Only for the Night (If Only Book 2) (30 page)

When she opened her mouth to answer, he brought a finger up to her lips. “Be very careful, baby. Think about it. Think about the details of that night, the ones you’ve told me and the ones you haven’t. Think about it without the overwhelming emotions that, quite justifiably, have colored the way you see what happened. Strip all that away and then decide, did you do anything wrong?”

She did as he asked. If anything, all she’d been guilty of was putting her Dom’s needs above her own. That wasn’t wrong, even if it had been misguided at the time. “No.”

Hank’s face relaxed the tiniest bit. “Did you try to stop him when you realized you couldn’t go through with it?”

“Yes.” Even without her breath, she had tried to say her safe word.

“Did Kevin see that? The way he should have if he’d been paying attention like a
good Dominant
?”

“No.”

Hank took hold of her chin, his grip as comforting as it was confining. “Then why would you believe any of this was your fault?”

The only answer she had was, “I wasn’t a good sub.”

“You are my sub,” he told her, “and that makes you the best sub. I am the one to judge how good you are, not anyone who was there that night, and not you, since your judgment is colored by the experience.” He lowered his hand to her throat, circled it, held her there without the least hint of knowledge in his eyes that this was the same hold he’d seen evidence of on Tara. He wasn’t hurting her, bruising her, and he wasn’t afraid he would. Her heart did a little flip before he leaned in and took her mouth—there was no other word for it. There was nothing gentle about Hank’s kiss, and it couldn’t have been more perfect. He devoured her, his tongue forcing its way in, his lips hard and demanding on hers. Her adrenaline shot up at the twinge of pain in her jaw, the push of his body bending her backward. This was Hank off his leash, exactly as she wanted him to be. Strong, unyielding. He tangled with her and demanded that she tangle back until the two of them were so entwined she couldn’t find their boundaries. She didn’t want to. Through him she’d found who she really was, and who she wanted to be. Everything she wanted to be and more.

He said she was a good sub. What she knew was that he was the best Dom—he’d seen what she needed and given it to her, when he’d first come in the room and now. How had she been so blessed to find him?

A distant sound—her cell phone ringing—finally reached her ears. The sound stopped, then started again. Sage eased back from Hank, breathing heavy. “That’s Deirdre.”

Hank was breathing heavy too. “Go answer. I’ll wait.”

She ran a finger across his bottom lip, swollen from their kiss. “Thank you.”

“You are more than welcome, baby. Now go see what she needs.”

As Sage crossed to the door, she realized the ringing had quit again. Maybe she should call back.

Deirdre’s ringtone sounded before she’d taken two steps down the hall.

Sage glanced back at Hank and saw her worry reflected in his expression. Naked or not, she ran the rest of the way to the kitchen.

“Hello?”

“Sage?” Ragged breathing, then her friend’s tear-filled tone. “Sage, he’s gone.”

“It’s a beautiful day,” Alice said. The back field was bright with late-afternoon sunshine and people in pretty-colored clothes. No black here. That had been Barry’s one request. No black, no coffin and grave site and tears. Just the people who’d loved him and the place that had nurtured his family for so many years. There was something about knowing your life would be celebrated instead of your death mourned that was comforting, even for Hank. Barry and Alice and Deirdre deserved a celebration.

And Sage had been determined to give it to them. From the time they’d arrived home from LA, she’d been cooking. At first Hank had protested, but the more he watched her, the more he realized this was her way of coping, so he’d let her go. Now the fruits of her labor burdened a long string of tables behind the market. Alice had taken one look and burst into tears, but they’d been the last of the day. His friend was strong, stronger than he thought he could be. But she wasn’t alone, either.

“It is beautiful.” He turned his gaze from the perfect Cali weather to Alice’s hand, resting in his. Her hand, like the rest of her, was small, fragile, delicate. He’d seen those hands master huge tubs of bread dough and manipulate the tiniest decorations on a cupcake. Size was irrelevant; it was the determination behind them that gave those bones strength.

