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Authors: Amanda K. Byrne

Hidden Scars (19 page)

BOOK: Hidden Scars
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       She was smart; she’d see the gesture for what it was. And he knew she wouldn’t take the key if she wasn’t ready.

       Christ, he hoped she was ready.

       Keys dangling from his fingertips, he held them out. “I’m stuck here for another hour at least,” he said quietly. “I want you to be there when I get home.”

       She didn’t move to take them. “Are you sure?”

       He nodded and continued to hold them out. “I know what I’m asking.”

       The wariness didn’t dissipate, but she came around the desk and took the keys from him, laying her palm against his cheek as she bent to kiss him. “Me, too,” she whispered. Then she turned and left his office.

       Knowing Sara would be waiting for him when he got home shook off some of the edginess, and he managed to finish up in an hour and a half, shutting down before something else could come up to delay him longer.

       After a commute that took twice as long as usual, he let himself into his apartment and a warm, spicy scent greeted him. He tossed his coat over the back of the couch and found Sara at the stove. She must have stopped at home first, because she wasn’t wearing the sleek green trousers she’d had on earlier. The yoga pants she preferred to lounge around in stretched deliciously over the curves of her ass. He wanted to pick her up and cart her off to the bedroom, peeling those pants away. He wanted to hold her even more.

       He slipped his arms around her waist and she covered his hands with one of her own, the slight weight of her leaning on his chest a balm. “What are you making?”

       She reached forward and gave the frying pan a quick shake. “Chicken. You had it in the fridge. Potatoes.” She waved her hand at a pot on the back burner. “Mashed, unless you’ve got other ideas.” She turned in his arms, sliding her hands up his chest. “Comfort food. I thought you could use it.”

       He pulled her up, up on her toes, her arms around his neck. Instead of kissing her, he buried his face in her hair, soaking in the warmth of her. One of her hands stroked into his hair, and something inside him settled.

       She eased back. “Go on and sit. Dinner will be ready in about ten.”

       It was later, much later, lazing about on the couch, that they were able to talk. He laid his head on her breast as she told him about the visit she’d made to the police station Monday morning. “And before you growl about not telling you, it wasn’t a big deal.” Her fingers worked through his hair, and he left his head where it was, waiting to see what she’d say next. “Filing the protection order with Portland PD was more to cross my t’s and dot my i’s than anything else. I checked in with Detective Milan, too, and Sam’s complying with his parole terms.

       “I had my first Krav Maga class last night,” she continued. Stroke, stroke, the steady thump of her heart soothing him.

       “Krav Maga? Isn’t that some street fighting technique? You preparing for a cage match or something?” He worked his hand under the hem of her sweater and splayed it across her abdomen.

       “No cage match. Just preparedness. I hurt in places I didn’t know it was possible to hurt.” The conversation lapsed, and he had no idea how much time had passed when she spoke again. “Are they going to be all right?”

       He knew what she meant by the quiet question. “We’re working on getting them out of the neighborhood. It’s time they left anyway,” he said, rubbing her soft skin when she tensed. “A lot of their friends have moved away. The housing bust hit them hard, and the house isn’t worth nearly what they owe on the mortgage. Tony threatening them is the straw breaking the camel’s back, in a way. It’s not a quick process, even if they agree.”

       “No, it’s not.” More silence. “What are you going to do about Tony?”

       He had no fucking clue, and told her as much. “He’s out of his mind at this point. He has to have made a mistake, screwed up somehow. I want to believe the Feds will step in any day, but given their lack of movement in the past, it’s unlikely.”

       Fatigue from the last few days dragged on him, and what he wanted more than anything was to take Sara to bed and sleep. Sleep, holding her to him as though she could ward off the evil from his past. And maybe she could. With her, he was starting to think the impossible might not be so far out of reach.

       “Taylor?” Her slender fingers latched onto his hair and tugged. He lifted his head. “Take me to bed,” she whispered.

       His blood warmed at her demand, and he imagined a slow, drawn out climb, warmth without heat, desire banked instead of driving them faster. He slid off the couch and helped her to her feet, her brown eyes full of nerves. He brought her fingers to his lips. “As you wish.” He kissed the tips one by one, then walked with her to his bedroom.

