One day, they had a breakthrough. He hadn’t planned anything special, just a stroll in the park and a quiet dinner at a romantic restaurant. They saw a lot of babies that afternoon. It was difficult for her, but impossible to avoid. When they got home, he poured her a glass of wine and sat down next to her on the couch, expecting a typical evening.
She’d seemed distracted, not really paying attention to the book she was reading, so he leaned over and kissed her on the lips. To his surprise, she didn’t shy away.
For the first time in over a year, she kissed him back.
He wasn’t sure how it happened, but one moment they were sharing a simple kiss, the next he had his hands all over her. Not touching her for so long had a predictable effect on his self-control. Maybe if he’d been a little less eager, he could have prevented one of the biggest mistakes of his life. But he loved her so much it
hurt,
and having her in his arms again felt so right. He was desperate to keep her there. In that moment, he’d have promised her anything. Whatever she wanted. Another baby.
He hadn’t realized he’d made the suggestion out loud until she froze, retracting in horror. Right before his eyes, she retreated into herself, becoming distant and inaccessible, her heart locked away inside. All the work he’d done over the past few weeks was erased in one fell swoop. Destroyed with one misspoken sentiment.
The next day, she’d asked for a separation.
He’d panicked, trying to explain his position. He didn’t care about having a baby, but he cared about sex, and he cared about
her.
“I can’t go on like this,” he’d said, growing desperate. “I love you too much not to touch you.”
She’d covered her face with one hand, shaking her head.
“Don’t you love me anymore?” he asked, his voice a tortured whisper. He’d never felt so vulnerable in his entire life.
“I think you should move out,” was all she said. Breaking his heart. Destroying his ego. And bringing back the most painful memory of his childhood.
While he was growing up, his parents had fought nonstop. His father had always yelled and cursed and complained, and his mom hadn’t exactly been a delicate flower. She’d given it back as good as she got it.
He remembered, very clearly, the day his mother had asked his father to leave the house. His old man hadn’t gone quietly, either. He’d railed against her, calling her a coldhearted bitch in one breath and falling to his knees the next, begging for her to reconsider.
She hadn’t.
Sean refused to exhibit that kind of behavior. He would never be the kind of man who raised his voice to a woman; he’d rather walk away. Groveling wasn’t his style, either. Instead of arguing with Daniela about the separation, or pleading his case, he’d merely promised to see a lawyer and packed his things.
Looking back, he realized that his inability to articulate his true feelings, for fear of appearing weak and pathetic, like his father, had been the nail in the coffin of their relationship. He might not have been able to hold their marriage together without her cooperation, but he could have tried harder. Communicated better. Waited longer.
Sean pushed away from the sink now, running a thin towel over his face. He put on a clean T-shirt and opened the medicine cabinet, rifling through its contents. There was a box of condoms inside, probably left there by Jason. Appreciating his foresight, Sean checked the expiration date to make sure they were still good and pocketed a few.
Closing the cabinet door, he studied his reflection in the mirror, taking a good, hard look at himself. He’d promised to love, honor and protect Dani, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, as long as they lived.
He wanted to follow through on that vow.
After a brief hesitation, he turned his back to the mirror and walked away from the past, making his decision.
Daniela sat at the top of the stairwell, her elbows planted on her knees, waiting for Sean to come out of the bathroom.
When he did, his eyes met hers, and her heart skipped a beat.
His clothes were worn and faded, his jaw scruffy. He looked fantastic clean-shaven, but there was something so appealing about his rugged style and earthy masculinity when he was working in the field.
Even dirty, he was sexy.
He continued down the hall, grabbing both of their sleeping bags out of his room.
Last night he’d smelled delicious, like cold ocean water and hot male skin. As he passed by her, she inhaled through her nostrils, straining for that scent.
“We should sleep downstairs,” he said. “And block the front door.”
She felt a flutter of nerves as she followed him, and not just because she’d rather be in a private bedroom with him than on a couch by the front windows.
They were going to have to talk.
Saying nothing, he moved the bookcase across the room, barricading the only door. The dual-pane windows would be very difficult for an intruder to get through. After a glance outside, he pulled the curtains shut and turned off all the lights except the one in the hall. He probably didn’t want to advertise their presence. She sat down on the couch, hugging her knees to her chest, and he settled in next to her.
Putting his arm around her, he stroked her back while they listened to the rain.
The last time they were alone together like this, she’d been eight months pregnant. She remembered him splaying his hands over her belly and touching his lips to her neck, waiting for the baby to kick.
