Jordan Miranda Delany.
June 30, 1983 – November 30, 1993.
His chest tightened with an unbearable pressure. What the hell kind of insanity was this? There was something damn unsettling about seeing the name of the woman you loved on a headstone. Maybe not so much the name as the date of death.
He closed his eyes and thought back. He wasn’t crazy. When he’d asked her about her family, she said they’d been cremated.
He shook his head and wondered if Jordan had been born under some unlucky alignment of the stars. The world never seemed to stop screwing with her.
A loud clap of thunder shook their old house, and lightning flashed through the windows.
She could lock herself away in one of the extra rooms if that was what she wanted to do, but he’d be damned if he was going to stand here and worry while she strolled around in a storm. He grabbed a flashlight and jogged out to the stable for the four-wheeler. When it revved to life, he debated whether she’d have headed out to the road or to the lake.
The lake. She loved it there.
It was as dark as pitch, save for his headlight and the lightning breaking overhead. He knew she hadn’t been in the frame of mind to think about taking an umbrella or a light. After driving the narrow path through the woods, he came out on the other side near a clearing. Her silhouette flashed into view when the sky lit up. As usual, she was perched on the giant boulder next to the water. Beauty was prancing around next to her. He motored up behind them and turned off the four-wheeler.
Now that he was here, he felt that maybe he shouldn’t have come. He’d promised to give her space, but the storm that was brewing was more than just a little rain. Beauty raced up to him and nuzzled his leg.
Jordan didn’t turn or acknowledge his presence, so he eased closer. “Still mad?”
“No.”
She’d spoken—that was good. He crawled up on the rock and scooted behind her. After the way she’d jerked away in the bedroom, his heart raced. He wasn’t sure he could take that again. He hesitated, then went ahead and wrapped his arms around her anyway. She didn’t pull away, but she didn’t relax against him as she usually did, either.
“Let’s go inside. We’ve got maybe five minutes before the downpour.”
“The rain won’t kill me.”
“No, but the lightning might.” As if on cue, the thunder rumbled again, a long, low avalanche tumbling in the sky. He rubbed his hands up and down her arms. “It’s cold out here. Come inside with me. Please.”
They sat without speaking as the wind continued to kick up around them. He squeezed his arms tighter around her and kissed her neck.
She took a shuddering breath. “Isobel’s the kind of woman I’ve always imagined you with.”
His breath rushed out. Damn it. He knew they weren’t done with that. “I’m not sure what you think you saw tonight. I swear to you, you’ve got no reason to be mad.”
She shook her head. “That’s just it I’m not mad. I wish it was anger.” She scooted around to look at him. “I have no idea what it is. When I picture what’s right for your life, I can see you with her. Probably why I hated her from the beginning. But I can see you married to that spunky little redhead and having all these . . .” Her lip quivered and she looked away. “. . . redheaded babies and living on this ranch with your horses.”
He raised a hand to brush her hair back. “You’re being ridiculous.”
“Am I?” she shot back. “Because I bet she’d know how to cook. And meet your family like a normal person. Maybe even make a Thanksgiving dinner without a truckload of baggage.”
The thunder boomed and the lightning crackled. And Ty saw the doubt in her eyes.
“She’d decorate with just the right furniture. And paint with all the right colors and put stupid little doilies on the tables. It would be pretty and perfect.” She closed her eyes, but opened them when thunder struck again. “Then I try to put myself in that picture and I just never fit. Why can’t I ever see myself in your picture?”
Tears streaked down her face, and he tugged on her legs until she faced him completely.
“You can’t see it,” he said, taking her hands in his, “because you’ve got the wrong picture in your head. God knows why, but I seem to be fascinated by difficult blondes.”
The storm was closing in, the humid scent of rain was thick in the cool air. But if here is where she wanted to do this, here it would be.
