Slowly, Evan folded his body until he was crouched in front of her. His fingers slipped across her skin, up her arms and into her hair. “No, you wouldn’t,” he whispered. “I walked back into the front room and you were just...gone.” His voice went husky, not with heat but fear. “It was my worst nightmare, Tatum. The thought that kept me up every night I was in Colombia. The men I was dealing with there were ruthless. Perfectly capable of tracking you down and making you pay for my sins if they discovered who I really was.”
She could see the genuine fear crawling through him. The bone-deep agony of not being able to do anything about it. Of not being able to protect her.
Leaning forward, Tatum slid her fingers across his skin. His cheeks were covered with stubble, the scrape of it making her fingertips tingle. Running the pad of her thumb across his bottom lip, she enjoyed the way air gushed past as he exhaled a deep breath.
His hand clamped over hers, stilling her exploration. He held her tight, motionless against him, not pulling her hand away, but not letting her continue.
“I don’t know that I can take much more, Tatum. Not without losing what little control I have left. Three years is a really long time and I ache, sweetheart.”
For her. He ached for her. She heard the need soaking his words. Felt the echo of it deep inside her own soul.
She flexed her fingers, testing the strength of his hold and then realized it didn’t matter. Her other hand picked up where he’d stopped her, trailing softly down the front of his shirt to settle over the bulge behind his fly.
His eyes screwed shut, in pleasure and pain.
“You’re drunk.”
“Not enough that I don’t know exactly what I’m doing, Evan. Besides, isn’t there something about this that’s perfect? I was a little drunk the first time you made love to me.”
“Yeah, but so was I. And I’m old enough now to realize that wasn’t smart—or honorable.”
She squeezed, stroking her hand up and down until he let out an involuntary sound of satisfaction.
“I don’t remember asking you to be honorable. What I want is for you to touch me.”
8
GOD, HE WANTED TO, more than anything. Any good intentions he’d had evaporated beneath the heavy weight of Tatum’s hot, needy gaze.
He’d never claimed to be a good guy, anyway.
Grabbing her hips, Evan lifted her into the air. Her hands slammed onto his shoulders, digging in. He loved the way she clung to him, instinctively pressing her body against his for balance.
Slowly, he lowered her again, letting gravity and friction drive him crazy as he settled her onto the worktable that earlier had been spread with flowers, stems and leaves. Now it was blessedly clean. In his fantasies, she’d come to him late at night, surrounded by shadows and moonlight. They’d spent the entire night entwined together in a soft bed.
But that wasn’t available and he wasn’t giving her a chance to change her mind, not now that she’d finally decided to let him back in. There’d be plenty of time later to rediscover each nuance of her body.
Now, he simply needed to feel connected to her.
Tatum leaned back on the worn wooden surface, her elbows taking all of her weight. She looked up at him from beneath those long, inky lashes, her eyes glittering with the same rushing heat storming through his body.
She didn’t wait for him to make a move, not his Tatum. Once she made a decision, she jumped in with both feet. Reaching for the buttons on the long-sleeved plaid shirt she’d thrown on with her jeans this morning, she lazily popped each through its hole.
Part of him wanted to grasp the edges and tear the damn thing open. The rest of him was too entranced with the show.
Each inch of skin she painstakingly revealed made his mouth drier. He wanted to run his tongue down into the shadowed V between her breasts and inhale the sweet scent of her deep into his lungs.
Scalloped edges of black lace appeared, cupping firm breasts. He remembered the feel of her covered in silk filling his mouth. He wanted that again with nothing between them.
Finally, she reached the last button, and the two halves of her shirt fell completely open to pool onto the table beneath her.
God, she was gorgeous. “Perfect,” he breathed, unable to tear his gaze away from the stretch of pale skin. She looked so soft. The absolute opposite of everything that had filled his world for so long.
And he couldn’t keep his hands off her anymore.
