Roman Reunion (Destination: Desire)

by Crystal Jordan

  “It’s your future, so sure, make it better.” Her spoon clinked against her bowl as she finished too. Her lips twisted and she sighed. “I hope you’re happy, Tate. Really. Good luck with everything.”

  The finality in her voice made his gut clench and, sue him, but he took the easy way out. “Me too. I hope we’re both happy. Now, about that present from Valentina…”

  Chapter Ten

  The sway of her hips lured him like a Lorelei as she led the way down the hall. She shot the kind of scorching look over her shoulder that was guaranteed to send all the blood in his brain rushing southward.

  Maybe he should force the serious talk tonight, but he couldn’t do it. Not yet. The closeness they’d rediscovered was too good. He wanted to hold on to it for just a little longer, and they would see each other back home. There were legal—and possible genetic—entanglements left to handle, and he’d be dropping by to visit, even if she didn’t realize it yet.

  This was not the end. Not even close.

  So, he should relax and take advantage of the intimacy she was offering now. It was more than obvious she was going to resist his attempts to become a part of her life again once they returned home. Karen was usually pretty easygoing, but when she decided to be stubborn, it was damn difficult to change her mind. He was up to the challenge though. The rest of his life depended on it.

  They entered her room and he locked the door behind them, then he leaned back against the wood surface. She reached into a small box sitting on top of the dresser and pulled something green from it. When she turned toward him, she was holding an emerald lace teddy against herself. It was barely-there and the mental picture of her wearing it that his imagination sent him made his dick harder than steel in seconds.

  “What do you think?” She ran her tongue along her lower lip, her gaze skimming down to his fly, where she had to see the evidence of his lust straining the confines of his zipper.

  “I think…I need to see you in it.” His voice came out a husky rasp, need roughening his tone. “And I think I owe Valentina a thank you note.”

  A throaty chuckle was her reply to that. “I’ll be right back.”

  She disappeared into the bathroom, and he let his head drop against the door. He closed his eyes, wishing this trip would never end. It was idyllic here—no future, no past, just this moment. But his moments were slipping away, and the fantasy would end. Returning to reality meant rectifying years of mistakes. Somehow.

  Hinges squeaked and he turned to look. His heart stopped, then hammered against his ribs. His imagination had nothing on the real thing. The lace cupped every curve like a lover. He could see the outline of her nipples, and the shadowy triangle of curls between her legs. The neckline plunged into a vee so deep it bared her navel, and there were cut-outs at each hip. Dear God. Fire settled low in his gut, and his cock throbbed with painful need. He wanted to bury his face in her lush cleavage and kiss every inch of her creamy flesh.

  “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he breathed.

  “The sluttiest thing, you mean.” She flushed, though her expression was pleased. She ran a fingertip up a delicate strap that seemed to defy gravity in holding the sheer material in place.

  “No.” He shook his head. “Incredibly beautiful, unbelievably sexy, absolutely amazing.”

  Glancing away, she swallowed. “You don’t have to say things like that, Tate.”

  “I say them because I mean them.” He was across the room in two strides and set his hands on her hips. “I was a fool to have ever let you go, Karen.”

  Before she could respond, he covered her mouth with his, shoving his tongue between her lips. She moaned, her fingers fisting in his shirtfront. He skimmed his palms over her back and down to cup the globes of her ass. The textured lace was both soft and stimulating, and wickedness twisted through him as he realized how that might feel on the more intimate portions of her anatomy. He moved one hand around so he could fondle her breast, rubbing the fabric back and forth over her beaded nipple. The other hand dipped between her legs from behind, pressing the lace into her wet pussy. She arched in his arms and her teeth sank into his upper lip, scraping over the sensitive flesh. He shuddered, pain and pleasure twisting viciously inside him.

  He pulled back, dropped to his knees, jerked the lace aside, and buried his face between her thighs. She squeaked, rising onto tiptoes, but he was relentless, sucking and licking her slick lips. The taste of her cream was a heady aphrodisiac, and her hands tugging at his hair only urged him on.

