by Cindy Gerard
“Humor me. I’ll get there.”
She expelled a deep breath. “All right. I thought, there’s a hard man. And then you shocked me and smiled. And I knew I had a chance of coming out of Kabul alive.”
He’d never looked at that time from her point of view until they’d reconnected in Oman. Not only had she been doing her job, but she’d been doing a dangerous job. Hell, he could have killed her if he’d found her out. At the very least, he could have turned her over to the U.S. military as a spy. The risks she’d taken had been monumental. No different from the risks he took.
“That night, after Meir and I had our day together?” he said. “I got the call about the mission before we had the chance to tell him that I’m his dad. When he hugged me, he whispered that he loved me.”
“He told me,” she said, in the gentle, loving tone she wasn’t even aware she used when she talked about their son. “He said you told him you loved him, too.”
Bobby smiled, nodded. “I do love him. But it was the honest and unfiltered way he just came out and said it that . . . somehow changed things.”
She swallowed, then asked quietly, “Changed things, how?”
“Well, that took me a little while to figure out. Because I was digging too deep. Thinking too much.”
Careful of his shoulder, he turned to her, clasped her hand tighter, and felt a rush of uncomplicated joy when she didn’t pull away.
“When he threw himself into my arms and whispered those words, that little five-year-old boy showed me that love is much simpler than we make it out to be. It’s life and circumstances—some within our control, some out of our control—that gum up the works.
“On this last mission,” he went on, “I was in a car, and we got hit. We rolled, and I thought it was all over for me.” He met her eyes. “I saw Meir. I saw you. And I thought, how am I going to tell them that I’m dead? It was going to hurt you so much. The guys said I even yelled it when they dragged me out of the burning car.”
“Oh, God.”
He felt her shiver, and he squeezed her hand even tighter. “I didn’t tell you this to upset you. We both know that what I do is dangerous. But it’s what makes me tick. And after seeing you in action in Oman, I think it’s what makes you tick, too. I think it might even be part of the ‘juice’ we feel for each other. We understand each other so much better than someone who hasn’t been in our shoes.
“Anyway, in those moments, I realized like never before that life is short. That there’s no time for complications and that I need to keep it simple. So here’s the simple truth. I love you, Talia. I have always loved you. Even when I thought I hated you and could never forgive you.”
Her eyes glittered with unshed tears. “And now? Now you think you can?”
“Sweetheart, I already did, a long time ago. But it was Meir’s gift of unqualified love that made me realize it. My ego stood in the way for six long years. Because you were gone. That hurt much more than the betrayal. The simple truth is, I didn’t like my life without you in it. So I conditioned myself to get through it on hate and anger.”
“I never ever wanted that,” Talia told him. “Not from the first moment I met you. Going through with my mission was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. That and leaving you, knowing you’d hate me.”
“I know that now,” he said. “But maybe I needed these six years to heal. Maybe we both did.”
The hope in her eyes grew even brighter than her tears.
“Talia, there’s no doubt in my mind that we were meant to be together. And I think the time is now.”
She leaned into him and kissed him with lips that tasted like her tears. “I love you.”
He cupped her cheek and pressed his forehead to hers, feeling like the luckiest man on earth. “Thank God.” He smiled. “Can you help me to a bed now? I think the word upright is about to fall off my ‘can do’ list.”
43
With Bobby relying heavily on her for support, Talia walked him up the stairs toward the guest bedroom.
“Not your room?” he asked, as they passed her bedroom door.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she whispered, smiling up at him. “Bet you’ve sneaked into a lot of girls’ bedrooms under their parents’ noses over the years.”
“We’ll talk about my misspent youth another time,” he hedged. “I want to sleep in your bed.”
“Not tonight, Romeo. There’s a little boy sleeping right across the hall who has a tendency to rush into my room some mornings, to make sure I’m awake and ready for breakfast.”
“Sweet.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I like the sound of that.”
And she loved the warmth and anticipation in his voice. “You wouldn’t like it much if he came bounding up onto the bed and your shoulder ended up under his bony little knees.”
He winced. “Good point. But someday soon, right?”
Her heart squeezed in the sweetest way. “Yeah. Someday soon.”
She’d truly thought their someday would never come. Even after she’d heard the taxi pull up outside, heard the car door slam, and finally gotten up to look outside and seen him standing there in the dark in the yard, staring at her window. Even then, she hadn’t foreseen this.
I love you, Talia.
Damn right he did, she thought happily, as she led him into the guestroom and helped him down onto the bed.
* * *
“Oh, God.” Bobby’s moan fell somewhere between gratitude and pleasure. “The therapeutic powers of being horizontal are highly underrated. And being naked. There are supreme healing benefits in that, too. Especially being naked with you.”
It had taken a bit of persuasion to convince her to undress and come to bed with him. No funny business. He just needed to feel her beside him for a little while, needed that skin-on-skin contact to make this feel real.
“You know you need to rest, to limit your physical activity, and I wish you’d take a pain pill.”
She’d had to try. He’d known that, but his next words had broken her.
