by Fiona Lowe
“No.”
“Okay then.” He stood up and leaned against the table facing her. Go slowly. Do not, I repeat, do not screw this up. “Are you attracted to me in any way?”
Her shoulders squared but she met his gaze. “I’ve tried really hard not to be.”
Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. “I think that has to be the best compliment I’ve ever been given.” He pushed off the table and stepped in close.
Her soft floral scent enveloped him, and he slid his hand along her cheek. “You sure about this?”
She shook her head slowly from side to side.
He dropped his hand.
She grabbed it back.
It was the sign he’d been waiting so long for, and he took it. Weeks of thinking about this moment dissolved as reality took over. He cradled her face in his hands, leaned forward and kissed her. She was hard and soft, tense and pliant—she was Tara and she was amazing. Her lips tasted of fierce grape Gatorade and cautious restraint, and he pressed light kisses across the width of her top lip. When he’d fully explored it, he turned his attention to her bottom one, gently teasing its bountiful softness out with his tongue.
She made a mewling sound against his mouth and opened her lips under his. He tumbled inside that hot, wet, welcoming place and thought he’d died and gone to heaven.
TARA hadn’t been kissed in a very long time, but even so, this kiss was unlike anything she’d ever experienced. How could Ethan kiss so gently yet so erotically? Nothing about it was him inflicting his will on her, but neither was it passive. Her body couldn’t get enough of it.
She met his tongue with hers in a tango of exploration. She ran her tongue along his teeth, welcoming the rough and the smooth. She reveled in his fiery heat, and her taste buds exploded with his flavors of beer, salt and hunger—hunger for her. Weeks of locked-down and heavily bolted desire flooded her and instantly collided with his need for her. It detonated like fire on gasoline, making her breath hitch up and her heart race.
His mouth didn’t leave hers, but his hands did, reaching around her shoulders for her braid. She felt the tug of the elastic come away, and then he broke the kiss and his fingers loosened her hair until if fell softly around her face, across her shoulders and down her back.
A smile of wonder broke across his face as he gently caressed her temples, smoothing her hair back behind her ears. “I’ve always thought you were beautiful, Tara, but with your hair down, you’re absolutely stunning.”
She was used to being told she was attractive—in both harsh tones and mild, but the tenderness and awe behind his words made her ache in places she hadn’t allowed to feel. It made her want to believe.
He buried his hands in her hair, breathed deeply and then laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“Life’s unexpected twists and turns. You, here in my kitchen with your hair down and gazing at me with slightly unfocused eyes.”
She stroked his cheek. “You did that with your kisses.”
He grinned as if she’d bestowed on him a priceless treasure. “Shall we keep doing it?”
“God, yes.”
“My sentiments exactly.” He pulled her back to him and proceeded to kiss her long, slow and thoroughly.
She ran her hands up into his hair, feeling the thick, silky waves slide through her fingers and breathing in the fresh zip of his wintergreen shampoo. Her hands molded to his scalp and then moved down to his neck and shoulders, imprinting the solid feel of him. Her fingers tingled and itched, begging to feel more than just the material of his shirt and demanding to touch his skin with hers.
She’d always been in control with men—always held a little bit of herself back. To a certain extent, sex had often involved her going through the motions, but as his mouth roved over hers, something inside her slipped. It threatened to give way completely, and she broke the kiss. With trembling fingers, she tried unsuccessfully to undo his shirt buttons.
“Damn it.” Using both hands, she pulled, ripping the buttons from their cotton posts.
He laughed as she pushed the material off his shoulders. “You’ve never liked this shirt, have you?”
She had no idea what he was talking about.
He balled it and threw it in the trash. “I was wearing it the day we met. You made a small tear in the tail when you were hauling me out of the window.”
“Sorry,” she said automatically as she soaked in his tan and toned chest.
Heat lit up his eyes. “Don’t be.”
As his arms went around her and she pressed her lips to his shoulder, she felt his arousal pressing against her, and suddenly everything felt right. He wanted her. She wanted him. All the internal arguments and dilemmas she’d been wrestling with for days went blissfully silent.
His eyelashes fluttered butterfly kisses along her temple and across her cheek, sending rafts of wonder skimming through her. It was a light and playful touch, but she gloried in it, never wanting it to stop. His tongue darted inside her ear with a flick and lick.
Silver lights lit up behind her eyes, her legs buckled, and she sagged into him with a gasp.
“That’s my girl,” he whispered against her ear. “Want to take this out of the kitchen or christen my table?”
“My choice?”
“This time,” he said, inferring there’d be a next time but it would be his turn to choose the venue.
“It’s a perfectly nice table, but—”
“Good choice.” He took her by the hand and ran her up the stairs. “I wasn’t expecting company, so my bedroom’s not exactly neat, but you’ve only got eyes for me, right?”
She pushed him down on the rumpled bed.
He grinned up at her. “I’m taking that as a yes.”
With unfamiliar laughter dancing through her, she stared down at him, contemplating exactly which part of him she was going to kiss first. The hollow at the base of his throat? His clearly delineated pecs? The tawny line of hair that ran from his belly button straight down under the snap of his jeans? She shivered in anticipation of what lay underneath and decided she’d start by removing his jeans.
