by Rachel Lee
So what was she really afraid of? That she might discover that parts of life could still be beautiful?
Another wave of grief for Chet passed through her, quieter now than before. He had missed so many of the good things, and now he would never know them.
You’ll turn my heaven into hell.
Chet’s loving heart hadn’t wanted her to crawl into a grave with him. He didn’t want her to deny herself the things he couldn’t have. He wanted her to enjoy all of them, even though he couldn’t be with her.
That was true love. No, she wouldn’t mix it up with anything else, of that she was certain.
They turned onto the dirt drive that led to the house. The barn, whitened with primer, seemed bright against the surrounding countryside, almost like a beacon.
Liam had done that for her. Whether from gratitude or some sense of obligation, didn’t matter. He had a big heart, too, and was struggling with demons she could only imagine. But he fought on, determined to make some kind of future for himself. Determined to become as functional as possible. Even the reading lessons spoke volumes. She wouldn’t have blamed him if he’d been insulted. A lot of men would have been, feeling it was an attack on their manhood. Not Liam. He’d accepted it and taken to it like a man thirsty for knowledge.
His hand was still on her thigh and it was all she could think of. Her distracting thoughts were giving way to an awareness of Liam: his touch, his scent, his nearness. It was like being wrapped in a spell of some kind, and she feared it would end as soon as she parked.
She didn’t want it to end. She wanted it to go on and on. She wasn’t sure how far she wanted it to go, but she knew how much she needed even little things.
God, it had been so long since she’d been touched. So long since she’d been held close for any but the briefest moments of sympathy. She had felt Liam’s arms around her, powerful and sure, and she wanted that feeling again.
“I’ll get the groceries,” Liam said as the truck stopped beside the house. His hand vanished from her leg and she felt the loss as acutely as if a piece of her skin had ripped off.
Fantasies. Just fantasies. He had his own reasons to be cautious about this, too. And she supposed she should be grateful since it seemed her own willpower was dying a rapid death in the face of deeply rooted yearnings.
She left him to get the few grocery bags, no more than he could carry with a single hand, and headed inside, telling her body to calm down, telling herself to banish the disappointment. The touch may have meant nothing. He might have simply rested his hand on her because he was as hungry for human contact as she was.
Considering the glimpses she’d had of his journey to see her, she could certainly understand that. Months in rehab followed by a road trip that had to have stressed him to the max, and all of it alone. In their different ways, they had both been to hell and were just starting to make their way back.
Affection, sorely missed, was as much of a need as any. Maybe that was what they were seeking.
Standing at the kitchen window, looking out, she heard his heavy tread as he walked into the room behind her. Bags rustled as he placed them on the table. She was afraid to turn around and look at him, for fear he might have withdrawn again into that place that had taken him so far away the past few days. Lost in memories? Lost in thoughts about a future? Or simply lost in dealing with his own changes? She had no way to know, and he didn’t seem inclined to talk.
She heard him put things in the fridge, and still she didn’t move. She tried to focus on her dinner plans, but kept getting sidetracked by thoughts of him, so near and yet so far.
Without warning, powerful arms wrapped around her from behind, causing her to gasp. Warm breath caressed her neck, then his husky voice said, “Did I do something wrong?”
“Oh, no!” She hated to think he was misinterpreting her pensiveness, but how else could he take it when she wouldn’t even look at him? “I was just thinking.”
He didn’t release her. Instead, she felt him settle into his stance more comfortably, legs spreading, and then he drew her back against his chest.
“I know that place,” he said. His breath now whispered warmly against her ear. “Lost in thought.”
She tried to lighten the moment in defiance of the hot pool of hunger that had settled between her thighs. Damn, it felt as if every cell in her body had sprung to sudden life. She could even feel her nipples pebbling, hoping for a touch. “Did you find any answers to cosmic questions?”
“If you’re a cosmic question, then no.”
She caught her breath. “Liam...” His name seemed to bear the weight of every burgeoning desire she felt.
“I can’t promise a thing,” he said. “Do you understand that? I don’t know how well I’ll deal with who I am now. I don’t know for sure that I’ve got anything to offer.”
“I’m not asking for forever here.” She wasn’t. She was fairly certain of that.
“Good. Because I’m not sure I can give it.”
She sighed and let her head tip back against his shoulder. “We’re adults,” she said pointlessly.
“Which means we can make some really big mistakes.”
That made twice today that his insight had startled her. Deficits? What deficits? The important things still seemed to be a part of him. Like that business about her unconscious taking her to town and into Maude’s diner, knowing at some level that she’d run into her friends. She didn’t want to be analyzed, but he’d hit that nail squarely on the head. Her irritation had come from being so transparent to him, but not to herself.
“I don’t know what we’re doing here,” he said honestly. But then he was always honest, sometimes painfully so. “Do you?”
“No,” she admitted. “I just know that resurrection is a hard thing to do.”
“That’s a good word for it.” Then, “Aw, hell.”
He turned her around until she faced him, then without a word slid his hands down to cup her rump. As he started to lift her, she instinctively grabbed his shoulders. In one easy movement, he lifted her onto the counter and came to stand between her legs.
