The Darkest Hour(30)

"Hey, no hogging."

Rachel opened her eyes to see a grinning face close to Frank's shoulder.

"Which one are you?" she asked.

His teeth flashed in a wider smile. "I'm Joe. The good-looking one."

Unable to resist, she smiled back just as Frank released her. Joe tugged her into his arms and lifted her up.

"Hey, knock it off, dumbass," Ethan growled.

Joe ignored him and twirled her around. As she stared into his eyes, a  memory as dizzy as he was currently making her skittered through her  mind. Just a brief glance. But it was Joe, standing nervously in front  of her. He was younger. Same short haircut, but he was in uniform. Army  fatigues. Boots.

Her brow furrowed as she sought to hang on. Joe carefully eased her down, and she blinked as he stared at her in concern.

"Hey, you okay? Sorry, didn't mean to get carried away."

"You asked me out," she blurted.

Joe cast a nervous glance over at Ethan then grinned at her. "Yeah. Well not lately."

Sam stepped forward, and she willed herself not to flinch.

"You remember him, Rachel?" Sam asked.

She raised a hand to her brow and pressed over her right eye, suddenly  aware of the slight throb. Ethan's hand slid over her shoulders and he  massaged, a silent message of support. Reminding her of his presence.  She sank back against him, tired but unafraid. She may not remember  these people, but she couldn't refute the love in their eyes.

She stared up at Joe again, searching the vague images for something that made sense.

"You were standing in front of me. You had your uniform on. And you were nervous."

Joe smiled. "Hell yeah. I was asking a gorgeous woman out."

She tilted her head. "Did I accept?"

Joe adopted an exaggerated crestfallen expression. "No. You let me down  easy, though." He clutched his heart and staggered back a step. "I  recovered. Eventually."

She chuckled at his antics. Then her gaze flittered to the man she now  assumed had to be Nathan. He stood back, a slight smile curving his  lips.

"You don't look alike," she said.

"Thank God," Nathan muttered.

"Yeah, I got all the looks. He got . . . Well he didn't get much," Joe said.

Nathan rolled his eyes then shoved by Joe. "Got a hug for me?"

She went willingly, her unease gone. His body shook with emotion, and  she realized that despite his and Joe's back-and-forth, they were as  affected as the rest of the family.

When he let her go, she stepped back, putting enough distance between her and the rest so that she could study their faces.

"I really do have a family," she said in wonder.

Pain flashed in Ethan's eyes. She hadn't meant to hurt him. Why had her words hurt him?

"Yes, sweet pea," Garrett said. "You have a family. You have all of us. Warts and all."

Ethan moved to her again. His hand slid over the side of her neck and  then up to cup her jaw. His thumb grazed restlessly over her cheek, and  she tilted her chin so she could look into his eyes.

"Are you okay, baby?"

Everyone else seemed to disappear. His face lowered precariously close  to hers. He hadn't kissed her yet. Not as a husband. He'd been so  careful with her. Understanding.

She licked her lips at the same time she realized she wanted him to kiss  her. Here. And then her gaze skated sideways to his family all standing  there. Watching.

She ducked her head and took a step back, Ethan's hand falling away. But  she reached out to catch it, wanting to maintain some semblance of  contact with him.

He smiled and laced his fingers with hers then pulled her against his side.

"Are you hungry?" Marlene asked.

Ethan chuckled. "Ma's answer to everything. Food."

Marlene harrumphed, but her eyes twinkled. "You didn't turn down a hot meal."

"I'm no idiot."

Donovan spoke up. "Hey, if she's not hungry, I am."

Rachel turned in the direction of his voice. He smiled and nodded, but  he kept his distance almost as if he knew how overwhelmed she was.

"You're the quiet one, aren't you?"

Donovan's eyes widened a little, but his cheeks colored slightly.

"If you're asking if I'm an obnoxious loudmouth like all my other siblings, the answer is no."                       
       
           



       

"I danced with you at my wedding," she said, as the music danced in her  head just as they had done. "I teased you and said you were the only one  of your brothers who hadn't bruised my toes."

