Sean

by Donna Kauffman

  She heard the chair scrape the floor. Then he was behind her. She tried to pull herself together, but he was turning her around, tugging her against him. She tried to move aside, but he just wrapped his arms more tightly around her, crowded her against the counter, against him.

  She gave up fighting him and leaned into him, just for a moment. Just for a blessed moment.

  His hand came up to stroke her hair, her back. She felt his lips press against her temple, shuddered at the intensity of her twin needs for comfort and desire.

  “You’re not alone in this, Laurel,” he whispered. “I won’t let you be.”

  She started to speak but he shushed her with his quiet words.

  “You’re in over your head. Some very bad people are involved in this mess, and Alan Bentley—” He stopped and she felt his body tense, as if he had to struggle with the emotions that name riled up in him.

  She could identify with that struggle.

  “Bentley needs to be stopped,” he went on, his voice deadly calm.

  Laurel shifted back a bit. Sean loosened his grip just enough for her to look up at him. “What did I do to deserve such avid devotion?” she asked, thinking to lighten things up a little. Only the question came out too sincerely, too baldly curious.

  He looked down into her eyes, his own expression so serious, so intent. “You made me laugh. You made me want.” He pushed her hair from her face, stroked her cheek. “You made me happy.”

  Simple words and yet they made her heart pound. “I should be making you run screaming in the opposite direction.” She shook her head when he started to talk. “You make me all those things, too, Sean. The timing is just so—”

  “Perfect,” he finished, surprising a hollow laugh from her. “It is,” he insisted. “Yes, things are rocky for you. But rocky times happen. I’ll have them, too.”

  “Things are more than a little rocky,” she told him.

  He half shrugged, settling his arms back around her waist. “We’ll handle it.”

  We. How nice that sounded. If only… “You just moved here. Surely you’re a bit overwhelmed with all that’s going on in your life, with your new job, settling in.”

  “A little. I’ll handle that, too.” He squeezed her when she started to argue. “Laurel, we met and spent some time together. I want more. You want more. I’m at a point in my life where I’m ready for more. Yes, the new job is demanding. But I love it. It was exactly the right thing to do. Yes, this whole mess is a pain in the ass, too. But dealing with it together is also the right thing to do.”

  She smiled a little. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a hard man to disagree with?”

  His lips twitched, but his eyes were still searching hers. “One or two.”

  “So…” she started, a million questions rolling through her mind, a million decisions to be made. “You’re liking the new job.”

  “Yeah, I’m liking the new job,” he said, but his attention was obviously not on her question.

  She stopped talking and simply gazed into his eyes, eyes so focused on her it made her shiver a little in anticipation. She couldn’t help it—she wanted him. So badly she could almost taste it. Taste him. She hadn’t forgotten his taste, his scent, how he sounded when he was moving deep inside of her.

  Her breath caught a little. “I’m glad you’re here,” she choked out, giving up any attempt at recapturing her strong, independent front. Where had it gotten her anyway?

  He tipped up her chin when she tried to look away, sniffling quietly. “I’m glad I’m here, too. Don’t push me away again, Laurel.”

  “Like I said before,” she whispered, “I just don’t want you hurt.”

  “Life doesn’t give out guarantees. I could be hit by a falling comet tomorrow.”

  The absurdity of the comment startled a watery laugh from her. “What?”

  “I’m just saying that no one knows what will happen an hour from now, much less a day, a week, a year. All we have is this moment. And right at this particular one, I don’t want to be anywhere else.”

  She managed to unfold her arms, which he’d squeezed between them when he’d taken her in his arms, and weave them around his waist. She laid her cheek on his chest and let loose a deep sigh. The beating of his heart was a steadying sound, the sound of life, of hope. “Thank you,” she said softly.

  He stroked her back, her hair. “For?”

  “Going for what you want. Not giving up just because it’s hard. Because it’s not storybook perfect.” She looked up at him. “I wish it was, Sean. I wish we were back on that island, back where trouble was a thousand miles away and—”

  He silenced her then with a kiss. And there was nothing calm or steady about it. It was fierce and hot and it literally stole her breath. And a good piece of her heart.

  She should fight him, fight this, but she had about as much chance of fighting the entire Rochambeau family as she did her need for him, for this, right now. Her arms went around him, fingers clutching at his hair, body pushing into his, wanting to be absorbed by him. Wanting her need for him to obliterate all the rest of it, all the things she couldn’t control, the things she was afraid were going to happen, the things she didn’t want to know.

  It was Sean who tore his mouth away first. “Dammit, Laurel.”

  She stiffened. “What did I do?”

  He framed her face, his fingers pushing into the tangle her hair had become, his gaze so intent on her she felt physically branded by it. “You’re like some…I don’t know, a drug or something. You’re in my system and I can’t get you out of it.” He tightened his grip when she would have spoken. “And I don’t want to. Do you understand?” He blew out a breath on a laugh, but there was no humor in it. “And if you do, explain it to me.” He looked back at her. “It’s insane how much I want you, how badly I need this.” He kissed her again.

