Sheltering Annie

by Lauren Giordano

  "What about our nightlight?" Tommy called after her, when Annie turned to leave.

  In all the excitement, she'd forgotten. "It's in my bag." When Henry touched her arm, indicating she should wait, she hesitated by the door.

  "How about this one, instead?" He switched on the lamp, filling the room with a wash of reassuring light.

  "Cool." Tommy's droopy eyes widened. "That's better than ours." He settled into his pillow with a relaxed sigh. "G'night."

  "Night, Mommy an' Hank." Jason's slurred voice indicated he was moments from sleep.

  Carefully shutting the door, Henry left it open a crack. Enough for Bo to nudge his way through if he got the urge to wander. In the kitchen, Annie discovered a glass of wine waiting for her on the island.

  Her heart lurching to her throat, she glanced over her shoulder. "Thank you."

  "Let's go out on the deck," he suggested. "The stars will be amazing on a clear night like this."

  Annie breathed deeply of the scented spring night as he led her to the railing. When she shivered, he came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

  "Are you cold, sweet?"

  "Not with you here." With a luxurious sigh, she leaned back against him, loving the solid weight of him behind her. "I wish we could stay right here forever." In a glorious bubble. His beautiful home. His land. Goats bleating their goodnights. Her boys fast asleep in a bed down the hall. His body cradling hers. His presence reassuring.

  "You can, love." When his mouth drifted to the nape of her neck, she inhaled sharply, suddenly unsteady on her feet. "I've wanted to taste this exact spot . . . for about six weeks." He nuzzled the nape of her neck, sending shivers of heat across her hyper sensitized body. "You smell so incredible."

  Her hands unsteady, she set the wineglass on the railing, afraid she might drop it. Afraid it would shatter into a thousand pieces. As her heart was. After so many years on guard, it was thawing. Cracking. Heating to the point it would soon be an inferno, bursting from her chest.

  She turned in his arms, seeking his kiss. Needing his mouth on hers. He met her halfway. His sturdy hands sliding to her hips, he tugged her closer, capturing the panting breaths shuddering between her lips. "Henry, I need you."

  Needed him. Wanted him. Loved him. All weaving together to muddle her brain. Growing increasingly harder to separate . . .

  Chapter 14

  "Honey, I want you like crazy. . ." Hell, he was mad for wanting her. Hank stared down into passion-drugged eyes. Waiting all day had nearly killed him. Knowing he would have her. Praying the hours would go faster. Yet, wanting desperately to slow their time together. He'd wanted the day to last forever . . . but the night to get there quick.

  Her smile was encouraging. "But?"

  "But, I want to be sure . . . you're sure." Hank swallowed around his urgency. What the hell was he thinking? When her eyes flashed with worry, he paused. "I want you . . . to feel safe with me."

  "I've never felt so safe with anyone," she admitted.

  Her words warmed him, the streamer of heat invading his chest, wrapping around his heart. Binding it. "I'm incredibly glad of that, Annie because I-" Love you. "Care about you. I care about the boys."

  When her lips brushed his throat, he shuddered. "I'm sure," she whispered, a smile on her lips. "I've never been more sure about anything."

  Hank had never felt so alive as he did in that moment. With this woman. A beautiful, golden-eyed wonder, whose very presence made him grateful to be alive. The night air surrounding them, crickets and tree frogs filling the night with their comforting sound. "I don't want to rush you-" He swallowed hard, his voice nearly hoarse with his desire.

  "Remember what we agreed?" Annie threaded her fingers into his hair, tugging him closer. The glorious sensation crawled down his back. "How about just for tonight, we throw caution to the wind."

  He smiled down at her, his heart beginning to thunder. "You mean . . . seize the moment?"

  Her delighted laugh floated away on the breeze. "Exactly." She leaned up on her toes to kiss him, stunning the breath from him. "After hiking through your woods, I need a quick shower. How about I meet you in the living room in ten minutes?"

  Hank pulled her against him, careful not to frighten her with the need surging inside him. She'd been hurt before. Be gentle, his frantic brain reminded, attempting to override his aching cock. He wanted to see her. He wanted to memorize her beautiful, naked body. To drink in her curves and lush hollows. To taste her. To hear her moan. To hold her close to him as she slept. "Ten minutes," he promised.

