Nowhere.
Still, it didn’t excuse her unforgivable behavior when dealing with people who weren’t suspected criminals. People she loved.
Loved.
Had loved. She had loved Chad. But something new, something frightening and more powerful was beginning to push through the cold ashes of her former love for him. It both scared and excited her.
Scooting herself to a sitting position, she stared at the bed across from hers, trying to concentrate on anything other than how cool she’d been to Chad the past two days. Judging from the messiness of the other bed, he must have tossed and turned as much as she had. In fact, she knew he had, because she had counted the times he’d rolled over, shared in his restlessness even as she pretended to be asleep.
She shifted her gaze to where his duffel bag sat open at the foot of his bed. Unlike her, he already had been packed when they met up at Blackstone’s. She rubbed her leg through the gauzy fabric of her skirt, reminding herself he had a bag because he had just flown in from Florida. A place he would return to when their assignment was finished.
Trying to ignore the tightening of her throat, Hannah fingered the T-shirt he’d bought for her in Atlantic City. If she hadn’t been so preoccupied with his showering uncertain attention on Bonny, she might have thought of buying a few necessities for herself. Conscious of the continued sound of running water, she slowly rummaged through the duffel bag a second time. She pulled out an extra large T-shirt, then fingered a pair of new low-cut briefs before taking them out as well. Tugging the plastic wrapping apart, she held the crisp white cotton briefs up to her hips. Eyeing the closed bathroom door, she peeled off her clothes.
The spray of the shower stopped. Her heart skipping a beat, Hannah quickly tugged the T-shirt over her head and balled the briefs, hiding them under her arm as Chad opened the door.
“Good, you’re finished,” she said anxiously, hurrying past him into the bathroom.
“McGee, isn’t that my T-shirt you’re wearing?”
She froze at the rough sound of his voice. Slowly, she turned toward him. His gaze, steely hot, roamed over her, from where she feared he could see the pounding of her pulse in the hollow of her neck, down to where the white cotton draped over her taut, bare breasts, to the hem of the shirt where it grazed her thighs. She stood spellbound, expectant, incapable of movement, unable to do more than watch the darkening of his gray eyes, the tightening of his muscles. His throat contracted as he swallowed, the sound unusually loud in the quiet room.
Hannah forced her gaze away and rushed into the bathroom, closing and locking the door against him and her own confused feelings.
I’m to blame for much more…
The strong spray of hot water chased away the chill of the air conditioning as Hannah stepped into the shower, but the echo of Chad’s words drowned out the sound of the water hitting the fiberglass tub. For the second time, she wondered what, exactly, he had meant by his being to blame. He said he hadn’t been referring to just their current situation, so did the statement cover the length of their relationship?
You’re making too much out of this, Hannah, an inner voice intoned. You always analyze everything to the extreme. A habit that was a good quality as a cop and a skip-tracer, but a drawback when it came to personal ties. Chad was talking about now. Why would he want to bring up anything from the past?
Still, her gut instinct told her differently. He had been talking about her…about them.
Did she blame Chad for everything that had happened between them? For their fights, their breakup, for his leaving…for Bonny?
Her skin grew hot, but it had little to do with the steam surrounding her. For the first time, she recognized she did—and had—blamed Chad for everything that had ever gone wrong.
Why?
And did he believe everything had been his fault?
With jerky movements, she turned off the water and opened the shower curtain. She didn’t like the guilt coating her like the water, though she knew she needed to face it or the uneasy emotion was going to surface again. This new truth about her treatment of Chad during their relationship…well, it changed everything, didn’t it? Or at least some things. If she had made Chad feel at fault for every move he made while they were together, then it was possible she was to blame for his walking away, not him.
Ridiculous, her mind told her resolutely.
The truth, her heart said, giving a little squeeze for effect.
Hannah grabbed a towel and roughly mopped her skin, reminding herself that it didn’t matter now.
