by Leah Braemel
“I loved you, Lauren.” Part of him still did no matter how much he tried to deny it. “I would have done anything to make our marriage work.”
She slipped past him and leaned against the door post, her arms wrapped around her waist the only clue that she wasn’t as composed as she tried to appear. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry about not trusting you, about not talking to you—not telling you what was going on in my head.”
Did her apology help ease the hurt? He did a mental check. Nope. That goddamned ache in his chest still hurt like a sonovabitch.
He forced himself to look at her without allowing her to see how much her apology hurt. He’d be damned if he’d give her that power over him. “I’m going back to D.C. Troy can—”
“Please. Don’t leave.” She moved closer, her breasts brushing his shirt, her hips touching his. She hadn’t put on any perfume but there was still a hint of something fruity wafting from her, probably her shampoo.
His cock punched a tent in the front of his sweats. Fuck.
“Don’t leave. Not with this still between us,” she whispered. “I thought I was doing the right thing. Once I realized what a mess I’d made of things, I’d been told you were already with someone else and I figured it was better to let you go.”
God, he wanted to touch her. To hold her. To have her rest her head against his shoulder the way she had the night before. While his brain was saying “damned straight I didn’t understand,” his cock was saying “lie down on the couch, babe, and let me taste you again.” At the moment, it was a dead heat as to which body part would win the argument. Then his guts weighed in. When this was over—whatever it was—would he find himself alone? Because there was no way he could go through losing her again.
“How would you know if I was with someone else? You were half the fuckin’ world away.” Maybe if he couldn’t smell her he could fight whatever spell she was weaving. Distance, that’s what he needed. Yet he couldn’t move; his legs felt like they’d been nailed in place. “What do you want from me, Lauren?”
“From you? Nothing. But I need to make things right for you, for both of us,” she whispered. Her eyes slowly lifted to his again. He lost himself in the flecks of gold buried amongst the brown. “I want to…I want us to try again.”
His hand reached for her, hovered an inch above her hair before he stopped himself. Damn, she looked just like she did when they were first dating. When they’d finally admitted what they’d each needed, wanted from the other. On their wedding day when she’d promised to love him for better or worse. Well, he sure as hell had delivered the worst, hadn’t he?
She looked up at him, conviction firm in her voice as well as her eyes. “I’ll do whatever you ask to prove myself to you. Except leave.”
“Will you?” He gave in to the temptation and touched her hair with one finger. It was as soft, as silky as he remembered. He cupped the back of her head, holding her in place, letting her feel his control. A dark wave of lust swamped him. Why not make her prove she’d changed? Or not. Why not satisfy that demon inside that needed to punish her? He tightened his grip. “If I told you to suck me off right here where my men could see you, would you do it?”
“Yes.” There was no hesitation to her answer. She started to reach for his waistband.
What the hell was he doing? They were out in the open where anyone could see. He had to work with these men, command their respect, not give them a thrill watching their boss get a blowjob. “Stop.”
“But…”
Telling his dick it would just have to wait, he stepped out of her reach. “You want to do something for me? You want me to trust you? Then stop lying to me and tell me the truth. About what the hell the threat is and exactly why you’re here.”
They stared at each other for a long moment, the faint buzz of a plane thirty thousand feet above and a sparrow chirping to his mate the only sounds breaking the silence. Finally she nodded. “All right, but I can’t tell you everything. Some of it’s classified.”
Classified? Perhaps this Light Brigade place she’d worked for had involved one of the alphabet agencies if Harris had terrorist connections. “Come on, let’s go back to the house. I’d rather not have anyone listen in to whatever we end up saying.”
Or watch whatever they ended up doing. Be it yelling or making love.
Chapter Nine
The two of them walked along the path back to the house without speaking. While they walked, Chad wondered if Lauren was composing answers for him with the same deliberation he was preparing his questions. For years he’d been composing what he wanted to ask. Yet so many of the questions now seemed futile or petty. She’d walked away from him. She’d been clear she hadn’t agreed with his decision about the FBI. She’d been furious when that video of the two of them having sex in their bedroom had been posted on the internet and gone viral, how stills had been splashed across every goddamned newspaper on the east coast and beyond. To this day he figured out how someone had managed to sneak a camera into the house. He’d gone over the place with every detector he could lay his hands on and never found a trace of the goddamned thing.
He’d done every damned thing she’d asked. Yet it hadn’t been enough. The sense of hope that had flared to life twisted on him, turned into a serpent intent on destroying his dreams.
Once they were in her room and he’d closed the door, Lauren took a deep breath and faced him. “I really am sorry. About leaving you. I know it was wrong. I apologize for that.”
“You’ve said that already.” He scrubbed his hands over his face as he fought for control. “Look, I know you were unhappy. I know you didn’t agree with some of the choices I made. Thalia told me—”
“Let’s not talk about Thalia right now.” The bleakness in her eyes sucker punched him, driving away the righteous indignation that had driven him just moments before. “Even before Emily’s death, I was pretty messed up. There was something wrong with me, about the way I watched Emily.”
What had he missed?
