Page 19 of Your Heart & Mine

Past, Revisited

Wyckwasafraidtobreathe. They had sat together, watching the moon, finishing the cheesecake and their wine, listening to the fire crackling in the hearth. When Harper still made no move to pull away from him, Wyck closed his eyes and let the scent of her coconut shampoo fill his nostrils.

This was where he needed to be. Always. He stroked her arm over her sweater as she snuggled closer into him. He felt the stress of the day melt away from him as he tightened his arm around her shoulder. He wanted to say something. To pull up another memory for them to share. To remind her how good they had been together.

Before he could come up with anything, a cashmere-covered arm was draping over his middle and resting on his waist. He looked down. Sure enough, Harper was sound asleep. The stress she'd been under must have finally consumed her. He remembered how she'd always pulled him closer to her while she slept. He didn't think she was aware she did it, but he'd always loved it. Even in sleep, she wanted more of him. He kissed her on the forehead and leaned back, content to hold her and watch the moon make its way across the sky.

Harper first became aware of the crackle of a fire, then a steady thump - bump against her ear. She was lying on something hard and warm. A hard, male chest. She inhaled. Paco Rabano. Wyck. She smiled lazily and started to push up. When she looked into his face, reality came crashing back. She wasn't seventeen and with her boyfriend. She was thirty-four and Wyck was definitely not hers anymore.

She started to push herself away from him, but he caught her with his strong arms. "Hey, where are you going, sleepyhead?" he asked sweetly, but his arms didn't relax.

"Wyck, let me go. I shouldn't..." she protested.

"Shhh, we were just watching the moonrise and you fell asleep. No big deal. Lay back down," he said in his warm, smooth voice. She'd never been able to resist that voice and now it was even deeper and smoother than it used to be. She did as he said and relaxed back into his arms. She was comfortable and they weren't doing anything but watching the moon. They'd done it a hundred times or more. No big deal. Right?

"It's so quiet here. Living in the city, I'd forgotten this type of quiet existed," he continued in those same dulcet tones. She'd always loved his deep voice and the way she could feel it rumble in his chest when he spoke low and slow like this.

"I think that's what woke me up. I'm not used to it either. I'm sorry I fell asleep on you," she apologized. "Must have been the wine."

He kissed the top of her head. "No worries, Angel. You've had a rough few weeks. You obviously needed the rest," he assured her.

She started to tense at the endearment but then found she didn't care. It didn't matter what he called her. Right now, she only wanted to enjoy this feeling. He was right. It had been a horrific few weeks, but she had hope. Her sisters were in full planning mode to create the B&B and event venue and she was determined to get her community project off the ground. Surely, she could be selfish for a few minutes and enjoy this sense of peace. She sighed and relaxed more fully into his arms.

Wyck let himself smile and pulled her tighter into his body. Finally, she'd quit fighting him, if only for a few minutes. The feel of her in his arms was like coming home. He let himself soak up the feeling of contentment even as he recognized he wanted so much more. He wanted all of her - body and soul, but he knew it was going to be a long process. He'd fucked up royally and would have to win back her trust and Harper's trust was never easily given.

He reached up with one hand and stroked her hair until he ran into the hair tie that was barely holding her ponytail in place. "Can I take this out?" he murmured. "You'd be more comfortable. I know they used to give you headaches after a while."

"Okay," she whispered, sure as she said the words it was a bad idea. She couldn't seem to say no to Wyck tonight.

He carefully pulled the elastic down and out of her hair and the luscious blonde locks spilled down around her shoulders and face. He reached down to push it back behind her ear and took the opportunity to stroke her cheek. "There. Much better, right?"

She bobbed her head in agreement. It did feel better. He was right. Her hair was heavy and after a few hours, ponytails did start to give her a headache. She didn't know how he could have remembered that. She rubbed her cheek against the soft cotton of his shirt and sighed in contentment.

Wyck thought that sigh would undo him then and there. He took a deep breath through his nose to calm himself but that only made it worse. Coconut invaded his nostrils again. She used the same shampoo. He'd always teased her that she smelled like a tropical vacation. He played with her hair causing the scent to envelop his senses. Her hair was shorter than it used to be but was just as silky as it had always been. He leaned down and ran his nose along her part. He closed his eyes and lost himself in the feel and smell of her for a moment.

Harper pushed herself up from his chest with an amused smile on her face. "Wyck Crockett, are you sniffing me?" But when she met his eyes, her amusement faded. His blue eyes were almost black as he regarded her hungrily. She sucked in a breath. Harper knew that look well. Any other words she had been about to say died in her throat.

Wyck tipped her chin up and leaned down to touch his lips to hers. Just a touch. He wanted her so badly but knew she'd run like a scared bunny given the opportunity. He glanced at her again. Her eyes had closed so he slanted his head to deepen the kiss just a bit. He sipped at her lips, one after the other. Slowly. Lazily. In no rush at all.

His tongue licked the seam of her mouth and she opened for him on a breath. Wyck had to beat back a moan. When he let his tongue enter to explore, Harper's met it, and they danced like they had never been parted. He moved his hand to the back of her neck and pulled her closer to him. Her hands fisted the cotton of his shirt as he lost himself in her sweet mouth.

Harper grabbed for something to hold onto and found the fabric of his shirt. She reveled in the taste of him. Her memories and reality collided as they became nothing more than tongues and mouths and teeth. Why had she been fighting this? It was where she belonged. Being in Wyck's arms, feeling him, tasting him was like coming home.

Suddenly, she realized she was lying flat on the couch with Wyck's large, hard body pressing into hers. She felt the long, hard thickness of his desire pressing into her belly. A brief moment of panic welled up in her chest but was quickly squashed by the feel of Wyck's hands. They slid down her waist, to her hip and finally to her thigh drawing her leg up. When she felt his hard length pressing against her core, she gasped. This was what she needed. Wyck.

Chapter seventeen

The Truth of Them

Wycklaidherbackcarefully on the wide leather sofa, never taking his lips from hers. She was so sweet. So soft. A thousand times better in the flesh than in his memories. He thanked God he didn't feel any resistance from her at all. She was with him.

Her hands stroked his back and his shoulders as he ran his own down her side. Wyck squeezed her ass and drew up a denim-clad thigh to plant himself in the center of her. He tilted his hips against her core and was rewarded with a gasp of pleasure. Wrapping an arm under her waist, he drew her tighter against him as he left her mouth and nipped the sensitive skin of her neck alternating the little bites with kisses all the way down to her collarbones. Her fingers tried to find purchase in his short hair as he nosed the hollow of her throat and tried to get control of his breathing.

He pushed himself up onto his knees and paused, looking down at her. She was glorious. Her hair a mess fanned across the small couch cushion, her lips red and swollen from his kisses. Her hazel eyes were golden orbs in the firelight, looking up at him expectantly. Her chest heaved, her breasts pushing against the soft knit of her sweater.

Without breaking eye contact, he unbuttoned a couple of buttons on his shirt then whipped the thing off over his head. Her eyes widened and he knew she saw the tattoo across his heart. It was an infinity symbol with her name making up one of the curves, angel wings another. He'd had it done one night after he'd left her. Too much tequila and too much self-pity and he had a permanent reminder of what he'd lost. Girlfriends over the years hadn't liked it, but he'd never thought seriously about having it changed. She'd always been his heart and always would be.

She pushed up on an elbow and reached up a hand to trace the ink, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "Why?" she whispered.

---