Besides, Chad had no place in her and Bonny’s lives, however much she might be starting to long differently. That was what she believed before yesterday, and what she fought hard to make reality now. It was difficult because she’d seen the flashes of pain in his eyes when he looked at Bonny. Saw the way his touch turned gentle in those moments when he’d thought she wasn’t looking. And in those few moments, Hannah’s heart had learned how to hope again.
Despite the aching loneliness, the pain of her pregnancy, the exhausting midnight feedings, Hannah found the memories of those hard times fading fast, being quickly replaced with the secret hope she had always harbored in her heart. The hope that the three of them would one day be a family.
A knock on the outer door of the motel room halted her movements. Ignoring her hair, Hannah pulled the T-shirt and briefs on and picked up her stun gun from where she had placed it on the basin.
She leaned against the wall next to the door, holding the stun gun at the ready. Her heart beating anxiously, she waited for the visitor to say to Chad, “FBI.”
“That’ll be twelve dollars and sixteen cents.”
Hannah dropped the hand holding her stun gun to her side, wondering what she would have done with the thing anyway. Unlocking the door and pulling it open a few inches, she watched Chad hand money to the woman they’d seen in the motel office upon check-in. She held a baby not much older than Bonny on her hip, and two older boys raced around her, one running into the room, both holding what looked like two-way radios.
“Come on, Ray and Tom, stop it now and get back to the office,” the woman said with a refreshing accent, handing Chad a bag and a couple of fresh towels. “How’s the little one doing?”
Chad looked over his shoulder, meeting Hannah’s gaze briefly as he handed over the money asked for. “Bonny’s sleeping.”
“Probably plum tuckered out after your trip,” the woman nodded. “Look, if you need a baby-sitter or anything, I’m here. I didn’t introduce myself properly earlier. I’m the owner, Betty Browning. And as you can see, I’ve got plenty of experience with kids.”
“Thanks,” Chad said. “We appreciate the offer.”
He slowly closed the door after her.
“I ordered in some Chinese,” he said, glancing to where Hannah still stood in the bathroom doorway. He noticed the stun gun in her hand. “Don’t tell me you’re going to zap me for it.”
Chad’s hair and T-shirt were clean, but his grin was filthy as he looked her over from head to toe.
“The shirt looks better on you, Hannah. Keep it.” She felt every inch of revealed skin tingle under his heated gaze. She put the stun gun back in the bathroom and carefully sat down on the bed where Bonny still slept. The chicken Chad held out to her smelled inviting. She took it, along with a pair of chopsticks.
“What are you looking at, Chad?” She self-consciously slid a bit of food into her mouth and returned his stare.
“Nothing. I was just remembering sweet and sour anything was always your favorite. It’s nice to see some things don’t change.”
She chewed the food slowly. What did he mean by that? She took another bite but found swallowing the food difficult. “Chad, I was wondering about something.”
She liked his growing beard, she realized, following his rugged, tanned cheeks up to his eyes. And she had always loved his eyes. It was more than just their silvery gray color; it was the intensity they always held
. Even when staring at her, his eyes betrayed a deeper emotion.
“Anyway,” she said, pushing around the food with her chopsticks, her cheeks flaming. “Something you said has been bothering me and I was wondering…was I, you know, so awful to you? I mean before…when we lived together…did I make you feel that you were to blame for everything that happened?”
She chanced a glance in his direction.
“Only for the bad things,” he said quietly.
Hannah placed her food carton on the night table and pulled the blanket across her lap. “Come on, Chad, I’m serious. Can you let your guard down for two minutes and talk to me? I mean really talk to me?”
“We talk constantly, Hannah. That’s one thing we’ve never had a problem with. That and—” He stopped suddenly then stuck his chopsticks in his carton so they stood upright. “What is this? Twenty questions?”
“I don’t know. God, I hate feeling this way.” Hannah puckered the blanket with her hands, then smoothed the material out.
“Feeling what way?”