  After she left, Hank leaned on the deck railing, staring out at the stars. He wanted—new memories. "Nothing against you, love," he muttered, staring up the hill to the dark, shadowed glen at the top of the rise. It no longer hurt to admit he wanted to imprint over his last memories of Gayle. Of his beloved wife wasting away. Of skin drawn too tight over brittle, fragile bones. Of her chemo-ravaged body. He wanted to erase from his mind the unending heartbreak of realizing he was losing his wife. His partner. His best friend.

  At the end of Gayle's life, sex had become more about comfort. His wife had wanted to feel like a woman, instead of the human pincushion she'd become. Her beautiful, strong body had gradually withered away. She'd pleaded for sensation—to feel him inside her. To close her eyes and return to the vibrant, beautiful woman he'd fallen for two decades earlier. The goddess, whose golden curves had damn near stopped his heart the day he'd bumped into her on the beach.

  At the end of her life, Hank had needed comfort, too. He'd wanted her warm thigh pressed to his in the too big bed, as he tried not to think of the day she would no longer be lying beside him. Making love with her had become an act of kindness. Hope. Prayer—that the woman he loved more than life wouldn't be taken from him.

  Tonight with Annie, he wanted to forget the rage he'd felt. The frustration of a man who'd survived nine dangerous tours in a war zone. Only to return home to the greatest suffering he'd ever witnessed. The love of his life—dying. There was no enemy he could fight on her behalf. No hostile fire he could draw his way—allowing her to reach safety.

  He wanted to forget the nights he would leave Gayle. After gently making love to her thin, frail body, she would sleep, her rasping breath almost comforting in its sameness. Each tortured breath reassured Hank she was still with him. She hadn't left him—yet. But, his anger sometimes became too much. Slipping out of bed, his chest heaving, he would sit on the deck for endless hours. Alone in the dark, Bo by his side as he lost the battle with overwhelming anguish. Some nights, he cried for everything he was losing. Others, he spent railing at God over the unfairness. Damn it, he'd believed. If someone had to die, it was supposed to have been him. Not his precious Gayle.

  Tonight, Bo wasn't by his side as he stood on the deck contemplating his life. Hank smiled, thinking of his buddy, slumbering peacefully on the floor next to the boys. Even for his old lab, change was still possible. New adventures were possible. "For this old dog, too."

  After locking the doors, he turned down the lights, moving through the house until he reached the living room. Annie was still in his shower. The sound of it raining down on her naked body made his quicken with anticipation.

  A few minutes later, he heard her. His heart thudding like a locomotive, he turned to watch her cross the room. Her long shirt made him smile. "I see you found my closet."

  "I hope you don't mind." She joined him on the couch, her body swimming in his too large shirt. "I like that it smells like you."

  He swallowed hard as her fragrance invaded his senses. As long, bare legs folded under her, disappearing under the tail of his shirt. "You smell like a dream."

  Annie snuggled next to him on the couch. "Where were we?"

  He smiled over her boldness, at what it likely cost to set her worries aside. "I think . . . I was about to kiss the heck out of you." His words trailed along her jaw as he planted his mouth there. He absorbed her breathy gasp, drawing it into himself a
s he would oxygen.

  "Henry-" She tilted her head to allow him better access. "Touch me."

  Her soft, scented skin beckoned him closer, to the shadowed hollow of her delicate throat. To the fragrant spot that had driven him damn near crazy for the last two months. To the exact location that had kept him awake several nights in a row. Hard. Hot. Wanting her. Wondering how that specific freckle would taste. He pressed his tongue there and felt her jerk against him.

  "Easy, Miz McKenna," he drawled, loving her reaction. His heart thudded with the knowledge that the next several hours would likely be the best he'd experienced in several years. "Y'all are movin' a mite too fast."

  She groaned. And nipped his ear, sending a rush of sweetness trailing down his spine. Before moving to his mouth, where she nibbled and bit and tugged at his lips. "And y'all aren't moving fast enough. It's been forever-"

  Her voice muffled in the roar in his head, like words lost to the wind. As she sealed her mouth to his. As her roving hands set his body on fire. Heart thundering, Hank forgot all about going slow. As she sank into the kiss, he groaned. "Maybe we should-"

  Her tongue tangling with his, she murmured her agreement when he lifted her in his arms and staggered up from the couch.

