by Jill Shalvis
“Why does everyone keep acting like this is all my fault? I was twenty-two. Headed for law school. I wasn’t ready to get married.”
“Did you tell him that?”
She squirmed a bit in her chair. Made a production of sweeping some stray specks of sugar off the tabletop. Finally she admitted, “No.”
“What did you do?”
“I was under a lot of stress. I was about to leave home and leave everyone I knew, including Greg. And then he threw a ring at me. I did what any woman in my position would do. I freaked.”
“Well.”
“But he knew me. Better than anyone. All he had to do was write or call. I’d have calmed down, things would have gone back to normal. It was totally his fault.”
“Did you ever think about contacting him?”
“Sure, I thought about it.”
“And did you?”
“No. I wasn’t the one who screwed everything up.”
“Are you sure?” The calm voice wasn’t accusing, simply asking.
Sam scowled into her coffee and refused to answer.
“Sam, you can’t have a relationship where you are always right. It’s statistically impossible. Sometimes, you are wrong. Even worse, sometimes you have to admit you were wrong.”
A group of moms with toddlers in tow came in, obviously after some sort of mom-and-tot activity. One kid dragged a green sippy cup, one whined about wanting a cookie. Sam had never felt a single tick from her supposed biological clock. Had assumed she didn’t have one. But suddenly she knew she did want kids. And she wanted them with Greg. A man who would take her offer of seducing a cop, but didn’t seem interested in much else. “But—I don’t know how much more I’ve got in me.”
“Depends how much you want him, I guess.”
“Oh, I want him.”
“Forever?”
She didn’t even hesitate. “Forever.”
“Then you’d better think of something.”
* * *
GREG WAS SO BUSY preparing for the police and firefighter hockey tourney that she barely saw him. He dropped by a couple of times after work or practice, but it was only for a few hours of sex and then he was gone.
She’d start to feel used except that she was enjoying sex as she hadn’t enjoyed it in years. Every time they came together she became more convinced that they needed to put their differences aside and commit.
She wanted lots of things that she saw happening with Greg. She pictured a home, a real home like the kind she’d grown up in, him doing lawn-mowing and hand man projects, her slowing down her practice to spend time with her children.
Damn it, she wanted to marry the man.
And now that she was ready, he didn’t seem to want to marry her.
He was leaving for the big tourney on Tuesday. It was Saturday night. He hadn’t mentioned her coming down to support the team, and she hadn’t brought it up. So far their affair was a dark secret. She hadn’t told anyone except Jarrad and Sierra and if Greg hadn’t told his best friend, then he probably hadn’t told anyone.
He arrived at ten as they’d arranged and no sooner had she opened the door to him than he had her in his arms, pushing her inside and kissing her deeply. She could feel his passion and need and, as usual, they fueled her own. By the time he’d pressed her against the hallway wall, his arousal was fierce.
“Oh, baby, I want you so much.”
She’d planned to sit him down and talk to him, but she was a woman with strong needs and this man always reminded her of how strong her needs were.
“Bedroom,” she panted, “I put on fresh sheets.”
He didn’t answer, simply bent down and hoisted her into his arms. She squealed and then laughed as he hauled her off to the bedroom holding her tight to his chest. In anticipation of his visit, she was wearing a sexy black nightgown. He put her on the bed and, eyes never leaving her, ripped off his clothes in record speed. She loved his haste, his obvious need for her. Desire filled the air between them.
Greg gazed down at the woman waiting for him on the bed. There was no light in the room save a dim glow from the window, so she was more shadow than real, like a black-and-white photograph. She wore some kind of black lacy thing and under it he could see black panties. A rage of lust pulled at him and he stripped rapidly until he was naked. On the bed. He pulled her against him.
He hadn’t realized how intense his need would be, would continue to be no matter how many times he tried to slake it with the woman he was in love with—the woman he’d loved for years.
