He smiled when she released a ragged groan. "So sweet-" Squirming against his sheets, her body pleading with him to take her. To feast on her. "What's next, love?" He moved lower. His heart thudding like a freight train, he glanced up. Her beautiful eyes, hazy with passion, wild with need. "This?"
Acknowledging his fraying control, Hank pressed his mouth to her burning heat. To the wild, addictive taste of the breathtaking woman he was crazy about. Her sharp cry skidded down his spine. Restless hands held him in place, her nails dragging through his hair as she jerked against him. "Henry-"
Several incredible minutes later, as Annie collapsed back against the pillows, he waited for her clenching orgasm to subside. Her beautiful body arched against him, ribs rising and falling in an ever-erratic pattern. Golden hair splayed across his pillow, her drugged eyes sent a fierce, possessive pleasure coursing through him. Her ragged moan was muffled at the last moment when she remembered to clap a hand to her mouth.
When he finally slid into her, Annie's gorgeous body clenched him, pulsing around him. "So good, love." So tight. Nearly insane with pleasure, his jaw ached with the need to shout. "Sweet, look at me."
Golden eyes glazed, she complied. "I need you to remember one thing." Heart ricocheting off his ribs, he held himself steady, his body screaming at him to move. To slam into the glorious heat. To get off in a fireball of pleasure.
She stared up at him, eyes fever bright, her body squeezing him as he waited, buried deep inside her. Her full, pink lips parted, panting, pleading for his kiss. But, it was her smile that pierced his heart. That glorious, beautiful smile. She reached up to stroke his face.
"Are you ready?" His raspy voice told him he had mere seconds left. Perspiration dotted his brow. "Because I think you should know—I'm going to carpe diem the hell out of you."
Annie stilled before she burst out laughing, her body tightening around him as he finally, finally began to move. "Thank God."
His mouth finding her breast, Hank's awareness of his surroundings quickly dissolved. She was hot, her body scorching him with pleasure. She rose up to meet him. Her long, silky legs encircling his back. Holding him inside her. Greedy for everything he could give.
Too soon, he released a raw groan of pleasure as a mortar round exploded in the vicinity of his chest. Stars flashed behind his eyes when Annie clutched him. He rode the sensation of falling into a vast, endless darkness filled with warmth. He collapsed into her softness, the curve of her stomach pressed to his hardness.
"Henry." His name was released on a lethargic sigh. Her frantic breath slowing as she cradled his head. With a soft whimper of pleasure, she offered him a lingering kiss. Hank roused himself enough to move—if only so he wouldn't crush her. Gathering her slack body into his, he pressed a kiss to her shoulder, loving the feel of soft, satiny curves nestled against him. Though the sex had been incredible, he craved this—even more. The comforting weight of her body entwined with his. Her hand nestled against his chest. Her murmured sigh as she burrowed closer to him.
Hank held her close as she slipped into sleep. Years, he thought hazily. He'd waited years. For this. For her. And it was—wonderful. This was . . . everything. He was still smiling as he drifted off to sleep.
AT DAWN, ANNIE AWOKE. To a man sprawled next to her. To a muscled, hairy leg nestled between her own. To a beautiful, inexhaustible man, eyes finally closed, his head resting against her chest—as though he'd finally worn himself out and collapsed without warning. She stretched against him, loving the feel of his hard body contoured to hers. They'd stayed awake half the night. Laughing. Talking. Driving each other crazy as they grew familiar with each other's body. Incredibly happy to have found each other. Two formerly lonely people—having wild, happy, great-to-be-alive sex.
Unable to resist the impulse, she ran her fingers through his hair, loving the coarse feel of it against her skin. His bristly chin rested against her breast, his soft, even breathing heating her skin, making it tingle.
They'd seized the night. Not knowing when they'd get the chance again, they had made the most of it. Her mouth twitched with a smile. He'd carpe diemed her, all right. But now, it was nearly morning. She released a heavy sigh. Her boys would be up soon. They couldn't risk another-
She glanced to the windows, pink streaks of dawn trickling in. Her breath caught. They'd both need a quick shower. Maybe—they could share the task.
