Operation Unleashed

by Justine Davis

  She wasn’t wearing the necklace.

  He shoved down the surge of hope that rose, hope he’d thought long dead.

  They put Luke to bed together, something that pleased the boy so much he went to sleep with a smile on his face. Alyssa left the door to his room partly ajar, just enough for Cutter to get in and out.

  “Not that I’m not convinced he couldn’t open it himself if he had to,” she said.

  Drew laughed. “Me, either. That’s the most undog dog I’ve ever seen.”

  “Hayley says every time she gets to thinking he’s some mystical spirit in a dog’s body, he rolls around in some mud or something dead to remind her he’s just a dog.”

  He chuckled.

  “They’re quite something, those Foxworth folks,” she said.

  “Yes.”

  “Makes you wonder, doesn’t it? If it was just by accident they found Luke that day?”

  “I’m just glad they did.”

  They’d reached her door to the master bedroom, which he’d given her from the beginning. It was always an awkward moment, one he usually tried to avoid by staying up later than she, or if he was tired, going to bed earlier in the room down the hall. Here they were, a couple married for three years, going to separate bedrooms, as they always did. The two times they—mostly he—had lapsed and had what he’d sourly thought of as obligation sex, it had been downstairs, in a hurry, almost furtively. They’d never shared a bedroom or even a bed.

  He’d known that was what it was even as it happened. The first time it had caught him off guard. The second time he’d known full well she was only offering because she felt she owed him, and he’d been angry with himself for not being able to resist. But by then he’d admitted he was falling for her, this woman who was so different than the moonstruck girl he’d remembered. And his resistance had crumbled.

  It wasn’t that it hadn’t been good. It had been very good. At least, as good as it could be when they were doing it for all the wrong reasons. But he hadn’t liked the way he’d felt after, and had sworn from then on he’d not weaken again.

  “I meant what I said in there, Drew,” Alyssa said softly, snapping him out of thoughts that had perversely managed to arouse rather than quash his response to her presence and the proximity of a choice of beds.

  He didn’t know what to say, so said nothing.

  “You are his father. In every sense that matters. That’s never been clearer than now.”

  “Is that what this is about? What’s happening now?”

  “No. It’s about who you are. And who Doug wasn’t.”

  Drew sucked in a breath. He’d given up hoping to ever hear something like this from her. Had Foxworth accomplished what he’d never been able to?

  She was looking up at him, studying him with an intensity that set him on edge. What was she seeing, thinking? Sometimes he felt like he’d spent most of his damn life trying to figure that out. If crisis brought out the real person, then maybe he had no idea who she was after all.

  “Drew?”

  “I don’t know what you want me to say.” He felt helpless, a little lost staring down into those wide blue eyes. And he was damned tired of feeling helpless. “I don’t know what you want, period.”

  “I do. For the first time in a long time, there’s something I want, something more than just my son’s well-being.”

  Drew swallowed tightly. “What?”

  “You.”

  Chapter 24

  It wasn’t particularly flattering, Alyssa thought, that his first reaction was wariness. Oh, the fire was there, she could see it deep down in his eyes, but he kept it so at bay it was barely visible.

  And why not? she told herself. She was the one who’d insisted on this sexless arrangement. The two times it had happened had been practically accidental, a sort of collision at a weak moment for both of them, and she couldn’t blame him without blaming herself. For the most part, he’d kept his word.

  Of course he had, he was Drew. He always kept his word. It had taken her a while to see that. She had assumed she’d have to be fighting him off even as she laughed at the idea of anyone wanting the thin, sickly-looking thing she’d become.

  But she’d wondered, in the two years since she’d been completely well again, since she’d regained her strength—under, she added silently, Drew’s careful tending—why he’d never tried. At first she thought he still saw her as weak, sick, and he wouldn’t take advantage.

  Doug would have. That had been the first shocking realization of the upside to the differences between them. Doug would have wanted what he wanted. He would have been more careful than usual, perhaps, more gentle, but in general Doug was a lover who took.

  While Drew kept his word.

  She wasn’t sure what he’d done, he was a young, strong man with a man’s appetites, but he’d kept to their agreement. Once that had been a relief to her, the thought that he’d gone elsewhere for those needs. Now, the idea was painful, something she knew she had no right to feel. And that alone should have been a clarion call of warning, but she had stubbornly clung to the idealistic vision of Doug as her soul mate, the only one she would ever have.

  While Drew was just the man who kept his word.

  The moment of realization had sliced at her like a double-edged blade. She hadn’t wanted to come back here with Drew because he was everything Doug hated, yet those very things were what kept her and Luke safe. She’d been too weak and sick to have any other choice at the time, but now that she did, she couldn’t imagine leaving. And if she was honest with herself, it wasn’t just for Luke.

  She’d been so young and foolish with Doug. Only after they’d run off together had she realized there was always a cost for that kind of life, and she had usually been the one to pay it. Someone had to bring in money, so she was the one with a part-time, low wage job. Someone had to make the little money last, so they could eat, had a roof, and the task always seemed to fall to her.

