Heating Up the Holidays 3-Story Bundle(130)

She made a sound, and he said, “Crazy. I know. Anyway, then I met you. I met you and—Jesus, kissing you was the least of what I wanted to do. I wanted to bare myself. Skin, soul, whatever. I wanted you to know everything that was inside me. Everything I was afraid of. I wanted to swear I was innocent, beg you to believe me. But when I had the chance to, I didn’t.”

Her blue eyes searched his face. Seeing through and around and under and in. His heart beat steadily, skipped, lost its rhythm for a long, terrifying moment, found it again as the words spilled out of his mouth—the beautiful, splintered truth.

“I didn’t do it. I swear. I swear I didn’t do it.” His voice broke, cracked along the fault lines that had always been there, disintegrated.

She pressed her lips to his cheek, to his ear, and he drew deep breaths that were not quite sobs. Or maybe they were. He wasn’t sure of anything except the comfort of her body.

“Shh,” she said. “I know.”

Her words unknotted something so deep in his psyche that it felt like release. Like absolution. Like grace.

He kissed her then, because he needed some kind of anchor, because everything had wrenched loose: everything he’d been holding together and trying desperately not to freak out about, all the unsaid things that had fought their way out, all his fears that there wouldn’t be another opportunity to be with her, that he wouldn’t be able to see her, touch her, kiss her.

God, she was sweet, her mouth so receptive and responsive, her body curving toward his, her heat, his arousal, like she was homing, her hands everywhere, in his hair, on his ass, her thumb curving around his hip to find the head of his cock.

The security clerk cleared his throat loudly, and Miles set Nora back from him. “More where that came from. Later.”

“God, I hope so.”

“Promise.”

“Miles? If they charge you, if you can’t make them believe the truth, if you have to go to jail—”

He tried to cut her off, but it was as pointless as it had been earlier. She was determined to say it.

“Whatever happens, I’ll be with you.”

He hugged her so tight that she gave a little squeak; then he released her. “I can’t begin to tell you how much that means to me, but I’ve got some good news.” Her eyes got huge.

“After my talk with Owen, I had lunch with some people who work for me and asked them to forgive me for not being more open with them. I told them I was innocent and asked for their help.

“A few of them got up and walked out, but most of them stayed. I asked them to think about anything they might know about the vendor fraud, anything at all, no matter how small. A bunch of them called my lawyer afterward. One mentioned that my executive assistant had been weird and squirrelly one day about a certain vendor account. They’ve changed the direction of the investigation. I’m not off the hook, but they’re looking closely at his actions. We’ll know more soon.”

“That’s great! I mean, not about your EA, but—”

“I know.”

She looked away, and he caught her regret. “I’m still sorry I didn’t have perfect faith. I wish … I wish I could have shown you a hundred percent certainty. I think you needed that.”

He shook his head. “No.” And then more vehemently, “No, I didn’t. I needed you to be who you were. Exactly who you were. You. You are so fully in the world, and I wanted to be in the world with you. It gave me the courage to dive back in.”

She made another sound, a half hum, almost a whimper, and lifted her face to him, an echo of that moment last year when the numbers had fallen off the clock too slowly.

This kiss was different. Tender, contemplative. It made him ache, not only in the sex-starved rock-hard parts, but all through. He wanted to get her out of here so he could make love to her, slow and sweet. Or hard and fast against a wall. That would work, too, and he was sure she’d be amenable to either. Or both. Both would be good.

When he released her, she smiled at him, her big, buoyant, nothing-held-back smile.

“I’ve never liked New Year’s,” he said. “I’ve always thought of it as a liar’s holiday.”

“Really?”

“Everyone makes resolutions they won’t keep, also known as lies. But New Year’s is growing on me as a holiday, I gotta say.”

She stood on tiptoe and whispered in his ear, “I’m wearing the red lace boy shorts.”

“Did I mention how much I adore New Year’s?” He slid a hand up her thigh until his fingers met the lace hem of her shorts. “Nora. Let’s get out of here.”