by Sharon Wray
“I didn’t know that.” Rafe rarely spoke about her daddy. “What does it mean?”
“When you’re in a new situation, listen for the local sounds. City noises could be car horns, vendors, airplanes. In the woods, it’s the wind in the trees and the animals. Specifically, the birds. That way, when those sounds change, you’ll know something’s wrong. Like now. It’s midnight, and I don’t hear the church bells.”
She followed his gaze. He was right.
They sat next to each other for a few minutes until he asked, “What happened to you after I left? After you got my letter?”
Chapter 29
Juliet froze. “You want to know why I was stripping.”
He lowered his arms and adjusted his hips, grimacing. “Among other things.”
For a moment, she wondered how it would feel to reach out to him, hold his arousal between her hands, feel his hardness inside her, taste him… A blush worked its way up her neck, and she was grateful for the candlelight. “After…I got your letter, I had three days to move out. The army froze our bank account. All I had was the cash in my purse and the gas in our truck. Abigail and Charlotte, two of the other wives, helped me pack. When I got home, I found my daddy living in the trailer near Pops’s property line.”
Rafe’s lips thinned, his nostrils flared. Almost like he was annoyed or frustrated. Like he wanted her to say something else. “Did you live with Gerald?”
“For a few weeks.” She took the pillow from behind her back and held it against her breasts. “But he drank and was so paranoid, always worrying about men finding him. I got my waitressing job back at Boudreaux’s, and one night Daddy set the trailer on fire. It burned down, and he returned to the manor. I think he did it on purpose. He hated living so close to Pops. I tried to stop him, but he couldn’t be reasoned with. Then Old Man Boudreaux fired me.”
“Why?”
“By then the Isle found out you’d gone AWOL and were accused of treason. Between my father’s craziness and the Isle’s anger, I went to town. I moved a lot, taking waitressing jobs. I wanted to go to school but needed a safe place to live. Then, one night, I waitressed at Rage of Angels. I saw the money the dancers made and realized if I did it a few nights a week, I could go to school. I ended up living with other dancers, worked at the club, and enrolled. After finishing my master’s degree, I opened my shop and quit the club.”
“Until last night.”
“Because I need money for my loan.”
“When you came home, did you ask Calum for help?”
“Calum was at Tulane, then Oxford. When he returned to Savannah, he bought the club.” Her shoulders sank. “He never asked me to quit. He just took me to lunch a lot. When I graduated, he came to the ceremony.”
Rafe was grinding his molars, and he only did that when he was mulling.
“If you have something to say, please do it.”
“I’m proud of you.”
“You’re horrified.”
“I’m sad that’s what you had to do, but I’m proud of you for surviving. For how you fought for what you wanted. You haven’t let anyone else define your success.”
She frowned. “That silent but is a killer.”
“When you’re scared or threatened, you retreat into yourself. You don’t seek help or ask for favors. Hell, when we were married, there was a part of you I couldn’t reach, a part you held separate from me. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t breach that wall around your heart. Sometimes being married to you was lonelier than being without you.”
She blinked as a rushing filled her head. All she could see was the last line of his letter: I need to be with a woman who’s with me when I hold her in my arms. I need more life, more passion, more everything. More than you can give.
She threw off the blanket and stood. “What you wrote in your letter was true? Your leaving was my fault.”
“No.” He stood with his hands out. “Leaving was all on me.”
“You wrote that you were tired of me. You wanted a life of adventure, to travel the world, you wanted to experience other women.”
He came toward her. She retreated until hitting a wall.
He cupped her face with his hands. His shadowed face was all hard angles and firm resignation. “I left you because I had to. Leaving you was the price of saving you.” His voice shattered on the last word, mirroring the pain buried in his gaze.
She didn’t understand why he had left, what he wanted, and how she still desired him. “I don’t understand.” She’d wanted the words to come out strong; instead they sounded like a plea.
He leaned his forehead against hers, their eyelashes clashing. “Please just trust me.”
Pain bubbled up, spearing her heart. The room blurred. “I don’t know how.”
“Then let me remind you.” His lips traced hers, gently at first, increasing pressure, until he was kissing her with a passion she remembered. His hard body against hers, an arm around her waist, a hand gripping her hair.
His breath warmed her, and his mouth made demands until she opened hers to him. His tongue slipped in, seeking anything she’d give him. Her lower stomach contracted, and her breasts pressed against his ridged chest muscles. She didn’t want to ache for him. She wanted to be in control, to decide when and how to do the kissing.
As if sensing her conflict, his lips gentled. Caressed instead of ordered. Sought instead of took. He loved her in a way she hadn’t felt in eight long years.
“Please remember,” he begged, “what Garza said about the tithe.”
It was hard to think with Rafe’s mouth on her breast, sucking through the soft cotton, while her hand in his hair held him in place. The recruit offers up the one thing that ties him to this world.
His hands cupped her breasts as his lips moved up her neck. His arousal dug into her stomach, pinning her to the wall. She’d forgotten how large he was. Or had that grown along with the rest him? Her voice caught in the tangled web that had been their life together. “Was I what held you to the real world?”
