Tom ended the kiss and rested his cheek on the top of Liza’s head. His heart was pounding like it would come out of his chest. He felt giddy with relief and tightened his arms around her. It was like he’d been underground for years and had finally emerged to breathe fresh air.
She shifted her hips, and he groaned because, most of all, he was horny as hell. His body had been in stasis for so long. He’d desired her many times since they’d moved to Sacramento, but not like this. Not with this clawing, desperate need, like a raging river after the collapse of a dam.
“I want you,” he whispered and she made a noise so close to a whimper that his fingers flexed, digging into the firm muscles of her ass. “You have an amazing ass.”
She laughed. “Thank you. I must admit to having ogled yours a time or two.”
“Only a time or two?”
“A million times, or two,” she murmured.
His lips curved and he kissed her hair. “There are things I want to do with you—” He groaned again when she shivered hard, her hips lifting so that she was pressing against his erection. “Wait. Just . . . wait. I need to think.”
“No thinking. Time for doing.” She released her hold on his neck, slipping her fingers between them and unbuttoning three buttons before his brain reconnected to his mouth.
He gave her a short, hard kiss before turning from the wall where they’d been leaning.
“First door on the left,” she said huskily, then hummed when his feet stopped walking, his hips grinding against her of their own volition. “Mmm. You liked that.”
Tom didn’t think he was going to make it. “After,” he choked out.
She looked up at him with a frown. And a little hurt. “After what?”
“I think we should talk. Don’t you?”
Her lower lip poked out and he wanted to bite it. Just like he had every time she’d pouted since she was seventeen years old.
Now he could, so he did, tugging gently on her full lip with his teeth before following it up with a kiss that made her sigh dreamily. “You feel me,” he whispered against her now-upturned lips. “You know I want you. That I want this. But I want to do this right.”
She sighed again, put-upon. “Dudley Do-Right,” she muttered. “Fine.” She wriggled her hips again, trying to slide from his hold, but he was having none of that.
“Don’t go.” He punctuated his plea with another kiss. “Please.”
He lowered them both to the sofa until he sat with his head back against the cushion and she straddled him on her knees, his hands rubbing up and down her thighs restlessly.
She smiled down at him, her expression wicked. “I could talk like this for a while.”
He shook his head, unable to keep the smile from his face. “I need to say a few things. I need you to hear me.”
She drew a breath and let it out, then sat back on his lap. “All right. I’m listening.”
“You said that you’ve . . .” He felt his cheeks heat, and his eyes narrowed because she was grinning at him like the spitfire she was. “What?” he demanded.
She swept her thumbs over his cheeks. “You’re blushing. It’s sweet.”
He rolled his eyes. “I am not sweet.”
“Oh, okay. You are mean.” She folded her hands in her lap, demurely waiting. Except for her eyes, which danced with an amusement that he hadn’t seen in a very long time.
I love you. He startled, not sure when “wanting her” and “longing for her” had become “loving her.” But the words were true. He knew it as well as he knew his own name. But he held the three words back. Not yet. He needed to say other things first. Important things.
“You said that you’ve loved me since you were seventeen.”
She abruptly sobered, his intent finally seeming to register. “I did.”
“I . . .”
She smiled ruefully. “You don’t have to say it, Tom. I’d rather you wait until you know it’s true than just say words back to me.”
“But that’s just it. I have loved you that long.”
Her smile dropped away, her expression instantly wary. “But?”
“It wasn’t like yours. Not then. Then, when I was twenty and you were seventeen, I knew I liked you. I knew I felt something for you.” He huffed an awkward laugh. “I wanted you?”
A new smile bloomed. Sheer delight. “You did? Back then?”
“I did. But you were seventeen and you were grieving and I would never have taken advantage of you that way.”
She traced his lower lip with her fingertip. “I know. But I have to say that knowing you wanted to is an ego boost.”
He winced. “I never meant to make you feel . . . less.”
“I know that, too.” She drew a deep breath and braced her shoulders. “And then?”
“Then you joined the army and I was pissed off.”
“I remember that.”
“You were eighteen and I’d planned something . . .” He felt himself blushing again, his embarrassment made worse by the way she was watching him with wide eyes.