He moved just like he had the first day they’d met—sudden and lithe—and then he was back on his feet facing her. “I’m all for equality of the sexes, and as I’m shirtless and you’re still wearing yours . . .” His hands gripped the hem of her T-shirt, and then it was off, up and over her head, leaving her standing in her plain white cotton bra.
“Plain packaging,” he said with a smile as he flicked open the clasps of the bra. Her breasts tumbled out into his hands. “But there’s absolutely nothing plain about the contents.”
He lowered his mouth to her left breast and suckled her. Every particle of desire in her body shot downward, combining into a low, hot, heavy, throbbing sensation at the apex of her thighs, and her legs gave way. She fell onto the bed panting. “That’s dirty pool. Your pants. Off now.”
“Yes, Officer,” he said with a smirk as he shucked them, and then he turned his attention to tugging her out of her Lycra workout pants.
“Wait.” She grabbed them back just before he dropped them on the floor. Somehow, she managed to get her uncooperative fingers to pull the condom she’d brought with her out of the tiny waistband pocket. “We’re going to need this.”
“You bet.” His eyes flashed with passion and appreciation as he joined her on the bed and he wrapped his arms around her.
Their mouths melded, their bodies bumped and wriggled—legs tangling, hands grasping—each finding the other’s dips and curves until they fitted together. He kissed her like a man holding something precious but not breakable. He kissed her from her brow to her toes using his mouth and his hands to pleasure every place in between until she was boneless, shaking and screaming his name.
When he finally slid into her, she captured him, her muscles aching with relief that they could finally grip him. His rhythm caught hers, driving her forward and upward. Up, up, up, she spiraled, higher and
higher to a realm she’d never been before. She shattered into a thousand tiny pieces.
Ethan followed, slumping against her momentarily before rolling onto his side and taking her with him. With one arm slung over her side and tucked up between her breasts, he pulled her butt into his belly and pressed a kiss onto her shoulder.
Peace stole through her, rolling languidly over all her defenses and laying them flat, until it reached and circled her heart. It glowed inside her like golden summer sunshine after rain, making her feel fresh, clean and new. She lay in Ethan’s arms, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against her back, the thundering of his now slowing heart and the reassuring warmth of his skin. She was home.
Home.
She blew out a breath full of tumbling barricades and fortifications. Home.
She went to breathe in. Her lungs froze. Peace vanished.
Panic detonated like a grenade. Get out. Get to safety. Go now. She scrambled for her scattered protective armor starting with her panties.
“Ethan, I have to go.”
Chapter 20
Ethan’s body was wrapped around Tara’s, but his brain was off soaking in a bath of bliss, kicking back, smoking a cigarette and planning on aging disgracefully with her.
She suddenly sat up. “I have to go.”
What the hell? Cold air rushed across his body, jolting his brain back to the here and now. Stay calm. It took every ounce of discipline he had to remain lying down when every part of him wanted to rise up and grab hold of her arm. “Go as in to the bathroom or go as in leave?”
She didn’t look at him but instead concentrated on fishing her panties up off the floor. “Leave.”
He wanted to press his palm against the small of her back and feel her warmth, but survival told him that would be the worst thing he could do. That would give her more ammunition to leave. “I didn’t hear your cell.”
“No.” She hooked her bra and swung it around before shoving her arms through the straps and pulling them up onto her shoulders—every action jerky.
“So why are you running?”
She didn’t look at him. “I’m not running.”
“I think you are.” He rolled up off the bed and found his briefs. He was not going to be naked for what he knew was going to be one of the most important conversations of his life.
She shoved her legs into her activewear and cast her gaze around for her T-shirt. “It doesn’t really matter what you think.”
Ouch. His breath in stung, but he refused to play the hurt Ethan so he leaves me alone game, because far too much was at stake. He wanted Tara in his life, and now they’d gotten this far, he wasn’t letting her walk away.
He picked up her T-shirt and folded it neatly. “We just had the world’s best sex, Tara, so we’ve got that part of being a couple covered. Let’s go downstairs and work on the rest of it.”
Alarm bells rang in her eyes. “Give me my shirt.”
He shook his head and tossed her his jeans instead. “You can have your shirt after we’ve talked this through.”
“That’s extortion.”
He shook his head. “I don’t think so. I’ve given you my jeans, so we’re both in equal states of undress. Also, I’m not holding you against your will. You’re free to leave at any time.”
“In my bra?” Her voice rose, the pitch higher than he’d ever heard it. “Bethany would have that on Twitter in a heartbeat, and somehow I don’t think the sheriff would be very understanding.” Her eyes suddenly narrowed, and then she leaped toward his closet.
He got there first, barring her access to his shirts. He desperately wanted to touch her. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and hold her close, but that sort of intimacy was exactly what she was running from. He wanted her to trust him. He needed her to trust him, because unless she could do that, they didn’t have a future.