  Annie stopped kissing him long enough to smile. "Mr. Freeman, I think you should show me to your room, now."

  Hank remembered to kick the door closed behind him, praying the boys wouldn't come looking for her. Praying there would be no urgently needed glasses of water. No bad dreams that needed comforting. Still holding her in his arms, he set her gently on the bed.

  "Let's get this off." She plucked at the buttons on his shirt.

  "Annie, love-" His heart pounding out of his chest, he stopped her hands. "Are you sure?" His question came out on a rasp, his mind barely able to focus on anything other than the lush, beautiful woman in his arms. He cursed his stupidity. Why? Why would he turn down sex? With the woman he was crazy as hell for? His cock berated him. Hard. Heavy. Needy. But—she had to agree. He had to be sure. Because of her past—he wanted to be a thousand percent certain.

  "We promised." Her voice sounded cross in the dimly lit room.

  Hank left her to open the blinds. He wanted to see her beautiful body bathed in full moon pouring through the window. "Promised?"

  "To seize the day. To seize me." Her annoyed whisper made him smile. "Damn you, Henry. I can see you smiling."

  She turned to him, pulling her shirt over her head. Hank chuckled when she tossed it at his head. Until he got a good look at her. Then—it was like a mortar round straight to his chest. Drenched in moonlight. She was breathtaking. Beautiful. She was every possible word in the entire dictionary for hell-and-gone gorgeous. "Sweet mercy-"

  Full, round breasts he couldn't wait to touch. The curve of a gorgeous, silky hip. Legs that-His brain grew jumbled as his blood caught fire. Hank could hear his own rasping breath as he stared at her. "You've given me a great deal to smile about."

  "Get over here and seize the day."

  He crossed the room, returning to the bedside. "Come here, sweet."

  On her knees, she crossed the mattress to join him. Without taking his gaze from her, he unbuttoned his shirt enough to jerk it over his head. He couldn't handle more buttons. Any fine motor skills he'd possessed were eroding faster than his brain cells. Her beautiful mouth parted to release a panting breath, her stare nearly burning him as he fumbled with his jeans. She was burning hot. For him.

  "Hurry."

  Finally free of his clothes, he reached for her, smiling when Annie swayed into his chest. At the slide of warm, silken skin against his, they both moaned. Her breasts felt unbelievably full and round against his chest. Hank couldn't stop himself from kissing her. She opened for him, her mouth warm, her tongue tangling with his, her taste—of tart, early strawberries from his garden and mint—was addictive. Restless for more, he stroked her breasts, filling his hands with them. Grazing her tightened nipples, he swallowed her moan.

  Hank was slowly dying. His knees nearly buckling against the onslaught of sensation, he tore his mouth from hers. Both of them breathing too fast. Annie tugged him down on the bed, pulling him down for a long, wet kiss that left his thoughts scrambling for cover. In his ears, the whistle of an incoming round. There was about to be an explosion. A blast that would destroy everything in it's path.

  Annie was like something out of a dream, he thought hazily. Yet, she was unbelievably real. He lowered his head to her breast, his mouth closing around the tightened bud. His laughter fanned her breast when she clapped a hand to her mouth to muffle her cry. Tugging gently, he smiled when she thrashed against his sheets.

  "Oh, God . . . Henry. Don't stop." Hands clutching his head, she dragged her nails through his hair sending pleasure crawling over him.

  Staring down at her, Hank drank in her beauty. Long hair on his pillow, damp and smelling like a garden. Her creamy skin. Her beautiful, shadowed eyes, staring at him, already glazed with passion. He'd lived so long without—this. Without touch. Without sensation. Without warmth. His existence barren. Spartan. But tonight, with this woman, was like a dream. Tonight, he would leave behind the gray, shadowed world he'd wandered the last four years. "Tell me what you want, darlin'"

  She shuddered beneath him, his voice seeming to make her breath come quicker. "I want—you"

  I could make her come, he thought lazily, surprised he could still think at all. Likely with a single stroke. He was hot. Hard. Pressed against her. Unfortunately, that's about all it would take for him, too. Desperate to remember any of what he'd read, Hank summoned a single word. Control. Abuse victims liked to have it. Sometimes—needed it. Despite Annie's signals that she was enjoying everything, he wanted to be sure. Tonight, she would take the lead. "Tell me what you need."

