Crank

by Shauna Allen

  “Yes, I think I am,” I said, ashamed beyond words.

  Just as I was about to crumble, her arms wound around me from behind, her chest pressed to my back, her cheek resting on my shoulder blade. “You’re a lot of things, Blake, but a monster isn’t one of them. But I can’t believe that for you. That’s something you’ll have to figure out for yourself.”

  Warmth and understanding emanated from her touch and I loved her all the more for it.

  When I told her so, I felt her nod against my back, but she didn’t say anything. I gripped both of her hands in mine desperately. “Just gimme the day. Please.”

  “Sure,” she finally murmured and I’d swear her lips pressed to my spine. She drew away and took a step from me, and I felt colder without her. “I’ll go get dressed.”

  I nodded and rubbed a brisk hand over my face. My beard was getting full and I needed a trim. I grabbed a quick shower and shave then dressed and made sure Chevy had a cat treat and a full water bowl. I toyed with the idea of calling Mr. Henry and telling him about the car, but decided another day wouldn’t hurt anything. What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, and who knew, maybe the cops would find the Spyder safe and sound. I could dream.

  I found Delilah in the bedroom, bundled into jeans and a turtleneck layered with a soft deep green sweater and some hiking boots. She glanced up from the glass of water she was nursing and gave me a classic sweet Princess smile. She’d always had a way with that mouth.

  “Ready?”

  She nodded and we stepped out after she grabbed her purse.

  The drive was quiet and I tried not to find our silence awkward. We’d always been able to say nothing, but still know what was ticking through the other’s head. But today, I had no clue what she was thinking. What she needed.

  At the coast, I found a parking spot near a quiet strip of beach and we hopped out. She let me grab her hand as we strode toward the waves, the whipping December breeze ripping through her hair and stinging our cheeks. I ducked my head and led her toward the pier where we’d have some reprieve from the wind. Once there, I tucked her under my arm and we faced the restless ocean.

  “Have you thought of any names for the baby yet?”

  Her head snapped around until her eyes met mine. “Is that what you really want to talk about?”

  I shrugged. “Why not?”

  She turned back to the waves. “It’s early.”

  “Yeah, I know. But everything is going good this time, right?”

  She said nothing and I contemplated what she must be feeling. I knew the loss of a child for a mother was different than a father. I’d hurt every time she miscarried, but I knew I didn’t carry the pain she did. I pressed a kiss to her temple. “I just figured we’d find something to look forward to together. I know there’ll never be another Luke.”

  At the mention of our first baby’s name, she wilted into my arms. I was glad now that we hadn’t named the other two. It would’ve just been too much.

  “I’m sorry, babe. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just thought—”

  “I know. Don’t apologize. You’re right, we should talk about stuff like that.” Her breath fanned across my neck as we held each other tighter. After a few moments, she said softly, “I was thinking maybe Joshua if it’s a boy?”

  I mulled that over. “Joshua, huh? I like it. What if it’s a girl?”

  She peered up at me. “What about Molly?”

  My heart came to a quick halt at the sound of my mother’s name. I swallowed back the thickness in my throat. “Really?”

  “Really. It’s a nice name and I know how much you love her.”

  I tipped my head so our foreheads were touching. “I do. But not as much as I love you, Princess.”

  Delilah

  Blake had my head absolutely spinning. First, he had me convinced our relationship was dead, then the old Blake I knew so long ago made a rare appearance, begging for another shot.

  . . . not as much as I love you, Princess . . .

  I knew he loved me, deep down. But not that much. When he’d pressed me for baby names and I finally told him the ones that had been on my mind, I could feel the start of something healing between us. And I felt horrible that I’d filed those divorce papers.

  There, as the salty wind whipped around us, I clutched him closer and pressed my face to his chest. I couldn’t say anything; my entire body was overcome. Yes, I was confused as hell, but Blake had always been my anchor. My safe spot. I’d been a ship adrift without him these past weeks. Heck, these past years. Could we find our way to each other again?