“Tara, you came here to my house, told me you wanted me, had all of me and now you want to leave. If the roles were reversed, I’d be the world’s worst bastard.” He played his trump card—appealing to her sense of decency. “I’ve got feelings, too. All I’m asking is that you stay for a conversation.”
And a chance. A chance for me to show you that taking a risk on us would be the best decision of your life.
He’d never wanted anything as much as he wanted Tara by his side for the rest of his life. He only hoped he could pull it off, because the alternative didn’t bear thinking about.
ALL I’m asking for is a conversation.
Tara’s heart beat so fast she was in definite competition with a hummingbird, and right now, in betting terms, she was the favorite to win. Didn’t Ethan realize what he was asking her? More than anything she wished she hadn’t come over to his house in the first place.
The sex was amazing.
But it wasn’t the sex she was running from.
She still couldn’t believe that Ethan was using strong-arm tactics to make her stay. He wasn’t that guy. He didn’t do stuff like that.
You’re free to leave at any time. Hah! That was a lie and he knew it because leaving in her underwear wasn’t an option. She’d been in Bear Paw long enough to know that the flip side to a town that was mostly caring was that nothing could be kept secret. Whenever she walked up the path to her apartment she invariably met one of her neighbors. It was almost guaranteed that if she was shirtless, she’d not only meet someone, they’d have their cell phone out faster than a gunslinger at the O.K. Corral. Out of uniform and off duty, she was fair game.
Ethan had her over a barrel. “Fine,” she said, stomping down the stairs, because looking at the bed and remembering what had just happened in it played havoc with her concentration. “You want to talk, you go right ahead.” She had no intention of talking back.
Ethan followed her into the kitchen, but he didn’t say anything. He did, however, put some cheese and crackers on a plate and pass her a fresh beer. It all looked totally normal, but it felt utterly surreal.
He pushed the plate toward her, and her stomach revolted at the thought of food. She steeled herself. “Can you just say what you want to say?”
“Sure.” His finger followed a drop of condensation down his bottle of beer. “Tell me why you’re scared.”
Those weren’t the words she was expecting, but they were terrifyingly accurate. A fresh wave of panic hit her, and she shored up her protective armor. “I fought in a war, Ethan. I face down criminals for a job. I don’t do scared.”
He sucked on his beer, his expression bland. “I never took you for being a liar, Tara.”
She hugged her arms over her chest, kept her gaze fixed on the ticking kitchen clock and refused to answer the accusation.
“How did you feel when you kissed me in the kitchen?” he asked quietly.
“Surely that was obvious.”
He shot her a look that he used on difficult children. “Nice try, but I want you to tell me using your words, Tara.”
“Aroused.” It came out curt and hard.
His mouth pulled up on one side. “Besides that.”
“I don’t know.”
“You do know.” He blew out a breath. “Nothing bad is going to happen if you say it, Tara. In fact, something good might just come out of it.”
A rush of anger spurted through her at his interrogation. “Hopeful, okay? I was feeling hopeful. Happy?”
“That you were hopeful? Absolutely.” He leaned forward, his expression gentle. “Hopeful is a good thing.”
“No, it isn’t.” Her heart banged so hard against her ribs she could feel the vibrations in her arms.
“Why not?”
“Because . . .” She closed her eyes for a moment against the pain that was piercing her. “You make me want to dream. You make me think that just maybe, I could have a normal life.”
“You can.”
She shook her head. “I already tried once, and it ended in tears and recriminations.”
“That was a marriage in a war zone, Tara. N
othing about it came even close to being normal.” He rubbed his chin as if he needed time to think. “Normal is way more dull, boring and blessedly predictable. First off, you and I are living in the same town. We’d be coming home to each other every night instead of having months and months of living apart. Second, chances of us being blown to smithereens are so slim they’re not even a consideration.”
His words ate into her resolve, and she immediately moved to shore it up. “I don’t have a clue how to be in a healthy relationship. My mother never had one, and if she couldn’t do it then—”
“You are not your mother,” Ethan said on a low growl as his cheeks hardened and his eyes flashed the color of peanut brittle. “She is not your yardstick. She was an alcoholic, which means she was sick and incapable of a functioning relationship.”
She’d never heard him sound so adamant or look so determined. One part of her knew what he said was true, but the other voices in her head were so much louder.
He gave a heavy sigh. “Tara, you grew up not being able to depend on anyone, and I get how that made you fiercely independent. Hell, you needed to be to survive, but your life’s moved on from survival. If you want to experience the next phase of your life, you need to let people in.”
His gently spoken words fell on her softly like sprinkles of rain, but their message hit like hail—hard, cold and jagged. “But don’t you see?” She wrung her hands. “That’s the terrifying thing.”
“Let me in, Tara. I want to be part of your life. I want to protect you.”
“I’m a cop, Ethan. I carry a Taser and a gun. I don’t need protection.”
“I’m not talking about physical protection, Tara. I’m talking about your heart.”
A sob rose in her throat and she fought it down. “Don’t say that. You’re asking too much of me. I have no clue how to do normal.”
He reached across the table and picked up her hands. “You’re already doing it.”
She pulled away. “This isn’t normal. How many women have you had sex with who’ve wanted to flee the moment it was over?”