"Darlin, I'm beginning to know what that sudden intake of air means."
Hank's lazy drawl slid over her senses. Cajun, she'd learned during the night. Born and raised in Louisiana with his older brother Wilbur, until he'd left for the Army. Twenty years and countless temporary, near-the-base homes later, he'd settled near DC—because his beloved Gayle had finally planted roots. Made friends. Found a job she'd loved. And Hank hadn't cared where they ended up—as long as they'd been together. That was how he'd found Specialty Construction—his new home base after retirement. His sanity after his wife had passed away.
Brief interludes of quiet conversation had broadened her knowledge of Henry Freeman. Wedged between the hot, restless sessions of mind-blowing sex Annie was pretty sure she would never get enough of. "I was thinking-"
"That beautiful brain of yours never seems to shut down." His mouth at her breast, his tongue worked to defy his words, quickly eroding her thoughts. "Tell me, sweet," he urged. "I love it when you think-"
"A s-shower might be nice." Her sentence ended on a gasp as he rose up on one elbow to do justice to her other breast. "T-together?"
"We are on a well system out here," he conceded. "It's mighty considerate of you to suggest we conserve water." His mouth against her skin soon made her forget her suggestion. "Let's give it a few minutes, though." He flashed his sexy grin. "Y'all might wanna stick around for this."
"Henry-" Heart thudding out of her chest, Annie brought his mouth up to hers for a long, sweet kiss. "We need to-" Her breath released on a shaky gust as his fingers moved between her legs.
"Go on, darlin', I'm listenin'."
"The boys," she moaned. "Awake. They—they'll . . . soon. Wake-" Her hips rose to match his rhythm. "Oh, God-"
"Sweet, I'm not complaining," he said conversationally, "but, you might want to keep your voice down." His eyes fever bright, his smile was pure arrogance. "All that moaning might wake up your boys."
Beyond caring, she panted as he stroked her, torturing her with his unhurried expertise. "Henry—please."
"Baby, this'll just take a couple minutes." As her breath caught, his beautiful, talented mouth thoughtfully swallowed her cry as she shattered around his busy fingers. "Maybe even less," he corrected, his chuckle tickling her ear as the crashing wave subsided.
His grin shifted to determination, his eyes like flashing sapphires, all amusement left him as he rapidly shifted over her. He nudged into her with a ragged groan. "I love being inside you," his rough voice caressed as he stretched and filled her. Her body cradling him. His back muscles rippling under her fingers. His capable, powerful body—surrendering to hers. Annie hadn't felt this strange, wondrous power in maybe—ever.
"Annie-" His ragged groan sent a shiver sweeping over her body as he stiffened against her. As the strong, beautiful man she was falling hopelessly in love with came apart in her arms. He lowered his head to her throat, his rapid breath heating her collarbone. Several minutes later, he mustered the energy to raise his head. "I'll need a few minutes," he said, his voice drowsy again.
She stroked a path down his shoulders, loving the feel of him against her. His sexy smile sent heat fluttering to the pit of her stomach. "For what?"
"I need to regain my strength." He planted his mouth on her collarbone, a spot she'd never realized could be so sensitive. "So we can carpe diem each other in my shower."
Chapter 15
An hour later, the boys were up, seated at Henry's kitchen table. Bacon sizzled in the iron skillet on the stove. French toast was being prepped on the counter nearby. Her hair still damp
from their shower, Annie couldn't resist touching him. Every time he drifted near, the addictive scent of his cologne clogged her senses. Reaching for a plate, she let her fingers linger on his. The hum in her chest was one of happiness. Of pleasure. Her body—alive for the first time in years.
"Mama—I need two French toasts."
Her youngest had spent the last several minutes dropping bits of scrambled egg to the floor, where Bo waited eagerly for more. "Are you going to eat them?" She paused for effect. "Or feed them to Bo?"
His hand stilled, his expression one of innocence. "Bo told me—he . . . doesn't like French toast."
"But, he likes scrambled eggs?" She hid her smile.
"Uh-huh."
"I want three French toasts," Tommy boasted. "All that hiking yesterday made me extra hungry."