“Something?” she prompted. “Something . . . sexual?”
“God,” he groaned. “Yes. I figured you were eighteen and I was still twenty and that I wasn’t going to be a pervert if I made a move. But then you said you were going away. That you’d already signed up. You didn’t tell me you were planning to do that.”
That final sentence came out more accusingly than he’d wanted it to. She winced now. “I’m sorry. If I’d known . . .”
“Yeah, well,” he grumbled. “I figured that you wouldn’t have done that if you’d felt anything, so I stowed it. Told myself we were friends. That you were like my sister.”
She looked horrified. “Shit.”
He laughed. “I never managed to convince myself of the sister part.”
“That’s good, at least. But the friend part stuck, huh?”
“It did. When you’d come home on leave, it was hard. I was hard,” he said ruefully. “I’d have to leave the room and go off by myself and say, ‘Just a friend,’ over and over until I was ready to come back out and be . . . well, presentable.”
She grinned again, her gaze dropping to his groin, where he was still hard as a rock and raring to go. “Oh? And did those moments alone involve anything else? Like . . . y’know, relief? And are you almost done talking?”
“Behave, brat.” He shook his head, but fondly. “When I was closer to twenty, yes, those little getaways sometimes involved me getting relief. As I got older, I got better at keeping you compartmentalized in the ‘friend’ box in my brain.”
She was serious again. “You’re good at compartmentalizing your emotions,” she murmured. “That’s how you survived an abusive father. I get that.”
For a moment he could only stare. Then he chided himself for being so surprised. She’d always known him better than anyone else. “I think you’re right.”
“The distance didn’t help. You graduated and got drafted to Boston and I was deployed.”
“I worried about you all the time,” he confessed. “Those Skype calls were some of the only times I thought I could breathe.”
“And the other times?”
“When I was on the basketball court. In front of a crowd. Then everything else went away. But then, when you’d come home, I’d keep saying, friend, friend, friend. I knew it wasn’t true deep down, but over time it became a kind of truth. You know?”
“I know.” She hesitated. “And then you met Tory.”
He nodded. “She was bright and happy and, well, there. With me.”
“She made you happy,” Liza said, without an iota of envy or anger.
“She really did.”
Her fingertips brushed down his jawline. “I’m glad you had her. I’m glad she made you happy. I hope you can believe that I’ve never been glad that she died.”
“I know,” he said without hesitation. “You couldn’t. It wouldn’t be you.”
Her smile was tremulous. “I must say, though, the day you met her was not my favorite day.”
He remembered the flash of hurt in her eyes. How could he have missed it? How could he have compartmentalized his feelings to such a degree that he’d been so clueless? “I guess not.”
“I got off the call with you and went to the PX and got an entire quart of ice cream and ate it all myself.”
“Rocky road?”
She made a face. “No. It was mint chocolate chip. One of my friends found me eating it and weaseled some of the story out of me. She encouraged me to get serious with Fritz.”
So they had arrived at act two of the program. “Fritz.”
Her smile was sad. “Friedrich was his given name. His mom loved Little Women. Her favorite character was Jo, who ends up married to Friedrich, who she calls Fritz. He had such a nice family. My Fritz, not the book Fritz.”
Tom swallowed, trying to loosen the clench of his jaw.
“He was my Fritz,” she said quietly. “He was kind and I did love him.”
Tom swallowed again. “I know.”
“While I was with him, we were happy.” She shrugged. “He was a good person.”
“I’m glad you had him. I’m glad he made you happy.”
She nodded, acknowledging the words that she’d said to him. She met his gaze squarely. “If he hadn’t died, I wouldn’t be with you. Even if you were alone.”
“I know,” he said again, and she visibly relaxed. “So now what?”
She lifted her brows. “That’s a vague question. Be specific.”
He looked around the classy apartment. “Will you stay here? Or will you come home?”
“Home,” she said, and every tense muscle in his body let go. “On my side of the duplex. I’m not moving in with you yet.”
His lips curved. “Not yet?”
“Nope. You’re going to court me.”
“I am?”
