Page 42 of Wine & Whiskey
She brings his hand to her heart this time. “I want you to hold me in your arms and never let me go. I want to make you as happy as you make me.”
“You’ve already done that.” He reaches for her, but she stops him, her soft hands on his pulsing chest.
“I want to know what you’re trying to protect me from.”
He sits up, letting her hands fall away, already missing her touch. “No.”
“Why not?”
Sitting naked in bed with the woman he loves, this volatile question between them, he’s never felt more vulnerable. Damned either way he answers. “You’ll leave me if you know the truth.”
“I’ll never leave you. I just don’t want any secrets between us.” Her whisper is heavy with worry she doesn’t deserve to endure.
He skirts the issue the only way he knows how—pulling her to him, plunging his tongue into her mouth. She lifts up to meet his touch, while his fingers find her soft core and gently stroke the wet heat. Shuddering against his hand, she gasps, arching her back, grazing his lips with her teeth.
Her fingers tangle in the despised curls on his neck, keeping her mouth on his, her swirling tongue stirring a rumble deep in his chest. Desperate to make her completely his, to take everything she gives him, he reaches for a foil packet in the night stand drawer before lowering himself on top of her. Supporting his weight with his forearms, he wraps his hands around her head, threading the silky strands through his fingers, touching his forehead to hers. Her whisper of his name welcomes him home as he glides inside her. “I love you, Shae.”
She nods and grips him tighter as the thrusts into her. He forces himself to hold back, afraid the ferocity of his passion will be too rough for her. But her hips lift up, encouraging, urging him farther inside. Already on the edge, he responds to her request by driving deeper and harder, making her moans vibrate against his neck.
As her breath quickens, he can’t hold back any longer. “Say it, Shae. Say that you know I love you.”
“I know you love me.” She cries out his name, and he explodes inside her.
Only a few minutes pass before she drifts off. He should sleep too. Exhausted from last night—too restless to do anything but work and think about how he fucked things up with her, he never even laid down. It would be so easy to let go with this beautiful angel curled next to him, his arm tingling from her sweet head resting on his bicep, his chest blazing from the silky skin of her bare back pressed against him. But he can’t. Not when he’s going to be away from her for so long.
Before he leaves, he needs to soak up every bit of her. Enjoy the sunlight streaming through the windows, making her skin glow even more if that’s possible, her dark lashes contrasting with the pinkness of her cheeks. Not that he needs to memorize her face. It’s always in his mind whenever he closes his eyes. Never out of his thoughts when he’s awake.
He fights against the desire to cancel his trip. To stay home and bury himself inside her softness again. But, the need to destroy Juan overrides his temptation. Now that Juan’s back in the States, his time is up. The fucking stupid attempt to overtake one of Nick’s smaller territories was annoying enough. Scaring her at the coffee house finalizes his death sentence. Anger rolls through him at her gasp from that motherfucker trying to touch her. No. Any leniency for him ended with her fear.
She sighs and twitches from his body tensing. Damn. He needs to calm his ass down and not let her wake up to his fury. He presses his cheek against hers, and she stills. Her soft breathing returns, reminding him she trusts him, feels safe with him. He’ll never do anything to let her think otherwise.
About an hour later, her eyes flutter open, and she smiles at his kiss on her shoulder. “Good afternoon, sweetness.”
A few seconds pass before she realizes the meaning of his words and tries to sit up, the sheet falling to her waist. “Afternoon? You’ve missed your flight!”
He laughs and pulls her back to face him, using every ounce of willpower to ignore her pink nipples hardening from the sudden exposure to cool air. “It’s my plane. They can’t leave without me.”
Her sweet giggle fills the room as she shakes her head. “Well, now you’re just showing off.”
“I have to prove I’m not the deadbeat Carrie thinks I am.” He runs his finger down her temple to her chin, her huge smile making it almost impossible to think of anything but rolling her onto her back again. “I’ll be home on Saturday. Do you still want to go to the gala with me?”
“Yes, it’s important to me too.” She pulls the sheet over her shoulder before snuggling against him. “I wish you didn’t have to go. I’m going to miss you.”
God fucking damn. She fucking owns him when she says shit like that. He lifts up to continue what she started, but her hand pressing against his cheek stops him. She bites her lip before looking away. “I’m sorry about earlier. I’m just scared…”
His heart pounds against his rib cage. Guilt threads through her voice unaware it’s him who should apologize. For having such a dangerous life he must protect her from, forcing him to hide who he really is. “I’ve always been honest with you. There are just some things I can’t talk about.” He lifts her chin so their eyes meet, and she can see the truth in his. “I love you, and when I get back, I’m going to make it up to you for being gone.”
She smiles, her gaze proclaiming her love even if her words don’t. “I like that, but maybe you can give me a little preview before you leave.”
Her giggle tickles his ear as he trails his hand over her curves before grasping her hip and pulling her against him.
* * *
She opens her front door, excited about finally seeing Nick. His calls and texts, romantic and mysterious, with hints of a surprise for her, were not enough to keep her from longing for tonight. To stifle her craving for his sexy smile, his gentle touch, his chiseled chest concealed under his tuxedo.
Her smile fades at Jacks standing on her porch, her stomach dropping at his disheveled appearance. Beads of sweat glisten on his forehead as watery trails run down his temples to his sideburns, highlighting his ashen skin. Bent at the waist, his left hand remains inside his unbuttoned jacket. “Oh, Jacks. Are you okay?”
He nods and swallows hard, as if speaking taxes his energy. “Nick’s plane was delayed, so he’s going to meet you at the gala. Are you ready to go?”
