Vow to Protect (12 page)

Melanie gasped in a breath, feeling as if all the air had been knocked from her lungs. She knew they would have to talk about Kane eventually, but she still wasn't ready. She'd never be ready.

“Your dad is Dryden Kane, right?” Ethan prodded.

Cord nodded calmly. “Yes. I didn't know him growing up, but Dryden Kane is my father.”

“Is what he did okay with you?”

“No.”

Melanie leaned forward, trying to catch her son's eye. “Of course Cord doesn't think what he did was okay. Nothing about Dryden Kane is okay.”

Ethan ignored her, his gaze riveted to Cord. “Are you going to be like him?”

“Never.”
The word wrenched from Melanie's throat.

“No, Ethan, I'm not,” Cord said.

“Am I?”

Melanie rose to her feet. She couldn't believe what he was saying. “No, Ethan. Why would you even think that?”

He finally looked up at her. His eyes narrowed to blue slits. “Because that's what both of you said. That if Cord is my dad, I'm going to do bad things just like him. Then why won't Cord do bad things like Dryden Kane? Why won't I?”

Pain knifed through Melanie's chest, chased by numbness. “That's what I was afraid of, wasn't it?”

Cord nodded. “It's what we were both afraid of.”

She sat back down next to Ethan and grasped his hands in hers. Why hadn't this been clear to her before? Why hadn't it occurred to her that she was selling her son short, that in all of this, she never once considered his thoughts and choices and way-too-mature-for-his-years mind?

Cord had been an angry kid. He'd been a kid whose mother was more interested in blocking out
her own pain and disappointment than helping her son deal with his. He'd been a kid who'd hadn't believed he was worth much. Ethan wasn't like that. Ethan had never lived that desperate life. He was never wanting for love, never starved for attention. She'd seen to that. Ethan was Ethan. No one else.

How had she forgotten who her own son was?

“I'm so sorry, Ethan. I was wrong to think that. You're your own person. You make your own decisions. Good decisions. You always have.”

Ethan met her eyes. He nodded just as his chin started to tremble and fat tears rolled from the corners of his eyes.

She gathered him into her arms. Holding him tightly against her chest, she kissed his forehead and let her tears mix with his. And over Ethan's head, she offered Cord a smile—one she felt deep into the marrow of her bones.

Cord sat on the edge of the bed and watched his son's chest steadily rise and fall.

His son.

He rolled the weight of those two words around in his mind, feeling them, savoring them. He'd actually felt like a father tonight. Or at least the way he imagined being a father would feel.

And he had Melanie to thank.

She curled next to Ethan, her tears dry, her face peaceful. In Cord's entire life, no one had believed he was worth a damn. No one except Mel. And here she was believing again, after all that had happened, after all he'd done.

He didn't need her encouragement to want to come through for his son. But without it, he never would have dared hope he was able.

As if she sensed his gaze, her eyes fluttered awake. “Hi.”

The warm, sleepy whisper of her voice tugged at him. “I thought you were sleeping.”

“I was. Dreaming.” She stretched and sat up. “Where are you going?”

He didn't want to go anywhere. He wanted to lie down on the bed next to her and let the sway of the boat beneath them lull him into a dream world from which he never had to awake.

Too bad that wasn't possible. “I thought I'd check out the deck.”

She climbed out from under the blankets and pulled them over Ethan's shoulders. “I'll come with you.”

Cord grabbed a folded blanket from the foot of the bed. Cold had never bothered him, but judging from the sway of the boat and the low hum of wind outside, he doubted jeans and a T-shirt would be enough to keep Mel warm.

He opened the door quietly so as not to wake Ethan, and they slipped out into the kitchen.

They trod lightly through the galley on unsteady legs. Passing the closed door where Bryce and Sylvie slept, they found the steps leading to the deck. Cord pushed the hatch open and they climbed outside.

Their surroundings were quite different from the park where they'd boarded the boat. Where those shores had been rimmed with homes, these
were more remote. Not even a sparkle of light broke the dark silhouette of forest rustling in the wind. Probably Governor Nelson State Park on the north rim of the lake. On the aft side of the boat, the far away lights of Madison, the University of Wisconsin campus, and glow of the Capitol dome sparkled on the waves.

They moved to the bow. In front of the glassed-in cab that housed the controls, a bench hooked in a horseshoe. Mel spread out the blanket and sank onto one end of the long bench. Wrapping half the blanket around her shoulders, she held out the other half in an invitation to join her.

Something inside Cord's chest trembled.

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing.” Only that he wanted to join her so much he was shaking inside like an awkward teen. Stifling the feeling, he lowered himself to the bench and draped the blanket around his shoulders.

