by Dee Tenorio
She cried out, her body jerking from the force of her release, and still, he kept moving. Kept plunging into her. Swelling thicker, ratcheting her orgasm higher instead of bringing her down, until finally, she was bucking beneath him as he came, spilling inside her while he groaned against her neck.
She let go of his hands to clasp his shoulders, holding on as their bodies slowly cooled. “I almost never want to leave this elevator.”
He chuckled but didn’t move. “We may have to just bring it home with us.”
She smiled. Home.
He seemed to realize how she’d savored the easy way he said it, because he kissed her, his gaze meeting hers with a world of meaning in it.
“Home.”
Epilogue
Julia didn’t hear the door opening so much as the racket that always happened when the front door opened. She wiped her hands on the dishtowel with a grin before heading out of the kitchen toward the foyer. As usual, she had to navigate a virtual minefield of things left out despite having just picked up the debris before going into the kitchen to check on dinner.
The dog was barking excitedly. Almost two years old, little Kirby had yet to realize that being a corgi meant he wasn’t designed for jumping much higher than Grant’s knee, but that didn’t mean he didn’t try. Every day.
As expected, it was the usual mayhem she found. Grant trying with one hand to get the door closed and locked again, his briefcase on the floor, already spilled on its side while Kirby jumped around like a corgi-shaped spring. “Kirby, that’s enough now.”
“Hey.” Grant smiled, finally getting the lock flipped. He managed a step closer to her, despite the giggles and squeals and barks on his other side, already reaching to pull her close for a kiss. Julia gave up trying to be stern. This had been their evening ritual for a year now and it was one she knew he loved as much as she did. “Good day today?”
“There’s a new spill on the carpet, but otherwise, pretty good. You?”
He frowned. “No word from JD?”
“Oh, plenty of words, but I told him no.” She reached for the morsel in his other arm, but he didn’t let her get away with that so easily.
“You’re trying to tell me you don’t want to do a guest spot with the LA Harmonic?” His expression told her how little he believed that.
“Not this year, no.” She reached again, but again he dodged. “Grant.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’ll be too busy.”
Instead of handing her what she was reaching for, he put it down with a gentle pat so he could cross his arms and glare at her.
Julia only rolled her eyes and walked back into the living room. He’d been pushing so hard on this for weeks now, once he’d realized she’d been ducking JD’s messages. Of course, the traitor had probably emailed Grant, just to get his way. Life had almost been easier when they’d hated each other. “I don’t know why this is so important to you.”
“Because it’s important to you, even if you won’t admit it.”
She stopped walking, staring down at the living room floor. Four years. It had been four years since that fateful day in the elevator that had saved their marriage—in many ways, their lives—but when he took that tone, all of it came rushing back to her as if it had just happened. The promises they’d made. The fears that still snuck out every now and again to try to steal what was most important to them.
He was right. She did want to play again. JD had offered her a guest soloist spot for his winter performance. When he’d asked, her heart had leapt, but then the fears had come. The 5 Freeway wasn’t a winding mountain road, but it was still a long drive to Los Angeles. And irrationally, another fear haunted her. Had haunted her since last October.
A small hand, dimpled and soft, grasped her leg.
She stared down into a small face, dominated by smiling gray eyes.
Dillon. The other blessing from that elevator day. She’d been terrified at first, when she’d realized she was pregnant. Terrified that she couldn’t go through it all again. Terrified that Grant couldn’t. But the strangest thing had happened. Having their son, watching him grow within her, had healed a part of Grant she’d thought would never find peace. In many ways, having that tiny life within her had brightened the shadows inside her own soul, too. But Dillon was three now, the same age as Autumn, and no matter how she tried, she couldn’t quell the fears. If she could just speed up time, could race until he was four, she’d feel safe. Well, safer. With JD’s offer, pure terror had struck.
And Grant, damn him, had been watching and waiting for her to confess it all.
She felt his arms around her. It would have been easier to be angry at him if he’d picked an argument, but no, he’d allowed her to mull, slowly drawing her out. His loving arms around her, offering comfort because he knew. He knew.
“He’s three,” she said nonsensically, blowing a breath out so she wouldn’t cry.
“I know.”
She nodded, because there wasn’t much else to say.
“But we can’t live our lives waiting for the other shoe to drop, remember?”
She didn’t want to nod, but she did. Because he was right. It was what they’d agreed on in therapy.
“You want to play. I want you to play. JD wants you to play. Even Dillon wants you to play.”
Julia looked down to where their towheaded son stood, fussing with his overalls, not caring in the slightest if she took on a guest slot eight months from now.
“Look at it this way. By next December, he’ll be four.”
She blinked, everything else in her going still.
“When you need to practice, we’ll have a babysitter. Or a part-time nanny to help out. We won’t be driving up there until it’s time for the concert. And he’ll be four.”
She smiled, her whole body relaxing into his. She wrapped her arms over his, hugging him back. “You’re not supposed to enable me, remember?”
“I think just this once, it’ll be okay.”