Rising on her knees so that she loomed above him, she kissed him hard. “You are. You’re going to come over for meals and I’ll come to your place for movies. We’ll go out on dates. We’ll continue to share Pebbles. And I will continue paying you rent for my side of the duplex.”
“I donate it to the kids’ charity in town, just so you know.”
“I’ve always known that,” she said. “You’ve got cash. I get that. I’m not rich, but I’m not poor, either. So I’ll continue to pay rent, and you’ll continue to donate it.”
He grinned up at her. “And I’ll court you.”
She nodded sharply. “You will.”
“Okay.”
She frowned, a little line appearing between her crunched brows. “I have one more question. On Thursday night, when we were arguing about me going to work at Sunnyside Oaks, I thought you were going to kiss me.”
“I was.” He remembered that moment with excruciating clarity. The moment after even more so.
“But then you backed away like I had the plague and you looked appalled. I didn’t expect that. Why did you do that?”
“Because I was still telling myself that you were my friend. I’d already fucked up and you’d moved out. I was afraid. I could see myself ruining what was left of our friendship.” He hesitated. “And everyone kept telling me that you had deeper feelings for me, but I wasn’t ready to let Tory go. I loved her. I really did. I don’t know. Maybe I was afraid to move on.”
“I get it,” she assured him. “If you admit that you’re open to moving on, you’re also open to getting hurt, and that’s scary, too.”
“I’m sorry I hurt you,” he whispered. “That night I knew I should let you go. I was about to text you, to say goodbye. But I couldn’t make myself type it. I couldn’t let you go.”
“So you said good night,” she whispered back. “I’m sorry I left without saying goodbye.”
“I’ll be careful with your heart. I might fuck up, but I won’t hurt you on purpose.”
“And I won’t walk away without talking it out when you do.” She rested her forehead on his. “Are we done talking for now?”
His hands began their restless journey up and down her thighs again. “Why?”
“Because I’ve dreamed of kissing you since I was seventeen years old and I haven’t had nearly enough.”
“Do I get to do what I dreamed of, too?” Because now that he’d broken down the compartment walls, he was remembering all of the fantasies he’d had to bury deep in his mind.
Bury deep. He shuddered at the images the words conjured, fantasies rushing to fill his mind.
It was like he was twenty years old again, and the feeling was intoxicating. I can do all the things now. I don’t have to pretend.
She smiled against his lips. “That seems fair.” Then she half laughed, half shrieked when he reared up and tumbled her to her back, coming to rest on top of her. Her legs parted for him and his body twitched, needing to thrust.
They’d do that, but for this moment, he’d feast on her mouth. She wanted to be courted. “I won’t rush. We’ll take this slow.”
“Not too slow.” Her fingers clenched in his shirt and jerked it free of his trousers before freeing the remaining buttons. She slid her palms up his torso, humming appreciatively. “Take it off. I’ve been waiting long enough.”
Skin tingling everywhere she touched, he pushed to his knees and shrugged out of the shirt. He started to lower himself back onto her, but she sat up, hands reaching for him.
“Let me look,” she whispered. “Just let me look.”
She didn’t only look, though. Her hands got busy, stroking his pecs and down his sides. He closed his eyes, tipping his head back, letting himself float as she touched every inch of his torso.
His eyes flew open and he sucked in a breath when she pressed her lips to his stomach, millimeters from his waistband. Every nerve in his body sang and his cock grew harder when he hadn’t thought it possible.
She glanced up. “Ticklish?”
“No.” He was breathing hard. “You make it hard to stay in control.”
“Good.” She kissed him again, but this time her tongue stole out to lick the skin she’d kissed.
He hissed. “Liza.”
Another glance up, her brown eyes gone dark and needy. Then she shocked him by leaning forward, her mouth so close to his groin that he could feel her warm breath when she exhaled. “What if I don’t want you to stay in control?”
“Liza,” he warned. And then she inhaled, making a needy noise that severed whatever discipline he’d still possessed. “Fuck,” he growled, pushing her to the sofa and following her down. He claimed her mouth, taking what he needed, and he wasn’t gentle.
