If You See Her

by Shiloh Walker

  And every last brain cell died.

  Oh, fucking shit. She was naked.

  As she pressed her lips against his jaw, Remy managed to croak out, “Hope, what are you doing?”

  “It’s not yesterday now.”

  Her voice was husky with sleep, but calm and steady. Steady—

  Which was exactly what Remy didn’t feel.

  His arm curled around her shoulder, his fingers grazing her naked shoulder and despite himself, he found himself stroking that smooth, soft flesh. “Yesterday?” he said dumbly.

  “Yeah. It’s not yesterday. I haven’t had a bad day. I’m not feeling raw or vulnerable … I just feel you. And I want to be with you.”

  “Hope …” He fumbled for the words, certain there was something he needed to do or say. He was supposed to be taking his time, moving slow, at her pace …

  Then Hope shifted closer and he felt her naked breasts, small and firm, pressing against his chest and every last thought of being logical, of being a gentleman and letting her take her time—all of it—just drained away.

  Groaning, he stroked a hand down her back, reveling in the feel of her silken skin. Pulling her atop him, he kneaded the taut flesh of her butt and muttered, “Kiss me.”

  “Hmmm.” She pressed her mouth against his, tasting of toothpaste and Hope. He traced his tongue along the curve of her mouth, shuddered as hers came out to meet his.

  With one fist tangled in her hair, he tugged her head back, scraped his teeth down her neck. “You sure about this?” And even as he asked, some voice in the back of his head was screaming at him—Are you nuts? She’s sure. She’s buck-naked, sitting on your lap—she’s sure!

  No, he wasn’t nuts. He was desperate and if she changed her mind, Remy wasn’t sure he’d be able to walk out of here. He’d probably have to crawl.

  “Yes … I’m more sure of this than I’ve been of anything else in a very long time.”

  Oh, hell. In the dim light that filtered in through the blinds, he could barely make out the shape of her face, the glint in her eyes, and fuck, that wasn’t enough. Reaching over, he hit the bedroom light and she flinched, her eyes squinting against the brightness.

  He sat up, brought her head against him, shielding her from it. Pressing his lips against her shoulder, he muttered, “I want to see you. Dying to …”

  He shifted around and stretched her out on the bed, watching her face. Her cheeks were flushed pink, her eyes glittering bright with embarrassment, but Remy wasn’t about to turn the light off. “Damn it, you’re beautiful.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  He dipped his head and pressed his lips to the tip of one tight nipple. “I’m the one looking at you, and I see beautiful.” And he also got to see just how far down that blush of hers went … it spread down to the tops of her breasts, turning them the same soft pink as her cheeks.

  “Beautiful,” he whispered again.

  When he looked at her, Hope felt beautiful.

  She wasn’t, not really, and she knew it. She was too skinny and on top of that, she was too self-conscious and now scarred to boot. But he made her feel beautiful.

  A knot settled in her throat and she swallowed around it as she smiled at him. Reaching down, she combed a hand through his hair. “When you look at me, I feel beautiful.”

  He slid a look at her from behind his lashes, that amazing blue burning hot and bright. “You are beautiful … and right now, you’re mine.” He laid a hand on her knee, stroked it up over her hip, her waist, her ribs. Then he cupped her breast and plumped it in his hand, pushing it up.

  Her breath caught as he took the nipple in his mouth, laving it with his tongue, stroking it and drawing it deep.

  She shuddered, curling her arm around his neck and cuddling him close. The heat of his body was like a brand—marking her, warming her. Warming her … all the way through. Hope didn’t think she’d ever felt warmed quite like this.

  It wasn’t just on the surface. Remy did something to her—he brought something more to it. To everything. Even just a smile.

  But this …

  He skimmed his lips down over her belly and she hissed out a breath, her fingers tightening in his hair. “Remy …”

  “Shhhh.”

  Her eyes widened as he shifted lower and lay between her thighs. Immediately, she tried to close them, but there was no way—not with those wide shoulders settled there. She squirmed and wiggled, pressing her hips against the mattress.

