Now would not be the time to point out that in six long weeks he hadn’t called her, hadn’t written, hadn’t given her any indication that he was even alive, let alone missing her.
Like she’d been missing him.
Now would be the time to confess, instead.
“I…missed you, too.”
She waited then. For the touch of those lush, mobile lips. For the end to six weeks of waiting for and hoping for a happily ever after to this story that had spanned so much of her life and that she desperately needed to end in something other than good-bye.
Ever so slowly, he lowered his head to hers. His breath on her face was warm, minty. His liquid black eyes were swimming with everything she’d ever hoped to see…longing, yearning…love.
She tipped her face to his, let her eyelids drift closed in anticipation of his kiss.
“We must talk, Lily,” he whispered instead, then pressed a kiss to her forehead and backed away.
She felt herself weave a little, opened her eyes, and realized he was heading for the door.
“You’re…leaving?”
He paused in the open doorway. “You’ll want some time,” he said. “With Adam. And he needs some time with you.”
She just stood there, struggling not to let her disappointment show.
“I’ll call you,” Manny said with a last lingering look. “Tell Adam good-bye for me. Let him know I’ll be in touch, okay?”
She nodded, suddenly as mute as a post.
And then he was gone, closing the door behind him when he left.
“Hey, Mom.”
She turned when Adam bounced back into the room, a whirlwind of energy and light.
“It’s cool,” he said, all smiles. “My room. Thanks.”
One look at his happy, healthy, safe-and-sound face and she shook off her confusion over Manny’s sudden departure. “Come’re, you. I haven’t had near enough mush time with you yet.”
He rolled his eyes but let her hug him close again and shower him with kisses—at least for a little while.
“All right already,” he grumbled, which made her laugh. “You’re not going to be so happy about things when you see the bag full of dirty clothes I brought.”
Wrong. She’d never grumble about doing his laundry again.
“Where’s Dad?”
Dad.
It rolled off Adam’s tongue so easily. Yet Lily sensed the wonder and pride that accompanied that small three-letter word.
“He said to tell you good-bye and he’d be in touch.”
Adam’s face fell. “He left?”
“Baby,” she said gently when she read the emotion in those words. Panic. Uncertainty. And she understood. Adam had just found his father. He didn’t want to lose him. “He’s not leaving you.”
Several days later, however, when neither Lily nor Adam had heard a word from Manny, she started to worry. And to wonder if maybe she’d been wrong.
If maybe Manny had left them both.
One week later
Manny had trained in black ops. He’d carried out more missions behind enemy lines than he could count. He’d faced men without conscience, men without scruples or honor. Survived firefights, RPGs, and IEDs. Once, in the jungles of Nicaragua, he’d survived in a foxhole for four days, living on grass and monkey meat, tending to a wounded comrade, rather than leave him to die alone.
Manny had faced the fire. Of war. Of hell. With his nerves intact. His courage fortified and strong.
And yet the thought of facing Lily Campora, of the soft dark eyes and valiant heart, made his blood clot with fear.
Battling back the urge to turn around and run, Manny rapped his knuckles on her door, stood back, and waited.
He didn’t wait long.
The door swung open and there she was. Elegant. Vibrant. Expectant. Her eyes were wary with it.
“Hi,” she said, and offered a tentative smile. “I’ve been expecting you.”
Yeah. That was his insurance that he wouldn’t back out. He’d called her earlier today, asked if he could come see her tonight.
To have that talk.
The one he’d been putting off.
The one he’d been certain would reveal him for the man he was, instead of the man she needed him to be.
“You could come in,” she suggested with a lift of her brows when he just stood there.
The view was fine where he was. She’d dressed up for him. Taken special care with her makeup and hair. Not that she’d needed to. She could wear a sack and he’d still think she was beautiful.
Tonight she wore black. Like her hair. Like her eyes. Black cut low against her pale ivory skin that he itched to touch. To taste. To claim…if she’d let him when he was finished saying his peace.
A long silver chain hung around her neck and disappeared between her breasts beneath her dress. His medal. Lying warm where he wanted to lay his head.
Suddenly the prospect of spilling his guts didn’t seem nearly as necessary or smart as it had when he’d screwed up the nerve to call her.
“Manny?”
Her dark eyes questioned.
He bit the bullet and walked into her apartment—wishing, suddenly, that Adam were here for a buffer. But Manny had talked to his son earlier today. His son. Manny still felt a swell of pride and amazement every time that truth sank home.
But home was where Adam was not going to be tonight. At least not for several hours. Adam had told Manny on the phone that the team members who had spent the summer in Sri Lanka were getting together tonight at the home of one of the sponsors to share pizza and photos and experiences.
Manny was betting that Adam was going to be the hit of the night.
“Would you like some wine?”
She looked beautiful. Nervous. And he realized he was making her that way.
“Wine would be good. Thanks.” He moved on into the living area when she lifted a hand, motioning him to make himself comfortable.
“I’ll be right back.”
He watched her walk away. Watched the sweet sway of her slim hips in that clingy dress. Watched the supple muscles of her calves beneath the floating hemline.
