Tears streamed from her eyes but she made no effort to stop them. She buried her face in the pillow and sobbed in silent heartache. Sorrow and abandonment ran their twisted courses.
Why? Her mind and her heart screamed in unison until finally only raw anger twisted her gut into knots. Her life had been turned upside down by a man who was supposed to be dead and a woman who had not loved her enough to tell the truth.
“Laurie,” Damien said softly as the mattress dipped under his weight. “Are you okay?”
She rolled onto her back and looked up at him through her tears. “I will be.” She sniffled and swiped a trembling hand over her eyes. “I’m so confused. Why all the lies?”
“I don’t know. You’ll have to ask your mother.” He took her shaking hands in his. His thumb rubbed idle circles over her wrist.
Her heart skipped a beat as she met his dark gaze. His touched warmed her heart and soothed her soul.
“Come here,” he ordered softly as he tugged her up until her breasts grazed his chest.
All too aware of him, Laurie knew she should move away, but she did not want to. She inched closer and his presence enveloped her. Heat radiated from him to warm her cold heart.
His arms slid around her, wrapping her in the security she craved. Gradually the need to cry subsided but she only snuggled closer. If felt too good just to be held. She did not remember the last time a man, or anyone, had simply held her.
“It’s hard. I know,” he sympathized quietly. “You can deal with this.”
His finger under her chin prompted her to look up at him. “The only other option is to curl up and die.”
Laurie peered deeply into deep brown eyes that held her as captive as his arms. “You speak from experience,” she mused aloud.
ALWAYS A WARRIOR Patricia Bruening
24
He gave a brusque nod. The hard glint in his eyes ended further questions. She let out a troubled, shuddering breath and gripped his shoulders.
“My life is a lie,” she said flatly. “What am I supposed to do about that? Nothing?”
“Your life is what you made it,” he countered firmly. “No one did it for you.”
“I know that. It’s just ….” She stopped.
Unable to explain her own feelings, she rested her head on his shoulder. One arm clung to his waist and the other hand flattened on his chest. He was hard and warm beneath her palm. She longed for his strength, his obvious confidence. His heart thudded in her ear. The steady rhythm soothed her and she pressed closer, felt his heat pour into her.
The security of his embrace was a luxury. The sensation of his hard body pressed to hers was a delicious temptation. She tilted her head, her gaze skimming over his throat, his face.
Mesmerized, she stared into dark eyes until reality dissolved around her. He drew her to him in a way that defied understanding. It was more than gratitude. Gratitude did not leave a person weak in the knees and craving more. Swamped in sensual intimacy, she admitted she wanted him. She craved his touch the way an addict craved drugs.
He stiffened, tried to draw back from her, but she tightened her hold and only moved closer. The contact scorched her through two layers of cotton. Her breasts pressed firmly to his chest so her nipples tingled and hardened until she ached for his touch. I shouldn’t, she told herself weakly. But she surrendered to her needs, her desires. Her fingertips raked his nipples through his sweatshirt with light, provocative strokes.
His breath hitched. She smoothed her hand over his shoulder to the back of his neck. The silky texture of his hair at her fingertips tantalized her. She tangled her fingers in his hair, holding him to her. She pressed her mouth to his throat. Her tongue glided over salty skin, teasing and tormenting herself and, she hoped, him. His taste exploded in her mouth, salty and musky, uniquely Damien.
A low, deep groan, music to her ears, erupted from his throat. He jerked back and covered her mouth with his, forcing her lips apart with the demanding thrust of his tongue. The sheer male sex appeal, the strength of him, dragged her under. Her heart melted and her body burned for him. She strained closer, her breasts crushed to his chest. Like steel bands, his arms molded her to him as his mouth ravished hers.
Sensation after sensation slammed into her. Violence, terrorists, revelations—all were forgotten when she clung to him, devoured him. Her tongue dueled with his, her lips rubbing frantically over his as she strained to get even closer, to get inside his skin, to have him.
Lowering her to the mattress, he left her mouth to blaze searing, sucking kisses along her jaw and down her neck. His body covered hers, a glorious comfortable weight pressing her into the mattress. She sucked in a harsh breath, speared her fingers in his hair. Passion, unleashed, controlled her. She welcomed it, reveled in it. He made her feel wanted, needed—everything that made her whole. She arched, offering him easier access and his mouth slid, tongue licking, along the curve of her neck to her shoulder.