He caught her in the splash of moonlight, rolled her over onto her back and levered himself above her. She reached for him, dragging her short, neat nails down his chest, scoring his skin lightly with her touch. He shivered, and as she moved to welcome him, open for him, he paused long enough to reach for the condom he’d tossed onto the bedside table. And when he’d done his best to protect her, he slid himself home and stopped, luxuriating in the glory of being surrounded by her.
“Mike.” His name came on a sigh as she lifted her legs to wrap them around his hips. She reached beneath his arms to hold him, splaying her palms against his back. Arching into him, she took him deeper, higher and it was all he could do to maintain…hold himself back from the edge.
“Take me, Connelly,” she whispered.
“Take me, O’Shea,” he countered as he rocked his hips against her.
She inhaled sharply, deeply, digging her head back into the mattress beneath her. Moving with him, she kept pace, hurrying along the edge of madness, racing toward completion, toward oblivion. Together they made the climb, higher and higher, locked together, hands and bodies joined, mouths mating eagerly, desperately.
In moments they found what they had lost so long ago, and together they tumbled over the edge.
Chapter 8
“I think I’m paralyzed.” Kelly’s voice came in a strangled groan.
Mike laughed shortly, and his rolling chuckle rumbled from his body into hers.
“Mmmm…” A hum of renewed desire washed through her as he shifted inside her. His incredible body was already growing, filling her again, and she savored the sense of completion dancing through her veins.
He moved again, as if to roll off her, and she stopped him, slapping her hands on his upper arms. “Don’t. Don’t go away. Not yet.” She just didn’t want to lose this link with him. She wasn’t ready yet to give it up. To become separate individuals again.
He nodded, then pushed up onto one elbow and looked down into her face. “I’ll crush you into dust.”
She smiled. “It’s a soft mattress.”
“You’re softer.”
She squirmed and gave him a self-satisfied grin. “And you’re not.”
“So true.”
Kelly studied his features, burning them into her mind. It wasn’t as though she needed to—Mike’s face was as much a part of her as her own reflection in a mirror. In twenty years she’d be able to conjure his image in her brain, and it would be clear enough, sharp enough to make her blood run hot and thick.
She reached up, stroking his cheek, the line of his jaw, with her fingertips. He turned his face into her touch and kissed her hand.
“That was…” he said softly.
“…amazing,” she finished for him.
“In a word.” He dipped his head to claim a kiss, and as he moved, his body shifted within hers again and a gasp slipped from her lips. Changing position slightly, he was able to drift tiny kisses along her throat and down her chest.
She held him, her hands sliding up and down his back, her palms defining muscles on muscles. So familiar and yet so different, she thought through a thick haze of passion that was already building again. There were new scars on his skin. Marks of his life without her. Old wounds, long since healed, that she knew nothing about. And she wondered how he’d been hurt and if there’d been anyone to take care of him. Close on the heels of that thought were new and terrifying ones as she realized that once he left her, he would be going back into a dangerous world.
A world where she had no place.
Her fingers moved again, to the biceps of his right arm. Her thumb slid across the edge of raised skin that snaked in a long, thin line. “What’s this?” she asked, her voice quiet but filled with the need to understand some small portion of his life.
He smiled against her chest. “Stingray. Off the coast of California. I guess I pissed him off.”
“One of your many gifts,” she said, still smiling as she tried to imagine him, alone in the dark of the ocean.
“They don’t call me Mad Dog for nothin’,” he boasted, dropping another line of kisses along her chest as he headed for her right breast.
“Mad Dog, huh?” She squirmed as he neared his goal.
“Tenacious, babe,” he murmured. His breath swept hot against her flesh. “I never give up.”
But he’d given up on them six years ago, she thought. Had he changed that much? Did he dig in now and fight for what he wanted? Would he fight for her? Would he want her for more than an hour in bed?
And if he did, what then?
Could she forget about old betrayals and pain for the chance at something more?
