THE LAST REILLY STANDING

by Maureen Child

  "Okay, adventure is one thing," she muttered, glancing at the ceiling as though she would be able to look through it to the storm-tossed sky above. "This is nuts."

  And Aidan was out in it.

  It had been hours since he'd left her to go on another rescue mission. Hours since she'd taken an easy breath. She shouldn't be worried. This was what he did. The man was trained. And good at his job. She'd seen that for herself only that morning. Though listening to the weather now, she still couldn't believe she'd been dumb enough to go out on a boat today.

  But it didn't seem to matter that she knew Aidan was well trained and very capable. She felt a cold, tight fist close around her heart as her mind drew images of him leaping out of that helicopter into the churning mass of the sea. She pictured him swimming toward that lost fisherman and getting swallowed by an ocean that was determined to not give up its prize.

  As those images and more raced through her brain, Terry shivered, set the coffee cup down on the kitchen counter and walked out of the room. She crossed the living room, dark now, despite the lamps turned on to keep the shadows at bay. With the boarded up windows, she felt as though she were in a coffin.

  Alone.

  Afraid.

  Shaking her head, she grabbed the doorknob, gave it a turn and opened the door. Instantly wind whipped rain slashed at her, sweeping through the screen door into the foyer as if it had been perched on the porch, just waiting for its chance.

  The world was wild.

  Trees bobbed and swayed, like desperate sinners, pleading for forgiveness. Rain sluiced out of a gun-metal-gray sky. Houses were boarded up. No one was on the street. People were locked up, shut in and praying that the heaviest part of the storm would pass them by.

  Terry walked to the edge of the porch, dipping her head into the wind, forcing herself forward, though it was like trying to run in a swimming pool. Her fingers curled over the rail at the edge of the porch and she squinted into the rain still slashing at her.

  Stupid. She should be inside. Warm. Dry.

  But inside, she was too alone. Inside, she was reminded that she was a woman apart from the rest of this tiny town at the edge of a storm. Everyone else was with their families. With people they loved or cared about.

  Terry had no one.

  She'd wanted it that way, of course. For years, she'd done everything she could to keep her distance from anyone or anything that might claim an attachment. She'd loved once and she'd lost and promised herself then that she wouldn't risk that kind of pain again.

  Well, it had worked, she told herself now, clinging to the porch railing and watching a watery world of roaring noise and vicious winds. She'd successfully isolated herself.

  And she'd never felt more alone.

  * * *

  The family was safe.

  Aidan steered his car cautiously down the street, windshield wipers doing their best to keep up with a steady downpour, he looked at the world through a veil of water. Images were blurred, wind whipped, but his mind was clear. Focused.

  He'd checked on the rest of the Reilly's. His mom was with Tina and Brian, helping Tina's nana get her house ready. And Connor and Emma were at the church, helping Liam's parishioners batten down the hatches at Saint Sebastian's.

  Which left Aidan free to do what his heart was telling him to do. Go to Terry.

  After getting back to base, with a very wet, very angry fisherman, sputtering about lawsuits, he'd headed straight to the Frog House bookstore. With the help of the other local businessmen, he'd managed to board up Donna's place and help Selma tie her shop down as well. Now, they'd done all they could and all they could do was wait.

  And there was nowhere he'd rather wait than with Terry.

  She'd been there, in the back of his mind, all day. Throughout the rescue calls, throughout all the hurricane preparations, she'd been there, lurking in the shadows of his mind. Reminding him that he had more now to think about than himself. More to take care of than his family.

  "Which was damned weird when you think about it," he muttered, steering his SUV around a downed tree and cautiously inching forward, on the lookout for fallen electrical wires.

  He hadn't asked to care about anyone.

  Hadn't wanted to be worried about a curvy blonde with a smart mouth.

  And yet … instead of hanging around the base as he would have normally—in case they were called out again—he was driving through hell just so he could see her. Reassure himself that she was all right. He'd tried calling her, but the phone lines were down. No surprise. They were usually the first to go in a big storm.