His breath hitched, and the moment before his lips slammed onto hers, he said, “Yes.”
With a soft moan, she kissed him back. The second she submitted, he lifted her so she could hook her legs around his waist. His erection ground against her center, and everything inside melted. He’d taken her against the wall many times, front and back, but she needed his hands on her breasts, his weight on her body. “Bed. Please.”
He carried her, and she was suddenly on her back on the bed. After undressing himself, he pulled off her sweatshirt, cami, and pants. The only thing left were her black lace panties.
She lay before him, exposed, while he stood over her, holding his arousal. “You’re so beautiful.”
No, he was. He was so much larger and more muscular than a man had a right to be. Wide shoulders with enormous biceps and strong forearms. A stomach that had more muscles than she could count. His chest narrowed into slim but powerful hips. And she couldn’t help but remember those thighs between hers, demanding erotic things she wasn’t sure she was capable of, but as it turned out, she had been.
The humming in her body ratcheted up, and she felt like liquid mercury. Rolling around without direction, lost without boundaries. She held out her hand, and he took it. The sound of his heavy breathing kept her focused. His eyes darkened, and he licked his lips. Despite the lack of AC, she shivered. Her nipples hardened, and her breasts swelled. “Please.”
He dropped her hand to move to the end of the bed. With the male gracefulness she was getting used to, he slipped off her panties. Then, using his elbows, he balanced his larger body over hers. Their noses touched, his sex pushed against hers. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” She traced his chest muscles, feeling the indentations that hadn’t been there the last time she’d seen him like this. His heart pounded beneath her fingers
, the light hair rough against her smooth skin. When she brushed his nipples, he threw his head back and bared his teeth. His erection pressed in—then stopped.
Everything about him screamed primal male, and everything in her wanted him. She raised her hips and opened her thighs. He held himself with one hand, moving the head to tease her entrance, sending her into spirals of pleasure.
“I need you so damn much.” His hands landed on either side of her head, making her his prisoner, his breath ragged and raw. “I’ve dreamed about this for eight years. I can’t wait.”
She held his face with both hands, kissing his nose, his cheeks, his lips. “Then don’t.”
“I know the first time I take you, it’ll be over quickly. I want to enjoy you.”
The first…of many? Her lips skimmed his neck, and she gripped his shoulders. She deliberately avoided the ink on one arm, the bandages on the other. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You could never hurt me,” he said as he found a nipple. His mouth closed over the sensitive nub, and her body arched. A fire raged through her, and only he could put it out. Except he’d been propping himself up, not letting her feel the hardest part of him against the softest part of her. His mouth moved to her other breast while his free hand fondled the abandoned one. She gasped, desperate for more.
Beyond frustrated, she reached down and took his erection in her hands. It jerked in agreement. He lifted his head, his neck arched, the tendons straining as he hissed. She pulled and kneaded, his arousal hardening even more with her touch.
Finally, he gripped her hips, met her gaze as if daring her to stop him, and drove into her. Her head hit the headboard, but she didn’t care. His eyes were closed, his fingers dug into her hips hard enough there’d be bruises. He filled her completely, and she felt a twinge of tightness.
As if knowing she wouldn’t be used to his size, he held himself there. “Juliet.”
She bucked, desperate for movement. But he was stranded in a moment where each gasp became a groan. Deep inside her, his strength holding her still, his body became a single contracting muscle. A masculine machine with one purpose—to make love to her. His skin was drawn over his cheeks so tightly she saw his bone structure. Sweat coated his chest. He looked fierce and feral, and she wanted him more than she’d ever wanted anything else.
She tried to move her body, forcing the issue, except he was much stronger. Making him do anything was impossible. “Rafe. Please.”
He exhaled and began a slow back-and-forth movement. That escalated into a driving force that increased the firestorm. The sheer momentum of his thighs pressing hers farther apart so he could reach deeper inside threw her into an orgasm that lifted her off the bed. But that wasn’t enough for him.
He pulled out and tossed her onto her stomach. Then he drew her hips up and slammed into her from behind. Her body shook with the after-effects of her climax, at the same time building to another. As he took her with a punishing rhythm, his breath came out in short, stuttered breaths. She exploded into a black void filled with shining stars.
She wasn’t doing this alone. She reached behind to hold the back of his neck. He kissed her shoulder until her body clenched his sex, forcing his finish. He convulsed before his last two thrusts ended with a growl. Then he collapsed on top of her.
Her skin was so hypersensitive, his breath and his days’ worth of stubble tickled her back. He rolled over, bringing her on top of him. Her breasts flattened against his chest. One of his hands pressed against her lower back while the other held her head so he could kiss her. But this time the kisses were softer than petals, more gentle than wings.
When he released her, his eyes glittered in the candlelight leaking in from the other room. “Are you alright?”
She kissed the center of his chest. “Better than alright.” She laid her head against his heart and listened to its frantic rhythm. “I never want to move.”