  “Remy …”

  He slid her a look. “Hmmm?”

  “I …” Embarrassment, humiliation tied her tongue into knots. How in the hell did she tell him that—He lowered his head and nuzzled her. She bucked her hips. He took advantage of that and slid his hands beneath her, cupping her butt in his hands.

  “I don’t think—”

  “Hope, do me a favor,” he said gruffly. He pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss against her hip bone. “Just stop thinking.”

  And the next kiss was right against her sex, pretty much guaranteeing the fact that Hope stopped thinking. Her breath caught in her throat as he licked her, his tongue rasping over the swollen, tight bud of her clitoris. She reached out, desperate for something to grab onto. Her hands tangled in the sheets beneath her.

  As he stroked his tongue over her a second time, a third, Hope groaned.

  Then he sucked on her and everything inside her splintered, shattered.

  It hit hard, and fast, coming out of nowhere and as she climaxed, she could feel him muttering against her flesh, talking to her. Each time she started to drift back down, he’d touch her again, lick her or rake his teeth lightly over the sensitized flesh and that would just draw it out … endlessly.

  She was still shaking and gasping for air when her vision cleared sometime later. She had no idea how much time had passed. Dazed, she stared at Remy, her breathing ragged, her heart like a drumbeat in her ears.

  Any embarrassment she might have felt died at the look on his face. That look … if it was anybody but Remy, it might have terrified her.

  He pushed up onto his heels and then pulled her up against him, one hand cradling the nape of her neck, the other splayed wide over her back. His mouth came down on hers and right before he kissed her, he muttered, “Fuck, you’re going to drive me insane, I know it.”

  Then his mouth crushed down onto hers. His taste was different—darker.

  Her, she realized. He tasted of her.

  She was shaking. All over.

  Tearing his mouth away, he cupped her face in his hands and stroked his thumb over her lower lip. Rushing it … pushing too hard—slow it down …

  Staring into lambent green eyes, Remy muttered, “Are you okay?”

  In response, she reached up and hooked a hand around the back of his neck, tugged his mouth back to hers, whimpering low in her throat.

  At the sound of that low, hungry sound, he started to shake.

  Damn it, she really was going to drive him insane. He rolled forward, spilling her onto her back. Her mouth ate at his, hungry and desperate, slowly eroding what little bit of control he had.

  While he was still able to think, he pulled back, evading her reaching hands. “Gimme a minute,” he muttered, catching her wrists in his. Under his thumbs, he felt the faint ridges of her scars and he turned her hands upward, pressed a kiss to one wrist, then the other. “Just a minute. Thirty seconds.”

  Then he all but ran to the bathroom.

  Condoms. Damn it, if he didn’t have any condoms, she was going to see him start crying like a baby. He was saved from that indignity, though. He was back in his bedroom in under thirty seconds and found her lying on her side, sleepy-eyed, her lips parted, her face flushed.

  Damn, but he’d give almost anything to have that moment captured forever.

  “And you think you’re not beautiful,” he muttered, coming to his knees beside her and tangling a hand in her hair.

  He caught her pretty mouth with his, kissed her until he had to
stop just to breathe. Then, and only then, did he stop, pressing his brow to hers and panting. “What in the hell have you done to my life, Hope?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “You’re changing everything.” He ripped one of the foil packets off, tore it open, and then he climbed onto the bed, stretching out next to her. “Every damn thing.”

  She reached up and stroked a finger over his mouth. “You, too.”

  He caught her finger between his teeth, bit down lightly as he eased her onto her back. Her breathing hitched and he watched as something too close to nerves, too close to fear edged into her eyes. Rubbing his mouth over hers, he whispered, “We can stop. Just say the word.”

  Stop?

  No. Hope didn’t think stopping was an option. For one, if she stopped, she just might go insane—really insane, this time.

  Two, if she stopped now, she didn’t know if she’d ever work up the courage to try this again. She was so terrified, even as she was desperate for him. Working up what little remained of her courage, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, pressing close.

  It was the best she could do, because there was no way she could put into words everything she felt. It just wasn’t happening.