She didn’t kid herself. There would always be a little bit of fear. But he was right. They’d survived so much, rebuilt their lives and moved forward. This was just another step.
He twined their fingers together. She stared down at them, seeing their son peering up at her, his pudgy little hands reaching to join theirs. He had no idea what it meant, but he knew he was part of it. Part of them. She opened their hands to pick him up, hugging him close and taking in that lingering baby scent he had yet to lose.
“You hug me.” Dillon giggled.
“I kiss you, too,” she answered, peppering his cheek with loud smacking kisses and swallowing the fear back down.
Grant wrapped his arms around them both and Julia sighed one last time. It was enough.
“I’ll call JD after dinner.”
“No time like the present,” Grant rumbled with a grin before snatching their son and running out of the living room with the happily shrieking child.
She shook her head, the happiness they gave her taking the place of the fear, the way it always did. He was right. No time like the present…
About the Author
Dee Tenorio is a sick woman. Really sick. She enjoys tormenting herself by writing romantic comedies (often with sexy, grumpy heroes and smart-mouthed heroines) and sizzling, steamy romances of various genres spanning dramas with the occasional drop of suspense all the way to erotic romance. But why does that make her sick?
Because she truly seems to enjoy it.
And she has every intention of keeping at it! If you would like to learn more about Dee and her work, please visit her website at www.deetenorio.com or her blog at http://www.deetenorio.com/Blog/.
Look for these titles by Dee Tenorio
Now Available:
All of You
All or Nothing
Burn for Me
Love Me Knots
Love Me Tomorrow
Kiss Me Again
Test Me!
Midnight Legacy<
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Midnight Temptation
Midnight Sonata
Betting Hearts
In this game of love, winning is not an option.
All Or Nothing
© 2010 Dee Tenorio
The Lonnigans, Book 2
Lucas Lonnigan thinks he’s finally gotten the best of his twin brother, until he discovers his half of a date-swap is none other than metal artist Belinda Riggs. A leather-dipped Goth queen who considers him a cross between a pin cushion and a science project—and the woman he’s loved forever.
Belinda isn’t exactly overjoyed to see him, either. In her opinion, love means becoming a punching bag, and she won’t be anyone’s doormat. Lucas is too dangerously tempting to allow within striking distance of her heart, but that doesn’t stop her from wanting.
After one blazing night of passion, Lucas finds himself locked out of Belle’s life with seemingly no chance to get back in. With nothing left to lose, Lucas makes a final play and appeals to the one thing Belle can’t say no to—a dare. Winner take all.
Lucas may think this crazy game will decide their relationship, but she sees it as her chance to finally set him free—and maybe indulge in the sexiest goodbye of her life…
Warning: Story may sizzle your undies off. Includes pigheaded hero with a cranky heart of gold, bitchy heroine with a flamethrower, massively inappropriate behavior, make-up / break-up sex of the sinful kind…and a puppy!
Enjoy the following excerpt for All Or Nothing:
Only decent people feel guilty, Belinda told herself while she tried to drown in her shower. Face to the hard, hot spray, she hoped the stinging impact would wash the sense of guilt away. The last thing anyone had called her for the past decade was decent. She thrived on being rude, heartless and flat-out bitchy when the occasion called for it. The tugs of conscience were harder to feel that way. Usually. But now, because of a box of scraps, the tugs of guilt were feeling more like whips.
It’s for his own good.
He’d move on. Find someone who would love him like he deserved. Love him like he needed. Someone at least slightly less wrecked than herself.
But being right and being guilt-free were apparently not mutually exclusive.
Angry, she turned off the water…and heard so loud a clank Michigan could have landed outside. She frowned at the handle, but then there was another crunching clank. Rising on her toes, she tried to look out the small window at the top of the stall, but could only see a piece of metal flying. What the hell was going on out there?
Then she heard the bark.
Eyes wide, she lowered herself from the window. Lucas. In her yard. While she was naked.
That sprang her into action more than anything, despite the fact that he was hucking around heavy metal like it was a discus tournament. She threw back the curtain, grabbing the towel waiting there on her way out. Not wanting to take any more time than necessary, she dried off with only a ragged pat-down. She was too busy trying to rustle up her temper to acknowledge her terror at being cornered. He had no right to be there uninvited. He had no right coming when he knew she didn’t want him there. He simply had no rights at all.
She stomped into a pair of coveralls, yanked on a worn pink tank top that had seen enough bleach to make it good for summer work and wrapped a bandana over her wet hair to keep it out of her face. By the time she had her work boots secure, she was fantasizing about introducing him to the steel toe. He probably didn’t hear her rumbling down the steps, but he damn sure heard her when she exited the bay doors to the open yard beyond with her hands on her hips and the fire of hell in her lungs.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
“You don’t want to be pushing my buttons right now, Belle,” he answered in typical growl mode, not bothering to look at her.
She scoffed, watching him pick up an abandoned sink from the back of the ancient Mazda flatbed she used for junking and take it to a pile of other midsized items. He was in cut-off gray sweat shorts and tennis shoes. His T-shirt was off, one end tucked into his back waistband, leaving all that warm honey skin open to her viewing pleasure. Mad or not, it was a pleasure to look at him, especially since he was already slick.