“As to the kid thing, after everything you and I have been through, bringing a child into this world would be something I’d have to think long and hard about. The thought of a whole tribe of babies makes me want to puke all over your big pretty rock here.”
Her gaze connected with his, and her breath sobbed out. He cupped her face in his hands.
“And since I don’t even know what a doily is, I suspect I’m not going to miss having one in my house. Look at me, please,” he ordered when her head tilted down.
The first cold pings of rain began to whip through the air and lightning flashed overhead.
“I can’t force you to want the same things I do. But the picture in my head, the one that keeps me going and gives me a reason to get up in the morning, it’s just you and me. I don’t care about anything else. What you just described, it’s not my picture. Not even close.”
He touched his lips to hers and felt the familiar zing of connection. He knew damn well she felt it, too. “See, the woman in my picture has all these crazy dreams and sharp outside edges, but her inside is pretty extraordinary.”
The wind kicked up around them and the rain fell in earnest. Jordan crawled onto his lap and wrapped her arms and legs around him.
“You’re not stupid.” He squeezed his arms around her tight. “What we have isn’t something that you can make happen. I can’t transfer my feelings just because another woman may have a little less baggage.”
“A little less baggage?” She managed a sarcastic, insincere laugh. “I’m a fucking disaster on wheels. Do you have any idea what I’ve learned over the last couple of days?”
He nodded and continued to hold her tight. “I think so. Your father was FBI. There’s a headstone with your name on it somewhere. And you went to Kansas City to visit an uncle you haven’t spoken to in years.”
It was dark, but he registered her shock when she pulled back. “How did you—”
“Doesn’t matter.” He kissed her cheek, her ear, her lips. Then he kissed her again and again and again because he didn’t know how else to show this crazy, stubborn woman that she was all that mattered, had been all that mattered from the first moment he saw her. “All I want is you. For the rest of my life, I swear all I want is you.”
“I want that too,” she whispered against his cheek. “And some days I actually believe we can get there.”
He stayed silent during the long pause and the shaky hitch of her breath.
“But some days I feel like I’m drowning in the past and that the right thing to do is to let you go before I take you down with me.”
He grabbed her face in his hands. “Don’t ever say that.”
“I have to say it. I’m so tired of feeling damaged and guilty.”
“Babe, you’ve done nothing to feel guilty about.”
“Are you kidding? I blamed my dad all these years. I hated him. Talked about him like he was scum. And all along he was just doing the job. And I know I should be thankful that I’m alive—for God’s sake, I’m the only one that survived that horrible night. But why? I still pray and beg to understand why I survived. After all these years, I still wish I’d never hidden in that closet. It wasn’t fair for them to leave me behind.”
She pulled his forehead against hers. “And, oh God. I’m so, so ashamed that you’re trying to offer me a life, give me back a piece of what was taken years ago and I’m too damned screwed up to understand how to grab hold of it.”
She sobbed, a terrible moan of raw truth.
“That’s what I felt when I s
aw her with you—shame and guilt. Like the life you should be having was standing right in front of you, but you couldn’t see it because of me. I feel like a virus that’s going to infect you unless you move on.”
“Stop it.” He grabbed her shoulders, fought to restrain himself from shaking some damn sense into her. Through the wet and the wind and the dropping temperature, his blood pulsed with furious heat. “You’re going to stop this and stop it now.”
In the flashing light of the storm, her eyes were wide. She was shivering from the rain, but he had her attention. And Christ, he was just furious. And fucking terrified. Because Jordan coped by shutting people out. It was how she’d been coping her whole life.
“I know who you are when you’re not lost in this. You’re fierce and you’re brave and you’re determined. And I have never, never, seen you give up. Not when Warren Buck tried to kill you. Not when I needed answers to find my sister’s killer. And sure as hell not now. Not when we’re finally in a position to have everything, because that’s not fair. Not to me. Certainly not to you.”