“Just a little,” he murmured, “just a taste.”
She didn’t know whether he was talking to her or himself, but it ceased to matter as his mouth found hers.
The melting inside her was instantaneous. She wouldn’t have believed that the mere touch of his lips could turn her so soft, relaxing every tension, turning her into a warm puddle.
Like a butterfly seeking nectar, his lips and tongue brushed gently against hers, so gently it was almost maddening when she wanted so much more. Wrapping her arms tighter around his shoulders, she tried to urge him closer, to communicate how much more she wanted.
“Easy,” he whispered, though once again she couldn’t tell if he was reminding himself or asking her. It didn’t matter. Something deep and strong was building in her, and she wasn’t going to do one single thing to shatter this moment.
So she remained patient as he tasted her lightly, explored gently. She’d never had a kiss like this, so free of demand, as if asking and almost uncertain. But when his tongue at last slipped between her lips, every cell in her body responded.
Heat swamped her in shimmering waves. Their tongues dueled as if this caress were the ultimate satisfaction. Such a kiss!
Then his hands, which had been resting at her waist, moved. One of them slipped around, tugging her shirt up, slipping beneath it until she felt his calloused palm against the bare skin of her midriff. Warm, rough, yet so gentle. His other hand pulled her closer, even as he moved in to press himself to the throbbing heat between her thighs.
She wanted more and her body signaled it, arching to press tighter to him, lifting her legs to wrap them around him. She felt open, soft, hard and hungry all at once. Heat bloomed throughout her. Breaths came in gasps.
She felt her bra clasp twist, her breasts immediately spilling free of confinement. Then his hand found her there, too, brushing against her nippl
e over and over while he continued to plunder her mouth.
She felt caught on an arc of fire, sizzling, electric jolts zapping from her mouth to her core, from her breast to her core. The pool of heat between her thighs turned to a heavy, hard ache, clenching and unclenching in time to his rapacious tongue.
She felt his hips rock against hers, felt the hardness of him through all the layers of denim. The pounding in her blood grew deafening, and she dug her fingers into his shoulders needing some purchase as she spun free of gravity.
Then his fingers pinched her nipple and she cried out, throwing her head back. The wave took her now, like a tsunami in its power. His kiss was gone, but immediately replaced by something even more powerful.
As she arched backward, he supported her with his arm, while his other hand continued to toy with her breast, driving her to the edge of insanity. Then she felt the whisper of cool air, but before she had time to really notice it, his mouth clamped over her breast, sucking strong and hard.
Her head bumped the cabinet above, but she barely noticed. She was riding a wild stallion at full gallop, and nothing could halt the cascade of hunger inside of her.
With each pull on her breast, with each lash of his tongue on her tingling nipple, the undeniable rhythms in her pounded ever more strongly.
Their hips met, again and again, the throbbing ache grew bigger and bigger. It was almost teasing with so much clothing in the way, enough and yet not enough, but what was happening inside her was not teasing. It was real, vital and explosive.
She needed this. Oh, how she needed this. She was flying now, higher and higher, even as the throbbing within her approached a painful crescendo.
All of a sudden, everything inside her exploded. For an instant, her brain emptied of everything but the acute awareness of a satisfaction that was almost excruciating in its intensity. Then, like a spent firework, she shattered in blazing embers of completion.
Chapter Nine
Liam held her close. She could hear his ragged breathing in her ear, and she supposed hers was every bit as ragged. Her heart pounded its way slowly to a calmer rhythm. The throbbing of her body eased slowly, almost reluctantly, as if it were ready to start again.
She heard him draw a long, shaky breath, felt a tremor pass through him. Time had ceased to have meaning, and she didn’t know how long it was before he spoke.
“I think I said a taste.”
It was certainly more than a taste, she thought hazily. She leaned into him, enjoying his arms around her, enjoying the closeness she had missed for so long.
There was no understanding of how important it was to be this close to another human, to be wrapped in strong arms, unless you had gone without it forever. It felt like forever since last someone had held her this way.
Not that she would have wanted just anyone to hold her this way. No, it mattered that it was Liam, and that realization niggled at her mercilessly. Then she shoved it away, refusing to cede this time and these feelings to the harsh light of reflection. That could come later.
“Wow,” he murmured into her ear. “Just wow.”
“Wow,” she agreed, burying her nose in his neck, inhaling his particular musky scent mixed with soap and shampoo. He smelled so good to her.
He ran his palms over her back, then surprised her by lifting her and holding her close.
“My legs feel like rubber bands,” he said. “You drained me, woman.”
The comment elicited a quiet laugh from her as the world spun and he headed for the living room. A half minute later they were settled on the sofa, she straddling his lap, all without separating an inch.
She leaned against him, enjoying the way he rubbed her back. She’d have been happy to stay like this forever. For a while, it seemed he would, too.
Companionable silence, human closeness. It couldn’t get much better.
But then her stomach growled noisily. He laughed quietly. “You need to eat.”