His smile lit up his face. "Yeah. I always said they were uncouth mammoths."

Laughter rang out over the room, and she realized that it was a sound  she'd heard often in her past. She stared from face to face, her heart  swelling and aching with the irrefutable truth. She was home. She had  family. She was loved.





CHAPTER 21



IT had taken a while for Rachel to become accustomed not only to  sleeping in the wondrous luxury of a bed, but also to sleeping with  Ethan. Not that she'd had any difficulty making the transition. In fact,  she was usually so glued to him by the middle of the night that she was  surprised he didn't shove her away. But he seemed as content as she was  to sleep so melded together.

The part she'd had to grow accustomed to was not living with the fear of  him being gone when she woke up. He never left the bed before she did  and always made sure he was there, holding her, when she woke up.

Some mornings they'd lie there lazily, limbs entwined, and he'd rub a  hand up and down her arm as the sun rose higher, filling their bedroom  with light.

This morning was no exception. She'd actually woken before Ethan, and  she lay there watching him sleep. He looked almost vulnerable in this  unguarded state, and she found the contrast fascinating. He was so hard  and tough, so very protective of her, and yet right now she wanted to  touch him, ease the worry she often saw in his eyes.

She wondered what he'd do if she kissed him. Though he was affectionate  with her, and touched her frequently, he hadn't made any effort to kiss  her-really kiss her. There were light kisses to her forehead. A peck on  the lips. Sometimes a brush across her cheek. But he hadn't kissed her  like a lover.

Part of her was curious to see if she'd remember the passion that once  existed between them, but the other part of her was scared to death.  What if she didn't react appropriately? What if she couldn't remember  her feelings for him. Worse, what if she felt nothing if they tried to  make love?

She frowned. No, that couldn't be possible. She was too physically aware of him.

She snuggled a little closer to him, until her mouth was hovering just  an inch from his. Her pulse pounded, and she chided herself for being so  ridiculously nervous. It was just a kiss. They'd kissed any number of  times before.

She licked her lips and then carefully pressed her mouth to his. The  kiss was so light and yet it gave her a giddy thrill. She pulled quickly  away, worried she'd woke him. But he hadn't moved.

Encouraged by the warm sensation all the way down to her toes, she moved  forward again. This time she kissed just the corner of his mouth and  enjoyed the scratchy sensation of his morning shadow against her cheek.

Gaining courage and confidence, she slid her mouth fully over his and  kissed him again. His lips parted, and she gasped in surprise. She  pulled away to see him watching her through half-lidded eyes.

"Good morning," he murmured.

Fire lit her cheeks. She felt like an errant teenager stealing her first kiss.

"G-good morning."

He smiled and ran his finger down her nose. "I like your way of saying good morning."

Her cheeks tightened and she ducked her head.

"Hey," he said softly. "I liked it. Do you know how many nights I've  dreamed of waking this way? You in my arms, your lips on mine."

She smiled shyly. "I feel so silly. We've kissed so many times, but to me this feels like the first."

He slid his hand behind her neck and cradled her head in his palm. "Then  let's make it perfect." He lowered his mouth to hers and pressed warm  and sweet against hers.

Her heart fluttered and turned over like someone had set a jar full of butterflies free in her chest.

He was exquisitely tender. So reverent that it brought tears to her  eyes. He kissed her lips and then started at one corner of her mouth and  kissed his way to the other side.

His tongue slid sensuously over her top and then bottom lip and then  gently slipped between to open her to his advances. With a sigh, she  acquiesced, and their tongues met, tasting each other, exploring.  Advancing and then retreating.

They performed a delicate dance, their tongues dueling, slowly at first  and then faster. Their breath came faster and was swallowed up, given  and then taken back. They shared each puff of air, savored it before  demanding more.

Had she really thought she wouldn't respond to him? She ached for him.  All she wanted was to lose herself in him. Curl so tightly into him that  she'd never be without his strength-his love.