“Where do you think Elizabeth is?” she asked, resting her head on his shoulder.
“I don’t know. I wish I did.”
“She must be cold.”
Out in the open, she was a likely candidate for hypothermia, and that condition wouldn’t help her think more clearly. If they didn’t get help soon, she could die. Daniela regretted not being able to continue the search.
She murmured a quick prayer, making a sign of the cross.
Sean had never been religious. She too had found little comfort in faith after their daughter’s death, so she couldn’t fault him for it. Now, instead of offering her empty assurances, he gave her his open arms, enveloping her in quiet strength.
She clung to the front of his shirt, blinking the tears from her eyes. Every time she looked at him, she was reminded of the way he’d touched her last night. Her body ached in secret places, hungry for more, and her heart swelled inside her chest, burdened with an impossible longing.
She loved him so much.
And she knew it was too late. She couldn’t ask him for a second try, or another chance. But maybe he would grant her some…closure.
Taking a deep breath, she snuggled closer to him, twining her arms around his neck. Beneath her fingertips, his muscles were tense. She could see the pulse point at the base of his throat, beating strong and fast.
They both wanted this.
In that moment, she didn’t want to analyze her emotions. She didn’t want to talk about broken dreams and lost souls. She didn’t want to consider the possibility that they would leave this place, and never see each other again.
She didn’t want to think—she wanted to
feel.
But she knew she owed him her compete honesty, and her best effort. This was no time to be subtle or halfhearted. The stakes were too high.
“I love you,” she said, her lips against his ear. “I love you, and I want you.”
His entire body went rigid. “You…what?”
“I want you.” She touched her tongue to his throat, tasting salt. “Desperately. I hate the way things ended between us.” His pulse throbbed beneath her parted lips. “I’m not asking you to take me back for good, but I would do anything to make it up to you. I’d give anything for one more night.”
“Just…one night?”
“Yes,” she said, panting against the wet spot her mouth had made.
He thrust his hands in her hair, forcing her to meet his eyes. “No.”
“No?”
“I could never be satisfied by one night,” he said, and kissed her.
Chapter 16
“I
love you, too,” Sean said, dragging his mouth from hers. “I never stopped loving you. I will
always
love you.”
Daniela should have been all cried out, but fresh tears filled her eyes. “You will?”
He kissed her again. “Yes. But one night isn’t enough. I want to have you, over and over again. I want you, every part of you, forever.”
His words sent a thrill of pleasure down her spine. At the same time, she was afraid to pin her hopes on a shared future with him. She didn’t believe in happily ever after anymore. And there was no such thing as forever.
She hesitated. “Sean—”
“Never mind,” he growled, taking her mouth again. “Don’t say anything. Tonight, I don’t want to hear you say anything but yes.”
She climbed over his lap, accepting those terms, and he tightened his fingers in her hair, silencing her with a crushing kiss. With a low moan, she plastered her breasts against his chest and curled her tongue around his, returning his passion, sharing his desire.
Daniela wanted him to tear her clothes off, but when the kiss ended, he let his hands fall away from her. To her intense disappointment. “Tell me if I move too fast,” he said, sounding uncertain. “I don’t want to…push too hard.”
His consideration for her feelings touched her deeply. And she also felt a pang of regret, for being the cause of his self-doubt.
“I want you to push me,” she said, shifting her weight on his lap. “Hard.”
His eyes darkened.
“Hard,” she repeated, brushing her lips over his.
Groaning, he thrust his hands into her hair and his tongue inside her mouth, kissing her good and hard, like a man who’d been starving for the taste of a woman. Like a man who thought he’d never get enough.
She shivered with anticipation.
He’d never had any trouble fulfilling her needs sexually. In the bedroom, he’d always given her exactly what she wanted. And what she wanted now was to surrender to sensation. To strip her mind of paralyzing fears and painful memories.
“Make me forget,” she said, pulling her shirt over her head. His gaze dropped from her mouth to her breasts. Farallon Island was no place for skimpy lingerie, but her intimate apparel was a little less utilitarian than her outerwear. Although supportive, her bra was made of stretchy black satin, edged in lace.
And, to be honest, she could wear a gunny sack and he’d love it.
Growling his approval, he splayed his hands over her rib cage, just underneath her breasts. They swelled at his touch, threatening to spill over the cups of her bra, and her nipples pebbled against the silky fabric.