  And despite the alarm his words ignited inside her, she responded instantly. He groaned deep in his throat as she took the kiss deeper. When she moaned, whatever was left of his control snapped. His hands moved then, traveling down her arms, up her torso. Laurel squirmed, shifted closer to him, wanting nothing more than to rip her bathrobe off so she could feel those strong, questing hands directly on her flesh.

  His mouth left hers, traveled in a rough, wet path along her jaw, making her gasp as he moved lower still. He pressed her back against the counter, pulling her robe open as he continued all but devouring her. With his mouth, his tongue, his fingers. It was as though he was consumed with need for her…and she was completely willing to allow him to feast until he was sated.

  The tiny part of rational thought that was left was screaming at her to stop, to talk to him, to figure out what in the hell they were doing before they did it, before it was too late. But as he shoved off her bathrobe and gripped her hips, put her on the counter even as she was grabbing for the waistband of his jeans, she knew she was well beyond worrying about how this was going to complicate things come morning. Hell, what was one more complication at this point? At least this one came with something in it for her.

  And then he was grabbing her legs, wrapping them around his waist as he yanked her up against him, drove into her with a low, growling thrust. She accepted it, accepted him, with a growl of her own, locking her ankles tight to keep him deep inside her, gripping his shoulders as they both bucked and drove each other quickly to the edge…and then over.

  She slumped against his chest and he gathered her close, buried his face in her hair, in the crook of her neck. Both of them were breathing hard. Laurel was trying to get her head to stop spinning.

  “Jesus,” Sean whispered raggedly. “I’m sorry.”

  She pushed his head back. “Are you?”

  He looked up at her, his expression somewhat thunderstruck. “I’ve never done that, never lost control like that.”

  “I wasn’t exactly fighting you.”

  “Did I hurt you?”

  She smiled. “I wasn’t screaming because I wa
s in pain.”

  She saw the first twitch of a smile tease the corners of his mouth. “No?”

  She shook her head. “No,” she said softly, then caressed his face as his smile faded and his gaze became more serious. “I wanted this as much as you did.” She stroked her fingers over his lips. “I missed you, too.”

  His breath hitched a little. “Don’t even think about sending me away again.”

  “You wouldn’t listen anyway. For a guy who’s trained to take orders, you seem to be much more comfortable giving them. At least where I’m concerned.”

  “I don’t want to see you hurt,” he said by way of explanation.

  And as much as Laurel wanted to believe she could handle this new development, this renewed relationship with him, wanted to believe she could keep it in perspective while she dealt with the rest of it…she doubted very much that Sean would allow her to compartmentalize things.

  He proved it by his next words. “I know this complicates things,” he said, his tone gentler, despite still being a bit raw. “For that I’m sorry.”

  “Me, too,” she said. “I wish it was simpler.”

  He kissed her. A gentle, soft kiss that undid what little of her heart she still commanded. “Life is never simple. That’s what makes it interesting.” Then he smiled and, as ridiculous as it seemed, she suddenly felt as if there was hope.

  “I, uh—” She stopped, cleared the sudden tightness from her throat. “I know I kept you out of this, wanted to keep you out of this. So I just thought you should also know that…well, that a part of me is glad you don’t take orders well. Glad I don’t have to do this alone.” She talked over his attempted reply. “But I’m going to warn you now. I don’t take orders well, either. And there will be things about this…ordeal, that I’m not going to be flexible about. I know we have this…this…”

  “Connection.” He stated it easily, certainly, leaving no room for doubt.

  “Yes. I don’t claim to understand it, but I don’t want to run from it, either.”

  His responding smile made her body tingle all over again.

  “But, connection or not, you don’t know my past, or what drives me.”

  “Isn’t that what a relationship is all about? Learning about each other?”

  “Definitely, but—”

  “I know what you’re going to say. That because this relationship, intensity notwithstanding, is relatively new, I’m not going to understand what drives you to make the decisions you make. And you’re right. I won’t. Not always, anyway. We’ll butt heads. You also don’t know what I’ve done, what I’ve seen, in my personal and, more importantly, in my professional life, the things that drive me to want you to handle things a certain way. Which is why I’ll want you to tell me, help me understand your choices. And I’ll try to do the same.”

  “And if we can’t agree?” She knew what she was asking was unfair. She was asking for a commitment, at least temporarily, from a man who was already far more committed than she had any right to hope for, much less expect.

  “Then we get mad at each other. Argue a little. And have great make-up sex.”

  His answer, so seriously delivered, took a moment to process. She let out a little surprised laugh. “Oh, is that how you see things going?”

  “Let’s just say a guy can’t be too hopeful.”

  She could have pressed, could have forced a more serious discussion, but she knew they’d be having enough of those in the immediate future as it was. But there was one thing she had to say now, before they went any further. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, then turned more serious herself. “Sean—”

  He sighed, pleasantly so.

  “What?” she asked, confused.

  “Nothing. I just like hearing you say that.”

  She laughed a little, surprised.

  “What? Guys like that stuff, too.”

  “Well, yeah, but most guys don’t usually admit it.”