Her scent swirled through him. The gentle glow of moonlight and water shimmered on her skin, making it look soft as brushed silk. Even in the dim light, the faded evidence of freckles danced over the bridge of her nose just as they had when she was a girl.

His fingers twitched. What he wouldn't give to trace those freckles again, to touch that skin.

“He's something, our boy. Isn't he?” she said.

Our boy.
His and Melanie's. “He's unbelievable.”

She smiled, her whole face glowing with a light he'd never seen. Not even when they were kids themselves. “He was so brave tonight. So strong.” She shook her head and pushed out a small derisive laugh. “I wish I had just a sliver of his strength.”

“Wish? You do. You're the bravest, strongest woman I've ever known.”

She gave him a sideways look. “I sure don't feel it. Ever since this whole thing started, I've been scared to death.”

“Listen, it took guts to pull yourself out of the neighborhood we grew up in. Guts to even dare believe you deserved something better. But you did it. For yourself and for our son. You're the reason he's the way he is. You gave him the strength to deal with a father who's an ex-con. And a grandfather…” He couldn't finish.

She covered his hand with hers. “I'm sorry for some of those things I said. About you—”

“Don't you apologize. Those things were true.” He shook his head. “I'm the one who's sorry. I'm sorry I let you down.”

“You didn't let me down tonight, Cord. Tonight you came through for Ethan.” She gave him a watery smile. “And for me.”

He sat perfectly still, drinking in her look, her words. All those years in prison, he hadn't be
lieved he could miss her more. He hadn't known how strong the feeling could be until he'd seen her again. And after all they'd shared tonight, the love he felt for Melanie was so much stronger, so much more profound than what they'd had as kids, it pulsed deep inside.

“Do you know what I was dreaming?”

He was almost afraid to ask, but he had to know. “What?”

“I dreamed you were sitting next to me, like now. And you weren't wearing a shirt. And something terrible was going to happen. A bad feeling was hanging in the air, you know? But I didn't have to run or hide or even think. Somehow I knew everything would be okay. That all I had to do was just stay right there tracing the lines of your tattoos with my fingers, and I'd be safe. Everything would work out. Isn't that weird?”

A shiver rippled over his skin. “Pretty weird.” He followed Melanie's gaze to the black trees along the shore.

“I missed you, Cord. I didn't know how much until tonight.”

“I missed you, too. More than anything else in my life.”

She brought her gaze back to his face. Her dark eyes looked into him, past the tattoos, past the rap
sheet, until she reached the part no one else had ever seen. “It's lonely being a single parent. Hard.”

He nodded, his throat thick. He thought of his mother, the trials he put her through. The mess her life was, even before the extra burden he'd heaped on her shoulders. “I can imagine the problems would be hard to deal with on your own.”

“It's not that. I mean, that's true, but the problems aren't the hardest part.”

“I can't imagine what's harder.”

A wistful smile curved the corners of her lips. “Those moments when Ethan beams a smile at me from left field after making a great catch. Or when he's concentrating on one of his video games so hard that his tongue darts back and forth across his upper lip.”

He smiled. “I've seen that.”

She snuggled a little deeper into the blanket, a little closer to Cord. “But mostly the times I check on him in the middle of the night, and he's sleeping so perfectly that I'm struck by how much of a miracle he is. And the fact that I made him. And I have no one to share it with. No one in the world who feels the same.”

His throat closed. For a moment he didn't talk. He just soaked in her words until they nestled inside him and glowed with quiet understanding. “He
is
a miracle, isn't he?”

Her smile widened, making her whole face shine. “Yeah.”

He leaned close to her, soaking in the moment. Despite the cool, fall-tinged wind, his senses swirled with her heat, her scent.

She searched his eyes. Tilting her chin up, she parted her lips. An invitation to be kissed.

An invitation he should refuse.

An invitation he couldn't. He lowered his mouth to hers.

Her lips were as soft and warm as he remembered. Soft and warm as he had dreamed. Yet so real, so tender, they were like nothing he'd ever felt before.

The need for more built inside him like a physical pressure. He slipped his tongue between her lips, coaxing into the depths of her mouth.

She opened to him. Tangling her tongue with his, she encouraged him deeper. As if she too needed to be closer. As if she'd missed him as much as he'd missed her.

He explored her mouth and nipped her lips. He couldn't get enough of her, the taste, the feel. He drew in breath after breath of her. He wanted to take her, absorb her so he'd never again lose her. So neither one of them would ever again be alone.

Her fingers moved under his shirt, warm on his skin.

The pressure built. The need to touch. To taste.
To claim. He slipped his hands under her T-shirt and skimmed up her sides, over soft skin, over the even ridges of her ribs. Catching the stiff under-wire cupping her breasts, he pushed her bra up and over. One soft mound fell free, then the other. He took them in his hands. Her nipples jutted taut between his fingers.