  Little gasps and mewls spilled from her, and she pressed her hips tighter to him. “Tate. Oh my…oh. Tate!”

  Her knees buckled and he caught her close, cradling her to his chest. He hooked his fingers into the shoulder straps, pulling them away. “I need you, Karen. I need you.”

  She wriggled, helping him strip the teddy off her succulent body. Then she reached for the hem of his shirt and tugged it up and over his head. Her fingers spread over his chest and toyed with his nipples. A harsh sound wrenched from deep within him, white-hot lava burning through him. He slipped out his wallet and the condom inside, then wrestled open his fly and pushed his pants down, sitting back to kick his legs free.

  After grabbing the rubber from him, she quickly sheathed his cock. He scrambled to his feet, scooped her up and tossed her onto the bed. Her surprised laugh cut short as she bounced against the mattress. Then he was on top of her, sliding into the hot, satin depths of her sex. They both groaned when he was seated fully within her. Nothing, nothing in the world felt as good as being with her, connecting on a physical, emotional level that was so fucking right.

  He pulled back until he almost slipped from her pussy, then sank in again and again and again. Time stretched out until there was only her, only this. Right here, right now, she was his whole world, his everything. That was how he wanted it to stay. He tried to show her without words, used every ounce of knowledge and expertise he’d gained over the years to give her pleasure. Slow rotations of his pelvis against her clit, angling so he hit just the right spot inside her.

  “This is awesome,” she gasped. A laugh bubbled out of her throat, her hips rising to meet his at each downward thrust. Her cheeks were flushed with passion, her lips curled in an impish grin, her eyes sparkling. A carnal angel going up in flames in his embrace. He adored seeing this side of her, the side no one else ever got to see, the hidden fire that burned under the cool, calm surface.

  He framed her face in his palms, stroking his thumbs over the smooth curves of her cheekbones. “You’re so damn lovely, sweetheart.”

  “Tate,” she whispered, her expression tender as she reached up to caress his jaw.

  Emotion shone in her green gaze, and he’d swear he could feel her love wrap around him. The moment was so perfect, so exactly like it used to be. He couldn’t hold back anymore—his control shattered and he was stripped bare. All that was left was the single truth that had shaped his life for over a decade.

  “I love you, Karen. I love you so fucking much. I need you forever.”

  The words hit her like a ton of bricks, ecstasy and agony ripping through her at once. But he kept moving, kept thrusting, and her body simply reacted, her mind shutting down, feeling overruling logic. He hammered deep, grinding down on her clit, and she exploded into intense climax. Every muscle inside her clenched and released, goose bumps broke over her skin and her pussy milked the length of his erection. The hair on his chest rasped over her nipples, the head of his dick probing her G-spot with each swift plunge, and sensation swamped her, pushing her into one peak after another.

  “I love you,” he whispered, and then slammed even deeper than he had before, sending them both spinning over into orgasm. He groaned, shuddered over her. A scream wrenched out of her, her back bowing as she came hard, and tears slipped from the corners of her eyes.

  Emotion erupted like a volcano within her, and sobs made her chest hitch in rough spasms. She shoved at his shoulders, pushi
ng him off her so she could roll away. She clamped a hand over her mouth and curled into a ball on the side of the mattress.

  Oh God. Oh. God. She couldn’t believe he’d said that to her. How could he? How dare he make her feel this way? He had no right! Every worry and fear from the past week ripped at her soul, all the pain of the last eight years burning her heart like acid until she felt scoured from the inside out. Tate put a hand on her shoulder, and she jerked away from the touch. There was concern in his voice when he spoke, but she didn’t hear his words, curled deeper into herself and just cried.

  Because Valentina was so right. Karen did still love him, and she hated herself for that weakness, hated that someone who’d hurt her and rejected her so often and for so long was still the one man who owned her soul. What was wrong with her? How much more pathetic could she possibly be?

