Once Her Man, Always Her Man(8)

Her tears fell freely at his words. What a horrible story. “You should tell people Mike’s story,” she sniffled. Damn it, she’d always been a crier and the flow of damp grief stung her eyes. “You should tell them Shari’s story and Amy’s story. It’s terrible, but it makes it more real for those who can’t imagine what that’s like.”

“Aww, hell, Becca, I didn’t mean to make you cry.” His grief stricken expression dissolved in self-recrimination. He shifted to put his left hand on the wheel, his right capturing hers and lifting it to his lips. The tender brush of a kiss across her knuckles damn near brought her to sobbing.

“I can’t help it. You miss Mike. You’re pissed at yourself because Mike went home and you weren’t there to watch his back, to protect his family and save him from himself. But it’s not your fault.” The words hiccupped, but she didn’t care. He swung the truck into a dark parking lot and shifted into park before twisting in the seat.

Between one breath and the next, he’d snapped off her seat belt and tugged her across the bench until she crushed up against him. It was a mistake to hold him like that, to let him hold her. But he needed her.

Hell, I need him.

She sobbed all over his nice dress shirt. Her arms slid around him, her hands going to his hair. Still cut high and tight, she missed the gentler waves where it would tumble in his eyes. He’d come back a bigger, harder man, but cocooned against him, the years slipped away.

A rumble shook through him, a low laugh tickled her and the bubble of tension inside her popped. Laughing through tears was the best emotion and the more he laughed against her, the more laughter punctuated her tears.

“Why are you laughing?” She chuckled, pulling back enough to look at him. But the circle of his arms trapped her close. His forehead drifted down to rest against hers, his eyes dark and unfathomable in the next to nothing light.

“This is so not what I meant when I asked you to come with me. I never wanted you to cry.”

She shrugged, no easy feat this close when it brushed her chest to his and her nipples stiffened. A lazy thread of desire unwound from the tension, zinging along half-forgotten nerve endings. Eleven years and his proximity still turned her on.

Who am I kidding? She’d loved this man her whole life. When he asked her out on a date the day of her sixteenth birthday party, she’d written in her diary that she’d been born to love him. Eleven years and heartbreak didn’t diminish the feeling no matter how much hurt and resentment she’d tried to bury it in.

“Luke,” she whispered. “I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad you told me. I’ve missed you.”

He went still against her. She shoved away the regret that crept through her. She would never regret reaching out to him. It hurt to think he might reject her.

Again.

But she would never stop being there. He spoke of Shari in wonder, wonder for how she supported the man she loved, wonder for how she managed all those years and would be willing to fly halfway around the world for a couple of days, but she didn’t wonder.

I would have done the same damn thing if he’d just let me.

Resolve exploded through her, she was through waiting for him to give her that opportunity. Nestled close to him, the warmth of his breath tickling her cheek, and the strength of his arms around her, she closed the gap to press her lips to his.

He stiffened, but his mouth opened to her questing tongue. The gentle kiss went from zero to raging forest fire. Liquid heat blasted through her blood and between one breath and the next, she straddled his lap, his hands pulling her hair loose to tumble down around them in a curtain. Every inch of his hard muscle pressed against her softer flesh. He tasted of the wine he’d ordered at Sybarite and something darker, deeper and more masculine.

He tastes like Luke.

A groan rolled through her as his tongue sought entry, dueling with hers, stroking her teeth, lapping up every breath. Her dress inched up her thighs and the hard length of his cock burned through the clothes separating them. She rolled her hips, rubbing against him, sending tingles of electricity darting through her sex.

She soaked her panties at the thought of stripping away those last barriers. She wanted to feel him inside of her. They’d played it safe for years, never even made it past second base.

“Rebecca,” his voice slurred ever so slightly between kisses as their mouths moved together. It was like dancing, tongues waltzing together, circling each other. “Rebecca.”

He leaned his head back, fingers fisting in her hair, trapping her when she would have followed. His chest rose and fell. His excitement fueled her own. “Sweetheart, you’re killing me.” His murmur was low and throaty. Would he sound that raspy and hoarse when they were naked and rolling together? She shuddered, one aching tangle of need. Her body vibrated with it. Her hands flattened against his chest, the pounding of his heart a delicious cadence beneath her questing fingers as she unbuttoned his shirt.