       

Chapter Eighteen

       Shadow cloaked the room. It would be easier to do this in the dark. Already she was searching for what she felt that morning when she’d woken with him in her bed. The frightening gentleness of being so steeped in him nothing else mattered. Tonight was the night to find out if she could handle it again, making love rather than blind animal fucking. She hoped so. She wanted it, wanted it badly. She wanted it with
him
.

       Their hands found each other, his going to her hair and the band holding it up. It fell away and he combed his fingers through the strands.

       Hers crept under the hem of his t-shirt, feathering over the skin of his lower back.

       Their mouths came together slowly. Tentatively. The kiss deepened, scooping her up and sweeping her along so her fingers dug into the muscles above his butt, swaying on her feet as she rose up and pressed closer. She couldn’t get close enough.

       Shirts off, fingers fumbling at the hooks of her bra, and she buried her face against his chest. He was always so sure. One of them needed to be tonight. One of them had to have the confidence that this was the direction they were supposed to be going, and instead they were standing still, afraid the tenderness would be their undoing.

       He tumbled them onto the bed and she lifted her hips as he slid her pants down, doing away with her panties at the same time. Bared to him, she watched as he rid himself of his pants and boxers, smiling as he took the time to remove his socks.

       They lay nose to nose, their limbs tangled together. His face was blurred with the darkness, the light spilling in from the hallway not quite reaching the head of the bed. She traced the lines of it, and it gave her an idea.

       She scooted down and placed her hands on his chest. His scars were a part of his story, and it was a part she wanted to know. Trailing kisses along his neck, she slid her hands over him, the puckers and ridges harsh on the pads of her fingertips. “What’s this one for?” she asked, following a faint scar riding high on his left pectoral.

       “Got into a fight over a girl.” His hand curled into her hair, fingers anchored in the soft waves.

       “And this one?” A thicker, longer scar, beneath his collar bone.

       “Caught listening in on a conversation I should have stayed away from.”

       “This one?” The jagged scar running down his sternum.

       “Last job I did for Tony.”

       She kissed each and every one of them. “He’s taken so much of you already,” she whispered. He wasn’t going to leave anything for her. She pressed her mouth to the skin over his heart. Lower, lower, suckling a flat nipple, scraping her nails over his abdomen. She wanted to commit every inch of him to memory. How his breath would hitch as she ran her tongue over the muscle low over his hip. His hiss of pleasure as she stroked him, the feel of his cock hard and smooth.        

       His hips jerked as she ran her tongue over his length, sucking him in. Swirling her tongue around the head, she took him deep, hollowing her cheeks, her tongue applying a steady, delicious pressure. His answering groan was the only confirmation she needed to know she was driving him insane.

       And all too soon he pulled her off. “I wasn’t done yet,” she murmured, reaching down and closing a hand around him. His hips bucked and he pumped into her embrace.

       “You were done. My turn.” Easing her onto her back, his mouth moved like a slow burning fire over her skin. He tormented her, using teasing nibbles and licks on the fragile skin of her throat, shaping and molding her breasts. Thumbing her nipples, he dropped his head to her shoulder as her hips rolled against him. “Calm down, gorgeous.”

       Screw calm. She could do calm when she wasn’t in need of release. God help her, she was close to whining. “Taylor—”

       He kissed away her protests, his lips rubbing over hers in such a way she went boneless. He kept it up, the slow, sensual glide of his tongue along hers drawing whimpers from the back of her throat.

       His hands got busy, feathering over her hip and up her stomach as his mouth moved down to meet them. Kisses over her lower abdomen, more along her inner thighs. His tongue flicked out, once, twice, before he set about breaking her down.

       Long, dragging licks, short, tense flicks, then he added his fingers and her hips undulated, rocking constantly, the pressure building to a scream. She fisted her hands in the duvet, jerking against him.

       Her breath sobbed out as she came, wave after wave of sensation wracking her. More kisses on sensitized flesh, and he moved up, taking her mouth once more as he rolled to the side and slipped on a condom.