  She didn’t know how much time had passed, but when she resurfaced from her misery, she found Tate stroking her hair, crooning wordless comfort. Hiccups rattled her chest, but she forced herself upright, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She swiped at the dampness on her cheeks. The mattress bounced as Tate moved, and then a tissue appeared in front of her face. She grabbed it and blew her nose.

  “Thanks.” Her voice came out watery and fainter than she liked. She cleared her throat, wincing at how raw it was.

  He settled beside her, close, but not so close he touched her. “I think it’s time to talk, whether either of us likes it or not.”

  The protests that sprang to her lips would only make her sound like a petulant child, so she sniffled and dabbed at her eyes, keeping her mouth shut.

  Sighing, he rubbed a hand down his face. “We’ve both done pretty well at avoiding the serious discussion, but clearly keeping our thoughts to ourselves isn’t helping either of us.”

  Sidestepping the fact that he’d dropped the L-bomb, she went with the topic she’d held back. “I might be pregnant. My period is late. I’ll take a test when I get home.”

  “You could take one here.” He gave her an incisive glance, but his tone was non-demanding.

  Finding out she was pregnant would send her into an emotional freefall, and she just couldn’t handle it right now. She needed a safety net when she took that fall. “I want my friends there when I find out for sure. I know it’s stupid, but—”

  “No.” He set a hand on her shoulder. “This is a huge thing we’re facing. Your friends have been with you through everything, giving you support. I wish I could say I had done that for you too, but I didn’t. Hell, lately I was the reason you needed their support.” Self-loathing colored his voice, and his hand fell away. She hated that she felt bereft without his touch. He sighed. “So, we won’t know anything concrete until we’re back. That’s okay. I understand.”

  “Thank you,” she said stiffly. She resented his kindness, how sad was that?

  That penetrating glance speared her again. “I’d like the chance to be there for you in the future, Karen. To make up for how I haven’t been there for you before.”

  The breath clogged in her throat. She squeaked, “I…”

  “This time in Rome has been amazing, but I want more than an affair. I want us to get back together.” The sincerity in his voice tugged at her heartstrings. “I love you.”

  There. He’d said it again. She jerked as if he’d slapped her, then shoved to her feet. “No.”

  “That was a knee-jerk response, Karen.” He rose as well, holding up placating hands. “Please, think about it before you reject the idea out of hand. We’re good together on so many levels. You have to know that.”

  She didn’t have to know anything. Temper exploded within her, an anger she’d struggled with for years. It tangled with the stabbing pain that hit her when she recalled every instance where she hadn’t been important enough to be worth his time.

  “So what? You think you can just go back to how it was?” She pounded a fist against his shoulder, and it wasn’t nearly enough to vent her agony, so she did it again. And again. And again. Until he caught her arms and pinned them against his chest.

  “No, I don’t think I can go back. I want us to go forward, together.”

  “That’s quite a flip from the man who ruined our marriage. You threw us away!” Unable to move, she resorted to an acidic hiss. “How could you, Tate? How could you do that to us, to me? What did I ever do to deserve being ignored, forgotten and slotted dead last on your priority list? Seriously, I think I ranked below mowing the fucking lawn.”

  “No.” His throat worked, and moisture filled his eyes. “My priorities were so backwards for so long, but my head is on straight now. Nothing will ever rank above you again. I swear.”

  “Empty promises,” she growled. “Maybe you quit your dad’s firm, but you’ll start yours and get immersed in your cases and poof. Who’s Karen? Why does this needy bitch keep yelling at me to give her attention?”

  His eyes widened, shock, horror and grief reflecting in the dark depths. “It was never like that!”

  “Wasn’t it? That’s how it looked from where I was standing.” She jerked away from him, shoving her fingers through her short locks. “What does it matter? All this week was about was sex. It was good, but I’m done. I walked away before and I was stupid enough to let myself get sucked back in, but I am done.”