Nolan Jones’s granddaughter, Katy, ran up to them, her black hair flying behind her. She held a battered rose, a bit worse for wear after the child’s rough handling, but still beautiful. A little shyly, Katy handed the flower to Alice.

“Here you go,” she said. “Isn’t it pretty?”

“It is.” Alice leaned over to kiss the top of the little girl’s head. “Thank you.”

Katy smiled, flashing a gap where her two front teeth should be, then ran off to play with Deirdre’s daughter. Alice set the rose in her lap and fingered the velvety petals.

They sat that way for a long time, listening to the crowd around them but not speaking. Hank watched the breeze play with Sage’s hair, remembering the way those long strands had felt dragging across his chest last night. She’d been above him, her body enveloping his, her face so close he’d been lost in her eyes. They’d stayed that way for what seemed like forever, not really moving, just absorbing each other. Finding comfort. Loving each other. One of the most poignant moments of his life, a moment when weakness in them both had become strength. Honesty had become a foundation, one he’d known with certainty he wanted to build on. When things were settled…

“She’s an absolute treasure, isn’t she?” Alice said suddenly. Hank turned to her and found her gaze on Sage moving through the crowd.

The lump in his throat got bigger, almost too big to clear away. “She is.”

“You love her.”

Certainty. Hank eyed his friend. “Of course I do. Was there ever any doubt?”

“Not for me, though I wondered about you there for a while.” Alice grinned a little bit. “I knew the minute she walked into my kitchen that she was perfect for you, maybe the minute Deirdre told me about her. There was just something…lost, maybe? In her eyes. She needed more than a place to belong.” Alice turned to him, her green eyes intense in the summer sun. “Like you, when you found me. You needed a family, but there was something else too.”

Hank brought Alice’s hand up to his mouth and kissed the back, those delicate bones and paper-thin skin hiding so much strength. “You gave me a family.”

“I did.” She went back to watching Sage. “You talked to your parents while you were in LA.”

He’d tried, at least. “My dad.” Hank shrugged. “Didn’t go well.” His dad had heard Hank’s voice and hung up the phone. Surprisingly, it hadn’t bothered Hank as much as he would’ve guessed. He had a family here. He’d made the effort to reach out, knowing his dad, like Barry, was getting older, knowing the chances of mending broken fences were disappearing by the second. The fact that nothing had changed was…bittersweet, but not the agony it had once been.

“Bastard.”

That earned a chuckle. “Yeah, well…” He sighed. “It isn’t important anymore. You are, Sage is, Merry and V. and Knight. I can live with my choices. It’s up to them to do the same.”

“You make me proud, Hank.”

The burn of tears didn’t surprise him. He let them come, unashamed. Leaning over, he pulled Alice to him and hugged her. “You taught me well.”

Alice wiped the moisture from his cheek. “Then let me teach you one more thing. Don’t wait. None of us knows how long we have on this earth, and really, it’s not the length of time that matters.” She smiled, small but there. “It’s what we do with it, who we spend it with that matters. Your family—the family you’ve chosen, not the one you were born with—is what matters. The ones who accept you as you are, love you through whatever, those are the people you spend your life on. Nothing, no one else.”

“Alice…”

She stared up at him. “I did exactly what I’m telling you to do. Barry was my everything. I wouldn’t trade the years I had with him for all the money and pleasures in the world. And even though he’s gone, I’m not alone. I still have family—you, my girls, grandkids, the market, even that damn dog of yours.”

A huff of laughter caught him by surprise.

“See,” Alice said, the corner of her eyes crinkling, “we still have laughter.” Her gaze shifted over the field. “And love. Don’t waste it, you hear me?”

He followed Alice’s attention over to Sage, the breeze blowing her hair back from her face as she separated from the crowd, moving toward him. His guitar was cradled in her arms, and when her eyes met his, the smile she gave him stopped his breath. He held that look close to his heart as he answered Alice. “I won’t. I promise.”

“Good.” She squeezed his hand again. “Now I think it’s time for a concert; don’t you?”

