And at each sound outside her window, Tatum’s body stiffened, in hope and then disappointment as it became clear none of them were the rumble of Evan’s bike pulling into her drive.
God, she was being an idiot.
But she couldn’t seem to stop. Her emotions were all over the map. She thought about pouring a glass of wine in an attempt to mellow out, but after what had happened this afternoon, her stomach churned at the thought.
She could call any one of her girls and they’d be over in a blink to offer her an ear, shoulder or distraction, whichever she needed most. The problem was, she wasn’t sure and...she didn’t want to admit to any of them she’d lost her head and let Evan have her in the back of her workroom.
So she simply sat, feet tucked up under her as she watched TV, although if anyone asked her what the shows were about, she wouldn’t have been able to say.
Eventually, she gave up, locking all the doors, shutting off lights and heading to bed.
Unfortunately, that only increased the sensation of loneliness and disappointment that had been clawing up from her belly all night.
Screwing her eyes shut, Tatum tried to force her brain to shut off. It took a while, but eventually her exhausted body overrode her overactive mind and she drifted to sleep.
* * *
AND THAT’S HOW Evan found her several hours later. She looked so...peaceful. He almost hated to disturb her, but after the night he’d had, he needed to feel close to her. More than anything.
But he took the opportunity to unabashedly stare at her first.
She had an antique iron bed. The scrollwork above her head was gorgeous, with a patina that spoke of loving care and age. Most people, looking at her, wouldn’t take Tatum for an antique kind of girl. But, maybe because her own history had been so rocky, she’d loved to find these kinds of treasures buried beneath dust and history. Forgotten, so that she could lovingly reveal the beauty that had been hidden.
With so much space, it didn’t escape his notice that she wasn’t sprawled out, taking up the entire bed. Instead, she was on her side. Where she’d always slept when they were together.
Her long, lithe body was curled in on itself, the curve of her spine almost more than he could ignore. He wanted to run his fingers down her body, but just managed to stop himself.
She was hugging a pillow, her cheek resting on the fluffy mound, her hip cocked and her thigh thrown over the pillow in a way that made him want to take its place so her warmth would be draped across him.
What was she wearing beneath the covers? Another one of the confections that nearly made him swallow his tongue? Her legs were obviously bare, because moonlight glinted off the pale skin of the one she’d worked outside the blanket. It had always amused him that she would have the covers pulled up to her nose, but one foot out so she wouldn’t get too hot.
Although, it didn’t much matter what she was wearing, because it wouldn’t be on for long.
Slowly stripping off his own clothes, Evan left them in a pile on her floor. Walking around to his side, he placed a knee on the bed and watched her body roll toward him with the dip. But she didn’t wake up.
Slipping beneath the covers, he tugged until they fell out of her tight fist to pool at her waist. Tonight she was wearing a rose-colored nightie trimmed in elegant black lace. A mix of tradition and tease.
He trailed his fingers across her shoulders, tugging at the poor excuse for a strap. It easily slithered off her shoulder. He followed it, letting his hands play across her back, ribs and hips.
Scooting closer, his fingers brushed the low edge of her neckline, teasing, relishing the way her nipples pebbled into hard peaks. In her sleep, Tatum sighed, the sound full of need and relief punching straight through him.
Unable to resist, he slipped his hand beneath the soft satin to cup her plump breast. With sure fingers, he plucked at her, dragging a harder, sharper sound from her throat.
She was so warm and languid pressed against him. He wanted to take her soft and easy. To bend her knee and spread her wide, slipping into her from behind and just rocking them both to delicious oblivion.
But the moment her brain engaged, Tatum had other ideas.
“What the hell are you doing?” she cried, rolling out from under him. Before he realized what was happening, she was out of bed, standing in a pool of moonlight with both arms crossed protectively over her chest.
From the glare she was giving him, it was clear they were going to have to deal with something before he could coax her back into bed.
So much for hoping the wild frenzy they’d shared this afternoon would be enough to break through whatever was holding her back.
With a sigh, Evan pushed upright, planting his back against the cold metal of the headboard. Crossing his ankles, he settled the covers around his waist so they could both concentrate on whatever was coming and get it over with so he could get back to making love to his wife.
“Are you...” Her deep green eyes went saucer wide. “Are you naked?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because this is my freaking bed, Evan. Because I didn’t invite you into it.”
Her incredulity might have been humorous if the heat behind her words wasn’t burning so clearly through her gaze.
“Oh, but you did, sweetheart. This afternoon.”
“Letting you screw me in my workroom hardly constitutes an open invitation into my body and bed.”
Okay, now he was pissed off. No longer worrying about keeping anything covered, he shoved up from the bed. She took two steps away—smart girl—but he caught her. He didn’t slow her motion, not until her shoulders and hips settled against the solid barrier of wall.
Hadn’t they been here once already?
For each step forward he thought he’d gained, Evan somehow kept looking up to find himself three steps backward instead.
Leaning close, he pressed into her personal space. “Let’s get one thing straight, angel. What happened this afternoon was me making love to my wife after three long years apart. Sure as hell was intense, but it was far from screwing.”