  But this was the first time in memory that not being able to make a phone call had turned his insides to jelly.

  His fists tightened around the steering wheel as the car was buffeted by wind. He bent his head to look up through the windshield and winced as he watched trees leaning precariously over the street, shimmying as leaves were whipped free, sailing through the air like tiny green missiles.

  Aidan made the turn on Elmwood and barely noticed the boarded-up houses and the abandoned look of the normally cozy, kid-filled street.

  His gaze locked on one house. He headed toward it as if drawn by a powerful force he had no intention of fighting.

  Then he saw her.

  Standing on the porch, clutching the railing that shuddered in the wind as if it were a lifeline. His heart thundered in his chest as he watched her blond hair whipping around her head. She lifted one hand to shield her eyes as he got closer and he saw the brief flash of welcome dart across her features as he pulled into the driveway.

  He drove as close to the garage as he could, where the car would be protected on one side at least, by the house itself. Then he parked, shut off the engine, set the brake and opened the door.

  The wind grabbed it from him, wrenching it wildly out of his grasp and he had to fight to get it closed again.

  Once he had, he bolted for the house, long legs striding through the mud and standing water, rain pounding him, wind pushing at him, as if deliberately trying to keep him from her.

  But nothing could.

  He hit the porch, grabbed Terry and pulled her into the house. When the door was closed and locked behind them, he pulled her into his arms and simply held her, enjoying the feel of her cold, wet body plastered against his.

  "What were you doing out there?"

  "I couldn't stand it in here anymore," she admitted, holding on to him with a grip as strong as his own. "It felt so … empty in here. So quiet."

  He laughed shortly and lifted his head, hearing the wind, the rain and the low-pitched voice of the weatherman on the television. "Quiet?"

  She looked up at him and blew out a long breath. "I felt … alone. And I couldn't take it anymore."

  "You're not alone now," he pointed out.

  "No." She smiled. "And boy am I glad to see you."

  He shifted one hand to touch her cheek, sliding his fingertips across her smooth, pale skin. "Same here."

  Her hands moved, from his back to his front, skimming up the front of his now soaking wet T-shirt. Yet, he felt the heat of her touch right down to his bones.

  "You were gone a long time."

  He sucked in air. "The lost fisherman wasn't easy to find."

  "But you did."

  "Yeah." He slid one hand along her spine, noted her shiver and moved his hand lower, lower, until he could caress the curve of her behind. His gaze searched hers, for what, he wasn't sure. "J.T flew all over the damn place. Monk and I were hanging out the hatch and Monk spotted the guy's orange vest."

  She inhaled sharply as his hand on her behind pulled her tight against him. Licking her lips, she closed her eyes briefly and whispered, "So he's okay?"

  "Yeah. Ungrateful bastard, though." Aidan smiled. "Already talking about suing the charter boat captain and maybe us."

  "For what?" she asked, clearly stunned.

  "He wrenched his neck climbing into the rescue basket."

  "Idiot."r />
  "That about covers it." He moved his hand again, this time to the waistband of her shorts. Then he dipped beneath the fabric and scraped his palm over her damp, chilled skin. He sucked in air. "You didn't put your underwear back on?"

  She shook her head and closed her eyes again as his fingers kneaded the soft flesh of her behind. "Forgot about it. Got busy … ohhh…"

  "You're killing me again."

  She smiled lazily. "I don't think so."

  He cupped the back of her head with his free hand and threading his fingers through her hair, tipped her face up to his. He bent and gave her a kiss. And another. "I have a feeling this is going somewhere."

  "Feels like it to me, too," she managed to say and then swallowed hard.

  "So before we get started, you should know I already boarded up the store."

  "Oh, good. Thank you."

  He grinned quickly. "No arguments? No 'you should have taken me with you'?"

  "Nope," she murmured.

  The wind howled again, and the front door rattled loudly as if trying to hold its own against a ravening beast fighting to gain entry.

  "We're trapped here, you know. Can't leave in this."