He wasn’t sure he could sing with the emotion clogging his throat, but he’d try. When Sage came near enough, he pulled her down into his lap, guitar and all. “Hey, baby.”

“Hey.” Sage nuzzled his neck, her lips grazing his tattoo. “I think you’re supposed to play this guitar,” she whispered.

He turned to stare down into her face, awe filling him as he took in the sweet curves, the long lashes, the lines around her mouth that said she smiled often. All of it, all of her was his.

A bear hug wasn’t enough to tell her how much he loved her, but he’d do better later. In the meantime, he had a concert to perform.

A few of the men helped him load tables into Mick’s pickup just after sunset. Hank gave the tailgate a final slap, then stepped back for Mick to leave. The final guests dwindled out of the parking lot soon thereafter. Only when all was quiet did he climb the stairs to Sage.

He found her on the deck with Knight, a half-full glass of tea on the table, the shepherd sitting next to Sage’s chair, beneath her dangling hand. Knight didn’t budge when Hank topped the stairs, too busy reveling in the drag of Sage’s fingertips along his head, tugging at the points of his ears.

Three strides was all it took for Hank to reach her, and then he was kneeling by her feet in much the same way his dog was kneeling beside her. He wasn’t patient, though. He pushed between Sage’s thighs, making a place for himself, closing the distance until her arms around him could finally ease the ragged wounds he’d carried all day.

“I missed you.” Not what he wanted to say, but it’d do for starters.

“I’ve been here all day.”

“I know.” She still wasn’t close enough. He stood up. “Come with me.”

Sage didn’t question him. Maybe, with her mother’s death such a close memory, she understood what he was trying to say, what he needed—which would probably be good, because he sure as hell didn’t—but she let him pull her to another chair. He sat this time, then settled her in his lap. Sage squirmed around until her knees were on either side of his, her chest to his, her eyes staring up at him with a depth of emotion he wasn’t quite sure he deserved.

Yeah, she understood him very well.

This time when he gathered her close, he felt the melding of their bodies right down to his fucking soul. Like coming home. Sage settled her cheek in the hollow of his shoulder, her breath warm along the Weekend tattoo crisscrossing the side of his neck. Hank tucked his head over hers.

“I love you.” The words were gravel rough, stark and utterly unembellished, an embarrassment to a songwriter like himself, and yet they said exactly what he needed to convey. “I love you.”

Wetness hit his neck—Sage’s tears. Her hands fisted his shirt, hanging on tight.

He rocked her against him, crooning wordless melodies, letting her get everything out. Today had hurt, badly, but they’d all gotten through it together. Just like he’d get her through the rest of their lives. There was no rush; they had all the time in the world.

“You’re all right, baby,” he whispered in her ear. Privately. Intimately, only for the two of them. “I’m right here. It’s all right.”

“Hank.”

The word was ragged.

“I’ve got you, baby. We’ll be okay.”

“I love you. I do.” She said the words against his skin, a pledge, a prayer.

“I know you do.” He took her kiss then because he couldn’t wait any longer. The taste of her tears mingled with the raw hunger that sparked every time their mouths met.

He let it simmer, taking his time. Enjoying the ride as much as the destination. Sage’s mouth tender and wet, lips molding to his, tongue slipping, sliding… When she closed around his tongue and sucked, all he could think about was her mouth on his cock. How good it would feel. How hot.

He wanted her, now, wanted to give her something to remember today besides sorrow and tears. Her hands still clutched his shirt, and he gripped her wrists lightly. Tugging got her attention, had her leaning back. “What—”

“Shhh.” Sage didn’t resist, and almost before the final note left his mouth, he secured both wrists at the small of her back in one fist. Sage’s deep breath rubbed her hard nipples against his chest.

She tried to escape his hold; of course she did. She had to know it was impossible, and he knew the moment she realized it. Her eyes went wide and hazy, her body arched back to offer herself to anything else he desired, and between her legs, wet heat spilled out to entice him. The temptation was almost too great.