She shoved her fingers into his hair and pulled him closer, reminding him that his Liza was strong. He needed more, needed to touch her, needed to see her. Needed to be inside her.
He tugged her shirt up, feeling the silky skin of her stomach. She shivered, wriggling beneath him.
“Ticklish?” he asked, loving the way her cheeks were flushed, her eyes gone dark with lust.
“Yes.” Her eyes narrowed. “And if you ever want to do any of those things you dreamed of, you won’t take advantage of that confession.”
Tom slid down her torso so that he could kiss the skin he’d bared. “Sorry,” he murmured, brushing his lips over her ribs, then upward, taking his time, smiling as her skin pebbled. Until she made another needy whimpering sound.
His kisses became openmouthed and urgent, his hips rolling and thrusting against the sofa cushions when he really needed to be rolling and thrusting into her. He shoved the hem of her shirt higher, going stock-still when he uncovered her bra.
He looked up to meet her eyes. She was watching him, her torso still. She was holding her breath. “I want to see you,” he said hoarsely. “Can I see you?”
“Yes. Please.”
He might have chuckled at her politeness, but she reached behind her to unhook her bra, and then he couldn’t breathe, either. Crossing her arms, she gripped the hem of her shirt and the bra together and pulled them off.
It took him a few heartbeats to find words. “You’re beautiful.”
Her lips curved self-consciously, but she said nothing.
He hung there, staring, torn between the urge to rush and take and taste and suck and the more overwhelming need to take his time. Carefully, reverently, he kissed the valley between her breasts and drew in her scent.
God. The delicate citrus of her bodywash was overpowered by the sweet, heady scent of her arousal. He was so hard that he hurt.
He kissed the underside of each breast. “I want you.” He kissed the swells, avoiding her nipples, hard and erect. Humming in frustration, she palmed his cheeks and tried to pull his mouth closer.
Her whisper was barely audible. “Suck me.”
Gently he grabbed her wrists, guiding them over her head and restraining them with one hand. “I only get this first time once,” he told her. “I don’t want to rush.”
She tipped her head back. “Tom,” she whined. “Don’t distract me with being all romantic.”
“Sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
“No,” he agreed. “I’m not.” He licked one nipple and her mouth fell open.
“You’re a fucking tease,” she growled. “I didn’t expect—” She gasped when he closed his lips over the other nipple and sucked, her hips rocking up into him.
His brain and his cock were already ten steps ahead, planning what he’d do and how he’d do it, when a stark realization had him screeching to a halt. Lifting his head, he frowned. “I don’t have anything. Condoms. I didn’t bring any with me. I’m clean, but . . .”
She groaned. “So am I, and you know I trust you with my life, but I’m not on the pill.”
He lowered his head, resting his forehead between her breasts. “I almost bought some, but I didn’t want to assume what would happen when I got here.”
She tugged one of her hands loose of his grip and stroked his hair. “Do you have some at your house?”
He looked up, his damn pulse rocketing. “No, but there are roughly sixty-two drugstores between here and there.”
She brushed her fingertips over his cheek. “Let’s go home, then.”
God. Hearing her say “home,” and knowing what they’d do when they got there . . . He drew in a breath and shuddered it out. “I’m going to need a few minutes.”
She was back to stroking his hair, and it felt so good. “We have time.”
Clarity cut through the haze in his mind. Time. She was going to Sunnyside Oaks in roughly thirty-six hours. If DJ Belmont caught wind of who she was . . .
Time wouldn’t be something they had nearly enough of.
EDEN, CALIFORNIA
SUNDAY, MAY 28, 8:00 P.M.
“Hey.” Graham stuck his head around the curtain separating Hayley’s cubicle from the rest of Joshua’s holdings. Which had grown, because he was now “in charge” and “deserved upgraded facilities.”
It was insane. There was no upgrade to be had here. It was all horrible. And my baby’s going to born into this. My baby could die here. I could die here.
Who would take care of Graham? Who would keep him from being “apprenticed”? Not their mother, for sure. She was the reason they were here. She’s the reason my baby’s getting stolen if she lives. She’s—
Fingers pinched her chin. “Hey,” Graham repeated more firmly.