She met his gaze solidly. “Like there are still so many unresolved issues between us. Too many things that have gone unsaid.” Too many new things that were happening now.
His gaze was strangely thorough. “And you want to say them now?”
She nodded. “I think I’d like to try. If for no other reason than to achieve some sort of…closure.”
He grimaced.
“Oh, just forget it, okay? It was a stupid idea anyway.”
“No, Hannah. I’ve never seen you this way before.”
“Yeah, well, maybe I should have been this way a long time ago,” she murmured, staring at the slumbering baby next to her.
“What was that you said?”
“Nothing,” she said quickly, surprised to find tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. She cleared her throat, meeting his gaze, then retreating. It was hard enough trying to stare her own faults in the face. Staring into the handsome planes of Chad’s face as well made it all the more difficult. “Let me just say this, okay, then I can get dressed and we can get out of here.” She was having a tough time, but she was going to say it if it killed her. “I know what you said earlier—about how I held you responsible for the bad things that happened between us—might have been a throwaway comment, but I suspect it’s the way you really feel. I just want you to know, even if it seemed like I blamed you for everything that went wrong—something I’m not entirely sure of yet—that you were also responsible for the happiest times of my life.” She swallowed hard against the emotion that nearly choked her. “I’m sorry I never made that clear.” A lone tear scalded her cheek and she swiped at it in exasperation.
Pushing off the bed, she hurried for the bathroom, dismayed with herself for being incapable of saying something so simple. Why was it easy for her to point out the negatives and so difficult for her to say anything positive? Maybe Chad was right. She had shoved the lion’s share of the responsibility for their breakup onto him. Still, that didn’t answer the question of why he had accepted it. Why he hadn’t told her before how unfair she’d been. And what she could do to make all that go away now.
Chad caught her before she could disappear into the bathroom and lock the door. His hand felt like a gentle handcuff around her wrist. She tried to shrug him off.
“Hannah, look at me.”
“I can’t.”
Warm fingers gripped her chin and tugged her face toward his. The raw emotion mirrored in his eyes stopped her breath. It was that look. The tender, solemn expression she’d seen on his face a million times before but had never been able to explain.
“I really hate you sometimes, you know, Chad?”
He slowly shook his head. “It’s taken me a long time, Hannah, but I think I’ve finally learned to translate your words. For as long as I’ve known you, I’ve taken everything you’ve said at face value. I was so very wrong.”
She buried her face in his clean-smelling neck, inhaling the thick, male scent below the soap that was wholly male and all his. A smell she had missed during their long months apart. She pressed her lips against his neck, then dragged her wet eyelashes against his skin.
All at once, Chad’s hands pressed against her back. He flattened her against him, forcing the breath from her, while his lips sought the top of her wet, tangled hair.
“I’ve missed you, Hannah. You’ll never know how much.”
His soft confession sent shock waves of warmth flowing over her. He threaded his fingers through her damp hair, his potent gaze searing her face. Then a new, more urgent heat rushed through her, moving along with his longing look, traveling down the length of her torso. She pressed her palms against the flat, solid muscles of his back. She had forgotten how good it was to be held by him, truly held. A familiar swell of yearning surged through her, empowering her, yet making her inexplicably vulnerable as his mouth slowly moved to the sensitive skin behind her ear.
He traced a maddening line from the base of her jaw to her collarbone, leaving not a millimeter of clean flesh left untouched by the rough, exciting feel of his lips, his stubble. His breathing grew ragged, uneven. Hannah tensed, arching her back, seeking closer contact, impatiently tugging at the back of his shirt. She pulled it out of his jeans, seeking the hot, velvety skin of his back. Her breath caught as the familiar planes tightened beneath her fingertips.