He thought back on those months, of watching her nursing Emily, cuddling her, sleeping with her right beside their bed, her hand often resting on their daughter as the two of them slept. “Babe, you were the best mother a baby could ever ask for. You were always there with Emily. You carried her everywhere you went. I know. I saw you.”
“From the day we brought Em home from the hospital, I was terrified to go to sleep.” Her voice cracked. “I was afraid if I did, she’d stop breathing and I wouldn’t know.”
How could that be? How could he not have seen that she’d been afraid? Then again he’d been at work during the day, a lot of evenings too. Especially that last month when he and his team had been winding up that inside trading investigation. Had he neglected his family because of a goddamned greedy banker?
“During the day, when you were at work, I’d keep her in her carry seat, so I could take her with me everywhere. I was afraid to leave her alone.” Her voice was a toneless whisper. “Then one day, she turned over on her own.”
He remembered that day. She’d called him with the news but he’d had to cut her off because they were in the middle of a meeting. She’d been upset with him that night—at the time he’d thought she was angry because she felt he’d blown her off. Had it been fear driving her anger? “That’s one of the signs she was growing up, Lauren. It meant she was healthy, that’s all.”
“They told us at our Lamaze classes we shouldn’t let the baby sleep on her stomach, remember?” He stayed very still, afraid to jar her from her trance-like recitation. “After that, I was terrified. How was I supposed to stop her from rolling over on her stomach if I fell asleep?” She closed her eyes for a moment and took another deep breath. When she opened them again, her voice was steadier, controlled. At what cost? “I’d sit on the side of the bed with my hand on her, making sure she was breathing. Sometimes I’d watch her all night.”
Oh, God, it was right in front of him and he hadn’t seen it.
�
�I knew something was wrong with me, but I couldn’t do anything, I couldn’t say anything to anyone. I just kept hoping you’d see it. That you’d see what was happening and do something. Take me to the doctor or something.”
“Why didn’t say something? Tell me? I would have helped you.”
“Because I was afraid. I terrified they’d say I was an unfit mother. That you’d take Emily away from me.”
“I would never have taken her from you, babe. You loved her more than life itself.” He couldn’t help himself; he wrapped his arms about her and drew her close, stroking up and down her spine, gently, comforting the way she liked.
“That night. You came home late, remember?” Her whole body shuddered in his arms. “You’d wrapped some case up and got your promotion.”
Oh, shit, and she’d fallen asleep after they’d made love. Had she never fallen asleep after the way he did? “Is that why you said it was my fault Emily…died?”
She took a deep shuddering breath, giving him the impression that she was ready to shatter. “Don’t you see? If I’d been awake, I might have noticed that she’d stopped breathing. I might have been able to save her. I know it wasn’t your fault, but I wasn’t thinking straight and I…”
“It wasn’t your fault. You know that. It wasn’t anyone’s fault.” Here he’d been blaming himself, thinking Lauren had blamed him for Emily’s death, and she’d been blaming herself. They’d both carried too much crap around for too long.
Her words were muffled but controlled. “Maybe I sensed something but just didn’t realize it. If I’d said something, they could have tested her. Put her on one of those apnea blankets that monitored her breathing. If she’d been on one of those, the alarm would have gone off and we could have saved her.”
Her head shook against his shoulder and he realized there was a damp patch on it. She was crying without making a sound. He held her tightly against him, stroking her back. “You can’t second guess yourself, babe.” He wore the crown of perfect vision hindsight after Thalia’s shooting. He pulled Lauren away and cradled her face in his palms. Tears streaked down her face. He brushed his thumb over her cheek, wiping them from their tracks. “Emily had none of the indicators—she wasn’t premature, she had no physical signs to make us suspect she’d stop breathing. You know that.”
Lauren started to say something but he cut her off. “You read the autopsy report, Lauren. You know what the coroner said. You didn’t do anything wrong. Neither of us did.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice hoarse, as if she’d been shouting for hours. Her deep shuddering sigh echoed through his bones and settled into his soul.
He continued to stroke her cheek as the tears slowed. “So you ran to England?”
To Tranquil Pastures…which was a fancy name for a private clinic specializing in treating people having…mental difficulties. Oh, God. “You weren’t in charge of security at that spa, were you?”
“No. I was a patient.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? Why not find something local?” Somewhere I could have visited you. Helped you.
“Thalia found the place for me. I told her I wanted it to be somewhere private so no one could find out that I was there. The press were already tearing you apart. I didn’t want anyone to go after you because I was so weak.” The press had been in a feeding frenzy and were pointing the fingers at him as the poster child of how the FBI had failed the country. What woman—especially one recovering from the death of her child—voluntarily put themselves into a spotlight like that? He wondered who had been advising her. His lawyers perhaps? Or Thalia?
And why the fuck hadn’t Thalia told him where Lauren was or what she’d been going through? He didn’t need to ask how his sister had raised the money. He had a damned good idea where it had come from—she’d been millionaire Cooper Davis’s lover at the time. But however she’d gotten ahold of the cash, his sister was due for a long talk about boundaries, and secret keeping, and interfering between a husband and wife.