“You’re my pain pill.”
“I’m such a sucker.”
Beaten, she’d pulled her tank top up and over her head. By the time she’d shimmied out of her boxers, he was wishing to God he could make love to her in a hundred different ways.
She’d stood naked by the bed, letting him look his fill. He’d forgotten how the peaks of her small dark nipples turned up so slightly, how perfectly round her apple-sized breasts were, how her hips flared from her tidy waist, and how her ass—Lord, he loved her ass—was high and tight and filled his palms in the most delicious way.
“Lord, I’ve missed you,” he’d whispered when she pulled back the sheet and crawled in beside him, molding her warmth against his.
Missed the silk of her skin, the feel of her hair trailing through his fingers. He didn’t care that it was past four in the morning, that the double bed in her parents’ guestroom was too short for him. In fact, he liked it that the two of them had to snuggle close together because the mattress was so small.
Most of all, he loved that she was finally lying beside him, where she belonged.
For long, leisurely moments, he floated on a stream of contentment, his fingers trailing up and down the length of her bare thigh, over the gentle curve of her hip, their breath in sync, his heartbeat matching hers in rhythm and speed.
“I could lie with you like this forever,” he murmured, turning his lips into her hair.
“And I wish we could.” She sounded sleepy as she pressed a kiss against his collarbone. “But Dad’s an early riser.” Her soft breath fanned his neck, both soothing and stimulating. “I’d better get back to my room.”
“In a little while,” he cajoled. “Do something for me first?”
“Hmm?”
“Touch me.” He’d hardened t
o steel the moment she’d lifted her top. “I need to feel you touch me. I’ve needed it for so long.”
She pushed up on one elbow. Her eyes were dark and brimming with desire, but she shook her head. “Not a good idea. You know what that will lead to. You’re in no condition to—”
“Let me worry about my condition.” He reached up, gently gripped a handful of her hair, and tugged her down to his mouth.
Familiar yet new and everything in between. Her mouth was heaven, her lips soft and tentative at first, until the kiss took on its own energy, and she opened her mouth over his, inviting him inside.
He groaned low in his throat and thrust his tongue into her mouth, loving the way she sucked him in and lapped him up, then turned the tables. She slipped her tongue between his lips on a sensual glide in and out that mimicked the way he wanted to move inside her.
“Please.” He was begging and didn’t care. He’d never been so happy to grovel for something in his life.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
He pushed out a pained laugh. “Sweetheart. You’re killing me already.”
Up on her elbow again, her hair falling over her eyes and tickling his shoulder, she locked her gaze with his, slowly shook her head in defeat, then tormented him with the leisurely glide of her fingertips down his chest, then into the concave of his belly.
Finally, after skimming her fingers over and around his pulsing cock, she enclosed him with a soft fist.
He closed his eyes, fought to control his breathing as she alternately played the tip of her thumb back and forth over his glans, then squeezed him and worked her hand down to his root and back again.
He let out a low moan and indulged in her generosity until the need to take her with him overrode anything else.
“This is not just . . . about me.” He could barely breathe for the deep, sensual pleasure. “I want . . . I need you along for the ride.”
She glanced up at him through the veil of her hair, then slid lower on the bed, grazing the tip of him with her lips and then her tongue, before she took him all the way into her mouth and damn near destroyed him.
“Inside,” he pleaded. “I need to be inside you.” He reached down, touched her where she was slick and wet and so, so ready for him. “You’re so amazing.”
She straddled him then and stood on her knees over him as he caressed and finessed her swollen flesh, loving the soft, earthy sounds she made, the way she moved against his hand, before he finally urged her down and over him.
She eased onto him, taking care not to jostle him and cause pain to his shoulder, but he was beyond caring. Beyond pain. Being one with her, being surrounded by her—hot, slick, gloving—being loved by her erased the physical pain of his injuries and the emotional pain that had kept them apart for so long.
“I . . . love . . . you,” he gritted out between clenched teeth, as she moved over him, wringing molten sparks of physical pleasure too explosive to control, too amazing to comprehend.
Above him, she closed her eyes, let her head fall back, and rode with him to an end that was cleansing and cataclysmic and new.
With a muffled moan, she came, taking him with her. Eyes closed, breath catchy, she sat above him, stretching out the ride, taking in the thrill. When she finally opened her eyes and met his, a slow, satisfied smile spread across her beautiful face.
“Hey,” she whispered, leaning down to kiss him.
“Hey, yourself.” He cupped a hip in his hand, sated, spent, and renewed.
“Don’t think that you’re always going to get your way.”
He chuckled. “Was that a warning or a dare?”
“That, Mr. Taggart, was me trying to retrieve some of my pride. I made that way too easy for you.”
He pulled her down against his good side with a smile. “It’s about time something we did together was easy.”
She sighed in contentment. “Amen.”
“Let’s try another easy fix.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Marry me.”
44
“Mom says I have to be quiet and not make you tired.”
“She does, huh?” Bobby turned his head on the pillow to see Meir standing gravely in the doorway of the guestroom. “You know the thing about moms?”