She looked up, surprised to see him kneeling in front of her.
“You were starting to panic,” he said. “I could see it on your face.”
She nodded, then slowly backed away from him, deliberately not breathing through her nose. He smelled like the toilets, but he was doing it for her, for them, to get them all out of here, so she wouldn’t say a single word about it.
He grinned, unoffended. “I believe the word is ‘pungent.’ I think Joshua is torn between making someone else dump the pots while making me take a bath, and letting me continue because no one else wants to do it. And we don’t have water for baths anyway. I brought you a snack,” he added, reaching for the bowl of broth that he’d set on the floor.
Hayley took it gratefully. It was the fifth bowl of broth she’d had that day. Joshua made sure that she got food “for the baby,” but it never seemed enough. Tamar had been slipping her extra too, but Hayley knew that she was taking the other woman’s own rations.
She studied her brother as she sipped the broth. “What have you done?” she whispered, feeling a little of his good mood lighten hers.
Solar panels, he mouthed.
Hayley swallowed her gasp of delight. They were alone because Joshua had moved his other wives into quarters he’d claimed after declaring himself the acting pastor. It was temporary, he’d assured everyone, saying, Magdalena will soon give birth and she needs privacy for that. I will relinquish this space when Pastor and Sister Coleen return.
It had been then that Hayley had realized Joshua’s expansion had been into Pastor’s quarters. It hadn’t sat well with the community, but Joshua reminded them that Pastor himself had left him in charge.
Graham said that tempers were short, and Hayley had heard shouting and fights all the way back in her little cubicle. She didn’t leave her space except to go to the toilets. She didn’t have the energy to even listen to the discord.
Graham and Tamar had become her windows to the world of Eden. Such as it was.
You got the solar panels hooked up? she mouthed back.
Graham nodded slowly, but his eyes were sparkling. He’s enjoying this. Her little brother had developed a taste for disruption. God help the world once we get back.
“I’ll hook up the computer tomorrow,” he whispered. “I’ve been carrying it out in boxes that smell like shit. Because they once held shit.”
“Makes sense, then,” Hayley murmured, hope blossoming. “What can I do to help you?”
“Just stay here and stay safe.” He patted her stomach. “Keep little Zit safe, too.”
Hayley mock-scowled at him. “Her name is Jellybean.”
“Forever to be known as Princess Zit.” He rolled to his heels. “Gotta go. Curfew soon.”
“You’re respecting curfew?” Hayley asked. “Really?”
He winked. “My stepbrothers are offended by my bouquet.” He mimed twisting a knife. “So I show up extra early.”
“I love you,” Hayley murmured. She never let him leave now without saying it. He was in constant danger. If someone found the solar panels or the computer, they’d beat him. Or worse.
But he was twelve years old and cockier than hell. “Ditto,” he said. Then he was gone, leaving her with nothing to do but think. And maybe to hope. Just a little.
ROCKLIN, CALIFORNIA
SUNDAY, MAY 28, 8:30 P.M.
Liza dropped to her knees as soon as she entered Tom’s kitchen, because Pebbles had rushed to greet her, tail wagging so hard that the dog should have fallen over. Wrapping her arms around Pebbles’s neck, she nuzzled her cheek against the dog’s fur. “Missed you, sweet girl.”
Behind her, the door to the garage closed and Tom joined her, kneeling on one knee to scratch behind Pebbles’s ears. “I’m right here,” he said blandly. “Did you miss me, too?”
She pivoted on the floor, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I did. Every single one of the twenty minutes since I last saw you.”
He ran his hands up her back and kissed her hard. “I was two feet away.”
“You were in the front seat and I was in the back seat, on the floor and under a blanket.”
He’d insisted, worried that someone might be watching outside the apartment building.
“To keep you safe.” He searched her face, a frown on his. “You’re nervous.”
“A little. I mean, deciding we’re having sex, then putting it off like this? Although I should be fine with it,” she added lightly. “What’s twenty minutes when I’ve waited seven years?”
She was babbling. Because she was nervous, and only part of it was the forced delay.
Most of it was worry that she’d forced him into this.