And felt need burning low and deep in his gut.
He pushed it back. He needed to talk to her. And if he didn’t keep his head in the game, they’d end up naked and in bed before he ever had a chance to say his piece.
Not that the prospect of Lily naked and hot beneath him didn’t hold an amazing amount of appeal. It did. Lord God, it did. But she needed more from him tonight. And he was determined to give it.
He hadn’t gotten more than a glimpse of her apartment when he’d brought Adam home last week. Manny liked it, he decided, as he wandered slowly around the living room. Classy. Sleek. Like the woman.
“Here you go.”
He turned and accepted the glass of burgundy wine she held out to him.
“Salut.” She lifted her glass.
“Salut.” He watched her eyes above the rim of the wineglass as he drank.
And he could see that his silence was undoing her. That was the last thing he wanted.
“Let’s sit down.”
She nodded, hesitated, then settled into a suede armchair.
Cautious. Yeah. He understood.
He sat opposite her on the sofa instead of beside her, so he wouldn’t be tempted to touch her. Touching her would lead to loving her, and loving had never been a problem between them.
He cradled his glass between his palms and contemplated where to start.
“Jesus, Manny,” she finally said, her voice breathy, her eyes beseeching when he met them. “If you came to say good-bye for good, just get it over with.”
Only then did he realize how truly hard his silence was on her. “I didn’t come to say good-bye, querida,” he said quickly. “At least I hope not.”
“Then what?” Her dark eyes glistened.
He hated that he was responsible for testing her control. But he would hate it more if h
e made her cry.
“I’m not…not a man who admits his mistakes easily, mi amor. But I have many to admit to you.”
“Starting with why you didn’t call me? Why for six long weeks while I missed my son, worried about his safety…worried about yours…you couldn’t have once called and talked to me? Why another week passed and not one word from you?
“Oh God. I can’t believe I said that.” She gave her head a little shake, looked away.
She had a right to be angry. She had a right to be hurt.
“Yeah. Starting with that.”
He stared at his glass, then back to her brimming eyes. “I was being pretty self-indulgent,” he admitted. “And I’m sorry if I hurt you. That was a mistake. But it wasn’t a mistake to have that time with Adam.”
“I don’t begrudge you spending time with him.”
“I know. I know that. And I needed that time, Lily. Just him. Just me. To learn about him. To realize and appreciate what a wonderful job you’ve done with him. And to learn about you through him.”
“Learn about me?”
“He may not tell you,” Manny continued, “he is, after all, cut from the same cloth as his father…but he loves you, Liliana. He’s very proud of you. He told me how you worked and went back to school to get your master’s. He told me how your parents could have helped and didn’t.”
She swallowed hard.
“He knows how much you gave up for him. And now I know how you raised an amazing boy on your own to become an amazing man. A good man with his mother’s values.
“I need to thank you,” Manny added as her features softened and she finally let out a breath that he suspected she’d been holding since he’d shown up at her door. “For telling him about me. About how much you loved me.”
At that, she looked away, then into her wine. Lifted it to her mouth with an unsteady hand.
“And you did love me, didn’t you, Lily? No matter that you always denied it when I asked.”
“I…I knew I had to leave you,” she said, still avoiding his eyes and his question. “I wanted you to move on with your life. To find someone your age. Someone you could build a future with.”
He understood that now. Just as he understood so much more.
“You were right about many things back then. But about that, you were wrong. I may have been a boy. But I understood love.”
“I’m not so sure you were ever a boy.” She looked up from her wine, a world of regret in her eyes.
Soft. Her eyes were so soft.
“I loved you, Lily. So much. So much that it was easier to believe you would betray me, easier to hate you for that betrayal, than to deal with the prospect of losing you. I realize that now.
“Just like I realize,” he added after searching her eyes, “that hating you became easier than loving you. Loving you hurt too much. Hating you gave me purpose.”
It had taken him the past several weeks and a lot of soul-searching to understand all of this.
“As the years passed, it wasn’t even about you anymore. It was about me. If I hated you, I didn’t have to hate myself.”
“Hate yourself?”
This was the hard part. This was the part that cut closest to the bone. “For letting my country down. Letting my family down. For the men I’ve killed,” he added, swallowing thickly. “The lives I’ve taken.”
Death. He’d been a part of it. And now he had to live with it.
“You protected, Manny. You fought for freedom. For basic human rights. There’s no guilt in that. There’s only honor. And the only regret is that you have to live with the result of the wrong choices others made.”
He closed his eyes, saw the stark, gray faces of death—in the jungles of Nicaragua. The mountains of Afghanistan. Even on the streets of Boston. Most recently near the caves in Sri Lanka.
They were always with him. He never slept alone. Never woke alone.
He didn’t know when Lily had stood and moved in beside him. Didn’t know when he’d leaned into the comfort of her arms around him. Pressed his face against the soft, giving warmth of her breasts.
Didn’t know there were tears inside him to shed until he felt them wet and hot on his cheeks.