Swooping down, he placed his mouth right in the center of her stomach, sucking, licking, nipping. The muscles beneath his lips rippled in response and her body arched. Reaching around her, Evan found the clasp holding the bra in place and unsnapped it, but the straps were caught beneath her shirt.
Pulling her up again, Evan cradled her against his body and deliberately stripped the barriers away. All of them. In the fantasy he’d long ago abandoned, he might have taken the time to appreciate the matching lace panties that covered her sex, but he was too far gone for that, shoving them off her thighs to drop to the floor tangled together with her jeans.
Tatum let out a sharp hiss as her bare bottom connected with the cool surface of the table, but she didn’t move away. Instead, she leaned back, letting her legs fall open to show him everything.
Her sex was pink and swollen. Wet. Just begging for his touch. And he wanted to give her that. Wanted it for himself, too.
Stepping back, Evan simply took in the sight of her, his gaze roaming across every delectable inch of his wife’s body.
“God, Tatum, you destroy me.”
She laughed, a low, sultry sound that shot straight to his groin. “I don’t want to do that, Evan. Especially not before you touch me.”
Arching up, she offered herself to him in a way that was both erotic and humbling.
“If you don’t stop staring and start doing, Evan, I’m going to start without you.” She settled a hand against her taut belly, and her fingers flexed, then slowly traveled up toward the tight peak crowning her breast.
His entire body trembled, coiled with conflicting desires—let her follow through on the threat or touch her himself?
Maybe later he’d watch her play. Evan stepped between her spread thighs and leaned over her prostrate body. He sucked a nipple hard into the hot recesses of his mouth.
She moaned, the wicked sound ricocheting through him. Her fingers buried deep into his hair, holding tight. Tugging, Evan let his teeth scrape across her skin, gliding over the taut pearl of her nipple with just the hint of pain before laving away the sensation with his tongue and replacing it with the warmth of spreading pleasure.
Tatum writhed, her hips arching in silent demand.
“Soon,” he whispered against her skin as he trailed kisses up her shoulder and neck, and across her collarbones. “Soon, baby, I promise,” he soothed.
Her fingers scrabbled across his body, searching for a way into his skin. He could feel them, unsteady, as she fought against the buttons holding his own shirt together. He let her fight, enjoying the time it gave him to tease and explore.
To reacquaint himself with her body.
Evan noted each time his touch stalled her movements and sent her breath stuttering. The crease of her neck and shoulder. The pulse pounding behind her ear. The bottom ridge of her ribs. The pad of his thumb barely brushing over the reddened tip of her breast.
But eventually, she completed her task, sweeping the shirt from his body to join the rest of the clothes on the floor. She didn’t pause before tackling his fly, tearing at the button and yanking against his zipper.
Self-preservation had him taking a step back and finishing the job for her.
The blaze of those bright green eyes devouring him was like the fiery caress of a match struck against his skin. He’d never given a shit what anyone thought of him. But it mattered that Tatum liked what she saw.
With a single crooked finger, she commanded him to come closer. Sitting up, she watched him move and placed one han
d low on his hip even as she urged him the last few inches.
The edge of the table bit into the tops of his thighs, but he didn’t care. How could he while her hands ran across his body, down his chest to play over his abs?
Her mouth joined the party, landing softly on his left pec. Before she said anything, he knew what she would ask. “This is new. What does it mean?”
The hot point of her tongue laved his skin in a pattern he’d memorized. How many times had he let his fingers follow the same path, tracing the dark ink he’d added only a few months into his ordeal?
His hand cradled the nape of her neck, fingers buried in the silken waterfall of her dark hair. Evan closed his eyes and dropped his head, enjoying the thrill of her touch.
He’d wanted a reminder, a piece of her that only he could hold and know. Something to get him through the lonely nights and difficult days.
“Sekhmet, an Egyptian goddess. She’s a warrior and protector.” His voice trailed off to a whisper. “A healer.”