"Extra hungry?" Henry turned from the stove, his smile both innocent and knowing at the same time. "That's funny. I'm extra hungry today, too."
"Uh-huh." Tommy smiled. "You said I'd be gettin' big soon. I need to eat a lot so I can grow."
"After breakfast, why don't we head outside so I can feed the goats." Alert, blue eyes questioned her. "I want to show you the garden, too."
"I'd love that." Ignoring the ache in her chest, she avoided glancing at the clock. Unspoken were the words before you leave. Before they had to return to New Beginnings. Before reality intruded. Before their fairytale time in his beautiful bubble ended. Would it be worse now? Having tasted the life they could have? She dreaded the boys' reaction to leaving Henry's farm. The life she should've been able to provide them. Freedom to run and play. To skim stones. To wander wooded trails.
As though sensing her mood, Henry gave her hand a squeeze. "Who's ready for some bacon and French toast?"
Her boys' enthusiastic chorus of 'me's made her smile. No worries. For a few more hours, she promised. There would be plenty of time later. Tonight, as she lay in her small twin bed, remembering Henry's hands on her body. Cradling her against him. Remembering his gravelly voice as he teased. Asked questions about her childhood. The nursing career she'd placed on hold. Her likes and dislikes. As though they mattered. She'd remember his smile that seemed to light her own. Later would come soon enough.
TOO FAST, THEIR TIME was draining from the hourglass. Hank was desperate to stop it. Flip it over and start again. Avoiding his watch, he couldn't evade the shadows his Maple tree cast over the garden he'd barely started tilling. Twenty years in the army had taught him to measure time by his surroundings. He wished now he could shut it off.
"What's your favorite flower, sweet?" He paused when she bent to pluck a stem of wild lily of the valley.
She breathed in the scent, her eyes fluttering closed with pleasure. "I love iris. They're so tall and regal. And so many different types." She opened her eyes when he startled, a question in the honeyed depths. "What?"
He smiled. "That was my mother's name."
"Iris? How lovely."
"What else do you like?" He scanned the field for the boys. They were romping through the sweet grass, Bo at their heels, trying to keep up.
Annie's soft laughter eased the ache in his chest. "I love just about anything. Daisies, roses, brown-eyed Susans, lilac, lilies."
All of which he'd plant for her, he vowed. In the space where they stood. Near the window he would build for her. Where she would sit for hours, gazing out at a sea of flowers. A book in her hand. A smile on her beautiful face. "Annie-" He swallowed around the urge to stop. To say nothing. Yet. It was too soon for her. He knew that. His brain knew it. But, his heart. "Annie, I need to say something to you."
She stilled next to him, a notch of worry between her brows. "What's wrong?"
"Annie—I know . . . it's too soon," he prefaced, his throat beginning to ache around the avalanche of words he needed to speak. "Annie . . . I love you." When she startled, he lurched on, knowing he had to finish before she bolted. Before she gave him excuses. Before he could see the sort of answer in her eyes that might stop him. He raised her fluttering fingers to his heart. "I've only felt this way three times in my life." Swallowing around his fear, he pressed on. "The day I met my wife, I looked at her . . . and I just knew she was the one."
Her gaze riveted on him, she flattened her palm against his thundering heartbeat. "What was the second time?"
"This place," he admitted, his gaze never leaving hers. "There wasn't even a road all the way in." His voice faltered. "But, I hiked back here . . . and I knew it was mine. I'd discovered the place I'd been looking for all my life."
Annie raised up on her toes to brush a kiss along his stubbled cheek. "And the third?" Her voice had dropped to a whisper.
He met her gaze, courage coursing through him. He could only control what he felt, he reminded himself. But, he could share it with her. "The day I met you." His voice hoarse, he wished he could see inside her head. Know her thoughts. Somehow make her feel it, too. "Before I even spoke to you . . . I knew something—everything had changed. In four years—I never felt it." He shook his head, still wondrous over the discovery. "I believed I couldn't feel it again." He raised her hand to his lips. "I love you, Annie. I just need you to know."
Her gorgeous, honeyed eyes filling with tears, she smiled through them. "I love you, too, Henry. You've given us more than I could have ever dreamed possible."