  He leaned in, kissed her quick, hard and fast. When he lifted his head, his eyes were glittering, his teeth a white gleam in the dim lighting. “I’m not most guys.”

  Laurel smiled, a bit breathless. He did that to her, took her breath away. She supposed she was going to have to get used to that. “I’m learning that.” Her smile grew. “And liking it, by the way.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “You do that.” Something inside her relaxed then, maybe that last part that she was still holding in reserve. He made her feel…safe. “And I want you also to know that, if at some point this is too much for you, I’ll understand if you want to walk away.”

  He opened his mouth to refute, but when she just looked at him, he finally closed his mouth and simply nodded.

  “Okay. Now on to the important things.” She slipped her arms over his shoulders. “What time do you have to be at work tomorrow?”

  He smiled as he tugged her closer. “The rest of my stuff is being trucked down from Denver tomorrow. A friend of mine is bringing it in.”

  “Some friend.”

  “Yeah, Derek is a good guy. I hope you’ll get to meet him at some point.”

  She felt as though she’d been living in some kind of surreal suspense novel for weeks now. So hearing him talk about such mundane, everyday things was more comforting than she’d expected. “I’d like that.”

  “So, I’ll be unloading stuff most of the day. I have the day off.”

  “Then you’ll need rest, to conserve your strength. For unpacking.”

  He slid his hands down her legs, tucked them behind him again, and lifted her off the counter. “Actually, I have family coming in to help me. So I don’t need to conserve all that much strength.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Still, it’s late, and I don’t think you should be driving home.”

  “You don’t.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “We still need to talk—”

  Laurel pressed her fingers to his lips. “Later.”

  “Later?”

  “Much.”

  He smiled. “Promise?”

  “About the talk, or about it being much later?”

  He thought about it for a split second. “Both.”

  She held on more tightly as he swung her around and walked them both toward the kitchen door. She thought about the giant step she was taking, having him sleep in her bed, waking up to him tomorrow morning.

  Because once Sean Gannon got into her bed…would she ever want him to leave?

  “Promise,” she said.

  10

  SEAN DUMPED OUT the coffee from the night before and set about brewing a new pot. He could hear the shower running overhead and smiled to himself. Quite the domestic little picture they painted this morning. Then again, after last night, behaving in a more domestic fashion might not be a bad idea.

  Any plans he’d had to take her to bed, to comfort her, to be there for her, and eventually to talk to her about the situation she was in, vanished the instant they hit the sheets. The interlude in the kitchen proved to be foreplay, not the finale. They’d all but devoured each other. And had a damn fine time doing it, too.

  Now it was the morning after and he had to figure out how to handle the next step. He had no earthly clue. He’d never exactly involved himself in a woman’s life the way he had insinuated himself into Laurel’s. He’d also never cared about staying involved, either. He did now. Last night had only underscored what he already suspected, what he already knew…that the only way he was walking out of Laurel’s life was if she walked out of his first.

  He rattled around in the lower cabinets, looking for a pan big enough to scramble some eggs in, and wished he had a better idea of just how he was going to help her…while keeping her from doing just that.

  “Morning,” came her low voice from the doorway.

  He’d been so caught up in his musings he hadn’t heard the shower shut off. He turned and felt as though he’d been poleaxed. She
stood in the doorway, hair damp and curling against flushed skin, wearing nothing more than a black T-shirt. His, he realized, as his heart took another direct hit. As he crossed the room toward her, he wondered how many mornings he’d have to wake up to her before that feeling diminished. He wanted the opportunity to find out. “Morning,” he said, reaching for her as if he had every right to…praying like hell she wouldn’t pull away, make him beg. Which he was pretty sure he would do if necessary. And looking at how the ancient black cotton caressed her damp skin, he wasn’t entirely sure he’d mind all that much.

  She moved easily into his arms, slipped hers around his neck, then smiled up at him. His heart did a double flip…then went into free fall. He didn’t even try to pad the landing.

  “You look…mouth-watering,” he said. “And I’m starving.”

  She tipped up on her toes and kissed him. “Me, too.”

  “The hell with scrambled eggs, then.” He went to scoop her up in his arms, but she sidestepped him without completely letting him go.

  “Uh-uh. I have to be at the courthouse in less than an hour, and I believe you have some furniture to unload.”

  “Well, I don’t believe I can leave until I’m properly dressed, and somehow I’m missing a shirt.”

  She dragged her hands down his bare chest. “Imagine that.”

  “You’re killing me, here. You know that.”

  “I’m a judge, we believe in fairness.”

  “Ah.”

  She slipped from his arms. “Is that fresh coffee I smell? If that tastes half as good as it smells, I might have to keep this shirt, just to make sure you never leave.”

  “Don’t tempt me,” he said under his breath as she crossed over to the stove. “I was going to make some eggs. How do you like yours?”

  “Well, I like them to actually be in my refrigerator first, which they aren’t at the moment.” She smiled. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting company.”

  “Don’t you eat breakfast?”

  She laughed. “I’m on that liquid diet. You might have heard of it—coffee, breakfast of champions?”

  He smirked. “Very funny. It’s no wonder you pop antacids like candy.”