She arched her back, pushing her breasts into his hands. She trailed her fingers over his skin. As if she couldn't get enough, either. As if she had missed his heat, his scent, as much as he'd missed her.

He released her long enough to peel her shirt over her head. He unhooked her bra and slipped the straps down her arms.

The blanket fell off their shoulders. Cool air swirled around them. Moonlight caressed Melanie's hair, her face, the full curves of her breasts.

An ache filled his groin, so hot and hard he nearly groaned. It had been so long since he'd been with a woman, but this wasn't just any woman. Melanie was the only woman he wanted. The only woman he'd fantasized about all those years of lying on the steel tray in his cell. The only woman whose voice cried out in his dreams.

Skimming up her sides with his hands, he cupped both breasts. His splayed fingers looked rough and dark against her skin. He rolled and
pinched her nipples between thumb and forefinger until he could feel the moan building in her chest.

“Cord.” Pleasure deepened her voice, giving the sound a guttural, primal urgency.

Heat broke over him in waves. He wanted to be closer. He wanted to taste her. He wanted to be inside.

He lifted her breasts, mounding them, pointing her dusky nipples up to meet his mouth. He ran his tongue over one taut nub and then the other.

He'd dreamed of her sweet scent. Dreamed of the sound of her voice, the feel of her skin. But no dream was this vivid, this real. No memory of her teenage body came close to the woman's body he held in his arms right now.

She moved her hands lower, unsnapping, unzipping, pushing into his jeans. The warmth of her fingers closed around him.

Blood surged to his groin. Desire burned through him, almost as much pain as pleasure. He'd waited so long. He wanted this so much.

She shoved down his waistband and lifted him out into the cool air.

The wind swept over him, fanning the flame, making him burn even hotter. He wanted to bury himself in her wet heat. He wanted to lose himself and never be found again.

“I want you, Cord. I always have. As hard as I tried, I never stopped wanting you.”

And he wanted her. Wanted her like nothing before. Needed her more than food or water or air.

Maybe it was possible. Maybe anything was possible. At least tonight.

He moved his hand down to her jeans. Unbuttoning and unzipping with clumsy fingers, he pushed the denim over the soft curve of her hips and down her legs. Her panties were a slip of silky, lacy stuff, something he might find sexy in a less heated moment. Now he just wanted them off, wanted them gone. Now they seemed like nothing but an affront to the perfection of her bare skin.

He slipped his hand under the lace and skimmed the panty down her legs. Depositing the lace on the deck along with her jeans, he smoothed his hands back up her legs until he reached the heat between her thighs.

She was wet and hot and everything he needed. He pushed his fingers between her folds, moving back and forth against her, feeling the way she opened and met his thrusts.

Another moan shook her.

He closed his lips over hers, trapping the sound, keeping it for his own.

She shuddered, moving faster. Her hand closed tighter around him, moving up and down his shaft in crazy rhythm.

He gritted his teeth. He couldn't lose it. Not
yet. He wanted to be inside her again. Part of her. He wanted to taste every sensation and lock it away to keep forever.

He grabbed her hand, stilling her movement. Burying his fingers in her hair, he drew her to him, kissing her deeply.

She gripped his shoulders and kneeled on the bench. Throwing one leg over his lap, she straddled him, opening herself over him. Her breasts surged into his face.

He skimmed his hands up her body and gathered her breasts together in his hands. Burying his mouth between them, he breathed deeply, brushing his lips against her soft skin.

Her hand found his length. She lowered herself and rubbed his tip against her wetness, her warmth. Positioning him at her gateway, she lowered further, taking him inside.

A groan vibrated in his chest. He tilted his hips upward, reaching for her, pushing himself fully home.

Just where he had to be.

Just where—at this moment—he could almost believe he belonged.

 

C
ORD WOKE TO THE THRUM
of the boat's engine. He glanced at the glowing hands of his watch. He and Mel had only returned to the cabin an hour ago to
sleep next to their son. It didn't make sense that the boat was already moving. They were supposed to remain anchored until this afternoon, when they would take Melanie and Ethan to the airport and he would go to the florist and bakery.

The sudden change of plans couldn't be good.

He crept from the bed, careful not to wake Mel or their son. Pausing a moment, he let his gaze linger on the perfection of her face. Last night was more than he'd ever believed possible. He'd been in love with Mel forever, and still he'd never known what love could be until last night. And if it was possible for everything to work out, for the police to catch Kane, for life to return to normal, he had the feeling his life might even turn around. That it would only get better from here.

He soaked in the way her hair fanned over the pillow, dark on light. The slope of her cheekbones. The smile playing at her lips. He could stare at her for hours. Days. A lifetime.