Trailing his fingers down the expanse of her throat, thrilling just a little when she had to swallow against the tangle of emotions his caress caused, he watched her reaction. The way her pupils dilated, her skin flushed. Her breathing became ragged. Her fingers curled into the wall, as if she was trying to find a steadying hold.
He could have told her the only thing she needed to cling to was him.
After several seconds, she finally whispered, “You left me.”
And the hurt that climbed up to swamp her gaze nearly brought him to his knees.
9
TATUM WATCHED THE hard edge that had cut across his features soften. His body followed, the tension slowly leaking out.
The backs of his fingers brushed across her skin, from collarbone to collarbone, sending a ripple of tingles rocketing through her.
“God, Tatum, I’m sorry. I didn’t think...” His words dwindled off to nothing, but she heard what went unsaid. He hadn’t considered how she would feel or react.
Tatum had no idea what to do with that. It definitely didn’t make her feel good. In fact, it made her spine crawl with restless uncertainty.
She waited for him to say more, but his mouth stayed stubbornly shut.
When she realized he wasn’t going to offer anything else up, she couldn’t stop herself from asking, “What happened? Where did you go?”
His jaw tightened, grinding his teeth together so tightly she feared a few might break.
He was going to tell her it was classified. She could see it in his eyes. If he did, she would tell him to leave.
And that would be the end of their marriage.
Pain ripped through Tatum’s chest, so strong and quick she nearly doubled over with the unexpected hit of it. But Evan’s strong body prevented her from giving in.
She was so preoccupied with her own spinning thoughts it took several moments befor
e she realized he was speaking.
“I got a call. From...a contact. About the cartel in Colombia. There’s movement. Unexpected movement.”
It was almost as if the words, once said, had released a flood of information that had been dammed up behind them.
“The takedown was tightly coordinated, crushing the top twenty or thirty members of the group. They were spread across the country, some in Bogotá, some in Barranquilla, some peppered through several smaller communities and a few hidden deep in the jungle.”
Evan’s gaze dragged up, catching a spot on the wall inches above her head. Tatum realized he wasn’t seeing her bedroom, but another life she had nothing to do with. Even his voice had changed, taking on the faint hint of an accent, the melodic tones of the language he’d instinctively been speaking that first night in his sleep.
It was as if a part of him had slipped back into the person he’d been when he was gone.
“In the melee,” he continued, “we were able to keep my cover intact by letting the joint task force take me down, as well. For anyone who wants to look, there’s a paper trail leading back to my cover’s extradition to the U.S. on bogus drug charges I had fled from. The thought was that the few low-level thugs left to pick up the pieces would have too much on their plates to worry about tracking me down.”
A frown pulled his dark brows into a deep V over his ever-changing eyes. They were a pale green shot through with threads of golden brown.
Why was she focusing on that and not the meaning behind his words? Maybe because it was easier. And less frightening.
“Apparently, we were wrong. Someone’s been following up. Asking questions.”
“Are you in danger?”
Evan finally looked at her, not that it did her much good. He’d always been stellar at hiding behind a mask whenever he needed to. And something told her his three years away had only helped him hone those skills.
“No.” The single word was hard and left no wiggle room for doubt.
And yet...
“Why don’t I believe you?” she whispered, her stomach churning sickly.
He brought his hands up to her face and cupped her jaw. His thumbs brushed softly, hypnotically, down the slope of her throat, even as he dipped close enough to stare into her eyes.
“I promise, Tatum, I’d die before I let anything happen to you. You’re safe.”
That she believed. Unfortunately, it didn’t make her feel better. It made her feel worse.
“That isn’t what I asked, Evan.”
He didn’t respond, at least, not with words. Instead, he claimed her lips.
She should struggle. Stop him. But she couldn’t.
Not when her entire body was overwhelmed with how good his kiss felt—soft, gentle. She could practically taste the banked heat and passion he was trying to hold back.
Her resolve wavered. Her head screamed at her to push him away. Her heart thudded desperately inside her chest. And the rest of her body throbbed, all her nerve endings awake and alive in a way they hadn’t been in so long.
As much as she knew she should, she couldn’t do it.
Grasping his wrists, Tatum arched into his hands, silently communicating she wanted more. Wanted him right where he was. At least, for now.
The rest she’d deal with later.
Much later.
Groaning, Evan gathered her close. He picked her up, urging her thighs around his waist as he backed blindly away from the wall. He didn’t look behind him. He didn’t take his focus off of her.
A shiver of anticipation shot through her.
He was hot and hard against her, not just his erection, although that was certainly impressive. But all of him. His shoulders, arms, thighs. Solid beneath her as he held on.
For the first time since he’d walked back into her life, Tatum finally felt safe. The problem was that the sensation would be fleeting, and she knew it.
Eventually, he’d have to let her go.
Putting his arm beneath her rear, Evan boosted her higher, into position so the length of his sex nestled perfectly against her. She was damp. So wet that he slid against the satin-covered well of her sex as smoothly as if there’d been no barrier between them.