       He didn’t give her a chance to recover as he moved to his back, shifting her to straddle him. Groaning, he pushed into her. “You. Are. Perfect. Fucking perfect.”

       Desperate to feel more, feel everything, she sat up, rolling her hips back and forth, back arching as he surged inside her.
He
was perfect. He fit beautifully.

       But he didn’t stay down. Rearing up, he wrapped his arms around her and rocked into her, fisting a hand in her hair so she had to keep eye contact. His glinted in the ambient light seeping into the room, emotions she couldn’t begin to name tumbling in their depths.

       It was the very definition of close sex. She couldn’t tell where she left off and he began, skin sliding against one another as he dared her to drop her gaze. It hurt. It was a physical, deep pain inside, baring herself like this. He wouldn’t let her go. They remained locked together as they climbed. Tension coiled tight, breathing going ragged, her heart thudded so hard against her rib cage she thought she’d break bones.

       And then she fell apart in his arms, felt him grow harder inside her and her head dropped back as pleasure broke her into a thousand pieces.

       “Sara.” Her name was a murmur of sound, tangling with their labored breathing as he continued to hold her close. Her head came up, and all the uncertainty and giddiness she felt was mirrored on his face.

       It shook her to her core.

       Heart racing, she followed him down to the bed, kissing him for all she was worth.

* * *

       Cuddled to Taylor’s side, Sara listened to the steady thud of his heart under her ear, her fingers dancing over his chest. She snuggled closer as he adjusted the blankets over her shoulders. “Jamie still lives in Boston, right?”

       “Yes. Matt moved to Wisconsin, but Jamie’s in South Boston. He likes being close to Ma and Pop.”

       She tickled his ribs, more to get a slap out of him than anything else. “I don’t get it,” she said softly. “How did you manage to fall in with a gang and have them leave your brothers alone?”

       He was quiet for a while. “I never understood it myself. Tony’s always been weird. He’ll take on guys who have skills he can use. Maybe he thought my brothers didn’t have anything to offer.

       “He styles it like the mafia you’d see in the movies. Don’t do anything to get on his bad side, and he’ll leave you alone. The working families, he wouldn’t extort protection funds from them. Wasn’t any real need to; he’s pretty much the only game in the neighborhood. If some of the legit businesses wanted to set up something for a little extra cash on the side, he’d set ‘em up, for a cut of the profits.”

       She shifted and propped herself up on her elbow. He’d gotten up after they’d made love and unearthed a couple of candles. The stupidly cliché and romantic gesture had her swallowing tears. Now she could see him, the candlelight flickering over his face, shadows dancing across it. “You said you weren’t an official member?” He nodded. “What did you do for him, exactly?”

       “Gathered information, mostly.” He wound a lock of hair around a finger, tugged. “I’ve always been good at staying quiet and getting into places I had no business being in.”

       “You and your mad ninja skills.” She leaned down and kissed him, lips parting when his hand clamped on the back of her neck to hold her there. On a sigh, she settled down at his side, the heat of him soothing her. “Do you miss it? Boston?” He’d told her once he’d never been back.

       “Sometimes. It’s not so much the place as the people you miss. Most of my friends from when I was growing up are either out of the neighborhood, locked up, or dead. My parents come out to see me when they can scrape up enough money for tickets. Jamie’s been out a couple of times. Matt’s stayed in Milwaukee.”

       “And he won’t see you? Talk to you?” she asked.

       The line of his jaw hardened slightly, and he shook his head. “I can’t blame him for the distance.” He began stroking a hand over the curve of her hip. “What about you?”

       She recognized the move for what it was — a deflection. She remembered the old pain on his face as he told her about how he’d managed to leave Boston, and she didn’t want to bring it up now. Not tonight. She thought over his question. She hadn’t seen or heard from any of her college friends in seven years. Childhood friends, with the exception of Krista, in even longer. Sam had taken it all from her. “I could have tried to get back in touch, I guess, after Sam was convicted. Those first couple of years, it was hard enough getting up and going to work every day. The entire time I felt supremely stupid, you know? He was in prison. I knew that. I made sure that if he was released the protection order would remain in place. And I still didn’t feel safe.

BOOK: Hidden Scars
10.19Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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