Embarrassed, he pulled out of her embrace. Stood with his back to her. Sucked in a bracing breath.
Jesus. He’d come here to tell her he loved her, to beg her to forgive him, and he was coming apart in front of her.
“We all have demons,” she said behind him. “We all have regrets. The trick is to not let them define who we are. Decide what we do.”
Yeah, he thought. That was a trick all right.
“I love you, Manny.”
He stiffened. Not sure he believed what he’d just heard. After he’d just spilled his guts, exposed his deepest secrets, laid bare the ugly truth of his transgressions, and cried in her arms like a baby, she couldn’t have said…
“I love you.”
He turned to her then. Saw the tears on her cheeks. Tears for him. Love for him. Honest. Open. True.
“I love you because of where you’ve been,” she said when he drew her into his arms. “Because of who you are. Not in spite of it. Ti amo, Manny. I have always loved you.”
He touched a hand to her cheek, pressed his forehead to hers, and squeezed his eyes shut to stem the tide of emotion rising inside him.
“It’s time,” she whispered. “It’s time we get on with our lives.”
Love swelled, ripe and hot and sweet, as she tipped her face to his and kissed him.
Then she took his hand and led him to her bed.
CHAPTER 26
“It’s as true now as it was then.” Manny dipped his head, took her breast in his mouth, and savored. “It should be against the law for a body as beautiful as yours to be covered by clothing.”
Lily stretched with pleasure under the possessive caress of Manny’s mouth and the hand that trailed over her ribs to caress the curve of her waist, the flare of her hips.
She was forty-five. She knew what her body looked like. Her breasts were heavier. Her hips a bit wider. Her muscle tone not as tight. But he loved her this way.
For the past hour he’d been making certain that she knew without a shadow of a doubt that he adored her this way.
“Have I told you that I love it when you go all Latin lover on me?” she said with a smile.
And oh, had he gone Latin lover. She hadn’t yet recovered from the sweetest, most tender, most exquisite lovemaking and he was gearing up for another round.
“You must not mock me, querida,” he warned, both devil and desire in his voice. “The punishment will be severe if you continue to do so. In fact, I think I should give you a little taste of it now, just to keep you in line.”
She loved this playful side of him. Loved that earlier he’d spent the passion and the power of his pain pumping into her body. Loved that love did heal and that she would play no small part in his recovery.
But most of all, she loved that he loved her. Trusted her enough to let the boy in him come out and play.
She giggled, then shrieked when he pushed off the mattress, gloriously naked, 100 percent aroused. With little effort, he pinned her arms above her head and imprisoned them there with one big hand.
“Oh, please, sir.” She batted her lashes—a blushing fair maiden helpless against a marauding bandito—and feigned dread. At least she tried to. No easy feat considering they were both laughing. “Show some mercy.”
“I’ll show you mercy,” he promised, and, straddling her with his knees on either side of her hips, bent down and captured a quivering nipple in his mouth.
She sucked in her breath on a rush as sensation shot from her breast to low in her belly where it pooled between her legs like quicksilver. Hot and liquid and melting her from the inside out.
And then his hand was there. Between her legs, stroking her, teasing her, driving her over the edge of sensation.
“Sweet mercy, woman…the sounds you make,” he mur
mured against her breast.
She was too caught up in pleasure to be self-conscious when he lifted his head, watched her face as his fingers finessed and pleased and had her writhing against his hand.
“Beautiful. Sexy woman. My woman,” he whispered, and, releasing her hands, slid down the bed and took her in his mouth. “Come for me. Scream for me, Liliana,” he demanded as he sucked and licked and drove her beyond awareness of anything but the heat of his mouth, the stroke of his tongue, and the fire he kindled and swept to flames.
“Scream for me.”
She barely heard him above the roar in her ears as he drove her over the summit with a cry that made him growl deep in his throat as she dug her heels into the mattress and strained against his mouth, clinging to every last shred of sensation.
Wasted, spent, she went lax against the sheets, murmuring his name, pledging her love, as he turned her over, pulled her to her knees, and knelt behind her.
Gripping her hips, he fit himself to her swollen core and eased himself inside.
And the sensations began again.
Vital.
Intense.
Amazing.
Over and over he pounded into her, increasing the rhythm, wonderfully greedy to finally satisfy his own need and drive her wild in the process.
Just when she thought she couldn’t take any more, just when she thought she would shatter from the stark, raw beauty of his total possession, he drove into her one final time. His fingers bit into her hips as he held her against him and spilled inside her.
Lost. She felt totally and irreversibly lost in him, in love with him, as, without ever leaving her body, he eased down behind her, turned her on her side, and snuggled her back against him. Beneath his sweat-drenched chest, his heart pounded heavily against her back.
Moments passed. She treasured each one. The familiar weight of him, the seductive scent of him…of his spent desire, his utter stillness and contentment in the aftermath of physical love.
She was responsible for that. And for that she felt grateful. And suspended in the most amazing pocket of timeless lethargy—until his drowsy whisper shattered the moment.
Cindy Gerard - [Bodyguards 05] Page 26