  “No, please. Please, Karen.” He licked his lips, desperation stamped on his features. “Let me prove I can be the man—”

  “Why? Why bother? Why open myself up to the endless torture?” She threw her hands out. “I already know I can’t be near you and not react, not care. So I just can’t be near you. You’re like waving a shot glass of whiskey under an alcoholic’s nose. It’s never going to end well.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “It’s the truth.” Even if she needed to remind herself of that over and over and over again. She’d thought she could have a simple affair with him, but she’d been so wrong, so stupid. There was nothing simple about her feelings for him. They overwhelmed her, and that petrified her. What she’d once welcomed, she now feared.

  “No.” He reached out a hand and she scrambled back a step.

  If he touched her now, she would lose it. She might even give in to the temptation he offered, though she knew it would be the dumbest thing she could do. If she went back to him and he betrayed her again, she would be shattered. There would be no recovery from that. It was a risk she couldn’t take, no matter what her heart wanted. Her heart was stupid. It had already proven it couldn’t be trusted.

  She grabbed a pillow from the bed and used it to cover her nudity. “Please leave.”

  “Karen.”

  The pleading in his voice almost broke her, but she firmed her chin and dug deep for some resolve. “Just go. I have to protect myself—I deserve better than you’ll ever be able to give me.”

  He swiped at his eyes before tears could escape, but his voice shook. “Maybe that was true in the past, but I’ve changed.”

  She pressed her lips together to quell a sob, shook her head and pointed toward the door. “Go, damn it!”

  “I love you. I’m sorry.” And then he was gone.

  Crumpling to the mattress, she could still smell him on the sheets. Pain spread like an aching bruise inside her. This was so much worse than the first time they’d split up. Then, he’d just let her leave, never saying a word to stop her.

  Now, he’d spent a week using their shared history of a city they both loved to remind her of all the qualities she’d fallen for in the first place—his humor, his kindness, his easy companionship, his ability to turn her on with a single glance. She’d missed those things, and it had felt so good to have them back, to be near him again. His campaign had been far more effective than she wanted to admit, but she had to be strong. Somehow.

  Because, God help her, she still had to deal with the fact that his child might even now be growing in her womb.

  Chapter Eleven

  Tate climbed into his car and s
tared out the windshield for a moment. It had been six days since he’d returned from Rome—six long, agonizing days, six empty, sleepless nights. He’d reached for Karen so many times, but she wasn’t there. Letting a heavy breath filter out of his lungs, he slipped his key in the ignition and fired up the engine. He’d given her some time and space to think, hoped she’d get in touch—if for no other reason than to let him know if she was having their baby—but she hadn’t.

  So, now he needed to gird his loins and try again.

  He blinked when the passenger door opened and his sister plopped herself into the seat. “Oh, good. You can drive me to the Stanford gallery.”

  “There’s public transportation that would take you right to campus,” he pointed out.

  “Yeah, but I’m late, and I’d rather not run to catch a bus.” She snapped on her seatbelt. “There’s only one thing worth sweating for, and running isn’t it.”

  “Say no more. Really.” Following suit, he clipped his seatbelt into place. “That’s all the detail I need on that topic.”

  “You’re welcome,” she replied cheerfully. “So, where are you going?”

  He backed out of the driveway and headed toward the gallery. “I’m having a real estate agent show me some potential office spaces.”

  She smirked. “And would these offices be located in Half Moon Bay, brother dear?”

  “They would be, yes.” He’d also discussed putting the Palo Alto house on the market. Even if Karen didn’t take him back, he couldn’t live there without her. The memories would haunt him forever. He needed a fresh start on every possible level—personal and professional.

  “Ballsy, I like it.” Admiration shone in Laurel’s voice, but after a short pause she added, “You do realize she turned you down though, right?”

  His sister knew all about what had gone down in Italy. She’d shown up at the airport—driving his car—and had pried a confession out of him before they were halfway back from SFO. For the first time in his life, he agreed with his parents. It was too bad she’d become an artist because she’d make a terrifyingly good lawyer.