When he’d first gotten it, he’d desperately needed a protector. To feel that he wasn’t alone in the hell he was inhabiting. It was comforting to think of Tatum as a warrior goddess, a piece of her there battling beside him, urging him on and giving him something to fight for.
But now, now he needed her soft hands, warm lips and welcoming body to heal him.
“Is that the head of a lion?”
“Yep, the fiercest hunter.”
“Her body is...seductive.”
Evan smiled. He didn’t have to look down to see the tattoo, he had the image memorized.
“Of course. She’s you,” he said, the words low and charged. “How I remembered you. Wanted you. A touchstone to keep me focused on why I had to stay alive. And come home to you.”
She made a soft, choked sound, but didn’t stop tracing the dark lines inked onto his body. He didn’t realize she was crying until the warm splash of a tear hit his skin and rolled, leaving a wet trail.
Evan framed her face with his wide palms. The emerald eyes that had been filled with naked lust not five minutes ago were now awash with tears, which made his entire body cramp with regret and grief.
“Don’t,” he whispered right before bending to kiss the salty trail away. “Don’t cry for me.”
“I shouldn’t be. I shed enough tears already. But...” Her arms tightened around his waist, pulling him closer as she shook away the rest of her thought. “Love me, Evan. Please. Now.”
The frenzy that had overwhelmed them both was gone, replaced by something deeper and more profound.
Gripping his shoulders, Tatum used her hold on him to balance as she spread her thighs wide. He was perfectly poised, the swollen, throbbing head of his erection nudging against the slippery entrance to her sex.
She wrapped a hand around him, guiding him to where they both wanted him.
He was inside an inch when reality reared its ugly head. “Wait,” he said through clenched teeth. It was taking everything he had not to simply thrust forward and bury himself deep inside her. “Condom.”
Even before he’d finished the word, Tatum was shaking her head. “Neither of us has been with anyone else and I have an IUD.”
There was a small part of him disappointed to hear that. Before he’d left, they’d talked about her going off birth control when he returned. He wanted to give her that, to start a life deep inside her that they’d both love and share.
So, no matter what, he’d never leave her alone again.
But he was smart enough to realize that wasn’t an intelligent impulse right now.
“You’re sure?” he asked.
“Absolutely.”
With a guttural groan of relief, Evan pushed home, burying himself in her welcoming flesh.
The heat of her engulfed him, blazing through and burning him from the inside out. He didn’t care. He’d gladly go down in flames as long as he could do it wrapped tight in the clasp of her body.
She emitted a single sigh, the sound of it nearly bringing him to his knees. Relief, pleasure, comfort, tenderness.
Evan wrapped his arms around her body, simply holding her and relishing this moment. Finally being home.
He could feel the thrumming pulse of her sex. The way her muscles clenched and released greedily around him.
He slid his hands down the smooth surface of her back, relishing the tiny shudder she couldn’t stop. Eventually, the pounding pressure to move swelled to the point of agony and he couldn’t hold back anymore.
Hands planted wide around her hips, Evan tipped her body off center so he could control the angle of each stroke. Pulling back, he plunged deep again, reveling in her sharp hiss, the way her eyes glazed over with pleasure and her fingers dug deep into his skin, dragging him closer.
Tatum’s hips surged off the table. She arched into his hold, trusting he would be there to catch her. And, just like that, the frenzy returned, a bone-deep need to touch every inch of her. To hear the cry of her release and know he could bring her to that mindless burst of pleasure.
They moved together, perfectly choreographed after years of experience and knowledge. He drove each thrust right against that secret spot buried deep inside her. The need to let go burned at the base of his spine, but he ignored it, focusing completely on her.
Incoherent noises of need tore from her throat. Sweat dewed her skin, pale pink with the flush of her rising release.
And then it was there, screaming out of her with the sound of his name on her lips. Her body bucked, milking every last molecule of pleasure he could give her.