“You’re in my yard, Lonnigan. I can push any button I damn well please.”
He ignored her. He actually ignored her. A few pieces of pipe got thrown into the small pipe pile, making the puppy yelp as he hopped to avoid things being lobbed all around. He wasn’t in any danger, but she could tell by his darting eyes and tucked tail, he didn’t know that.
Against her better judgment, she bit her inwardly cupped lower lip and whistled. “Over here, Sparky, before your daddy kills you.”
The pup was grateful, running awkwardly on huge paws, but if the suddenly flying wheel rims were any indication, Lucas wasn’t.
“I didn’t ask you to do this.” Not that she ever did. She had a deal with the local junker to take a truckload of sortables off his hands each month. Lucas always showed up on sort day to load up her truck at the junkyard and unload it in her metal yard. It was just one other thing she’d have to learn to do without him. She hadn’t had the energy to do it since their “date”. Hard to believe it happened less than a week ago.
She circled the truck, putting her hand on the bed wall while he reached in for another sink. He dragged it toward himself, every muscle in his arms and torso flexing with the effort and all but knocking the wind out of her.
Huffing, she grabbed the edge of the sink and tugged it her way. “Stop. I don’t want you to do this.”
“This isn’t about you,” he bit out. He wouldn’t even look at her, but his leather gloves made a loud noise as he tightened his grip.
“Like hell it isn’t.”
“What I mean is that I don’t care what you want, Belle.” He yanked the sink out of her grasp, hefted it onto his shoulder and walked away with it.
She stayed there, her mouth open in shock while he crossed to her piles and dumped it unceremoniously next to the last one. He walked back, his eyes narrow in the morning sunlight but flaring with brilliant color anyway. Rage made him dangerous. She could sense the ripple of power under his control, feel the energy crackling through him. Her response to it felt elemental, like a magnet being drawn to a far more powerful source. She held the truck wall tighter to keep from going to him, despite the fact that he wasn’t even looking at her to beckon her. In fact, he was looking everywhere but at her. Which only angered her more.
“Lucas!” She felt his attention shift to her even if his eyes didn’t. “What part of go away is hard for you to understand?”
He flexed his hands inside the work gloves. Open once. Close once. Open again. Then they closed into a knot of flesh and leather. She felt his gaze hit her like a fist, instantly making her regret pushing.
She took a step back. Not in fear of him, but his intensity. Every emotion seemed to flow like molten energy in his eyes. Pain. Desire. Anger. Need. Hot, hungry need. She took another step as he came towards her.
“What’s the matter, Belle? You look worried.”
Because she was. “I don’t want you here.”
“Why?” She must look defensive, too, if his pleased perusal meant anything.
“Why what?”
“Why don’t you want me here?” With each word he came closer and she retreated further to the warehouse. The dog danced around her feet, looking for a place to stay, probably wondering if this was a game. “You never had a problem with me here before.”
“I have a problem now.” Yeah, brilliant response, dumbass.
“Why?”
“I don’t have to explain myself to you.” Run for friggin’ Congress, Belinda. Geez.
“Oh, yes, you do. You never have, but you should.”
His autocratic remark finally cemented her feet in place. Anger, wonderful, spine-stiffening anger, flooded her. He kept advancing, stopping only when their chests touched with each heaving breath they took. Not that she under
stood why either of them was breathing so hard. They were only talking…right?
She poked her finger against his chest. “All I should have to do is tell you to go, Lucas. That’s enough for everyone else.” Well, it would be, if anyone else were allowed on her property.
“You haven’t told me to go.”
She thought over their conversation, momentarily befuddled. Hadn’t she told him to leave? She couldn’t remember. “I’m telling you now.”
“Go ahead.”
Maybe it was the tremble in her body, having him so close. Or just the power of his gaze drilling into her, but she couldn’t form the words. Any words at all.
He nodded slowly, understanding—damn him—and their breathing seemed to slow down. She got lost in his gaze, in the fiery touch of his now bare thumb on her jaw.
“No matter what you do or how you hurt me, you can’t make what’s between us go away. You can’t make me disappear, Belinda. I’m not going anywhere.”
Her body clenched, caught between wanting to defy and wanting to hide. “You were the one who wanted out, Lucas. I’m just holding you to it.”
“I was wrong.”
That required blinking. Lucas was never wrong. He didn’t know how to be wrong. She was about to mention that, but his mouth descended on hers. His arm snaked around her at the same time, yanking her against him while his other hand cupped the back of her head.
She didn’t want to use the word helpless. It didn’t apply. But she did feel powerless—against him, against her own needs—when her hands took hold of his hot shoulders, sliding slightly against the sweat there while his tongue plundered her mouth with devastating accuracy. He didn’t stop the battle until she whimpered, until she was clinging and tears seeped beneath her tightly closed lashes. Then he was gentle, soothing with caresses of his lips…and then he was gone.