  “Wanna walk?” he asked. “Or is it too cold?”

  I shook my head and peered up at him. “No, it’s okay. Let’s walk a little.”

  Nodding, he interlaced our fingers and led me away from the cover of the pier. The wind had died down a little so the pound of the waves was the loudest sound around us. Ahead, in the compact sand, two seagulls snacked on some scraps people had left behind.

  “So,” I hated to bring it up, but . . . “what happens now? After the car, I mean.”

  He kept walking without missing a beat, but his jaw tightened as his gaze tracked to the sand just in front of our feet. “I don’t know. I have a call into my insurance company, but I have no idea what will happen.”

  I squeezed his fingers reassuringly. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. That’s what insurance is for, right?”

  “Yeah. I guess.”

  He kicked a clump of seaweed out of our way as we moved along, the cold air turning my nose into an icicle. I ducked my head to avoid the breeze.

  “So, what do you wanna do for Christmas?” he asked quietly.

  I was suddenly bombarded with visions of Christmases past. The one when he got me the pair of ruby earrings, presenting them to me in bed. The one three years ago when there was a freakish snowstorm in Texas and we went out to the yard in our pajamas and stood under the flurries in awe. I was pregnant then but we hadn’t known yet. I lost that baby a few weeks later.

  “I don’t care. Something quiet is fine with me.”

  He nodded. “I promised Trace I’d pop over to his house on Christmas Eve to play Santa for Ryder again. I think Jesse and Micah will be there. Maybe a few other people. Want to go with me?”

  “Sure.”

  “You can invite Rachel, if she’s home,” he offered. “Ryder has fun with her when she’s around, and Trace has hinted he’s having some issues at school. Acting out or whatever.”

  It probably had something to do with his mother, who hadn’t bothered to stick around and raise her own child. As much as we’d struggled to have a baby, I could not fathom just walking away. Ever. Ryder was a sweet kid, but I had no doubt he was confused right now. And Blake was right. He and Rachel always had fun . . . probably because she got on the floor with him and acted like a big kid herself.

  “I’m not sure when she’s getting home.”

  He paused and gripped my chin, tipping my face up to his. Something fragile was shining in his eyes. “You doing okay, Princess? I know how hard this has to be for you. You loved her dad, too, right?”

  I swallowed and nodded, bombarded by at least a dozen memories of our growing up years, before he’d moved away to Wyoming. Piggyback rides. Science projects. Trips to the drive-in movie theater. He’d been the quintessential perfect dad.

  “Yes, he was great. Like really great.” I laughed and told Blake about the time Mr. Chaseman had let us put a dress and makeup on him then parade him around in front of the neighbors. “I loved him, but I’m ten times sadder for Rachel.”

  “I know, baby.” He tucked me tight into his embrace and kissed the tip of my nose. After a while, he asked, “Ready to eat?”

  As if on cue, my stomach grumbled and he grinned. “I guess that’s a yes. Come on.” He led me back down the beach and thankfully the wind rushed at our backs, urging us on to the car.

  Tucked back into the Camaro, I blew heat into my cold fingers as Blake started t
he engine and we backed out. We chatted on the short drive about nothing and everything. It was nice. My mind forgot the crap swirling around us and our marriage, and I was able to just enjoy being with him. Like I used to.

  We parked at the little hole in the wall seafood restaurant we’d found on another beach trip ages ago, a laugh still fresh on my lips. He was grinning at me and, overcome, I lifted a hand to cup his bearded cheek, the stubble rough against my fingers.

  The smile died from his mouth as he studied me like a dream that might vanish at any moment. Shifting his head, he pressed a kiss to my palm.

  I opened my mouth to say something, but he shook his head. “Don’t.” He leaned across the center console, his dark eyes piercing mine. “Please don’t.”

  His gaze dipped to my lips and I licked them automatically. “Don’t what?” I whispered as he inched closer, his warm breath rushing across my chin.

  “Don’t ruin this.” He ducked his head and touched his lips to mine. Briefly. Sweetly. “Just let it be what it is. For today.” He kissed me again. “I love you so much, Delilah. I always have. Always will.”

