to touch him anymore. She pushed up, breaking the contact between their bodies. Micah must have sensed the shift in her mood because he turned to face her. “What?”
“You sound like my father.”
He reared back as if she’d slapped him. “What? You can’t be serious.”
“I am. Look, if you don’t want to talk about your nightmare because you’d rather not relive it, that’s one thing. But if you’re holding back because you think I can’t handle knowing what you went through during the war, you’re treating me like a child.”
“I am not—”
“You did the same thing earlier,” she continued, cutting off his protest. “You’re clearly upset about the case, but you won’t talk to me about it, I guess because you think you’re protecting me. And while I appreciate the intent, you’re not doing me any favors. I’m a grown woman. I want to help you, be a true partner to you, but I can’t do that if you keep holding me at arm’s length.”
He was silent, and after a moment she realized he wasn’t going to say anything. “Fenwick thought he knew what was best for me, too. Look how that turned out.”
“I’m not your father,” he said. There was a note of sadness in his voice she hadn’t heard before.
“I know that. But you’re treating me the same way he did.”
“What are you saying, Bea?”
She sighed, her heart heavy. “I guess I’m asking if you can stop thinking of me as someone you need to protect, and start seeing me as your partner.”
“I...” He trailed off, and she blinked as tears stung her eyes. “I don’t know.” He sounded helpless, as if he wanted to give her a different answer but couldn’t.
Bea nodded and slipped out of bed. “Where are you going?” he asked.
“Sun’s coming up,” she said, gathering her clothes. “Might as well start the day.”
“Bea, please don’t leave like this—”
“I’m just going to the bathroom.” Physically, she wouldn’t be going far, but she was already trying to put some emotional distance between them. If Micah couldn’t treat her like an equal, they had no future together.
Apparently, he realized the same thing. “Why can’t you just trust me? I only want what’s best for you.”
She shook her head. “This has nothing to do with trust. And I think you know that.”
He stared at her from the bed, and in the growing light she could see his expression was one of agonized resignation. The tears began to well in earnest, and for a second, she wanted to run to his side and tell him to forget everything she’d just said. If she put a little effort into it, she could overlook his actions. After all, he was only trying to protect her, right?
It would be a difficult pill to swallow, but if she could accept that there were things Micah was never going to tell her, they could move forward and have a relationship again. She’d have him back in her life, and they could build a future together.
Except...she wanted more than just Micah’s physical presence. She wanted all of him—body and soul. And if he was determined to keep parts of his life secret, they’d never have the kind of relationship she wanted.
So, as much as it pained her to do so, Bea had to take a step back. Maybe Micah needed more time to adjust to being around her again. It made sense—they had only just found out about her father’s deception. But while she hoped he would come to understand her point of view, she had to prepare for the possibility that he might not change his mind.
“Try to rest,” she said, pausing at the door. “We still have a few hours before we need to be anywhere.”
He nodded, and as she slipped into the hall, she could have sworn he spoke.
“I’m sorry.”
But it was probably just her imagination playing tricks on her.
* * *
Later that morning, Micah took a deep breath and walked into the interrogation room. Evan Larson sat at the table, looking bored. His lawyer sat by his side, typing madly on his phone. Probably pulling
double duty, working on another case while they waited for the questioning to start. If Evan was bothered by the fact he didn’t have his attorney’s full attention, he didn’t show it. He met Micah’s eyes, then glanced at his watch in silent rebuke.
Micah fought to keep a smile off his face. So Larson wasn’t happy about the wait. Good.
He walked over and sat in the chair opposite Evan, placing the file folder he carried on the table. Inside were printouts of the photos he’d taken of Evan and Thad in the park and crime scene photos of Thad’s body being recovered from the shallow grave in Joey’s backyard. But Micah didn’t reach for them yet. He wanted to talk to Larson, get a feel for his mood before he went in for the kill.
“Glad you could join us this morning,” Micah said.
Evan arched one brow. “You guys didn’t give me much of a choice.”
“This investigation is a priority,” Micah replied. “I’m sure you can appreciate that.”
“Which investigation?” asked the attorney, slipping his phone into his jacket pocket. “I’m sure the department has several ongoing cases. The officers weren’t clear as to which one was relevant to Mr. Larson.”
Micah ignored the man, instead focusing on Evan. “How do you know Joey McBurn?”
Larson’s bored expression remained, but he began to tap his index finger on the table. Micah noticed the gesture but didn’t call attention to it.
So, you do know Joey, he thought, feeling a spurt of triumph. He hadn’t expected it to be this easy—the Teflon Twins were usually more careful about giving away information.
“I don’t think I know anyone by that name,” Evan said. “But it sounds familiar. Where have I heard it before?”
“He’s the latest victim of the Groom Killer,” his attorney said. The man turned to look at Micah. “Is that why we’re here? You really suspect my client of being the Groom Killer?” His tone was incredulous, as if he couldn’t believe Micah or anyone else would entertain such a crazy idea.