He tipped her chin up so that he could see her face. “Did you change your mind?” he asked quietly. “Because if you did, it’s all right. We can wait until—”
She silenced him with a kiss, putting everything she had into it. It was lush and hot and channeled every erotic fantasy of him that she’d ever had. He groaned deep in his throat and palmed her butt, yanking her against him. She could feel him throbbing against her, and all she wanted was his hands on every inch of her skin.
He wrenched away, breathing hard, his eyes hungry. “Why are you nervous, then?”
“I don’t want you to do this because I guilted you into it.”
He shifted, pressing harder into her while tightening his hold on her ass. “I’m here because I don’t want to be anywhere else. Do you believe me?”
She wanted to. She cupped his face and forced herself to answer honestly. “Mostly.”
“Do you want to wait?” he asked, her nerves apparently catching.
Of that answer she was certain. “Not another minute.”
He exhaled in a relieved rush. “Thank God. But if you change your mind—”
She pressed her finger to his lips. “I know. But I won’t. Show me your bedroom, Tom.”
He closed his eyes, drawing a breath. “I’m not going to make it that far.”
“Then you’ll come twice,” she said, then laughed when he tugged her up the stairs and into his room.
He stopped short, drinking her in. “I’ve wished you were here.”
She loved the look in his eyes. It made her feel desired and powerful. “You have?”
He nodded, hands lifting to unbutton his shirt. “I have.” He toed off his shoes. “Usually when I was trying to sleep. I’d think of you all cozy in your blankets and I’d want to rip them off you and . . . make you scream my name.”
Her mouth went dry when he took off the shirt. He was . . . wow. “You did?”
“I did.” He pulled the belt from his jeans and freed the button. “I’d tell myself it was impossible. That I’d ruin our friendship.”
“That was . . .” She forgot what she was going to say when he slid his zipper down.
“That was?” He shoved his jeans to his knees, revealing black boxer briefs that clung like a second skin. He was hard and big and she wanted him more than she wanted to breathe.
“Um.” The sound came out a dry croak. His predatory grin made her heart race and her knees weak. She took a step back, lowering herself to sit on the bed. “What was the question?”
He kicked off his jeans and pulled off his socks, making even that movement look graceful and fluid. “I said I was afraid I’d ruin our friendship. You said, ‘That was . . .’ That was what?”
“I have absolutely no idea.”
She heard his chuckle but didn’t look up, unable to take her eyes off that bulge. She could see him pulsing and she itched to touch. He stepped closer, bringing that delicious bulge right in front of her face. She grabbed the hem of the briefs and yanked them down. His cock slapped against his stomach and she shuddered out a sigh before closing her fingers around him.
He hissed, his hands tunneling through her hair to lift her face to his gaze. “Do you believe me now?” he demanded.
She squeezed his cock, loving the dark pleasure that flashed in his eyes. “I think so. Still not sure.” She was so sure. She licked her lower lip. “Maybe I should do some research.”
Without waiting for him to reply, she took him in her mouth. His strangled cry was the sound she didn’t know she needed, and she wanted to hear it over and over again.
“Wait,” he ground out, his fingers tightening in her hair. She froze, looking up his body to his face. His jaw was so tight that his cheek twitched. “Just wait.”
Carefully she pulled away, not licking him even though she wanted to. “What’s wrong?”
“You’re still dressed. I want you naked and I don’t want to come until I’m inside you.”
Liza shivered. “You want me naked?” She lifted her arms. “Then do it.”
Her shirt was gone before she could blink, his mouth on hers as his fingers fumbled with the clasp on her bra. A second later it went sailing over his shoulder and he was pushing her down to the bed, her feet still on the floor. He gripped her wrists and pinned them over her head, his amazing body hovering just out of reach.
“Tom,” she warned, writhing beneath him. “Don’t tease me.”
He gave her wrists a gentle squeeze. “Hands stay here.” He let her go and lowered to his knees, parting her legs. He pulled off one of her boots and then the other, tossing them over his shoulders. They landed with dull thuds somewhere. She didn’t care where.
Her body was on fire, her fingers flexing above her head, gripping handfuls of the bedspread.
