Page 116 of Already Home

She expected him to get mad or accuse her of something.Instead, he nodded slowly. “I can see that. I’m sorry I push the same buttonswith you. I don’t want to. I don’t need to belittle you to feel better aboutmyself. I only want you to be happy.”

She believed him, which felt good.

“I don’t want to take any side but yours,” he told her.

“Thank you.”

When he put down his wineglass and slid toward her, she foundherself uncertain, almost shy.

He took her glass from her and set it next to his, then cuppedher face in his hands.

“Jenna,” he breathed, before claiming her in a passionate kissthat sent heat surging all through her body.

As she kissed him back, she was aware of him dropping his handsto her shoulders, then rubbing them up and down her back. Anticipation quickenedinside of her. Hunger burned. When his tongue touched her bottom lip, she partedfor him.

He kissed her deeply. She met him stroke for stroke. He movedhis hands to her waist, then up to her breasts. When he cupped her curves in hispalms, she nearly groaned out loud.

His thumbs teased her already tight nipples. When he thrust histongue back into her mouth, she closed her lips around it and sucked. The handson her breasts trembled slightly.

He drew back so they could look at each other. His eyes weredark, his gaze intense.

“Am I moving too fast?” he asked, his voice just the slightestbit hoarse.

“That depends. What time do you have to be home tonight?”

His mouth curved into a very male, very predatory smile. “Idon’t.”

“Then I don’t think you’re moving too fast at all.”

Eighteen

Violet woke up early Tuesday morning with asense of doom but also determined to get back to work. Her jaw still hurt, butnot as much as it had. As long as she avoided gasping or laughing too much, shewould be fine. As for Cliff—she couldn’t hide from him forever. She wanted toget back to her life, and if she had to face him to do that, so be it.

The bruises were getting better. They were less painful,although the color palette wasn’t any more subtle than it had been. She wouldhope for a makeup miracle to conceal the biggest one on her cheek.

She was also going to have to return to her own apartment. Shecouldn’t continue to stay in Beth and Marshall’s guest room. Although thethought of being alone at her place made her stomach hurt, she would simply haveto suck it up and face her fears. She’d survived this kind of thing before, andshe would again.

After showering and dressing, she went downstairs to pour somecoffee. Marshall was already there, leaning against the kitchen counter, talkingon his cell phone. She smiled and waved, then quietly got a mug from thecupboard. Before she could pour her coffee and duck out to give him some privacyfor his call, he hung up.

“You’re up early,” he said. “Sleeping okay?”

“I’m doing great. The room and bed are so comfortable.” Shewalked to the refrigerator and collected the hazelnut coffee creamer. “I’m goingback to work today.”

“You up to that?”

“Physically, I’m much better. I know Jenna won’t let meoverwork myself, so I’ll be fine. If nothing else, I need to get back into theworld.” She touched her bare cheek. “Assuming I don’t frighten little childrenwith my bruise.”

Marshall nodded. “I’m sure routine will help. By the way...” Heheld up his cell phone. “I’ve been talking to a friend of mine in the policedepartment.”

She glanced at the clock. It was barely after six. “Your friendgets up early.”

“He works nights. He’s been doing some digging and hasconfirmed what we all suspected. You’re not the first woman Cliff has hurt.”

She wasn’t surprised to hear that. “I don’t suppose that’sgoing to keep him in jail, is it?”

“Sorry, no.” Marshall hesitated. “But I had a little talk withCliff yesterday. I explained that it would be in his best interest to leavetown. He’s going to move back to Chicago. His company happened to have anopening there, so he should be gone in the next week or so.”

She stared at him, not sure what to say. Gratitude and reliefrushed through her. Cliff would be leaving. She would be safe.

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