“I need to make dinner,” she admitted.
“I don’t suppose there’s a pizza delivery service out here.”
“Dream on.” She laughed reluctantly and sat up even more reluctantly. “I need to cook.”
“Maybe we can scrounge something from the fridge. Or find something easy.”
“I planned on easy for tonight. I hope the gas grill still works, but I figured I’d make some hamburgers.”
“That sounds really good. What can I do?”
“Pull the grill away from the house and take the cover off it. I hate dealing with that.”
She eased off his lap, feeling as if she were making a big sacrifice. It wasn’t easy, but she supposed it was necessary, especially as a hunger pang struck her. Her lunch salad hadn’t stuck around for very long.
Or maybe, she thought impishly, Liam had helped her work up an appetite.
* * *
Standing near the kitchen window, she quickly made hamburger patties for them, then started slicing tomatoes and onion, and washing a few lettuce leaves. He had no trouble pulling the grill out to the place she’d indicated, but when it came to dealing with the heavy, waterproof cover, he seemed at a loss once he’d pulled it off.
She paused in her preparations and waited while he studied the cover. He probably felt he should fold it, but couldn’t figure out how. She hoped he wasn’t getting frustrated.
Just as she was about to drop her knife and go out to help him, something must have clicked for him. He began folding the material, although far from neatly. Maybe he’d decided that any old fold would do for now. It certainly would. In fact, he hadn’t needed to fold it at all.
Watching him was a thrill, though, because it called to mind the minutes just past when he had held her in those incredibly strong arms and had showed her that a very essential part of her was alive and well after being repressed for so long.
Man, that had been delicious. But even as remembered sensations began to flood her anew with warmth and a desire for more, warning flags started popping up.
It was all well and good to acknowledge that she’d been trying to avoid pain for a long time now, that she’d pulled out of much of life because she feared close connections and the devastation that could follow when they were lost. It was entirely another to try to delude herself into thinking that didn’t matter.
Of course it mattered. Any reasonable adult would know that. To risk such pain again, the reward would have to be great, indeed, and Liam had been quite frank about not being able to promise her anything. He was justified in that. Hell, he hadn’t sorted himself out yet, and she, apparently, hadn’t sorted herself out, either.
They were both on a dangerous transitional cusp here: he was working his way into a new life, and she was coming out of a long period of grief. In short, they were easy pickings for an easy answer to it all.
She sighed, arranging the lettuce, onion and tomatoes on a plate. Okay, no easy answers, no heedless slip into a relationship that could wound one or both of them. Neither one of them merited the pain if only one of them should become deeply involved. And given their current situations, it might be too damn easy to get involved, for comfort and companionship, if nothing else.
God, she thought, life had been so much easier when she had fallen in love with Chet. None of these daunting questions, just an easy tumble into the most wonderful ocean of human emotions. No knotty questions, just a growing surety.
Life had taken that ease and certainty away from her by teaching her that love could be painful, too. Every bit as powerfully painful as it was wonderful. If that was wisdom, she wished she’d never had to learn it.
She cooked the burgers on the grill, taking her time because Liam seemed interested in how to light it.
“I never had a gas grill,” he announced. “When I was a kid it was always charcoal.”
“We went with this because it’s useful when the power goes out in the winter. If the wind isn’t too strong and you can stand the chill, there’s a lot you can cook rather than bu
rning the house propane, which we need for heat.”
“Does it go out often?”
“The power? Often enough. At least once a winter it’ll go out for long enough that I’ll be carting food outside to keep it cold.”
She glanced at him. “I bet you got used to living without any power at all.”
“Sometimes. We had generators at some of our forward bases so it would depend on where we were and what we were doing.”
“Rugged living.”
“No more rugged for us than the people who live there.”
“That’s a good point. I guess I’m pampered.”
He didn’t answer, and when she looked up he was staring into space. Oh, God, had she just sent him back to Afghanistan? But then he seemed to shake himself, and the next thing she knew he was smiling at her.
He didn’t answer her comment though, and she let it lie.
They let a lot of things lie that evening. The intimacy had dispelled, and the distance was back. They ate at opposite sides of the table, they watched a comedy on DVD, which didn’t seem to interest him a whole lot, and when bedtime approached he went up alone.
The barriers were back in place, leaving her feeling bereft. Later, in her own room, she tossed and turned until finally she gave up and went to sit by her window.
Seated in a valley, the ranch didn’t give the longest views as the mountains seemed to rise quickly to the night sky. The moon silvered everything and seemed to invite memory to intrude.
She had spent more nights sitting alone at this window than she could count. Chet had been gone for most of their marriage, and this little easy chair had been a lonely haven for a long time.
Although she had been used to long bouts of solitude, the loss of Chet had been no less painful. Purpose had left her life, and along with it the familiar and much cherished task of writing him every single day about some little thing. She knew from his responses that he often went without mail for a long time, then would receive a whole packet of her letters. He called those times his “real payday.”
Planning had deserted her, too, along with dreams for the future. She’d begun running like an automaton, the color leached from her life as surely as the night leached it from the day.