  She opened her eyes and looked up at him. "Who wants to leave?"

  "Not me, babe."

  "You've got to stop calling me 'babe.'"

  He grinned again. "I'll work on it. Later."

  "Oh, yeah. Later."

  Swooping in, he took her mouth with his and showed her just how much he wanted her. How much he'd been thinking of her. How thoughts of her had been haunting him throughout the day.

  She opened her mouth to his and when her tongue met his, Aidan sucked in air like a dying man hoping for just another minute or two of life. He tasted her, explored every inch of her warmth, drawing her heat into himself and holding it close, letting it feed the fires licking at his insides. This.

  This is what had kept him going through the long, hard day. The promise of touching her, exploring her, having her beneath him, over him.

  His hand on her butt tightened, squeezing, and she moaned into his mouth, squirming closer to him, brushing her hardened nipples against his chest until Aidan was sure she'd left an imprint on his skin right through his shirt.

  "Flat surface," he muttered, tearing his mouth from hers.

  "Now," she agreed and stepped out of his embrace. Taking his hand, she led him on a quick march through the living room to the hallway and the bedrooms beyond.

  Aidan had been in Donna's house before. He knew the layout and he knew when Terry made a right turn, they were headed for the master bedroom. He grabbed her up, unwilling to wait another moment before touching her, feeling her.

  She yelped in surprise, then settled against him, running her hands beneath the collar of his T-shirt, splaying her palms against his shoulders, his back. Heat. Incredible heat, speared through him, nearly stopping him in his tracks.

  He dropped his head to hers and kissed her again, hungrily, desperately, a man on the edge and ready to jump feetfirst into the abyss.

  Then they were in the bedroom and Terry leaned down from her perch in his arms to grab the edge of the handmade quilt covering the mattress and toss it to the foot of the bed. Lacy pillowcases covered the, plump pillows and fresh white sheets looked like heaven, even in the gloom.

  With the windows boarded up, the room was like a cave, dimly lit, sheltered, tucked away from the storm-tossed world outside.

  An island of seclusion.

  "Turn on a light," he murmured, swinging her down onto her own two feet. "I want to see you."

  A long breath shuddered into her lungs, but she nodded as she crossed the room to turn on a small desk light covered by a Tiffany style lampshade. Pale, ghostly colors danced suddenly around the room, gleaming through the stained-glass shade.

  Terry just stared at him. There was no turning back now. And maybe there never had been. Maybe they'd been destined to reach this moment from the instant they'd met. Hadn't she been drawn to him, in spite of her best efforts? Hadn't she felt the magic of his touch in quick, near electrical jolts of awareness every time he was near?

  Hadn't she spent the last several hours remembering that incredible orgasm he'd given her and wanting more?

  While he watched her, she took another steadying breath and quietly, soundlessly, lifted the hem of her dark green shirt up and over her head. He sucked in a breath and she felt his hungry gaze fasten on her breasts, still hidden from him behind then shield of lace.

  Slowly, teasingly, daringly, she lifted her hands to the front closure and snapped it open. Then she shrugged out of the lacy fabric and let it fall to the floor behind her.

  "Terry…"

  She threw her shoulders back and with his gaze locked on her every move, slowly undid the button and zipper of her wet shorts. Then she let them go and they slid down her legs to puddle at her feet.

  "If I don't have you in the next couple of minutes," he said, his voice a rumble of sound lower, more demanding and insistent than the thunder outside, "I swear I'm a dead man."

  She smiled, feeling a rush of feminine power swamp her, rushing through her blood, making her limbs tremble and her brain shut down. "You're wearing too many clothes again."

  He gave her a quick smile that sent a bolt of something delicious straight down to the core of her.

  "Guess I am." In seconds, he'd peeled off his shirt, unhooked his jeans and shucked them and his shoes and socks. He let her look her fill, just as he had.

  And Terry wanted to whistle.

  She'd never seen a more gorgeous man in her life. Every inch of him was tanned to a golden-brown and every muscle rippling across his arms and chest and abdomen were sharply defined. And as for the rest of him, his…

  "Oh, my."