His mouth closed on her nipple, and Kelly stopped thinking for a minute. His tongue stroked the sensitive, pink tip until she arched beneath him, groaning. He tasted her, suckled her, and she felt lightning-like strikes erupt within.
She was in deep trouble.
Thoughts crashed through her mind like bumper cars, colliding into each other and smashing the truth into her brain whether she wanted it or not.
Her memories of Mike’s lovemaking hadn’t even come close to the reality.
Mike slid up her body again, kissing her chin, her cheeks, her eyes and then finally her mouth.
“You’re thinking,” he chided.
“Just barely,” she admitted, licking her lips as if to savor the taste of him.
“No thinking allowed.”
“Guess you’d better distract me.”
One dark eyebrow lifted. “A challenge?”
Kelly laughed, and it felt so good. Felt good to be with a man who understood her, who knew her body even better than she did. Who was confident enough to make her laugh during lovemaking.
Oh, no, she was in love again.
Her laughter died as she looked up into his dark blue eyes and actually felt herself falling. And this time it was deeper and richer and so much more than she’d felt as a girl of twenty. This was more because she was more. A girl couldn’t feel what a woman could.
There was no help for it. The plan ruined, heartbreak on order, she was jumping into the deep end with rocks tied around her feet. Too late to worry about it now, she thought, because truth to tell, even if she’d seen this coming, she wouldn’t have missed this night for anything.
He swept one hand down the length of her body and then slipped it between their still-joined bodies. A gulp of air whistled between her teeth as he touched her sensitive center, stroking her softly, gently until the first ripples of need began to build again.
“Mike, I can’t…” Too much, she thought wildly, even as her body prepared for another onslaught of sensation.
“You can,” he murmured, watching her eyes go glassy. “We can.”
Her body trembled, and Mike absorbed every gentle ripple into his heart. Being with her, watching her take him into her body, feeling the two of them joined again, filled the emptiness inside him. For the first time in six long years, he felt whole again. As if he’d found the missing part of his life.
His heart.
“Mike…” She called his name and it sounded like music to him.
“Take it all, Kelly,” he whispered, stroking her center, watching passion jump in her eyes. “Take everything.”
“You, Mike,” she said, struggling to focus on him. “Let me take you.”
She caught him with her words and held him with her touch. His brain shut down and his body took over. He buried himself even deeper inside her, and with a few long, smooth strokes, pushed her to the brink—and when she called his name, he eagerly followed after.
A few days later Kelly realized she’d become a heck of a good liar.
Oh, not that she was running around Savannah telling tall tales to unsuspecting tourists. In fact the only person she was lying to was herself.
And they were beauts, she thought, as she helped set up the bar at Steam. She kept insisting to herself that nothing had changed. That the plan was still good, still w
orking. It didn’t matter if she was in love, she lied to herself. She would still let Mike go. She couldn’t risk everything again to watch him walk away. This time she’d do the walking.
And yet…every night now for the past three nights, Mike had taken her home and spent the night driving her body into heaven and her mind into turmoil. How would she be able to walk away from him when she couldn’t seem to stop wanting him? She should be stopping this. She should have found her closure and moved on. Instead she kept sinking deeper and deeper, and now she wasn’t sure at all what to do about any of it.
All she knew was that Mike’s leave would be up in another week and he’d be leaving again. Going off to God-knew-where to do God-knew-what. He would walk away from her again, and this time she didn’t think she’d survive it.
But damned if she knew what to do about it.
She worked on automatic pilot, straightening the wide array of liquor bottles lined up behind the polished mahogany bar. She dusted, arranged and in general spruced up the joint in preparation for opening. Rows of finely cut glassware stood ready and twinkling in the soft, elegant lighting. A smooth mix of old standards and cool jazz piped through the overhead speakers, setting the mood and scene that the club had become known for.
Everything was as it should be. At least in this little corner of her world. It was just her personal life that was once more in the middle of a whirlwind.