  Remy reached up, cradling her face in one hand. He eased back, pressing a kiss to her chin, her cheeks, her eyes. Then he shifted back, kneeling between her thighs, pushing the close-fitting boxer-styled briefs he wore down.

  She kept her eyes locked on his face.

  Her breath tried to catch in her throat again. Breathe, breathe, breathe …

  She couldn’t damn well make love to him if she ended up having a panic attack, right? Refusing to let herself think about that, she thought about him, staring at him. And she had to admit, she was damn glad he had the lights on.

  The soft light gleamed from behind a stained-glass lamp shade on the bedside table and it danced over the hollows and planes of his lean body, and if her body hadn’t already been turned into putty by his oh-so-talented hands and mouth, looking at him would have done it.

  His gilt-edged hair fell into his eyes as he rolled the condom down over his length and automatically, Hope glanced down and immediately jerked her gaze back up.

  Shit.

  Oh, shit—

  Her breath caught again and this time, she couldn’t snap herself out of it.

  But Remy came over to her then, catching her face in his hands again, taking her mouth with his, fast, hard … almost roughly. “Kiss me,” he muttered.

  Her breath shuddered out of her and she groaned into his mouth as his tongue pushed into hers. And she breathed.

  Her body relaxed under his even as his weight pressed against hers, letting her feel all of him. All of him …

  He lifted his head, staring down at her. “You with me?”

  “Yes.” She curled a hand over the back of his neck. “I’m here. Right here.”

  “Good … I really like you being right here.” He caught one hand in his, twined their fingers as he pressed against her. “Stay with me …”

  Always … Remy wanted to beg her for always.

  But for now, he just watched her face as he sank slowly inside. Tight—so fucking tight. He gritted his teeth, fought against the urge. Her eyes, misty-green and forest dark, locked on his, half-blind, and he knew it wasn’t just with pleasure, although that was there, too.

  Slow … just take it slow, for fuck’s sake … Cupping her chin, he angled her head to the side and nuzzled her neck, trailed his tongue along the sweat-slicked flesh.

  “Say my name,” he whispered against her ear. “Talk to me, Hope …”

  “Remy …” Her breath caught and hitched in her chest and the feel of those tight, perfect little breasts was enough to drive him even crazier than he already was.

  Groaning, he ran one hand up her side, cupped one round, small breast, stroked his thumb over her nipple. Bracing his weight on his other arm, he watched as the nipple puckered. “Pretty,” he rasped.

  She shivered and that shy, nervous smile tugged at her lips.

  He sank a little deeper inside and as he did, she clenched around him. He groaned and swore. “Fuck, you’re so damn tight …”

  Her eyes went glassy. And dimly, he figured something out … she liked talk.

  Hell. He could do that, especially if it would keep that damn fear from slipping back into her eyes …

  Threading his fingers through her hair, he tangled one hand in it and tipped her head back. “Tight,” he whispered against her mouth. “And hot. Damn it, you’re burning me alive …”

  She shivered and he groaned as he sank deeper, deeper. Then he withdrew, started the slow, teasing process all over again.

  By the time he’d buried his aching cock in her heated core, they were both shaking, hot, and Remy was convinced they were both lost in each other. Completely, utterly lost.

  “Give me your mouth,” he rasped against her lips. “Kiss me, damn it.”

  “Remy,” she whimpered. But the sound was lost as he crushed his mouth to hers, forgetting that he’d told himself he’d be slow. He’d be gentle. He started to ride her and she moved with him, her nails biting into his shoulders, her body straining against his.

  She clenched down around him, so fucking tight, as her climax grew near and he had to work just to bury his dick inside her—too tight, too fucking tight, and so damned sweet. “Damn it, Hope,” he groaned.

  Her eyes were blind, staring into his. She sobbed out his name, rocking against him with fevered desperation.

  “Please.”

  “Shhhh.” He pressed a kiss to her lips. She bit his lip and reached down, gripping his hips, clutching him close as she worked herself against him.