“What thing?”
“They worry too much.” He patted the mattress, inviting Meir to join him on the bed. “Come on in.”
Meir relaxed then and eased into the room. “Mom says you were in an accident.”
“I was. Had a little fender-bender. Banged up my shoulder a bit.”
“Does it hurt?” His eyes were solemn.
It was on the tip of his tongue to deny the pain, but he thought better of it. “Sometimes. If I move wrong. But I’ll be good as new in a few weeks.”
The boy seemed to think about that. Which was fine. He was too young to know the whole truth about what Bobby really did. And he’d had enough to deal with lately anyway.
“You really can come sit with me,” Bobby said. “You’re not going to hurt me. Now, tell me what you’ve been up to while I was gone.”
Meir clambered right up beside him on the bed. “Grampa took me to the aquarium one day.”
“Was it cool?”
“Pretty cool, yeah. But it was stinky. Like fish.” He made a face. “The sharks were cool, though.”
“Someday you’ll have to take me. I’ve never been to an aquarium.”
“Sure. Maybe Mom can come, too.”
“Of course. Where is your mom?”
“Right here.” Talia walked into the room, carrying a bed tray with coffee, juice, and a plate full of scrambled eggs and toast. “Thought you could use some nourishment.”
“I’m not an invalid,” he said, smiling, secretly pleased that she’d gone to so much trouble. “I could have come down and eaten at the table.”
“Now you don’t have to.”
She set the tray on the top of a bureau, then turned back to the bed. “Do you need to get up first?”
“Took care of that a while ago.”
It hadn’t been easy; in addition to his shoulder, he was beginning to feel all the other bruises and strains and cuts and burns from the roll-over. Still, he’d managed to get out of bed and use the bathroom. Getting settled again had been another story.
“Let’s prop you up a little better. You want to help me, Meir?”
Meir scrambled to his knees, and when Bobby leaned forward, he helped his mother fluff up the pillows and add an extra one behind his back.
“Thanks, buddy.”
“Eat before the eggs get cold.” Talia settled the tray over his thighs.
“Does she boss you around this way, too?” He winked at Meir.
“Sometimes.” Meir grinned from his mother to Bobby as if they’d just shared a guy moment. “But it’s okay. She is the mom, after all. She usually knows what’s best.”
“You’re right about that,” Bobby agreed. “She’s real good about keeping an eye out for you, huh?”
Meir nodded.
“I was thinking. Maybe I could help her look out for you. In fact, maybe we could all look out for each other.”
The child was no dummy. His eyes told the story. It was clear that he sensed something was happening here. Something big.
“How would we do that?” he asked, his gaze jumping between the two of them.
“Well, if we all lived together,” Bobby said, “it would be pretty easy.”
Talia was watching her son’s reactions carefully.
“You mean . . . live together like a family?” Meir asked, up on his knees again.
“Yes,” Talia said, joining them on the bed. “Like a family.”
A slow smile spread across the boy’s face. “Does this mean we’re getting married?”
Bobby laughed, and Talia smiled tearily as Meir glanced hopefully from one to the other.
“Yeah,” Bobby said. “That’s exactly what it means.”
Meir’s dark eyes widened with hope. “Then you’d be my dad?”
The lump that suddenly lodged in his throat kept Bobby from answering. He nodded and finally managed a whispered, “Yes. I’d be your dad.”
“Wow!” Meir bounded off the bed. “I’ve got to go tell Gramma and Grampa!”
Laughing, Talia caught him just before he headed out the door. “Whoa, partner. Hold on a sec. There’s something else we want to tell you.”
She glanced at Bobby, and he knew with everything in him that the love in her eyes and the boy in her arms were the best gifts a man could ever hope for.
Beyond excited, Meir squirmed in Talia’s arms. “What else do you have to tell me?”
Talia nodded at Bobby. Go ahead. It’s time.
“Something good, buddy,” he told his son. “Something really, really good.”
45
“Somebody want to tell me what that was all about?” Bobby asked into the lazy quiet.
It was after nine p.m. on Sunday, a week after his mishap in Syria. Around five o’clock, every member of the ITAP team and their wives and kids had trooped into the Levines’ Georgetown home to see him.
“How’s the shoulder, Boom? And who is this vision beside you?”
“Can’t keep a good man down—especially when he’s got a nurse who looks like this taking care of him.”
It was ridiculous. One corny—not to mention leading—line after another, as they arrived carrying casseroles, cakes, pies, or salads to add to the “impromptu” potluck.
Impromptu? Hell, it had been a setup from the get-go. And he’d felt like a bug under a microscope as they’d all filed by him.
The entire Black Ops team—Black, Jones, Reed, Mendoza, Green, Wyatt Savage, Luke Colter, and even Sam Lang, who was retired—had dropped by, and Bobby had gotten the distinct feeling that they’d all gathered for something other than well wishes.
Even Carlyle, Santos, and Waldrop—the only bachelors left on the ITAP team—had made an appearance. They’d brought the keg.
