by Roze, Robyn
Reaching over, he covered her hand with his, and with the other removed the fork from her tense grip to place it on the table. They had stayed at their resort tonight, choosing an alfresco table at CÉ LA VI to enjoy the view of the Singapore Flyer and the Gardens by the Bay. Although, they might as well have drawn the curtains and ordered room service, because Shayna had acted distracted and withdrawn the entire time. He understood why the current situation worried her.
That was why she should have listened to him and gone to see Danielle.
And that was why he would only allow her to stay for so long.
He stood and surprised her by tugging her up to her feet with an order tempered by his concern. “Let’s dance.”
She seemed flustered, nervous, her eyes flitting around the clusters of guests spread across the expansive rooftop. “No, Sean. I really don’t feel like it.”
He was done taking no for an answer.
“Come on. I see a private spot.” He tipped his head toward some planters around the corner and her gaze followed, dulled with doubt. He leaned down next to her ear. “I’m done being cardboard cutout versions of ourselves, Shay. It ends tonight.”
She gave him a fake smile and halfhearted nod.
With her hand clutched in his, he shouldered through the crowds and made a path for them to the semi-secluded corner. They passed a railing where down below two domed conservatories shimmered, and Supertree Grove flickered and flashed in sync with the evening show’s chosen melody. The tropical heat was heavy and humid, even with the sea breeze and commercial platform fans, but he didn’t care. Sean wanted his wife back, and he would force her out of the shelter into which she had retreated.
He circled one arm around her waist and drew her against him into the shadows, the back of his fingers brushing across her cheek. He stepped and swayed and moved her to their own intimate beat, not the one pulsating from the nearby club lounge.
“This used to be my favorite part.” He waited until her questioning eyes met his. “All the planning, the strategizing, selecting the best team, followed with the moment when all that hard work finally pays off. The adrenaline rush is better than any drug. Then everything that happens after is anticlimactic. It usually happens fast and ends quickly. There’s no time to think, only do. It’s all about training, timing, and then action.”
She appeared mesmerized, barely breathing.
“I was built for this, Shay. Mind and body. You need to understand that and not pull away and shut me out.” He paused. “Just because you’re afraid I might die.” He tightened his embrace on her, so she couldn’t deck him.
“How dare you!”
“How dare I, what?”
Speech eluded her, as she quaked with fury in his arms.
“How dare I say the words you’re afraid to say? The words you can only dance around with euphemisms? The woman I married wouldn’t do that. The woman I married wanted to meet everything head on, live life to the fullest, right up to the last minute.”
He loosened his hold as her indignation cooled.
“This was my life before you ever knew me. I could have died hundreds of times before the day you walked into my restaurant. And the last thing I want for either of us are regrets over not spending our last minutes, hours, days, or years, exactly the way we want.”
His voice softened. “No regrets, Shay. Not when it comes to us.”
She blinked away the emotion playing out on her face and cast her eyes toward the Strait, with the glow of anchored ships dotting the busy waterway. “I’m sorry.”
He guided her gaze back to him. “Don’t be sorry. Just be here, now, with me.” He pressed his lips to her forehead, and her arms closed around him, her cheek to his chest, as they continued to sway in their own private dance.
“You said this used to be your favorite part. What changed?”
Memories spun in his head with the rotation of the Singapore Flyer in the distance. How could he ever put words to that? To those unexpected, overwhelming feelings from that very first day. Yet, he found he could. It wasn’t difficult at all. It was one word.
One name.
He squeezed her tighter and breathed in the woman who had given him a new direction in life. A rush that no mission, past or present, could ever rival.
“You just know when it’s time to quit. Generally, it’s while you’re ahead,” he chuckled with mock humor, “while you still have a head.” He smiled at her grim expression. “But I’ll admit I missed it in the beginning.” He tipped her chin up to him. “Until this sexy blonde strutted into my restaurant and made me realize I hadn’t been living life at all.”
Her expression turned playful, the sparkle returning to her eyes. “You’re pulling out all the stops tonight, aren’t you, Mr. Parker?”
“I miss my wife.” His finger hooked under her necklace, skimming a gentle trail along her soft skin.
“I think you’re just desperate for some action.” She pushed up on her tiptoes, a breath away from his lips.
“It’s the same thing, really.” They giggled and kissed and giggled some more.
The nervous tension of recent days fell away, leaving only them in their purest form, as they had been in the beginning, from the first day they met, when he had eaten his second lunch of the day with her, in what would become their booth at Gaetano’s. He had canceled an appointment, pretended to be hungry, all in answer to an overpowering instinct to seize the moment—with her. A moment, even back then, he had understood would never be enough. No matter how many fleeting moments together time might grant them.
Their hands roamed. Their tongues tangled, and when her moan vibrated in his mouth, he knew it was time to take their private dance somewhere else.
“Let’s go.” Voice rough with pent-up lust, his arm locked her beside him as he cut through the swelling rooftop crowd. The laughter, music, and excited chatter swirling around them faded to a distant hum in his head.
Hiding his impatience at the elevators, waiting for occupants to exit and enter, his fingers traced a suggestive map along the curve of her hip, and lower. The minutes felt like hours before he pushed open the door to their suite and guided her inside.