She kissed him, and it was like his first kiss ever. He leaned into it, into her, and she responded with her usual eagerness. He reached for her, tracing her firm breasts beneath the black silk.
She ran her hands over his bare chest, his belly, then began to touch him as he reached to rub her through her silk panties.
Her breath hissed as he caressed her, feeling the heat pulsing from her. Too eager for finesse, he plunged his hand into her panties, needing to feel her, soft and slick and ready.
“I need…” he gasped. “I need you.”
“Yes. Oh, yes.”
He began kissing her and rolled her, wanting to be on top of her, but she had the same idea, bossy woman that she was and she kept going.
They tumbled off the bed and onto the floor—her expensively carpeted floor.
“I really, really need to see you,” he said.
She kissed him again, rolling on top of him and straddling him. He felt her shift, lean up and flip on a light.
He blinked, and blinked again as the black-and-white photo became woman.
“You are so beautiful,” he said, gazing up at her, her hair spilling around her face.
“Stay there. I forgot the condoms.” He knew she kept them in the bathroom. He watched her, reminding himself of all the parts of her body he liked so much. The sweet round ass, the thighs that were muscular and sexy from all the running she did, as he was reminded every time they gripped him.
The long line of her back, and the strong shoulders.
Hair, eyes, lips, breasts, belly, hips, all of her added up to such an amazing package. No wonder he couldn’t seem to stay away.
She returned with a couple of condoms, ripped one open with her teeth and sheathed him with her own hands. She took her time about it, sneaking in a caress or two, as though she was enjoying learning his body again as much as he was enjoying relearning hers. He tried to stay cool, but it was tough feeling her magic touch, oh, she knew him so well. Knew exactly what he liked. He stayed where he was, on his back, trying to hold himself in check, feeling the soft wool of the carpet rubbing his spine.
She straddled him slowly, and he watched intently as she gripped him in her hand and guided him to the entrance to her body. He barely breathed as she lowered herself slowly onto him, inching him slowly into paradise.
When she’d settled all the way, and he was as deep inside her as he could go, he gripped her hips, holding her against him so he could savor that first moment of complete connection.
He felt her heat, her snug, wet heat and the connection running between them that was so much more than physical. Their gazes caught and held, and he saw vulnerability flash. Something pulled, deep inside him as he realized that he hadn’t ever connected so deeply with anyone. Ever.
And then she closed her eyes against him. He felt a slight shudder run through her body, and she was moving, riding him. He caught her rhythm and stayed with her, touching her as she rode him, touching her everywhere, her breasts, her hips, and, when he saw her eyes start to lose their focus, he touched her clit, rubbing it the way he knew she liked. When her head fell back on a cry, he thrust up, up and up inside her, pushing her over the edge, and then following in a spurt of intense pleasure that seemed to get stronger every time.
“Wow,” Sam panted as she slumped in a heap on top of Greg, her silk nightie bunched between them. She felt his heart thud beneath her breast. “Wow, wow, wow.”
She was usually good with words, but right now, Wow seemed to express everything she felt.
Greg drew idle patterns on her back with his fingertips and she let herself enjoy the sensation and the utter relaxation in her body at this moment.
“You know what I want?” he mumbled against her hair.
“You want more?” She raised her head to glare down at him.
He grinned slowly, showing more of his teeth by the second. “I want to try that again with you naked.”
The relaxation that had enveloped her a moment past was gone as a familiar tension in her lower body built again.
“And this time,” he said, rising to his feet and taking her hand to pull her up with him, “I think we should give the big soft bed a try.”
“You getting old?” she teased.
“Definitely.” And he pushed her back until she was lying on the bed gazing up at him.
Then he kissed her as though they were sharing their first-ever kiss. He touched her lips gently with his own, moving his mouth over hers, warming her lips before touching her tongue lightly with his. His restraint and sweetness charmed her and she followed his lead, licking at him slowly, kissing as though they weren’t going any further than a kiss.