  "Touch me," she ordered. Her head twisted to the side, exposing her soft, fragrant throat. He lavished a kiss on the side of her neck. "I want you to make love to me," she whispered, her voice slightly embarrassed.

  Still resting on his elbows, Hank stared down into flashing eyes. "Tell me how, sweet. Tell me how to love this beautiful body."

  "Damn it, Hank." She reached between them. When she found him, he groaned. Dropping his head to her chest, he panted, praying for discipline. Her fingers wrapped around him. "I'm seizing you, okay?"

  Though he'd never experienced a more exquisite torture than the unbearable wait to end a horrifically long dry spell, her capable hand around his cock was causing a fast approach to the end of his fraying rope. "I'm trying to do the right thing," he confessed, his voice hoarse with the effort not to forget everything and just sink into her. "But, you're making it pretty hard."

  She stroked him again. "I think you're hard enough-"

  A groan spilling from his lips, he smothered his laughter. How had things gone so far astray? "I meant—letting you choose, love. I read-"

  Her hand stilled, warm around him. Filling his head with hazy, erotic thoughts. "What did you read, Henry?" Her voice was suddenly curious in the dark.

  He throbbed against her hand, the pain and pleasure so intense, he wasn't sure he could bear it. "That you . . ." He swallowed around the pain. "Need to be in charge."

  She stilled against him. "You did that—for me? You . . . read about-"

  "I want to make sure I . . . do the right thing." His jaw clenched tight to keep from groaning, he gently kissed her lips. "If there's something I shouldn't do-" Suddenly, Annie was blinking back tears. And Hank was lost. To her beauty. Her pain that was quickly becoming his own.

  "I want this to be good for you." He kissed them, tasting salt. "Sweet—don't cry."

  "Hank—I want you so much. You—are the right thing." She stroked him again. "Please . . . just-" Her gaze on him, she reached up and pulled his head down. "Everything."

  "Take the lead, sweet." If it ended up killing him, he wanted her to guide them. To be the aggressor. For her to feel completely in charge. "Tell me what to do-"

&n
bsp; "Something. Anything." Impossibly, her fevered words made him even harder. She pulled him down for a dizzying kiss, her hips rising to meet his. "Kiss me," she mumbled around her tongue, already sliding in his mouth. "Take me. Do something."

  Her ragged plea made him grin. Until she nipped his shoulder. A shiver of heat coursed through him. Hank drifted from now pouting, pink lips to the mysterious hollow at the base of her throat. After exploring it thoroughly, he moved to the delicate collarbone that had damn near driven him to distraction. Every day, he could see it—drifting out of sight behind her collar. When all he'd wanted was to press his tongue to it.

  "Lower," she suggested. "Please, Henry."

  "How about this?" He moved to her breast, drawing the bud into his mouth. Tugging. Feeling it pebble under his tongue. Annie jerked up from the bed, her gasp of pleasure requiring a will of steel to not sink into her. To fight the urge to take her. Fast. Hard. To take his time later. He was so close. Too close.

  "Maybe this?" His voice was a harsh rasp, his panting breath suggesting he'd rucked ten miles with a full pack. Still—he hesitated, his mouth brushing the soft curve of her stomach. Pressed his smile to the twitching muscles.

  "Definitely that." Her breathing had gone shallow. Rapid. Her stomach rose and fell under his mouth as he drew a circle with his tongue. "Yes. More."

  "Your beautiful, lush curves." His ragged whisper became a groan as she writhed against him. She was unbelievably responsive. Until she froze. Blood pounding in his ears, Hank hesitated. "Tell, me love. What's wrong." His whispered words against her naval made her restless.

  "Don't-" Her gaze sought his, her cheeks firing with embarrassment. "Don't look too close."

  Questions flooded his brain. Scars? Bruises? What the hell could it be? That she would be ashamed- "What is it, love?"

  She bit her lip. "I have—stretch marks. From . . . the boys-"

  Relief flooding him, Hank's chuckle fanned the curve of her stomach. "Baby, that's just a battle scar. I've got a couple of them, too." When her eyes suggested she didn't believe him, he left a trail of hot, wet kisses along her soft, curved belly. She writhed against him. "Medals for meritorious conduct," he whispered against lush, satin skin, loving how responsive she was to him. "Two beautiful boys."