He started at the ceiling for a second before shaking his head and looking at her. “I get that you needed help. That you needed to get away from the press. From everything.” His voice had thickened so he cleared his throat. “What I don’t understand is why you stayed away for so long. Without a phone call. A letter. Something. Anything.”
“I did write to you,” Lauren said in confusion. “I wrote to you a couple weeks after I left, explaining where I was, begging your forgiveness. I wrote week after week. Asking you if I could come back when I was released. But you never replied. So when I got out, I didn’t think you wanted me back.”
“I didn’t get any letters, Lauren. Not one.”
He’d hadn’t seen her letters? Oh, dear God, had Thalia been intercepting his mail? But on which end? At the spa or their condo? “I sent dozens.”
He shook his head.
“I should have come back right then, shouldn’t I?” She sighed. So many mistakes she’d made. Too many. “Then, one day, your lawyer showed up on my doorstep with the divorce papers. I took that as your answer, so I signed them.” She debated telling him about Thalia’s role, but decided against it. He’d figure it out soon enough. The conversation needed to be about them, not his sister.
“My lawyer showed up with the divorce papers?” His eyes closed and he canted his head back as he drew in a deep breath. When he looked at her again, his expression was shuttered. “You divorced me, Lauren. Not the other way around. I’m the one who got served.”
“No, I didn’t seek the divorce. I’d wanted to come home, to try again. I swear.” Dear God, he didn’t believe her. Lauren’s legs wouldn’t support her; she slumped onto the bed. “The solicitor said he represented your lawyers here in the States. He said you were living with someone else. That you wanted the divorce so you could marry her.”
“What was the solicitor’s name?” Chad’s voice was soft, but she heard the menace underlying it.
She told him, wondering just what Chad would do to him. Destroy his career? Or have him met in a dark corner someplace to mete out his own form of vengeance?
“It wasn’t until a few weeks ago that I discovered you’d never remarried.” That you weren’t the one who had hired the lawyer.
His breath escaped him in a huff; he looked to the side. “I kept hoping you’d come back. I bought a house and fixed it up. So if you came back I could offer you somewhere better to live than our condo. And I own forty-nine percent of Hauberk, Lauren. Sam’s my partner, not my boss.” The look he gave her was so bleak her chest ached. “I did it for you, Lauren. I know I fucked up with the FBI. I know you were disappointed with me for going against orders, that you didn’t think I’d be able to provide for you anymore. I needed to prove to you that I could still be someone you could rely on.”
“I never thought that. Oh, God, Chad, I never ever thought that of you. I know why you went against orders. I understand that. I always did.” She closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms about his waist. “I didn’t leave you because of that.”
His arms banded around her, holding her tight against him. How long they stood there she couldn’t say. Eventually he took a deep breath and placed his hands on her shoulders, pulling her away.
“We’ve both made mistakes. That ends now. We say whatever we feel, we don’t shut the other out and expect them to know what we’re thinking. Agreed?”
She nodded. Half of her hoped Harris wouldn’t be found for months. Hell, ninety-nine-point-nine percent of her hoped Harris would never be found. They could live here forever, safe.
Chad wrapped his arms around Lauren and pulled her against him once more. She sighed with a quiet moan as she softened against him.
This was the way it was supposed to be. The two of them together, damn the world outside. If she hadn’t sought the divorce the way he’d believed, and she hadn’t left…was there hope for them?
There was so much time to make up, so many nights he’d been alone with only
his own hand to satisfy his needs. The nights he’d spent on duty at the club, watching everyone else having sex hadn’t helped. In the years they’d been together, she’d known how to turn him on, known that he didn’t like a passive woman but a willing partner. Her heart hammered against his chest, her breath warmed his cheek in a gentle caress, her hips ground against his erection.
He lowered his head and caught her lips in a kiss, one with enough pressure that she’d know exactly what he expected.
Her fingernails digging into his biceps was his first clue that she remembered. And that she’d give him exactly what he needed. He damned near swore when her grip on him ceased until his sweat pants slid down his legs to pool at his ankles. She broke the kiss and sank to her knees.
Was there anything as erotic as watching her tongue dart out to dampen her lips, or the smoky look in her eyes as she stared at his erection?
Her mouth closed over the swollen tip and he had to say yes, having her mouth sucking his cock was a lot more fucking erotic. Her tongue slid up the length of his shaft and her hand circled the base in a loose fist.
“Suck it down, babe. You know how I like it.”
She did. God, her mouth hadn’t lost any of its skill. She used just the right pressure with her tongue, her teeth rasped just the right spots and the suction that hollowed out her cheeks…holy fucking shit. Her free hand slipped around his ass, cupping one of his cheeks. When she started humming, the vibration shot straight down his shaft and landed in his balls.
He groaned from deep in his belly and wrapped his fingers in her hair. She rocked against him, taking him deep until the head hit the soft palate at the back of her mouth, then withdrew. She repeated the movement until he clung to her as if the room was spinning. His eyelids weighed a ton. He fought them from closing. If they did, she might disappear and he’d wake up to find this was all a dream.
The familiar tingle started in his balls, drawing them up tight against this body and he stopped her. “On the bed, babe. I need to finish inside you.”