Oh, she’d forgotten how kissing could turn her on. Soon, the restless energy was pulsing through her again. She wanted more. More of his mouth, more of his body, more of the friction that would send her flying.
Her breathing grew heavy, her body restless, and still he kissed only her mouth in that soft, teasing way. After a long, long time, he kissed his way to her breasts, kissing the slopes, the undersides and finally the sensitive tips. His tongue flicked over her nipple and she felt the charge right to her toes. While his mouth was busy at her breasts, his hands stroked her sides, her belly, her thighs and then settled between her legs.
He followed the path of his hands with his mouth until he was settled between her parted legs and his mouth hovered over her. His moist breath stirred her curls.
Then she didn’t think anything at all because he put his mouth on her and put the same slow, restrained patience into licking her as he’d put into kissing her.
With the first rush of passion spent, she could enjoy a slower build, feel the pressure and moisture of his tongue, the way he explored even as he excited. She built slowly, and then faster, until her hips were gyrating and her hands fisting against the bedclothes.
So close.
He moved up her body and she would have begged him to take her if she didn’t feel him already there, not so lazy now, not so slow. But he still took the time to look deeply into her eyes as he entered her slowly and completely.
Lust, passion, memory—love. The strong emotions all came together in a kind of bittersweet pleasure as he moved inside her. His palms cupped her face and he kissed her over and over again even as their breath grew ragged.
She tasted herself on his lips.
I love you. She wanted so badly to voice the phrase that was filling every part of her, but she couldn’t do it. Couldn’t take the chance he wouldn’t say the words back to her. So, she shut her eyes, wrapped her legs around him and gripped the firm muscles of his butt, kneading, pulling him deeper, grinding up to meet him.
Before her own cries had quieted, she heard him cry out his own release.
How could he be both so mysterious and so familiar? she wondered, as he rolled to his back, bringing her with him so she ended up snuggled against him, her head pillowed on his chest.
* * *
SHE THOUGHT ABOUT WHAT Sierra had said. She had to be willing to apologize. Maybe she could start by having the discussion they should have had ten years ago.
She rolled over and kissed his damp chest. “That was amazing.”
He put an arm around her to pull her in closer. “It’s always amazing with us.”
“Always has been.” She shifted, laid her hand over his heart, and wrapped an arm around him.
“I—I’m…” She could do this, she told herself. She could apologize. Maybe she could even tell him she loved him. It wouldn’t kill her. She took a deep breath and tried again. “Greg, I’m sorry.”
He turned his head to squint at her. “What for?”
As if he didn’t know. He was going to make her crawl. Annoyance spurted through her, but then she remembered Sierra’s advice. If she wanted this man, she had to be willing to face her part in their breakup.
She rubbed her cheek against his chest. They were connected still, he loved her still, she had to believe that. “I’m sorry I reacted so badly ten years ago.”
“Me, too.”
He didn’t move a muscle and yet she felt him pulling away from her. She held on to him. “I was scared. I panicked.”
“You told me I didn’t trust you. That I was trying to control you.”
She heard the bitterness in the words and realized he still hadn’t forgiven her.
Ouch.
“I was wrong to say those things. I wish I could go back and do it over.”
“We’d have a house by now, maybe a couple of kids. Instead, we’re sneaking around having an illicit affair. I hate this. I thought I could do it, I really did. Have some fun, great sex, and get you out of my system. But I can’t.”
Her heart was beginning to pound. She realized that she was frightened on some psychic level that wasn’t a place she peeked into too often.
“Please, Greg. Let’s give this thing another chance. A real chance. We’ve both changed. We’re older, more stable, maybe we understand now that what we had was too special to lose.”
“I always knew it. You made a fool of me once,” he said. “I can’t let you do it again.” He removed her head from his chest gently but firmly and unwrapped her arm from his middle. Then he got out of bed.