“I need to—” She gasped when he dragged her pants down her legs, taking her panties with them. The clothing went the way of her boots. The air was cool on her heated skin, shivers racing over her like electric waves. “Please, Tom. Please.”
Then the strangled cry was hers. His big hands parted her thighs and then his mouth was on her and . . . “Oh my God,” she moaned. “Tom. Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.”
He didn’t speak, humming against her instead. His mouth, his tongue . . . God, the man’s tongue was criminal. She was instantly addicted.
She was in heaven. She was flying. She was almost there.
She stiffened, her body going taut as she arched, pressing her head back as the orgasm exploded and she heard herself cry out. He licked and sucked her through it, not stopping until she collapsed to her back, panting. “Ohmygod, ohmygod,” she chanted.
He kissed his way up her body, lingering on the butterfly tattoo at her hip. And then he was kissing her and she could taste herself, which was way hotter than she’d thought it would be.
He pulled back far enough to meet her eyes. She blinked, feeling dazed.
“Do you believe me now?” he asked hoarsely.
“Yes.”
“Good.” He twisted, giving her a view of his flawless ass before turning back, a condom in his hand. “I’ll stop if you—”
“I know, dammit,” she interrupted, making him smile. “Hurry.”
But he didn’t hurry, taking his time as he slid the condom over his cock, which was bigger than it had been before. Longer and wider. She licked her lips, tasting herself once again.
“No fair. I wanted to come with you.”
His smile became a wicked grin. “Then you’ll come twice.”
“I see what you did there,” she muttered, then gasped when his hands closed over her ribs, lifting her up the bed. Carefully, as if she were made of glass.
His grin was gone, his expression serious and intense. This is it, she thought. What she’d wanted for so long. She reached for him, relieved when he settled his body over hers.
Finally. “Please,” she whispered, pressing soft kisses to his mouth, his jaw, his chin.
He didn’t make her wait, sliding into her in a single perfect stroke.
She’d wondered if it would hurt, because he was not a small man. It did not.
She’d wondered if it would feel awkward, once it finally happened. It did not.
She’d wondered if she’d resent his Tory in that moment. She did not, because he was looking down at her with a mixture of wonder and gratitude that she hadn’t ever even dared to dream of.
I love you. The words burned her tongue, but she held them back. Not yet. Not tonight. Soon. “Perfect,” she whispered instead. “Show me. Please.”
And he did. And it was perfect. Every thrust, every cry, every touch. Every clench of his jaw as he tried to make it last.
And then he hit a spot inside her that she’d never known was there, making her cry out in shocked pleasure.
“There?” he asked, his voice so deep she could barely understand the single syllable.
She couldn’t say anything, so she nodded and he thrust harder, faster, his glutes bunching under her palms as she clutched him closer.
“Open your eyes,” he growled. “Look at me when I make you come.”
She forced her eyes open, fixed her gaze on his, and let him see everything she was feeling. He groaned and thrust, holding himself deep, and she was frozen, teetering on the precipice.
“This . . . is . . . real,” he panted, punctuating each word with a punch of his hips.
Her eyes filled with tears, because she believed him. “I know.”
“Now,” he demanded. Bracing himself on one elbow, he ran his palm over her belly, heading down until his thumb found her clitoris and he pressed hard.
She came on an overwhelmed sob. He came with a quiet roar, head thrown back, the muscles of his neck straining until he shuddered. Shaking, he lowered himself to his forearms, still careful not to hurt her.
He kissed the corners of her eyes. “Did I hurt you? I’m sor—”
“No. You didn’t.” She drew a breath, trying to get hold of her emotions. “It’s . . . I wanted this for so long. And . . . here you are.”
His lips curved. “Here you are. With me. Exactly where you’re supposed to be.”
She cupped his cheek, her hand trembling. “We’re really going to do this.”
“We are.” He kissed her temple. “Give me a minute. I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”
And then he was gone, taking his warmth with him. Liza thought she should climb under the covers, but she couldn’t move. She felt boneless and utterly relaxed.
Finally. It was real. The happiness was real.