  Sometimes Doug would bring home a wad of bills that always seemed to look like more than it was when counted. He would give her part of it, in a great show of generosity, although he kept most of it for himself. “A guy’s got to have some fun now and then,” he’d told her.

  Her fun had never been mentioned. It was Doug’s lifestyle that had to be maintained. And now she didn’t just shudder to think of what he’d spent that money on, she shuddered to think how he’d gotten it in the first place.

  “Don’t,” Drew said, snapping her out of her painful memories. “Don’t say things you don’t really mean.”

  There was an undertone of something in his voice that made her breath stop. A tightness, an edge, something.

  Heat. That, too. In his voice, and in his eyes as he looked at her.

  “But I do mean it,” she said softly. “I’ve only just realized I’ve meant it for a while now.”

  “Lyss—”

  She put a hand on his chest, over his heart, and his words cut off as if her action had sucked the very air out of him. She could feel the thud of his heart, felt a skip in her own heartbeat as his accelerated at her touch.

  “Drew,” she said, not sure what more to say to convince him.

  And she was going to need to, she thought when he found his voice again. “You’re just reacting to this, all the stress. It’s fogging things up.”

  “In a way, it is reaction,” she said, not denying it. “But sometimes stress has a way of making you see what’s really important.”

  “You’re scared for Luke—”

  “I am. But he feels safe with you.” She drew in a deep breath. “And so do I.”

  He made a low sound, almost a groan. It rumbled up from down deep in his chest, and she could feel the vibration of it under her fingers. She moved, stroking the taut muscles beneath his s
hirt.

  “It’s the circumstances, Lyss,” he said, sounding almost desperate now.

  In fact, this growing need was driven by so many factors, she didn’t know how to deal with it. Maybe the circumstances were one of them, but they weren’t the most important. She was sure of that.

  “No,” she said. “It’s more like how you know what to grab when a fire’s coming. You know what’s most important. Sometimes it takes that kind of stress for you to realize.”

  “Lyss.”

  He said it softly, but he was shaking his head. She gave herself a moment to take pleasure in the nickname only he had ever used; to Doug she had been the more common Ally, which he too often linked with “cat” in a way that made Alyssa wonder if he’d really meant it as a compliment.

  And then she took matters into her own hands.

  She’d known she would have to. He would never assume—she would have to make it clear she wanted to change the rules. She knew she was risking the quiet peace they’d achieved until the morning the old tensions had flared up and sent Luke running. That nothing would ever be the same after this.

  But nothing would ever be the same if she didn’t.

  “I never thought I would want again, Drew. But I want you. Now.”

  She sensed the moment when he gave in. She felt a fleeting sense of triumph as his arms came around her; she had breached the will of the strongest man she’d ever known. She nearly laughed with the joy of it as he pushed through the bedroom door and shoved them closed behind them.

  But then he was kissing her, and all thought of any sort of victory was shattered. There was no finesse in this, none of Drew’s usual reticence. His mouth was on hers, demanding, as if her words had breached not his will but a dam that had been holding this back for years.

  Her last sane thought before the fire erupted, sweeping her up in the inferno with a speed that left her breathless, was to wonder if it could really make that much difference, coming to this willingly, even eagerly, as opposed to the sense of obligation she’d felt before.

  The answer came to her in a wild leap of heat and sensation, surging through her so fiercely she could feel every muscle ripple as it passed. Everything she’d known, everything she’d thought she knew about this was blasted into irrecoverable pieces. She’d known nothing, she’d had no idea, no clue that it could be like this. Whatever she’d had with Doug, it was nothing, absolutely nothing compared to this. That was silly, girlish fantasy, often disappointing. This was raw, utterly real, and she was going to die if she didn’t have him right now.

  She clawed at his shirt, wanting him naked against her in a way she’d never thought herself capable of. For an instant he stopped, going rigidly still.

  “Be sure, Alyssa. Be damned sure before we go one step further.”

  She took a half step back. Saw the first flicker of resignation begin in his expression. He thought she was changing her mind.

  Instead she reached for the hem of her sweater and pulled it over her head. Saw the heat flash again in his eyes. And when she reached back to unfasten her bra Drew groaned, audibly this time.

  He cupped her breasts as the bra slipped away. Lowered his head and kissed them. She forgot to breathe. She wanted more, she wanted it now, but she didn’t have the breath to ask for it. As if he wanted that skin-to-skin contact as much as she did, he yanked off his own shirt.

  He picked her up, easily, as if she weighed no more than Luke. She clung to him, kissing whatever she could reach, and the feel of hot, sleek skin over taut muscle was more than she could have imagined. Everything about this, everything about being with Drew was more than she could have imagined.

  It made no sense that serious, solid Drew Kiley could have this effect on her. She’d thought herself in love with his flippant, glib, smooth-talking brother. If that was true, if she’d been in love with Doug, she had no idea what this was. Except hotter, fiercer and more consuming than anything she’d even known.