“Problem?”
The deep voice behind her startled a jump out of Kelly, but in the next instant, recognition set in and she turned to smile at Clay Crawford.
“Evening, boss,” she said, flipping a clean white bar towel over her left shoulder.
He grinned, a tall, dark-haired man with eyes as deep a blue as Mike’s. Funny, she could see the resemblance, but looking into Clay’s eyes didn’t send her into a weird little spiraling dance of need and confusion. What was it, then, that made one pair of eyes magical and another simply kind?
Clay slid onto a bar stool, leaned his forearms on the bar top and studied her. “How’s it going, Kelly?”
“In general,” she said with a shrug, “okay.”
“And less generally?” he asked, a smile still hovering on his lips.
“Less okay,” she admitted and leaned forward, propping her elbows on the bar and cupping her chin in her hands.
“I thought so.” Then he made a show of looking behind her.
She shot a look over her shoulder, though she knew darn well there was no one there. “Who’re you looking for?”
“Your shadow.”
“Ah.” She nodded.
“Yeah. The guy who’s become my best customer in the last week or so.”
She smiled sadly, glancing at the empty table in the corner. The spot she’d come to think of as Mike’s table. And she knew that long after he’d left town again, she’d be seeing him there, smiling at her. Oh, God, the haunting of Kelly O’Shea had already started. Turning her gaze back to Clay, she said on a sigh she hadn’t meant to allow to escape, “He’ll be in later.”
“Problem?” Clay asked.
“Sort of.” Sort of? How about, Oh boy, howdy? Straightening up, she snatched the towel off her shoulder and unnecessarily wiped off the already gleaming bar top as she spoke again. “Clay, let me ask you a hypothetical question.”
He nodded. “My favorite kind.”
“Let’s say there was someone in your past. Someone you once loved more than anything.” Kelly stopped, pulled in a breath and let it slide out again. “Someone you wanted to spend the rest of your life with.”
“Hypothetically speaking, of course,” he said, giving her a small, encouraging smile.
“Yeah.” She swallowed hard. “The question is, should you leave the past buried…or should you try to bring it back? Recapture what you had?”
He took the cloth from her and wiped a spot off the edge of the bar before tossing it back to her. “Never go back, Kelly,” he said. “You’ll never see the future if you keep staring at the past.”
True. But, “How can I risk it again, Clay? Last time the pain was so bad, I thought I’d die. This time I know I would.”
He took her left hand in his and gave it a pat. “What makes you so sure there’ll be pain this time?”
She laughed shortly, sharply. “Luck of the Irish?”
His lips curved, but his eyes were suddenly filled with regret. Shaking his head he said softly, “If you get the chance at love, don’t pass it up. You just never know if it’ll ever come around again.”
For the first time since she’d known him, Clay Crawford’s elegant, laid-back attitude had changed. He looked like a man who had his own ghosts dogging his footsteps. Instantly Kelly’s heart twisted in sympathy. “You speaking from experience?” she asked quietly as the music pouring from the stereo system shifted to a slow dance song from the forties.
Clay’s eyes clouded briefly as if he were staring at a scene only he could see. “There was someone once,” he admitted, his deep voice barely audible over the music.
“What happened?”
“Nothing. She was way out of my league,” he murmured, almost as if he’d forgotten Kelly’s presence entirely.
In defense of her friend, Kelly bristled. “If that’s what she thought,” Kelly said, giving his hand a squeeze, “then she was nuts.”
He snapped back to the present, shrugging off the burden of his past like a man slipping out of an ill-fitting jacket. Then he gave her a sly smile. “Now, that’s just what I told myself.”
Better, Kelly thought. The shadows hadn’t entirely lifted from his eyes, but she didn’t want to think of her friend being unhappy. Better to see Clay with his smile in place and his eyes filled, as usual, with wry amusement.
“Hey, everybody,” a woman called out as she stepped into the lounge.
