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Home to Me

Page 18

by LaVerne Clark


  “It’s true,” he continued as if he’d heard her, a wry smile on his beautiful mouth. “I love you, and I’m hoping you love me back too.”

  Incapable of making a sound, she stared at him and willed her stomach to stop its freefall. Although the words were what she’d always wanted to hear, something felt off. Like there was still some unfinished business. She shot up off the bed, needing some distance between them to help keep her mind clear so she could ask the questions that nagged at her.

  His smile became brittle as he looked up at her. “What is it?”

  “If you loved me, and thought I loved you back, why did you insist we were better off without each other? That we were done, effectively breaking us up? And how do I know you won’t do it again? I couldn’t bear having my heart broken a second time by you, Sam. It would destroy me.” Her voice broke on the last words, and she bit her lip.

  Sorrow replaced the heat in his eyes, and he scooted back on the bed to brace against the wall, then patted the space next to him. She ignored it in favor of the chair before the vanity. She shivered and crossed her arms, rubbing her forearms as a distraction.

  He sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair. “The truth is I’m a coward. I was afraid that one day, you’d wake up and realize I’m not the man you thought I was and start to resent me. That the love you have for me is based on an idealized version of me, and if you’re faced with the real version every day, you’ll soon tire of it.” He glanced down, absently smoothing a finger over a seam on the bedcover.

  Lucy stared at him, bewildered, her emotions seesawing between outrage, love, and sheer bloody frustration. Frustration won out. “You stupid, arrogant, son of a bitch.”

  His head shot up, and he deflected the cushion she launched at his head at the last moment.

  “How dare you decide for me how I feel?” Frustration morphed into flat-out anger as she thought about all the sleepless nights she’d endured and the ones where she’d cried herself to sleep. “How arrogant to assume I’m incapable of sorting for myself fact from fiction. Have you lost count of how many years I’ve known you? I’m under no illusions about who you are. I have never been. I’ve seen the best and worst of you. Even had a taste of both over the years.” He winced, and her voice softened as she perched on the edge of the bed, the glare lifting from her brows. “But your overall character has always been the same. You’re fiercely protective of those you love and will do anything for them. What man could ever hope to compare to that? You’ve ruined them all for me. Of course I love you.”

  “Thank God.” He reached over, pulled her back onto his lap, and nuzzled her hair. “Now that we’ve established how much of an idiot I am and that you love me anyway, let’s get back to the fun stuff.” One hand slipped through the opening of her robe and covered her breast. His callused thumb rasped over the lace of her bra as he stroked a nipple, sending frissons of delight to heat her core, and she squirmed as she grew instantly wet. Again. It wasn’t enough. With Sam, it was never enough.

  But another nagging thought loomed in her mind, and she stiffened. He noticed the change in her immediately and pulled back with a questioning look, his hand lowering to rest over her ribcage.

  “Who was that woman you brought home last week? The blonde?”

  Sam frowned, confusion written all over his face.

  “I came by your place on Friday night to demand you take us seriously. To tell you that I didn’t want anyone else—now or in the future. But you weren’t home. Then as I was leaving, you pulled up and escorted a leggy blonde into your home after what was obviously a date.”

  “What are you talking ab—?” He broke off, the confused frown leaving his brow. Those beautiful lips compressed into a thin line. “You saw that? You were there?”

  Her stomach dropped as her worst suspicions were confirmed. The sliver of hope she’d been holding onto that she’d misinterpreted the situation died a final death. “Yeah.” She inched away from him, suddenly needing the extra space to get her head clear.

  “I didn’t want to have to tell you about that.”

  Icicles dripped down her spine, and she used them to keep it rigid, her voice cool. “Well, that’s too bad. Honesty, remember? I deserve to know.”

  He sighed and turned sideways to face her, a resigned smile softening his features. “Yes, you do.” He took a moment as if to gather his thoughts and scrubbed a hand through his hair. “She wasn’t a date. She was a private investigator, bringing me information.”