She could only stare at him, at a loss for words.
“I don’t even know what I’m doing here. I tell myself I’ll stop, but then I show up. You’re like a drug I can’t get out of my system, but I know there’s only one way. Cold turkey.”
He leaned over the bed and she saw a range of emotions struggling for supremacy. Frustration, bitterness, a little anger, but mostly she saw the sadness.
He kissed her and then pulled away with a crooked smile. “You take care of yourself.”
And he gathered his clothes and left the room.
She jumped up and followed him. “Wait. Let’s talk about this.”
He dressed swiftly with no wasted movements. “It’s too late.” He opened the door. Glanced over his shoulder once, and she imagined him imprinting a last image of her. “I won’t be back,” he said and closed the door behind him.
“But I love you,” she told the door.
She stared at the closed door for a long minute while grief built in a wave. It seemed to start in the soles of her feet and work its way up.
She didn’t bother with running clothes. This wasn’t something that could be pounded out of her with a few miles.
This was more important than that.
She’d lost him. He’d pretty much told her as much. But Sam had never been a quitter. And she wasn’t about to give up now on the most important thing in her life.
She brewed a pot of coffee and sat in her favorite chair by the window, drinking cup after cup and planning.
When she was certain she had her idea all worked out, she called Jarrad.
“I need your help,” she told him. “Yours and Sierra’s.”
“What with?”
“Project Romeo and Juliet.”
9
THE RINK WAS BUZZING. Sam hadn’t had a clue that the police and firefighter tourney would fill the Portland rink to the rafters. She’d counted on a much smaller crowd.
There must be ten thousand people here. Maybe more.
Worse, she knew some of them.
She leaned over and whispered to Sierra, sitting beside her in the section reserved for spouses and girlfriends. “I’m having second thoughts.”
T
he woman beside her leaned over and murmured. “When you get scared, think, ‘What would Juliet do?’”
“Well, killing myself on a sword seems like an easier choice than this.”
“Suck it up,” was the wisdom from her school-teaching mentor.
“You’re a big help.”
“Okay. Here. Maybe this will help bring out your inner tragic heroine.” Sierra reached around her own neck and unhooked the necklace she had on. Sam had admired it earlier. An oval of pink crystal on a chain of similar crystals. Sierra leaned over and placed the necklace around Sam’s neck explaining as she did so, “This is pink quartz. It symbolizes female power, healing and the heart Chakra.”
She touched her fingers to the stone and found it warm from Sierra’s body.
“Will it help?” She thought maybe some of Sierra’s good luck in landing a great guy might at least rub off.
The woman beside her smiled mysteriously. “I don’t know, but if it does I’ll lend it to you again the day you marry Greg. This can be your ‘something borrowed.’”
“I am so scared,” Sam said in a shaking voice.
A hand reached out and clasped her own. “I know.”
“I’ve faced misogynistic judges, crazed clients, once a cougar when I was trail running, and none of them scared me the way this does.”
“It’s good to be scared sometimes. It means you’re out of your comfort zone.”
She snorted. “I am so far out of my comfort zone I’d need a GPS to find it again.”
“I have faith in you.”
Sam put her hand on the female power crystal and hoped that faith and guts were enough.
Normally, she was an avid hockey fan but all she could see was a blur of bodies on the ice. Greg was there wearing his number 88 jersey, but with his helmet on he seemed more mysterious than usual. It seemed as though she’d already lost him.
“What if it doesn’t work?” she wailed as the first period was about to end.
“Take off your coat and stop being a weenie,” Sierra commanded.
Sam was so scared her hands were clumsy and Sierra had to undo her coat for her. Under it she wore a black cashmere sweater and her best jeans. Her makeup was flawless, her hair actually having a good-hair day and the necklace, warm against her skin, reminded her of all she had to offer Greg as a woman, as a lover, as the one person who was so deeply connected to him that she felt it would physically break her to lose him again.