He threw a blanket over them. She was cocooned in his arms, held against his body, wrapped up in his scent, completely drained. He’d taken everything from her and, from his still-erratic breathing, had given it back. It had been so wonderful she knew, in that single space of time, she’d never love another man the way she loved Rafe Montfort.
* * *
Rafe sucked in a breath and closed his eyes. “Juliet.” I love you.
For eight years, he’d never allowed himself to dream of her, to think about her, to imagine her in this way. To do so would’ve meant he couldn’t live in his other world. It would’ve driven him mad.
“Rafe.” She lifted her body slightly, and he saw her breasts pancaked against his pecs. Her hair hung around her shoulders, forming a veil that kept him in and the world out. What had he learned from the nuns in elementary school? You veil what is sacred.
“Yes?” He tucked a chunk of hair behind her ear, but it was so thick, it refused to stay.
“Kiss me.”
His mouth captured hers again. He could smell her arousal, a tantalizing scent of lavender and sex. All female. All his. His hips arched, his balls tightened, and his cock hardened. God, will I ever get enough of her?
She shifted until she straddled him, flinging her hair back. The blanket fell off behind her. The moon had broken free from the clouds, offering its light at the perfect moment. She held her pale breasts out to him, and he took one nipple in his mouth, and then the other. He licked and nibbled, and she yelped when he gently bit.
When he lowered his head, she was smiling. Then, with one hand, she guided him in. His lungs exploded—or maybe it was his heart—and he closed his eyes. She was so tight, so perfect, he could barely process the fact that he was holding her hips and driving into her like a madman. All thoughts of gentleness and taking things slowly were replaced with a harsh hunger demanding satisfaction.
He’d wanted the second time to be about her. Instead, it was harder and faster than the first. He was ruthless, demanding things he’d no right to. When she grabbed his shoulders and met each thrust, he was sure he wouldn’t survive. But this was a death worth enduring.
Moving his hands to her waist, he used his strength to sit halfway up while keeping the explosive rhythm. He dragged her head down for a kiss while his thighs forced hers apart even farther. She was slick and tight, a combo that allowed him to go farther, deeper, and faster. He heard her intake of breath and a small moan, and slammed her down with as much force as he could without hurting her.
Once she climaxed, he let go of what little self-control he had and detonated. He gripped her waist and in that moment of perfect pleasure and pain, threw back his head and let out a guttural cry. She drained him of everything he had to give her.
Exhausted, he brought her down. With one hand on her head and the other on her lower back, he kept her on top, her head tucked beneath his chin. Their hearts beat in sync, racing as if to catch up with the emotions spiraling out of control. After a few minutes of running his hands up and down her spine, a calm settled over him. Then he covered her with the blanket and used both arms to hold her close.
Soon he’d return to the Fianna. But after making love to her, after loving her, he’d no idea how he was going to leave her again. It would destroy them both.
Chapter 30
Juliet pushed the hair out of her eyes and checked the clock. The power was still out. She had no idea what time it was, and she didn’t care. Curled up against Rafe’s warmth, her head on his chest, a leg over his thighs, she hadn’t felt such peace in eight years.
“Are you alright?” he asked gruffly.
She raised her head. His eyes were closed, his chest moving up and down as if he were running away. “I am.”
“God, I’ve missed you. I just hope”—he swallowed—“I can make this better.”
She kissed his chest. “I thought it was great.”
He laughed. “I meant everything else. The past. The pr
esent. The future you want.”
“You shouldn’t have to carry that responsibility.”
“I do.” He opened his eyes and dragged her hair from her face. “I don’t want to fail.”
She yawned and laid her head on his shoulder again. “You always get what you want.”
“Not everything.”
“Then you’ll have to try harder.” She drifted away. Before her eyes closed, she noticed two things: his handgun on the nightstand and, leaning against the wall, her daddy’s rifle.
* * *
Capel land, eighteen years earlier
Juliet pulled up her knees and leaned against the door. Darkness swallowed them. “Calum?”
“I’m scared,” he said between sobs.
She blew on her scraped knees. “Follow my voice.” When she felt his hand, she pulled him close.
“We’re going to die.”
“Not if we’re smart.” But she knew the truth. They were alone, and no one was coming. “We have to break down the door.” She stood and pulled him up. “Help me.”
He sniffled. “We’ll die here, and our daddies will be so angry.”
“We’re going to save ourselves.”
She took his hand and led him to a corner where she knew an urn sat on a pedestal. She didn’t want to think about what was inside it. “We need to lift it and throw it at the door.”
“My arm hurts.”
“I’ll take most of the weight.” They carried it toward a strip of light from beneath the door. “We’ll throw and then back away so we don’t get hit with shards. One. Two. Three.”
The urn hit with a thud. It crashed to the floor, and the door remained locked.
“My daddy is going to be soooo mad,” Calum cried.
She sighed. Hers would be too, if he were home. “We have to scream.”
“The bad man might be out there.”
“Pretend you’re fighting with Carina.”
Calum sniffled again. “I can do that.”