  His fingers were suddenly spread through my hair, cupping my head, and I was lost in him. His scent, his eyes, his words. All of him.

  I sucked in a breath, overcome, and kissed him back. Familiar heat simmered between us as I grabbed at his shoulders and pulled myself closer. Our tongues danced and twisted as we tasted each other, our kiss reaching near violence. We just couldn’t get enough. Not nearly enough.

  He finally drew back, the car filled with our ragged breathing. “We need to stop this or I’ll be taking you in the backseat just like high school.”

  “Why don’t you?” I asked before thinking.

  His eyes widened and he tilted his head. “Do you really want that, Princess?”

  I sucked in a couple of breaths, feeling them saw in and out of my lungs. I forked a hand through my hair and shook my head as reason sunk back in. “No. You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry, baby. I’m glad we’re getting back to something good in our relationship. This is as good a place to start as any.”

  A small smile toyed with my lips. He was absolutely right. We may not get anything else right, but we definitely had the sex down.

  I peered back at him, but he was already opening his door. “Let’s go, baby.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. He was letting me off the hook. For now.

  After stuffing me with grilled Mahi Mahi and a side of shrimp, Blake took me home. We were quiet on the drive back, but honestly, I was too full to care about much besides getting to my bed.

  He sat in the driveway, the engine idling. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

  I faced him, a frown building. “Aren’t you coming in?”

  “No. I’ve got some stuff to take care of at the shop. I’ll be home later.”

  I stared at him, fighting the hurt and disappointment. I shouldn’t have been surprised though. This was typical. He’d say whatever he thought I wanted to hear, woo me, light my body on fire, then go back to what was really important.

  I waited another beat then shoved the door open. “Yeah. See ya.”

  Just as I was about to slam the door closed, he leaned over and caught my eyes. “Wait.”

  I said nothing, but I didn’t move either.

  “Are you pissed?”

  I fought the urge to roll my eyes. “Gee, why would I be pissed?”

  Confusion rolled across his features then he sighed as he seemed to figure it out. “Dee . . . the insurance guy texted me while we were at dinner. I have to go take care of some papers for the claim. It’s time sensitive and the adjuster is about to go out of town for the holidays. I’d rather be with you, babe. You know that.”

  “Do I?” I hated that I sounded like a whiney child, but I couldn’t help myself. I was hormonal and worked up. It was confusing as hell.

  He turned away and next thing I knew, he was around the hood and in my face. “Delilah Travers. You’re my wife and I love you. Yes, I’d much rather be here, making love to you in our warm bed, than taking care of fucking paperwork. If you doubt that, we have a lot more work to do than I thought.”

  My eyes darted to the ground, embarrassed. I’d never thought of myself as needy, but apparently I was. “Sorry. Just go. I’ll be fine.”

  “Don’t be sorry. Just be waiting for me when I get back.”

  I blinked up at him, afraid to believe he’d really changed. That I wouldn’t fall asleep waiting on him like a thousand times before. My heart got tangled up in my chest staring at him. He seemed serious. “Okay.”

  That wickedly playful grin of his flitted across his lips. “Okay.” He leaned in and kissed me again, a kiss full of promise. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  I believed him. Stupid, maybe. But I believed him as I watched him drive away, as I went inside and cranked on the heater and fed Chevy, who only tolerated me because I was filling his food bowl. I kept believing as I took a long bath, made myself a cup of hot chocolate. I even believed him as I began to drift to sleep in front of the romantic comedy on the TV.

  About midnight, I was starting to lose faith.

  Until I heard the click of his key in the lock.

  Blake

  I let myself into the house as quietly as I could, hating that between the reams of paperwork the insurance guy wanted, and a few other issues at the garage that required my attention, I’d been gone for nearly four hours. If she was pissed before, she was probably furious now.

  I shrugged out of my leather jacket and hung it on the peg by the door, listening for her. Well, my shit wasn’t out on the lawn or packed by the front door. Guess that was a good sign.