  His answer wasn’t even in the vicinity of what she’d been expecting, leaving her gaping. The icicles melted, and she slumped forward. “What on earth did you hire a private investigator for?”

  “I wanted—no, needed—to find your attackers. They had to be punished for what they did, and I couldn’t wait to deal with them.” He snorted. “Unfortunately, it seemed Karma had already seen to it before I could.”

  Her whole body stilled as the magnitude of his words sank in. “Why didn’t you want me to know about that?”

  He grimaced. “I can’t bear to see you in pain. I didn’t want the memories to resurface and risk hurting you more. It kills me. Besides”—he gave an angry swat at the pillow beside him—“I didn’t have anything satisfying to tell you.”

  “How about I be the judge of that? Tell me what you learned.”

  Sam eyed her as if weighing the pros and cons, then heaved a big sigh. “You’re right.” He rose from the bed and held his hand out to pull her up beside him. “Come on. Get dressed, and I’ll take you home and show you everything.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Since it was close to midnight, hardly any traffic was on the road. The journey to Sam’s house took less than half the time it would have during the day, and before she knew it, they had arrived.

  She jumped out of the car, impatient to get inside, and gazed up at the house. How different she felt from the last time she’d stood in this spot. Then she’d been devastated. Now she was restless, her emotions bouncing all over the place. What information was she going to find about her attackers, and how was she going to react once she learned what Sam had to show her? Trepidation slowed her progress to the front door.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” Sam’s hand on the small of her back both strengthened and reassured her. With him by her side, she knew she could get through anything, no matter how traumatic it promised to be.

  She turned her head and smiled up at him. “I’m sure.”

  With a grim nod, he inserted the key, flicked on the light switch, and stepped aside to let her through. “It’s in my study. How about I make you a drink first? Coffee…tea…or something stronger?”

  Her smile softened at his stalling tactics. “I don’t need anything, thanks. I’d rather see what you’ve got and get it over with.”

  She strode down the hallway and flicked on the office light. His usually tidy desk was a mess of paperwork. Newspaper clippings littered the surface as if he’d swiped an angry hand through the pile. Her gaze swept over the chaos, then snagged on an article with a grainy photograph. For the briefest of seconds, her heart stopped, then she read the title.

  Prominent Local Family Mourn Loss of Son.

  Her gaze drifted back to the face of the man who’d had the starring role in her worst nightmares and waited for the fear, disgust, and shame to make its familiar appearance, but nothing happened. The power he’d held over her had gone. She scanned the accompanying article, not because she was interested, but because she thought she should. That way, once it was done, she wouldn’t run the risk of wondering. It would be over.

  His car had hit a tree and burst into flames after a night of partying. His friend, her old flatmate, had been the sole passenger. Many times over the years, she’d wished they’d burn in hell for what they’d done. It seemed appropriate to know now they most likely had. She’d never been a violent person, but knowing their ending felt good. “Boy, Karma can be a real bitch, huh?”

  Sam came
up behind her and stroked his palms up and down her arms, his quiet strength a reminder that he’d always have her back. She turned and wrapped her arms around his waist, her cheek pressed into his chest. His arms wrapped loosely around her hips, and he rested his chin on her head. For the first time in years, she was aware of a deep peace in her soul where once turmoil had reigned, and it was all because of this very special man.

  “Thank you for doing this, Sam.”

  “Anything for you, brat.”

  She leaned back slightly at the nickname, her cheeks warming as her mind took her back to the time he’d last used the word in that tone. His eyes were full of love and mischief as he gazed down at her. Then they darkened, and those beautiful lips parted. It seemed he’d read her mind.

  Holding her gaze, he cradled her face in his hands and bent down to kiss her. The moment his mouth claimed hers, her very soul rejoiced. She rose on tiptoe, flattening her body against his, but it wasn’t close enough. Pressed as hard as she was against him, she couldn’t mistake the effect their kiss was having on him, but he kept his touch light, his lips gentle. Suspecting she knew the reason why, she broke off and leaned back in the circle of his arms.