  “Please, oh, please …”

  Remy swore and reached between them.

  As he rubbed the stiff bud of her clitoris, Hope’s eyes went wide, a low, guttural moan escaped her and her body stiffened against his.

  Heaven and hell.

  She clenched around him, her sheath milking him, gripping him so tight and snug, it was both pain and pleasure. Still trying to cling to some semblance of control, he sank inside her, but she was so damn tight, almost lost … and then she was—lost as she cried out his name and broke under him, climaxing and shaking.

  Her nails tore into his arms and he groaned, his hips slamming into hers involuntarily.

  She cried out.

  “Hope …?”

  “Please … !”

  Sinking against her, he caught her mouth with his and took her hard, burying his cock inside her, deep, deep, deep … Losing himself.

  No. Already lost.

  Her heart was still thudding against her ribs, and she was breathing so hard, it was a miracle she hadn’t passed out. Every last inch of her felt incredibly alive and Hope shuddered as Remy roused himself and rubbed his cheek against hers.

  He murmured her name. She rolled her head over to look at him.

  His lashes were low, slumberous over those dark, lovely blue eyes and she couldn’t stop the foolish smile from spreading over her lips. “Yeah?” she murmured.

  He caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her wrist.

  She shivered as his lips grazed the scarred flesh there.

  “Nothing,” he whispered. “Just making sure you’re really here. That I’m really awake.”

  She giggled. The sound of it surprised her so much, she clapped a hand over her mouth.

  Remy smiled at her and reached up, combed a hand through her hair. “You’re beautiful.” Then he cocked a brow and said, “And don’t tell me you’re not.”

  “When you look at me, I feel that way.” She blushed and squirmed.

  He chuckled. “I’d look at you all the time, then, but that might get weird. I can see me arguing my next case—convincing the judge he needs to put some bastard behind bars, and all the while, I’m staring at you.” He kissed her chin and rolled out of bed. He disappeared for a minute and returned, sliding back next to her.
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  She snuggled against him, that foolish smile still curving her lips.

  “We’re not going to get much sleep,” she whispered.

  He wrapped both arms around her and kissed the top of her head.

  “I don’t give a damn. You?”

  “Who needs sleep?”

  Little fucking slut.

  Joe dropped down from the vacant apartment and stalked away.

  It would be dawn soon and the last fucking thing he needed was for somebody to notice him peering across the square toward the DA’s apartment. Fucking moron should have pulled the curtains closed, huh?

  “He fucked my wife,” Joe muttered. His hand itched. Itched for the gun he wore in his shoulder holster and he was tempted, so damned tempted, to just use it on them both.

  But that was too obvious. Too damn obvious. And too easy.

  Hope wasn’t getting out of this easy.

  She had to suffer. And the way Joe saw it? He could make Jennings suffer by making damn sure Hope suffered. Maybe he could even show the bastard she was crazy—just like he’d tried to warn Remy.

  “You should have stayed the hell away from her,” he muttered. “Just stayed the hell away.”

  As he made his way out of the quiet, sleepy town, he didn’t see the shadow separate itself from the alley just next to where he had watched Hope and Remy.

  He glanced at the man striding away, then up toward Remy’s apartment.

  He hadn’t been able to see inside, but he had a feeling he knew what was going on up in Remy Jennings’s apartment. After all, Hope had disappeared inside the apartment sometime earlier in the afternoon. The word was all over town. And while it was possible she’d left, people had been watching.

  Somebody would have seen.

  He even had an idea who it was who had been spying on the two all night … her ex-husband. And if that was her ex-husband … well, somehow he just didn’t figure the ex had been using night-vision binoculars to watch Remy sleep.

  Damn.

  Whoever would have thought that little mouse could prove to be this entertaining? She wasn’t even a mouse, he knew. But he couldn’t quit thinking of her that way. It was … a pet name, he supposed.

  He found her rather endearing. Odd, he supposed. After all, he’d been planning to take her, at first … that fear he’d seen coming off of her, it had called to him. But now, he knew he wouldn’t be doing that. Not with Hope.