Moaning, she fisted her hands in his hair and arched her back, pressing her breasts against his face. Needing no further encouragement, he nuzzled her hungrily, trailing kisses along the lacy border of her bra.
She reached behind her back, unfastening the clasp. When her breasts tumbled free, he groaned, filling his hands with her soft flesh. He also filled his mouth, flicking his tongue over one dusky tip, then the other.
“Yes,” she said, squirming on his lap. “God, yes.”
His erection swelled against the apex of her thighs, and she moved back and forth, rubbing herself along the hard length. Seeking heat. Wanting more.
Frustrated by the layers of clothing between them, she tugged at his shirt. He released her breasts, raising his arms over his head to assist her. She tossed the shirt aside and flattened her palms over his chest, making a soft sound of appreciation. His skin was hot and smooth, his muscles bunched beneath her fingertips.
She bit down on his lower lip, tugging gently. “Take off your pants.”
The corner of his mouth tipped up at her command. He stood, letting her body slide along the length of his in a slow, delicious drag. She watched, moistening her lips, while he unfastened the buttons on his weatherproof trousers and pushed them down to his knees. His erection tented the front of his boxer briefs.
Heat pooled to her lower body, making her legs feel wobbly. Smothering another moan, she wrestled with her own pants, kicking them out of the way. Her panties were black satin with lace trim, like her bra. He stared at the apex of her thighs, his Adam’s apple bobbing in agitation, and she felt the fabric there get wet.
Hooking her thumbs in the waistband, she stripped them off.
Equally impatient, he shoved his briefs down and reached into the pocket of his trousers, finding a single condom. After stretching it over his jutting erection, he was good to go. With his pants around his ankles and his boots still on, he should have looked ridiculous.
He didn’t.
No heterosexual woman on earth could gaze upon his naked body and think anything but
Oh my God
or
Come to Mama.
Panting with excitement, she lay down on the couch, a soft pile of pillows and blankets behind her back. He sank his knee into the cushion between her parted thighs, positioning himself over her.
“If we do this too fast, I might not get the chance to make you forget,” he said, his voice strained.
She curved her arms around his neck. “Then go slow.”
He began to enter her, gritting his teeth. “Slow…and hard?”
“Just fill me up,” she moaned, wrapping her legs around him. She wanted his mouth covering hers, his hands on her body, his skin against her skin. “Don’t give me too much space. The last thing I need is more space.”
He buried himself in her with a low groan, letting her feel every inch. “That’s…perfect. I don’t think there’s any room to spare.”
That was true, and always had been. They fit together exceedingly well.
In fact, after such a long stint of abstinence, he seemed larger. If she hadn’t been so ready, she might have had trouble accommodating him. As it was, her slick, hot sex grasped him snugly, delighting in the invasion.
Judging by the look on his face, he was sharing her ecstasy. He paused, closing his eyes and savoring the sensation. “It’s been so long, I’d forgotten how good this feels.”
Her tummy quivered. “Really? How long has it been?”
“You know.”
“There hasn’t been anyone else?”
A muscle in his jaw ticked. He shook his head.
“For me either,” she said, tightening her legs around his waist. “It’s always been you. Just you. Only you.”
He lowered his mouth to hers, kissing her passionately. Possessing her completely. Then he began to move. Keeping his word, he gave it to her slow
and
hard, drawing himself out of her with deliberate lassitude, driving back in with enough force to test the couch’s frame. Every time his pelvis bumped into hers, she experienced a jolt of bone-melting pleasure. His control was impressive, his body was amazing and the friction was exquisite.
Outside, the rain pounded against the windows and the wind shrieked around the house, hammering the rooftop.
Inside, they were generating so much heat he was sweating. She raked her nails down his rock-hard pecs and over his clenched stomach muscles, admiring his form. With a strangled growl, he switched positions, sitting back on the couch and bringing her over his lap. He was obviously trying to last longer, and she could take him even deeper this way.
When she reseated herself, they both groaned at the sensation.
All restraint gone, she threw her head back and tilted her hips forward, saying yes. Panting for release. He gave it to her. Licking the pad of his thumb, he pressed it to her clitoris, moving in slow circles.
Her sex pulsed around his, gripping him tightly.
She dug her fingernails into his shoulders and screamed his name, shattering into a thousand pieces. Unable to hold on a moment longer, he came with her, a hoarse cry wrenching from his throat as he shuddered against her.
For a long time afterward, she held him close, hugging his head to her chest and stroking the nape of his neck.
Savoring this respite, while the storm raged on outside.