  And then they were on the bed, the bed she didn’t think she could have reached on her own. It was suddenly so much smaller than it always seemed when she was here alone. She always told herself, on those long nights, that it was Doug she was missing.

  Now she had the feeling it hadn’t been that at all. It hadn’t been that she was missing someone. She’d been wanting someone.

  And he was with her now, and as with everything with Drew, it was different. As he’d made her feel safe and secure in life, he was teaching her something new here as well. Teaching her that she’d been sadly unaware of the heights her own body was capable of. His hands, his mouth, took her over. She thrilled to it, savoring every touch, every caress, until her body was fairly writhing, on the edge of overload even as she wanted more, ever more. And he gave her more, moving over her as if he were determined to commit her to memory, as if every curve, every line were crucial to his next breath.

  She’d never felt so cosseted, and yet so ready to fly at the same time.

  And he was ready. She could feel every masculine inch of him, hard, eager. Yes, he was more than ready, but held back. For what? she wondered foggily. Why was he waiting when her body was screaming for him?

  Then she realized. This was Drew. Drew who gave, not took.

  She reached for him, trying to pull him even closer. She tried to get enough air to speak, but a low moan was all that came out.

  “Now?” His voice was harsh, almost as if he was in pain. If he was feeling as she was, she understood.

  “Please,” she whispered, the only word she could manage.

  He moved, probing, and she reached to guide him. She felt her own readiness at the ease of it. And then he was there, sliding into her, filling her, and she cried out at the full, hot pleasure of it.

  Drew groaned, a deep, rough sound that she felt even before she heard it. It sounded as if something had broken, snapped, deep inside him, some long-held tension or pain.

  He sounded like a man who, after years of struggle, had finally made it home.

  He sounded exactly like she felt.

  She shifted, lifting herself to him, opening further for him, wanting him deeper. She wanted him so deep she would never really be without him. And then he was moving, stroking, driving, giving her what she hadn’t had the breath or the words to ask for.

  And as her body convulsed around his she cried out his name, heard her own breaking harshly from his throat, she realized she’d once more learned an important lesson from this man.

  Solid reality was sometimes better than any fantasy.

  Chapter 25

  That damned dream.

  Again.

  Why did his mind choose now, when things were in chaos, to torture him? Or was it because things were in chaos, with Lyss in danger, that his subconscious was taunting him with things beyond his reach? Maybe if he just didn’t open his eyes. But then he might fall back asleep and it might start again. It was early enough, the light was very faint.

  No, he should just get up and take the damned icy cold shower he always did when he woke up aching for a wife he couldn’t—

  The light. His eyes snapped open. If he were somewhere else he might be disoriented, but he’d built this house from the dirt up, and he knew how every window was placed and why. It didn’t matter that the room was still practically dark, didn’t matter that this time of year the sun rose so late it could be almost eight already. What mattered was that what faint light there was was coming from the wrong direction.

  He processed this in a split second before the reality hit.

  It hadn’t been a dream.

  It hadn’t been just another in the string of long, sleepless nights when his recalcitrant mind, freed from daily restraint, took him to the one place he never allowed himself to consciously go.

  Alyssa was beside him. In fact, she was
wrapped around him, one long, silken leg thrown over his. In her bed. In the room he’d built but never slept in.

  Until now.

  It hadn’t been a dream. That long, explosive night hadn’t been a dream.

  He was afraid to breathe, let alone move. He didn’t want to wake her, didn’t want to face the sad likelihood that she would regret what they’d done. She would think of Doug, and wish she’d never touched his boring, staid brother. She would surely wish she hadn’t been the initiator.

  He’d never been one to run, to bail out on uncomfortable morning afters, what few there had been. But there had been a time or two when sneaking out before a partner awoke had been a tempting solution.

  Never had it been as tempting as it was right now.

  At the same time, he couldn’t move. Wouldn’t move. Not while there was one last moment to savor, with Alyssa naked in his arms.

  He wanted her, as fiercely as if last night hadn’t really happened. He wanted nothing more than to wake her with a kiss, then more kisses, wanted to explore every inch of her again, and again, then bury himself in her so deep she would make that sound again, that moan of pleasure that had driven him over the edge last night. That moan that had coalesced into his name, telling him that this once, at least, she wasn’t thinking of his brother.

  But she needed sleep. It had been a rough—no, far beyond rough—few days, and she’d been so worried about Luke, he doubted she’d slept much more than he had.

  Leave her alone, he ordered himself silently. You’ll survive. Maybe.

  He wondered who was outside now. They’d never even heard Rafe last night, but they’d known he was there. He supposed Liam was back now, Quinn had said they’d change off at midnight. He wondered briefly if the extra sense of security their presence gave her was behind Lyss’s behavior last night. If feeling safe was why she had turned to him for solace.

  It’s more like how you know what to grab when a fire’s coming. You know what’s most important.