Shayna stepped a few lengths ahead of him, then turned to face him, sauntering back into the living room with a seductive smile and sexy swing to her hips that knotted him in raw desire. With his eyes fixed to her swaying silhouette, lined in the shimmer of lights splashed across the wall of windows, he pocketed his cufflinks, rolled up his sleeves, and untucked his shirt with one hand while slipping the buttons free with the other. Then he dropped down to the middle of the long sofa, arms splayed wide like wings across the back, feet kicked wide, the epitome of a man in charge, a man in control—of everything.
Shayna stood at a distance, back straight and confident, arms loose at her sides, her face a gorgeous canvas of shared intimacies only he could decipher. There were so many games they enjoyed together, and this was one of his favorites. The one where she waited for his instructions, while he lingered, undressing her with his eyes and savoring every kissable square inch of her that would soon squirm underneath him.
With a slight raise of his hand, his index finger rotated in a lazy circle. Her lips pursed in obvious consideration. Would she? Or wouldn’t she? That was the real game. To him the answer didn’t matter. He would go along with anything if it meant she was happy.
Decision made, she turned her beautiful backside to him, but he hadn’t missed the trace of a mischievous grin at the corner of her luscious mouth.
“Take it off, Shay. All of it. Nice and slow. Just the way I like.”
She remained still for a few seconds, then reached up behind her neck, ready to unclasp her custom necklace.
She damn well knew better.
“Careful what you ask for, Shay.”
Her fingers hovered over the clasp, a challenging glance directed at him, bright in her eyes. Instead, her hands drifted dow
n to unzip the side of her sexy, red dress. The straps slipped off her shoulders and the delicate fabric feathered down her body to the floor, a silky scarlet pool at her feet.
“Shit,” he muttered, admiring her in nothing but strappy red heels. She had been naked under that dress the entire night. He leaned forward with rapt attention, elbows on his knees. “Turn around. I want to see you.”
She took her time, giving him every opportunity to appreciate the curves and slopes of her supple body and the toned length of her long legs. She was incredible, and her confidence was the sexiest thing about her. She hooked her hands on her hips and widened her stance, which dropped his attention exactly where she wanted it. Goddamn. She was the one pulling out all the stops tonight. Unable to look away from the newly smooth paradise between her legs, the jumbled words in his head remained bunched and stuck in his throat.
“I thought I’d try something new. Do you like it?” The sultry tease told him she already knew the oh-so-obvious answer.
The beast inside growled with approval as he forced his eyes up to hers, rising to his feet, hand outstretched to touch her. But she did the unthinkable and backed away, a smile playing at her lips, sexual power flickering in her aroused eyes. Their tango began; him stepping forward, her stepping back, while he used their provocative dance to toe out of his dress shoes, toss his shirt, and kick off his pants.
As soon as she crossed the threshold to their bedroom, he lunged and pulled her tight against him, her softness melding with his hardness, their oneness. His mouth closed on hers, leaving her breathless, her lips red and kiss swollen just the way he liked them. With her front still pressed to his, her nipples poking against his skin, he guided her in front of the mirror at the dressing table and set the overhead lights to a warm, muted glow.
For a few long seconds, he admired their reflection, her pressed against him. His dark hair and shadow of stubble contrasted with her blonde hair feathered beside his face. His tanned, scarred skin against her unblemished, creamy perfection. One hand roamed down her smooth back before both gripped and committed to memory the sight and feel of her firm ass. She gasped when he flipped her around, heels still on, and pressed himself against her, pumping with slow, purposeful strokes against her. The aroused sigh from her lips, the heavy drop of her lids, and the instinctual thrust of her ass against him, made him even harder, hungrier.
“Look at you,” he whispered next to her ear, worshipping her reflection in the mirror. His fingers trailed down her cheek, stroked along her velvety throat, then tugged gently at the gemstones circling it. “This always stays on.” He caught the subtle lift at one corner of her mouth. “Period.” Their eyes met in the dusky glass in agreement.
“I’m glad you’re back, Shay.” He cupped her breasts and squeezed, as she watched in the mirror. “This is who you are. Who you should always be with me.” Her head dropped back against his shoulder, lids at half-mast, as he teased below her bikini line.
“I want to be. It just…,” she panted, as his fingers dipped lower.
“Got real,” he said, finishing the sentence for her, fingers circling inside her. “I understand.” He pressed his lips to her temple, then returned his focus to the erotic scene of them unfolding in the glass. “I understand something else too.” He gripped between her legs, and her thighs squeezed around him as she rocked against his palm, his other hand still snug at her breast. “These moments are all we get, Shay. This is it. I don’t want to waste any of them.”
Her breathing turned ragged and needy, eyes fixed on his hand sliding between her legs.
“I don’t either,” she stammered as her slow moan echoed around them, her hands linked behind his neck, back arching in release.
“I’ll get us through this, Shay. It’s what I do. I’m good at it. And you can trust me to do it this time too.”
Then he pulled her lips to his, sealing his pledge with a scorching kiss that promised of more pleasures tonight and for many more nights to come.