  He grinned and stalked toward her, grabbing her tightly to him, pressing her naked body along the length of his. Hard to soft, heat to heat. She felt the hard, jutting strength of him poking at her and everything inside her went to damp neediness. Her breasts crushed against his chest, her nipples tingled in anticipation even as he took her mouth with his, tangling his tongue with her, tasting, taking, giving.

  Her mind whirled.

  Her blood raced.

  Her body quickened as it had only hours ago, only this time, it was more. More, because she'd had a part of him and wanted all of him.

  "Fill me," she murmured, breaking the kiss and nibbling at his neck. "Fill me completely."

  Thunder rolled, rain pounded and the wind groaned. The house shimmied, boarded windows rattled and the world seemed to take a breath.

  Then he lifted her, as if she weighed nothing. Two big hands at her hips and she was airborne, clutching at his shoulders for balance, looking down into his hungry eyes. She read the passion, the untamed fury and felt a matching need rise in her. His strength cradled her as he lowered her slowly onto the hardened length of him.

  "Aidan…" she whispered his name as he entered her, pushing into her depths with a steady determination. Her damp heat welcomed him, and her body adjusted, making room, taking him deeper.

  She locked her legs around his middle and leaned back, trusting his strength, letting her head fall and her hair swing wild and wet from her head in a dripping blond curtain.

  "Deeper," she crooned, using her legs, hooked over his hips, to pull him closer. "Deeper, Aidan. I need to feel all of you."

  An inferno of need rose up around them, trapping them, drawing them both deeper into the gaping canyon of desire.

  He dipped his head to take one of her nipples into his mouth and as his lips and tongue and teeth worked the sensitive tip, a moan slipped from Terry that left her whimpering in its wake.

  Every inch of her felt alive, tingling, desperate. When he suckled her, she felt the drawing power of him clear to her toes and still, it wasn't enough.

  Aidan heard that moan and it triggered something inside him that pushed him over the brink of control into the whirlwind of passion. He'd never
known need so fierce, so all consuming.

  Never tasted passion tinged with desperation.

  Never felt anything like this woman he held so intimately.

  He tightened his grip on her hips and pulled her down harder onto his length, pushing the whole of him into her depths, savoring the feel of being surrounded by her heat. Lifting his head, he took pleasure in watching the play of emotions on her face. Watching her teeth bite into her full bottom lip. Hearing the whispered breaths and edgy sighs.

  Arms straining, muscles screaming, he used every ounce of his strength to set a rhythm designed to drive them both wild. He watched the play of emerald, green and gold light dazzle her pale, creamy skin and lost himself in the wonder of the moment. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders and she lifted her hips in his grasp and then lowered herself onto him again, grinding her body against his as if she couldn't take him deep enough. Hold him tight enough.

  His brain short-circuited.

  His heart hammered in his chest.

  His mouth went dry and his vision blurred until Terry was his whole world. The universe, wrapped up in pale, jewel toned light, sighing, writhing, moaning.

  "It's … coming … Aidan…" Whispered, broken words, trembling from her lips as she twisted on him, like a live butterfly on a pin.

  "Let it come, Terry," he murmured, tightening his grasp on her hips, plunging himself deeper, higher, inside her. "There'll be another one. Let this one come."

  She lifted her head and looked at him through glassy eyes. "Come with me," she ordered, licking her lips, breath coming in short, hard gasps.

  Then linking one arm around his neck, she stretched out her other hand, reached beneath the spot where their bodies joined and cupped him, her fingers exploring, rubbing, stroking.

  Lights exploded behind his eyes.

  Aidan held her tight.

  He heard her groan.

  Felt her body implode.

  And finally allowed his to follow.

  * * *

  Nine

  « ^ »

  Outside, Mother Nature shrieked.

  Inside, Mother Nature celebrated.

  Even before the last of the tremors had eased from him, Aidan wanted Terry again, with, if possible, a deeper need than before.