His heart wanted to burst free from his chest. "Stay here with me," he urged. He would love them. Protect them. "When you're ready," he remembered to add. He was forgetting the not-rushing-her part. "I want you and the boys. To live here. To marry me." He would rid Phil from their lives. She would finally relax. Her boys . . . would lose their fear. They could live in peace.
She stroked his face, her smile wobbly. "When I come to you, I want to be free. Phil-"
He captured her hands in his. "I'll take care of Phil."
Her smile was wistful. "I want—to have a job. I need to earn some money—build some savings."
So, she could run? "I have plenty of-" Her mutinous expression suggested he not complete his sentence. He could take care of them. But—she wanted to feel capable again. Understanding overrode his frustration. "You need to do it for you."
"I'm not weak." Her voice held a thread of annoyance. "And I'm tired of feeling vulnerable. I need to prove I can still do it. That he hasn't—taken that, too."
"At least let me help you-" Her gaze softened, easing his worry. He'd said the right thing—this time.
"He's run off anyone I've ever loved," she confessed, her fingers absently twisting the button on his shirt. "Every job. Every friend. I won't endanger you, too."
She was protecting him? Hank stiffened. "I'll take care of the bastard."
"We need to take this slow," she reasoned, her hands pressed to his chest. The warmth seeped in, easing the frisson of cold. His heart thumping a wild beat, Hank knew she was right. Logic was usually his strong suit. But—he wasn't feeling rational. He didn't want reasonable. He wanted now. With her and her boys. He wanted forever. Logic—could suck it.
She smiled, as though sensing his distracted thoughts."I've been running for two years, Henry. By some miracle, I found you. And—I love you." She smoothed his shirt, the warmth of her hands soothing his prickling skin. "But, I need this—for me. I won't feel helpless anymore."
Reluctantly, he nodded, hope and frustration intertwined in his soul. Her decision, his brain taunted. He couldn't push. Had no right to push. "Okay, love. We'll do it your way. Take things slow." All he could do was wait. Protect them. Love them. And . . . maybe one other thing.
You can find Phil. Dispose of the problem—once and for all.
"WHAT'S TAKING SO LONG?" Hank hadn't been at the site five minutes the following morning before he was bristling with annoyance.
Staring down at him, Pete Shea raised an eyebrow. "Dude—getting crazy isn't going to help this situation."
The giant's dry observation set Hank's teeth on edge as they stood outside New Beginnings. Just after dawn on Mo
nday and the site was already alive with activity. The steel erectors had added a crew, he acknowledged with satisfaction. They'd catch up the schedule by the end of the week. "You're right. I apologize."
Pete smirked. "Now—you want a sit-rep or not?"
"Please." Temporarily reining in his homicidal thoughts, he unclenched his fist. He still had a job to build. A family to protect. And a bastard to hunt down. He needed his wits about him. "What can you tell me?"
"He's a claims processor. Hired nine weeks ago. My contact found the child support garnishment," Pete recited, his voice monotone. "Which likely triggered Phil's visit here a week ago."
"Annie says he never pays."
"He pushes paper in an office fifteen minutes from here. Had a house until a year ago . . . lost it to foreclosure." At his suggestion, they moved to the picnic table. "So—we have a little SNAFU. Phil doesn't have a car-"
"That's impossible-"
Pete stared him down. "Are you gonna interrupt every three seconds? Cuz, this'll take a whole lot longer if you do."
Hank shook his head. "Sorry—I'm just-"
"I'll take that as a no." The giant smiled. "As I was saying, Phil doesn't have a vehicle registered in his name." He withdrew his notebook from his jacket pocket. "But, that don't mean he ain't driving one."
Hank listened, forcing his mind to focus. Summoned his discipline. Fury wouldn't help him. Nor his fear for Annie. Allowing it to control him would make the wheels come off.
Pete flipped through pages. "I worked a grid pattern, remember? Process of elimination, I was able to rule out most vehicles every day." He frowned over his calculations. "Nine outta ten cars each day . . . they had a reason to be here. On this street. Or the ones surrounding the perimeter."
Sheltering Annie Page 23