The tight fist of her sex, clamped hard around his aching erection, was more than Evan could fight. His own orgasm ripped through him, pulling an answering cry to tangle with the dying echo of hers.
His legs buckled. At least he had enough brainpower to realize that the edge of the table probably wasn’t the best place to land. Pulling her with him, he rolled them both to the floor.
It was cold against his overheated skin, but good. Or maybe that was the euphoria of having Tatum curled against his side.
He had no idea how long they lay tangled together. Long enough for the sweat to dry on his skin. His fingers trailed in mindless patterns across her soft skin. She shivered against his caress, but didn’t move away, which was a good sign.
Part of him had feared that the moment they were both satisfied Tatum would try to pull away again.
“Mmm,” she murmured, stretching against him. “There’s nothing about this floor that’s comfortable.”
“Not true,” he countered, placing a kiss on the crown of her head. “You’re pretty damn comfortable.”
She laughed, the pleasant sound rolling over him.
Could it be this easy? If he’d thought having sex would solve all their problems, Evan wouldn’t have waited.
Planting her palms against his chest, Tatum shoved upward, gathering her feet beneath her. He thought about snatching her back down beside him, but realized, as much as he would have liked to, they couldn’t stay huddled on her floor all afternoon.
Gathering their clothes, she tossed him his, his shirt smacking him in the face. By the time he disentangled himself, she was already half-dressed.
“Damn, you did that way too quickly.”
Tossing him a saucy smile over her shoulder, she bent to tie the laces on her shoes. “Which just means you get to peel me out of them again later.”
Hope and happiness swelled in his chest. “Promises, promises.”
Evan watched her finger comb her tangled hair, sigh a battered sound of disgust and dig an elastic band out of the drawer in the nearby table so she could pull it up into a messy ponytail.
Evan moved a little more slowly, dividing his attention between her and his clothes.
Only Tatum had ever been able to make re-dressing somehow just as sexy as undressing.
The annoying ring of a phone interrupted his scattered thoughts. It rolled through their peace for several moments before he fin
ally asked, “Are you going to get that?”
Tatum shook her head. “It’s not mine.”
Shit. He’d forgotten what the ringtone of his new cell sounded like. There were only a handful of people who had the number and none of them mattered because Tatum was standing in front of him.
But he wanted the interruption to stop. So, with every intention of silencing the damn thing, Evan reached deep into the pocket of the jeans still crumpled in his fist and fished out the high-tech gadget.
And then cursed when he saw the number on the display.
* * *
SHE’D GIVEN IN and they’d had sex. On her worktable.
And then she’d watched, bewildered, as Evan had hightailed it out of her store like his ass was on fire.
Without a backward glance.
While she’d still been struggling to right her clothes.
Tatum had no idea what to think of that. She definitely knew how to feel about it, though—pissed. And the fact the damn man had now been gone for six hours without a word was only cranking up her temper. And her insecurity.
Evan had always been a conscientious lover, even as a teenager. He carried an intensity that, when it was turned on her, was not just smoking hot, but reassuring. That laser focus had always made her feel wanted, desirable.
At the moment, doubts plagued her, crawling beneath her skin and making her restless.
It had taken everything to keep her concentration on Petals as the afternoon wore on. At first, she’d worried. There were few things that could have Evan jumping that quickly to disappear—and none of them good.
Around five, she’d broken down and texted him, simultaneously berating herself for the sign of weakness even as her thumbs tapped out the words. She’d never been the hovering wife and didn’t like the idea of becoming one now.
But the worry had eaten at her.
Which did nothing to downshift her temper once it got rolling.
Without word from him, she’d gone back to her empty house—which, up until tonight, had always seemed perfect, but was now too damn quiet. Pulling a chicken breast out of the freezer, she’d decided to invest the time in making herself something yummy to eat. But the chicken stir-fry might as well have been glue in her mouth.
Bring Me to Life Page 10