Chad’s lips finally sought hers. She responded wholeheartedly, languishing in the moistness of his mouth as it bespoke his feelings—his true feelings. It was not the skilled, calculated kiss of a seducer, but the unadulterated, uninhibited action of a man who had waited too long. His hands fumbled with the T-shirt she wore. She in turn opened the button on his jeans and tugged the denim down his slender hips, running her fingers along his muscled thighs before seeking his embrace again. His kiss deepened, coaxing her out by inches. Then he abandoned her mouth and knelt, pressing his lips against the taut, trembling muscles of her stomach. It was then Hannah remembered she wore his white briefs.
She dragged in a deep breath and watched for his reaction even as she held his gaze. His hands moved slowly, intuitively down her body until they met the thick elastic band. He hesitated, dropping his gaze and eyeing the white cotton, then laying his head against her lower stomach. Hannah felt him smile. She crowded her fingers into his hair, reveling in the thick, soft mass.
“It seems you not only look better in my T-shirt, but my underwear too,” he said gruffly.
He rose, leaving the briefs in place, and shifted her not to the comfort of the bed, but to the bathroom and the waist-high basin. He lifted her to sit on top of the cool tile. She drew in a sharp breath, her arms never allowing him to move more than a centimeter away as she wound her legs around his waist, pulling him closer.
He closed the door behind them, then reclaimed her body, moving his hands along the smooth line of her back, then around to her sides where he skimmed the outer curve of her breasts. Hannah gasped. He grazed her nipples with the pad of his thumbs, enticing them to taut, aching peaks, then covered them completely with the fiery inner circles of his palms.
A sense of urgency seized her. She urged her hands down past Chad’s shoulders, then parted them at his waist, one continuing down to his firm, muscled rear, the other urgently seeking the ridge of his erection where it pressed earnestly against her stomach.
“I hate you, Chad Hogan,” she whispered, pushing aside the cotton of the too big briefs and guiding him to press against the place she wanted him most. “I…hate…you…”
Chad invaded her with an uncontrolled thrust, catapulting her irreversibly into the dark, deep tunnel of sensation she so desperately sought. She closed her eyes and her hands ceased their restless movements. The only thing she was aware of was the thick, overwhelming throb of her pulse.
Then Chad moved. Gently, slowly, as if he intended to savor her, to prolong these few minutes for as long as he could. But the fine reserve Hannah built up in the fifteen months they w
ere apart cracked—the same reserve that had tried to convince her she didn’t need Chad, didn’t need him physically, didn’t need him emotionally.
Suddenly that control was gone. As the steady pressure within her belly built into a dizzying, overpowering urgency, she found herself incapable of thought, incapable of conscious movement. Her body took over, screaming the feelings her mouth was unable to communicate, and listened to Chad’s body, interpreting his wordless responses. His almost reverent attention and gentle thrusts spoke of the changes in him, in them both. He hadn’t forgotten her needs, her favorite places to be touched. But somehow his touch was different. She sensed now, when she hadn’t been trying to sway him to her wants, that she’d somehow managed to reach a part of him that was shut off from her before. The realization was dizzying and she slumped back, breathless.
It was this new sensation that made being with him now special, unforgettable. On this unexplored plane she forgot their past and enjoyed the simple, primeval pleasure of the present.
And yes, Hannah realized breathlessly, resting her hands against his chest and wondering at the beat of his heart beneath his sweat-slick skin. This wasn’t just sex—this was making love.
Chad buried his hands deep in her hair, his thrusts growing more urgent, more demanding. As his passion built, he gently pulled the locks, gaining access to her neck. His wet kisses ceased, the hot breath against her skin stopped, and Hannah felt the unmistakable quake travel from his body to hers. It grew to uncontrollable proportions, gripping, grabbing every ounce of energy she had, making any movement impossible, almost physically painful. At that moment, she let go, locking her legs tightly around his hips, rocking with the sheer emotion filling her, consuming her, linking her together with this man she had once loved—and feared was coming to love again. In a whole new, frightening way.
She tugged hungrily on his mouth, a whimper vibrating her throat.
Just Eight Months Old... Page 12