  “I’m okay, Sam. In fact, I’ve never been better, thanks to you.” She indicated the newspaper articles with a flick of her hand. “All of that is a part of my past—it always will be, but it has no bearing on now—or my future. I have much better things to focus on.”

  “You do, huh?” His attempt at nonchalance was ruined by the husky quality in his voice.

  “Yeah. I do.” Her heart expanded in her chest until her eyes welled with tears. She placed a palm against his bristle-roughened cheek. This man was everything to her, and it was time he knew the full extent. “I love you, Samuel Merrick. Always have and always will. Perhaps when I was a child, there was a hint of hero worship to my feelings, but they disappeared around the same time as my Barbie dolls. Since then, you’ve been the face of every hero of every story I’ve ever read, or every story I’ve ever dreamed up. Quite simply, you’re home to me, Sam. We belong together, and I’m so beyond happy that you finally see that too. It took you long enough.”

  He turned his head and nuzzled her palm. “I’m sorry it took so long. But I plan on spending the rest of my life making it up to you.”

  “You do?” Her breath caught as she imagined all the scenarios.

  His low, dirty laugh made all the fine hairs on her body stand to attention. “Oh, yeah. Trust me. It’ll be worth your while.”

  “Can we start now?”

  The amused smile morphed into a wolf-like grin. “Hell, yeah, we can start. But let me first grab an essential piece of material I’ve been hanging onto for a while.”

  She frowned as he stepped away from her and opened one of the drawers of his desk. What was he doing? When he turned back to her, a navy-blue piece of lace hung from a fingertip, the wolf-like grin stretching wider across his face. Her mouth dropped open, her cheeks flamed, and her belly quivered in excitement.

  His eyes tracked every reaction. “Shall we take this to the bedroom, Lucy? It’s much more comfy in there.”

  She laughed. “I think that sounds like a really great idea.”

  He offered her a hand and pulled her flush against him, back where she belonged. “Just so you know, brat. You’re home to me too.”

  Then he swept her up into his arms and strode down the hall to his bedroom. As she clung to him, she took particular note of the way his muscles bunched and released under his shirt. A huge smile broke over her face, and she buried her face in the hollow of his throat to breathe him in. A long-held fantasy was being brought to life. Unable to resist, she licked him, wanting all her senses to be filled with him. The growl that rumbled through his chest and vibrated against her skin sent little thrills chasing through her system to pool between her legs.

  Without any of the finesse he’d shown in the past, he dropped her onto the bed and immediately followed her down. His eyes were wild, and a fine tremble had hold of his body. She bucked her hips to displace him and rolled to straddle him, closing her eyes briefly as the hard bulge against her core momentarily alleviated the ache.

  When she opened her eyes again, he was staring up at her, the gray of his eyes almost swallowed completely by enlarged pupils. He lay there, palms up, allowing her to set the pace, to be in control, and in that moment, love stole her ability to speak, to let him know how she felt.

  But it didn’t matter. She knew exactly what to do to show him instead, and she set about doing just that.

  A word about the author…

  I’m a Kiwi (New Zealander—not the flightless bird or strange, hairy fruit!) writing stories of romance, fantasy, and suspense. I’m a keen reader and love to relax with a good book when I’m not plotting murder and mayhem or running around after my two children, rescued greyhound, and husband.

  I’m a member of Romance Writers of New Zealand and live in the beautiful coastal town of Nelson at the top of the South Island.

  ~*~

  http://www.laverneclark.com

  Thank you for purchasing

  this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  For questions or more information

  contact us at

  info@thewildrosepress.com.

  The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  Also available from The Wild Rose Press, Inc. and other major retailers

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  He's immersed in shadows--can she help him fight his way to the light?

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