  I toed off my boots and padded down the hall to our room. It felt empty. Her scent wasn’t even in the air. Concerned, I flipped on the light. Our bed was empty. She was gone. Again.

  Fuck.

  I’d really blown it this time. And I had no idea how to fix it.

  Double fuck me standing.

  I raked a hand over my head and down to clasp the back of my neck. I had no idea what . . .

  “Did you get everything taken care of?”

  I spun around at her sleep-laced voice and took her in, standing in the doorway, her hair tousled, eyes heavy-lidded and dark as sapphires, pink cheeks, and my favorite pajamas—barely there white boy shorts and a tight tank top. She looked like the sexiest angel in the world.

  “I . . .” I glanced back at the bed. “Where were you? I thought you’d left.”

  Her brows furrowed. “No.”

  I stuffed my hands in my jeans. “I’m sorry it took so long, baby. There were more details than I anticipated, and then—”

  “Yeah, okay, whatever,” she interrupted as she rushed me and snaked her arms around my waist and pressed her ear to my chest. “I think it’s always going to be more complicated than we anticipate, but we’ll figure it out.”

  I knew she wasn’t talking about work or papers and relief poured through me that she got it. I hugged her to me and peered at the bedside clock, which read 12:13 a.m. “It’s officially Christmas Eve.”

  She nodded and ran her nose back and forth across my pecs, her fingertips tracing her name inked on my arm. My body burst to life as every bit of her soft, curvy body pressed against mine.

  I kissed the top of her head, wondering where she was mentally. The last thing I wanted was to push her away. Her face caressed my chest again, her hot breath soaking through my T-shirt. I traced the outline of her shoulder and laid an open-mouthed kiss where it met her neck.

  She hissed in a breath.

  Then her little hands slid from my back to the button of my jeans. I stood still, letting her take the lead on this as I continued to dot soft kisses along her throat and shoulder, her temple, lips. Exquisitely slow, she undressed me then stood back, her eyes on mine as she drew her tank top off then wiggled out of her shorts.

  We stood face-to-face, naked, stari
ng, and I suddenly realized why she was the most beautiful, perfect woman in the world. Her pure heart and soul shone in those painfully blue eyes, and they were full of love. For me.

  I did not deserve this.

  She must’ve sensed my turmoil, because she pressed herself against me again, so we were skin-to-skin, our body heat twining. “Please,” she whispered.

  For all the money in the world, every shred of pride, I couldn’t turn her down. I would never.

  I reached behind me and flipped the light switch, bathing us in moonlight. I ran my hands from the flare of her naked breasts, past her stomach and waist, to cup her hips.

  She kissed the hollow of my throat and I moved forward, making her step backward, until I had her at the bed. “Lie down,” I said, my voice gravelly and laced with emotion, I realized.

  With no hesitation, she toppled onto the bed and stared up at me in the near darkness, her eyes twinkling.

  “Merry Christmas, baby.” I leaned down and took her lips in a sizzling kiss.

  Her arms wound around my neck as she yanked me to her. Her body was all velvety fire and I could feel myself getting drunk on her. I took great gulps of her neck, her chest. Took a nipple into my mouth and suckled.

  Her back bowed off the bed and she groaned. “Oh, God . . .”

  As I lavished one breast, then the other, she grasped my skull and held me to her, begging for more. I licked the space between her breasts and tasted her musky sweetness. Then I pressed lower, tracing her belly button with the tip of my tongue. I made my way down to her inner thighs, a greedy, possessive mantra pounding my brain.

  Mine, mine, mine. She was mine. Forever.

  She was squirming beneath me by the time my lips found her, wet and ready and tasting like absolute fucking Heaven. I slid my tongue up and down, relishing her sweetness and working her with my lips like I knew she loved. She was mewling like a cat in heat, clawing at my back, begging me in throaty whispers to do something.

  So I did.

  I held her thighs down and opened my mouth to take her in, lashing her with my tongue, kissing, sucking, and generally driving her insane.