“Sophia,” Clay crooned, holding out one hand toward her. “My right hand—and I use the term very loosely—man.”
“Ha-ha-ha.” Sophia Alexander, Clay’s assistant and the club’s manager, pushed her long blond hair back from her face and stuck out her tongue at her boss. Then, turning to Kelly, she said, “We still on for shopping tomorrow?”
She’d forgotten, actually, but since the day had been planned three weeks ago, she’d just tell Mike she had plans. It’d be good for them to spend a few hours apart, anyway. Best to start preparing for the inevitable separation.
“You bet.”
“Good.” Sophia followed Clay as he headed for the back stairs leading to his office. “I need a dress for Saturday night.”
“We’ll find one,” Kelly called out, then caught her own reflection in the mirror over the bar. Clay’s words ran through her mind again and again, and she asked herself one more time just what she was going to do about this situation with Mike. Nothing came to her, though. “Dresses I can find,” she told her reflection in the mirror. “Answers? Not so much.”
Chapter 9
Days slipped past, and in his head Mike could almost hear a ticking clock counting down what little time with Kelly he had left. Soon he’d be headed back on duty. He’d catch up with Hula, Three Card, Hunter and the boss, and the team would be sent off to…who-knew-where this time.
He punched the steering wheel of his sister’s car and felt pain shoot up his arm. Well, hell, at least that was a tangible thing. Physical pain was something he knew how to deal with. He’d been shot and stabbed and bitten, and it hadn’t slowed him down. But this thing with Kelly had him torn up inside—not sure if he was coming or going. And he was a man who didn’t like feeling lost and unsure of himself.
Ordinarily, after just one week of leave, he was champing at the bit to get back to work. To put his skills to the test. To do what he did best. Usually he couldn’t wait to get back into the field. Into the thick of things. To follow the action and do his duty, whatever the hell it might be on any given day. Now, though, all he could think about was Kelly.
He wasn’t ready to leave her yet.
Because, damn it, he knew he hadn’t convinced her that now was any different from six years ago. She was keeping a part of herself back from him. He felt it, saw it in her eyes, sensed it in her touch.
Especially the past few days. It was as if she was already pulling away from him.
Oh, the sex was great. Hell, better than great. But if all he was looking for was a bed partner, there were easier women to deal with than Kelly O’Shea. Yet despite what he might want, Kelly seemed determined to keep whatever they had together in the bedroom. She wasn’t yet willing to let him into the other areas of her life—her hopes, her dreams—her future. Not that he could blame her any, but how in the hell was a man supposed to win her over if he was being shipped out?
He pulled his sister’s car to the curb in front of a tiny house and threw the too-small sedan into Park. Setting the brake, he stared out the passenger-side window at what looked like a doll’s house. There were flowers everywhere. A rainbow of color splashed across the white clapboard front of the place and tumbled from window boxes. The tiny front porch looked like an Amazon rain forest, with hanging plants and tubs of yet more flowers marching up and down the steps and crouching on the railing.
Last February he’d seen this place for the first time, and right now it looked like a life preserver floating on a choppy sea. Here was safe harbor.
Mike climbed out of the car, slammed the door and headed for the walkway. Only halfway up, he breathed a sigh of relief. The shade beneath the ancient oak guarding the Sheridan-Danforth house cooled the temperature a good ten degrees. Yet it couldn’t help the hot, steamy feel of air thick enough to chew, fighting its way into his lungs.
Nothing like the South in summer.
Mike skipped the steps and jumped to the shady overhang of the porch. Then he leaned on the doorbell and listened to “Anchors Aweigh” echo inside the house.
The door flew open and Mike was still grinning. Keeping his gaze fixed on the man standing in the doorway, Mike hit the doorbell again and laughed as the tune repeated itself. “Making a few changes around here, boss?”
The Dare Affair: Summer In Savannah Anth. (Dynasties: The Danforths Book 6.5 Page 13