Chapter 6
Shayna jolted awake with a gasp in the dead of night, heart hammering an unforgiving beat, her head pounding in sync with it. She stared at the ceiling fan circling above her, hues of bluish moonlight tinting the tips of its rotating blades. A lone tear rocked at the outside corner of one eye, then raced down her temple, wetting her hair. She lay motionless, concentrating hard on the muddled dream, trying to name the fuzzy images that tampered with her conscience, demanded her attention. Too late, as always. The disquieting visions faded away, leaving blurred, disconnected remnants in their wake.
She reached for comfort, stretching her hand across an empty, cold bed.
“I’m over here.”
Her eyes followed Sean’s brooding voice to a dark corner of the room.
“You were having another bad dream.”
Another? How many times had she driven him from their bed before tonight?
“Did I wake you?”
“No.” He emerged from the shadows, striped in moonlight from the partly drawn drapes, and stood beside the bed, concern, and something deeper, etched on his face. “Same dream?”
“I don’t know. I can’t remember them.”
He lowered next to her, braced his palm on the other side of her, and leaned closer. “Are you sure about that, Shay?” He lifted her hand to his lips, his warm breath heating her skin, his knowing eyes never leaving hers.
“Why does that sound more like an accusation than a question?”
He watched her for a long moment, as if judging her. “Maybe you need help to remember them, to make them stop.”
His disapproving tone caused her momentary panic. “Have I said something in my sleep that’s upset you?”
He drew closer until his forehead pressed lightly against hers. “I don’t blame you, Shay.” His lids closed on a deep sigh, then he released her hand to sit away, staring at the ribbon of light cutting through the room. “I understand it’s hard for you to live with what I did.” She startled when he sprang to his feet, reaching the window in two long, powerful strides to yank the curtains to a screeching close. Fabric still bunched in his hands, he shook his head and huffed. “To live with me day after day, knowing what I did, and pretending you don’t.”
She scooted up against the padded headboard, awake now, and on high alert.
“What did I say, Sean?” She kept her voice steady, holding back the fear swelling in her throat.
“You talk to him, Shay,” he answered after a few long seconds, resignation in his voice.
Dread curled deep in her belly. “Who?”
The silence grew louder.
“Your ex.”
Even in the dark, she could feel his judgment piercing her.
“Sometimes I wish I’d never told you,” he said.
Her breath caught and held for a moment. “Why did you?”
The answer didn’t come right away.
“Because I couldn’t stand to have you look at me and not know what I’d done. What I’m capable of.” He paused. “Who I really am.”
“I’m not sure I believe that. You never would have told me anything about your past until Frank. What changed?”
“Everything!” The word erupted and rolled out of him like thunder. “He made it personal. What he did to you. What I did to him. We both hurt you, in very different ways. Before that my past wasn’t connected to you, us. I could easily lock it away without a second thought, and I would have always kept it locked away from you. I never wanted you touched by any of this.”
She reached for the light switch on the wall next to the bed.
“Don’t.” His barked order caused her an instant of pause, then she flicked the light on, anyway.
The soft glow cast the bedroom, turned confessional, in angles of golden warmth, highlighting what her husband wanted to hide: his torment. His ambivalence about her decision to stay with a man like him. His unspoken fear that she remained with him out of a sense of o
bligation, a debt owed; repayment for having saved Danielle from Hector Morales.
An avalanche of memories buried her under their weight. Their emotional reunion in Italy, followed by a quick and private garden ceremony binding them forever, her brother Scotty smiling nearby like the Cheshire cat. Not long thereafter, they embarked on a whirlwind honeymoon of travel and adventure unlike anything she had ever imagined, their thoughts focused on the present and future, shunning the past.
Not until Singapore, when Sean’s past caught up with him, forcing them to stop and take a breath, did the monster hiding all along under their bed start grumbling. She now realized all this time they had been running from their past, from themselves, and from the ticking time bomb that threatened to destroy the appearance of their perfect world. And them.
Time was a fickle, ruthless bitch.
Shayna knew it was time for them both to confront the apparent confessions whispered in her dreams. It was time to shine a light under the bed.
Sean’s focus stayed pinned to the floor. He looked like a man braced for the worst.
“I knew from the beginning it would be hard to live with what happened. With what you did,” Shayna said. The shock and loss stabbed at her heart, jabbed at her conscience. It always would.
After a few moments of quiet, her subdued, cynical laughter caused Sean to glance her way, only for a second. Then the tangled grief from her past and present unraveled with a sigh of reluctant acceptance, and the still intense memory of Wes, her first love, her first husband, who had died in a collision at twenty when they were just kids in college. “I remember wishing, dreaming, that Wes would come back to me. That somehow, it had all been a big mistake. That he survived the accident and was alive in a hospital, somewhere…” She lingered, stuck in the powerful, timeworn illusions of her youth, before forcing herself forward to reflect on more recent heartaches. “I imagined the same thing about Frank, even after I identified his body.” Horror and sorrow reshaped her features, and she stayed silent for a few beats. “And then last year your voice from the grave made my recurring dream a reality.”