Each motion as he moved backward bumped the head of his cock against the swollen bud of her clit. It was divine torture and Tatum whimpered at the maddening sensation. Because it wasn’t enough. She needed to feel him moving deep inside her. Claiming, filling, touching something only he’d ever reached.
But Evan had other ideas.
She expected him to hit the bed and roll, putting her beneath him and immediately slamming home.
Instead, he simply fell, letting her sprawl across his body. Before she had a chance to catch her breath, Evan’s hands dragged her gown over her head.
The slide of satin against her skin had always made her feel feminine, beautiful, desirable. But it had nothing on the experience of his fingers running across her body.
The way he watched her, gauging her reactions with that piercing, haunted gaze...
Pushing up with her palms on his chest, Tatum tried to put some distance between them, to get some perspective and a grip on what was happening. But Evan was having none of that. He climbed up on his elbows, reclaiming the inches she’d taken, bringing their bodies flush again.
His mouth found the crook of her neck and sucked, hard. A trail of prickles chased across her skin and every nerve ending in her chest burst to life with a fiery, hot tingle.
Evan urged her up, and she resented the space he put between them...right up until she realized why. Without taking his mouth from her skin, he worked her panties down. Out of the way.
With a sigh of pleasure, she rolled her hips, sliding against the hard press of his erection. Evan hissed. His hands, hard at her waist, dug deeper.
“More,” she breathed. “I want more.”
The ache burning deep inside intensified, threatening to expand and engulf her like a supernova. And still she kept rocking against him, unable to stop herself from taking the pleasure of sliding him between the swollen lips of her sex, coating him with the evidence of her desire.
Gripping her hips, Evan urged her up onto her knees. His erection sprang free and immediately found her slick entrance.
Without waiting for him to tell her what he wanted, Tatum took what she desperately needed.
Slowly, she sank her body onto his, taking him in. Her thighs trembled with the force of holding back, but the feel of him was too good to rush.
“Angel,” he uttered in a desperate groan, his fingers digging into her hips. He tried to get her to move, but Tatum wouldn’t budge. She simply sat, relishing the feel of him lodged deep inside. The stretch and burn. The throbbing ache.
The sensation of...relief. Release. Not the sexual kind, not yet, but of her heart. Her soul. The thing that had been walled off and encased in ice since the day they had told her he was gone.
Grasping her wrists, Evan pulled them out from under her. She collapsed onto his chest, her sensitive nipples dragging against the hard planes of his body.
Entwining their fingers, Evan leaned up and crushed his mouth to hers. This kiss wasn’t foreplay—it was connection, history, memories. It was the familiar taste and feel. It was being able to find him in the dark with nothing but sound, scent and sensation.
Bringing their joined hands back to his chest, he broke the kiss, pushing her slightly away. But it didn’t matter, the connection stayed, an invisible rope binding them irrevocably together.
His eyes flashed green and golden, burning with the same fire of need that consumed her.
She could see every emotion rampaging within him. He made no effort to hide them. Desperation, desire, lust, love. A blazing need that both scared and thrilled because it overwhelmed.
“Take what you need, Tatum. Let me give it to you,” he whispered, his hips bucking so he could drive deeper. Her internal muscles spasmed, clamping hard around him, even as a whimper fell fr
om her lips.
And, just like that, she couldn’t stay still, not any longer.
Their fingers tangled, his unflinching gaze locked squarely on hers, she did exactly what he urged. She took. Riding him, letting her physical need overwhelm them both, a frenzied race to the peak of oblivion that was so close but just out of reach.
Because she wanted it with him. She didn’t want to go over alone.
Her eyelids fluttered closed, but she snapped them open. His own dropped, but he didn’t take the glitter of his longing from her, either.
“Please, Evan. I need you,” she begged.
As if that was all he’d been waiting for, he moved with her. Meeting each of her downward strokes with a deep plunge of his own. They found a rhythm, their rhythm, and got lost inside the rough slide, damp skin and panting breaths.
Releasing her right hand, he flattened it against his chest, and held it. The racing beat of his heart thrummed against her palm.
Without thinking, Tatum took his other hand and placed it palm down against her own chest.
Something sharp flashed through his gaze, flaying straight to the bone and laying everything he kept hidden bare.
Panic surged, but it was no match for the orgasm rocketing toward her. Too late to stop it, her body gave in, convulsing with the force of what he made her feel.
His name screamed through her parted lips. Her fingers clenched tight, holding on to the only solid thing left to her, him. The room swam out of focus and all she could see was Evan, his beautiful eyes, intense concentration and the ragged edges of his own release.
The hot flood of his orgasm filled her. His hips pistoned, driving through the tight clamp of her muscles, caught up in ecstasy. Her name was on his lips, too, but it wasn’t a shout of relief. It was a whisper. An answered prayer, given with quiet reverence.
Absolutely spent, Tatum collapsed. Their legs tangled, sweat-slicked skin against sweat-slicked skin. Now, she couldn’t just feel the slow gallop of his heart against her hand, but against her entire body. And the pulse of it rumbled just beneath her own skin. Vibrated with the aftershocks that fluttered through her sex, over and over and over again.
Bring Me to Life Page 11