He’d always known he wouldn’t lose Jordan to the normal stresses—finances, work, infidelity. None of those pressures would be what tore them apart. But he feared the dark places that lived in her head almost as much as he feared the call saying she’d taken a bullet from one of the junkies she dealt with.
“Whether you like it or not, you are alive, you did survive, and you need to stop living like you’re dead. Maybe you talk to the dead, maybe you see the dead, but you’re not one of them. They can’t have you.”
Chapter 11
Jordan fought the damp and the cold and watched Ty make quick work of stowing the four-wheeler and toweling off Beauty. He pulled Jordan upstairs and started moving around the bedroom in that quick, efficient way of his. He lit the kindling and added wood in the fireplace, then pulled their mattress from the bed and onto the floor in front of the fire.
He grabbed a couple of towels and came back to her. “You’re freezing. Let’s get you out of these wet clothes.”
But it wasn’t entirely the cold night that had her trembling. The man in front of her, peeling her soaked clothes away with such gentleness and care, had caused a huge lump to swell in her throat.
She wanted to tell him so many things. That no one had ever made her feel so loved. That no one else ever would. That his belief, his confidence in her was a gift she never quite knew what to do with, and quite honestly, probably didn’t deserve.
But she was going to take it. For him, she was going to take everything he gave, and after all this time, try in earnest to move past the damaged little kid who had ruled her life all the way into adulthood.
She put her arms around his neck and murmured against his ear. “I’m sorry, Ty. I’m so sorry. You’re right. I can do this. Just keep reminding me that as long as I have you, I can do anything.” The heat of his body pressing against hers felt like a miracle. She kissed up the length of his neck. “I’m done with the past. I want it to go away. Make it go away like you always do.”
He pulled her down on the mattress and covered them both with a blanket. He smoothed a hand up her waist and brushed his lips against her temple. “I wish I could make your past go away forever. I know I can’t do that, but I can damn sure give you tonight.”
Tears slid across her temples and onto the mattress. He was right. That was what they did for each other—eased the hurt. Made the pain go away. If not forever, at least while the breaking points were wearing thin.
“I don’t want to feel anything but you inside me,” she told him.
She kissed his chest, put her arms around him and pulled him on top of her. Oh God, that was what she needed. His weight, his lips, his hands doing all the things that took away her ability to do anything but feel.
“I love you,” she said. “You’re the only thing in this world that I care about.”
He put a finger under her chin and smiled down at her. “You know the dog is going to be really pissed if she hears you say that.”
She laughed and squeezed him tighter.
His mouth came down on hers as he traced a finger lightly between her breasts. He might as well have sliced her open. Her heart absolutely ached to make him understand he was handing her back a life she’d given up on. How could she possibly put words to all the ways he was changing her?
Her eyes burned and her throat tightened. Then he lowered his mouth to her breast and she groaned. A moment ago, she’d been shivering. Now heat was spreading through her chest, her limbs, her heart.
His teeth and tongue took turns lashing at her nipple.
“Ah, God. You’re so damn good at that. Did someone pull you aside and give you lessons, or . . . oh God.”
“Naturally gifted,” he teased. “Haven’t you figured that out by now?”
Hell yes, she’d figured it out. She’d also figured out Tyler McGee had a playbook. Some nights the only plan was scoring. Other nights he didn’t consider it a win unless he wrung her out first. As he moved his mouth lower and lower—down her torso, across her belly—she was pretty sure which one of those nights tonight would be.
“Ahhh.” She moaned when he pushed her legs open and pressed his tongue to her clit. No teasing kisses. No fooling around this time. Just his warm mouth surrounding her, his tongue stroking and lashing until she cried out, arching up off of the mattress.
Her core erupted in a violent tremble.
A wild growl tore from his lungs.
Fierce.
Raw.
Erotic.
She tugged at him, wanting to feel him slide inside her body while it was still trembling and needy. Yet he continued to move in his signature slow and tantalizing way, kissing everywhere, stopping at her hips, her stomach, even pausing at her breasts long enough to tease them to aching again.