ROCKLIN, CALIFORNIA
SUNDAY, MAY 28, 9:30 P.M.
Tom got rid of the condom and braced his hands on the vanity, staring at his reflection. The man who stared back was familiar, but not. It was the eyes, Tom decided. His were calm.
He was . . . happy. Deep down, no faking it.
And he owed it to the woman in his bed who’d bared her soul, telling him her secrets—how long she’d wanted him. How she’d tried to forget about him. How she’d loved and lost.
He owed her the same honesty.
He turned off the bathroom light and hurried back to her, finding her in the same place he’d left her. He picked her up and tucked her in, earning him a dreamy sigh. “Love the way you can pick me up,” she murmured.
And if that weren’t a stroke to his ego.
He climbed in beside her, relaxing when she cuddled in close. She rested her head on his shoulder with a contented sigh. “Thank you.”
“I feel like I should be saying that to you.” He stroked her hair and she petted the hair on his chest. This was a perfect moment. Too nice to spoil.
Nope. Don’t even think it. He needed to tell her a few things. He should have told her before. He didn’t think what he had to say would make a difference, not to his Liza, but he should have given her a choice.
“I need to tell you something.”
She stiffened, her breath hitching. “What?” she asked, the single word filled with a dread that hurt his heart. She thought he was going to say that he’d made a mistake.
“Nothing like that,” he promised quickly. “This was everything I thought it would be. Better. Miles better. The only mistake I made was not getting over myself sooner.”
“Okay.” She relaxed a little. “What is it, then?”
“I did . . . something. Something not exactly . . .” He grimaced. “Not exactly right.”
She lifted her head to meet his gaze, no judgment in hers. “Tory.”
He nodded. “I found her killer. Online.”
She tilted her head. “Did you kill him? Because I’d be okay with that.”
He blinked up at her. “No, I didn’t. Not exactly, anyway.”
“Well, then, whatever you did do is all right.”
He smiled. “I should have known you’d say that.”
“You really should have,” she said, mildly chastising. “Talk to me, Tom.”
“I found him, in a chat room. He . . . bragged about killing women. And then he bragged about posing as a minister to give comfort to their families.”
Her jaw clenched. “Sonofabitch. What did you do? I’m sure it wasn’t nearly bad enough.”
“I tracked him to Tory’s parents’ town. He was planning to ‘comfort’ them. I couldn’t let him do that.” He studied her face, watched her eyes flash with fury and sadness. And fierce acceptance. Yes, he should have known she’d understand. “I’d been in contact with the family of one of the other victims. I thought they’d want to see him arrested. For closure. I told them where he’d be. I thought they’d wait for the police.”
“But they killed him before the cops got there.”
“Yes. I wanted to kill him myself. I was so angry.”
She kissed his jaw. “But you didn’t. Why?”
“Because there were more victims. Their families deserved to see him convicted. There may have been other victims, and those families would never have answers.”
Her smile was gentle. “I told you—you are not like your father. You never could be.”
“But . . .” And this was the part that he’d worried about since the day Tory’s killer had died. “I called the other victim’s family first. Before I called the cops.”
“You think that, deep down, you wanted them to kill the bastard?”
“Maybe? Did I use them? Did I really not want to do the right thing?”
She lifted a shoulder. “Ultimately, the choices the other family made were theirs, just like the choices you made were yours. You didn’t kill him. You called the police. You waited. The other family could have, too.” She sighed, moving closer until they were nose to nose. “You are not your father. I’ll tell you every day for the rest of our lives if that’s what you need to hear.”
His heart eased. “Thank you.”
She kissed him then, soft and sweet. “Is that it? All you needed to tell me?”
“Pretty much.”
“Does your family know? I only ask so I know how to respond if anyone asks a question.”
“They know everything except that I called the other family first.”
She nodded once. “They’ll never hear it from me.” She settled back against him, her head on his shoulder. “You kept him from killing anyone else, Tom. I’m proud of you.”
He shuddered out a breath, stunned by how much he’d needed those words. “Same. You scare me shitless, but I’m so damn proud of you.”
She pressed a kiss to his chest. “We’re going to be just fine.”
“We’re going to be perfect.”