Dragging her fingers up his back, she felt the sheen of sweat and the tight, knotted muscles. His big erection pressed hot and heavy between them. “Now, Ty. I want you now.” She pulled his head close to hers and devoured his mouth, certain he’d enter her.
He took her lips as if his life depended on it, but when the big head of his cock pushed against her opening, he groaned and stilled.
“Fast,” she whispered against his ear. “And hard,” she added. “I want to feel you so damn deep I don’t know where you end and I begin.”
“Fuck, Jordan,” he growled. “I’m trying to slow down, take it easy so I don’t hurt you. But this day, this goddamned day. And when you say shit like that . . . Just give me a second.”
His voice was pained. She knew what he wanted, knew exactly what they both needed—a physical release strong enough to purge all the ugliness of the day.
But it was a thorn in his masculine control when he couldn’t hold the reins as tight as he intended. And she’d never understood why. If he only knew how damned hot it was to feel him wild and reckless, know that he was lost in her and unable to control himself.
“Time’s up, cowboy. Now we do this my way.” She pushed him to his back and climbed on top of him. “Don’t treat me like I’m broken, damn it. Some nights slow and easy are fine.” Barely restrained herself, she clawed his shoulders for support and lifted her hips just high enough to align his big head underneath her. “But not tonight.”
She pierced herself and instantly felt some of the bitterness of the day fall away. She moved fast, treating him roughly and taking him hard.
Allowing him what she knew he wasn’t allowing himself.
Soon he gave in to the rhythm. Each time her body lifted, strong fingers dug in and pulled her hips roughly back down. “Oh God,” she moaned. Ty had oral sex down to a science; she’d never complain. But this, the big head of him blazing across nerves buried deep inside of her, was almost more than her body could take. She cried out again. “Don’t stop. Please . . .”
He reared up to a sit, tugged on her shoulders, and sank his teeth into the curve of her neck. “Fuck,” he wailed as his body pour
ed into her.
His straining muscles, the hard length of him, the warm wetness filling her to bursting touched off a blinding, pulsing orgasm that shook her body and rocked her limbs.
Their chests heaved, one against the other. She ran her tongue along his lips and felt him in ways that didn’t make sense. Physically he’d devastated her. Yet that was nothing compared to the scorching mark tonight had seared into her heart. Her arms stayed locked around his neck, with her desperate to stay that way as long as possible.
In the sated haze of being well-fucked by Tyler McGee, Jordan decided she was beginning to see the same picture of their future that he did. No matter what life threw at them, as long as they were together, nothing else mattered.
***
They’d been wrapped around each other, kissing, until Ty felt sweat roll down his back. “You warm yet?” he murmured against her ear.
“God, yes,” Jordan said. She fell back onto the mattress.
“You don’t have to call me God. You can just call me Ty if you want.”
Jordan laughed, and it was the sweetest sound Ty had heard all night. And that was saying something, because the sounds and words she’d murmured while they were making love had been his undoing.
He stretched out next to her on the mattress.
She curled up with her head on his shoulder and snickered. “Apollo, Hades, Zeus, and Ty, god of rocking sex. Oh, that’s what I want for Christmas, one of those statues of you naked, covered with only a fig leaf.”
“Now, baby, you know it’d take at least a fig branch to cover me up.”
She threw her head back with laughter, then she propped herself up on an elbow and wrapped her fingers around his dick. “I guess you are kind of giftedly hung.”
“That’s what I’m saying. I don’t think it’d be right to make the other gods feel bad about themselves. You should probably just keep it up here.” He tapped her temple.
She was smiling. And that was exactly what he’d hoped to accomplish. When they were alone, they always managed to get to a spot where everything else slipped away. He turned on his side to face her and brushed her hair behind her ear.
Dream Caller (A Dream Seeker Novel Book 3) Page 13