by Amy Gamet
She shrugged. “Okay. Sure.”
“I know Wiseman told you what happened to your brother. And you’re mad.”
“Hurt.” She looked at her hands. “I don’t really know how I feel after yesterday.”
“Well, that’s something you’ll have to figure out. But I have something to add.” He sat back in his chair. “You should know, Luke waited longer than he should have. A good thirty seconds longer, and any one of those seconds could have killed us all. I was shitting a brick thinking we were all going to die if he didn’t do something, and every man out there knew why he hadn’t. None of us wanted Buckeye to die.”
She raised her chin. “He was an acceptable loss. A sacrifice made to save the others.”
“I don’t think so, but go ahead. See it your way. Just answer me this. Would it be better if we all were dead? He was in there too long. Either he died or we all did, but either way he couldn’t have survived. You have to see that.”
“I don’t have to see anything. My government told me my brother died protecting an outpost, but that isn’t what happened. He died because the men who were supposed to protect him killed him instead.”
“Luke tried to save him and damn near got killed himself.”
“Hiding behind sandbags is hardly putting himself in danger.”
“Jesus H. Christ, he didn’t tell you.” Mac shook his head and blew out air.
She furrowed her brow. “Didn’t tell me what?”
“He went in there. Yes, he detonated the explosives to save the rest of our asses, then he ran in that storage building and tried to save your brother, too. But there must have been a faulty wire on the explosives. Half the charges didn’t go off until he was already inside. Blew off his leg from the knee down.”
“Oh, my God…” In her mind’s eye she could see it, too, see the horror on Luke’s face as he tried to save her brother. And she’d blamed him. How she’d blamed him.
“Blew him clear of the building. Some superficial wounds, a nasty concussion. It killed him that he lost Buckeye, Summer. Just like it must have killed you.”
She looked down at her hands twisted in the blanket. “Why didn’t he tell me this? Why did he let me think…”
“Because that’s the way he sees it in his mind, and he’s never let himself forget. Going into that burning building to save him doesn’t even stand out in his memory.”
“Which hospital is he in?”
“Lenox Hill.”
She already knew he was okay, having waited to get word before falling asleep last night. But still, she hadn’t gone to him. “Do you think he wants to see me?”
“I do.”
“Will you take me to him?”
He smiled. “This is New York. I don’t have a car, but I’ll be happy to grab you a cab.”
27
Luke’s good leg was broken just below the kneecap, all but shattered in the crushing fall onto the concrete that killed T-ball. Doctors told him it would be weeks before he would be discharged, requiring a stay at a rehab facility before he’d be stable enough to walk again.
He made arrangements for Zeke to stay at Chop’s house and settled into the mother of all funks. There was little to do except think about Summer, all the mistakes of his past and to look to his future. It was a blank page, unburdened by what he had done up until now. At least, for the most part it was.
Summer appeared in his hospital room the morning of his second day. “Can I come in?”
“Sure.” He sat up as best he could, hating that he was doing such a good impression of an invalid instead of standing up to greet her. She sat in the blue vinyl chair by his side.
“How are you feeling?”
“Good. Fine. Going stir crazy, is all.”
“How long are you going to be in here?”
“The docs day it could be a while. Couple of weeks until I get home, anyway.”
“You need any help with Zeke?”
“No.”
She looked disappointed, and it occurred to him she sometimes seemed to like the dog more than she liked him.
The dog didn’t kill anyone she loved, asshole.
“Mac told me you went in after Edward. He said you lost your leg trying to save him.”
“It was too late.”
“Yeah, but you tried. You told me you just went looking to see if he’d been thrown by the blast and he wasn’t there. That’s not the same thing.”
“Same outcome. I was too late.”
“You lost a leg.”
“I would have given two if I could have saved him.”
She stood, lifting the bed railing and lowering it down, then climbed beneath the covers.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Lift up your arm.”
He lifted his arm and she settled against his side, lightly kissing his chest. “I should have come here with you yesterday. I’m sorry I didn’t.”
She was warm and soft, the sweet scent of her hair tickling his nose. “It’s okay.”
He wasn’t sure why she’d climbed into bed with him, and he wasn’t about to ask. He only knew she felt good there, like she belonged, and he wanted her to stay, but he suspected she would not.
“It’s almost time for Jeopardy. Is the food here any good?”
“It’s terrible.”
“Then let’s order a pizza and something to drink.”
“I don’t think they’ll have Prosecco.”
“Then I’ll run to the store and grab some Heineken.”
He smiled, his arm tightening around the only woman he wanted by his side. “You remembered.”
“I listen, too.”
28
Summer would be lying if she said she wasn’t nervous. Luke was waiting for her. He’d been released from rehab that morning after twelve days there, and she’d promptly taken him back to their hotel overlooking the city, asking him to make love to her. Though she would have preferred he take her back to his cabin in the woods, there was the tiniest distance in him these last two weeks and she wasn’t taking any chance of losing him.
Not when she wanted so badly to do this.
Nerves danced in her stomach, and she bit her lip on a smile. He was shirtless, sitting in a chair beside a small gas fireplace with a beer in his hand. He looked like Atlas after he put the world down, the look in his eyes at once exhausted and intense.
It didn’t matter if he was tired.
He would be awake for her.
She crossed to him. In that moment, she was so certain of his devotion she believed there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for her. That was Luke. It was who he was.
Her eyes skated over his muscled chest, the fine smattering of hair that covered it glistening in the firelight, and felt a warmth spread through her body that had nothing to do with the flames. Tonight he would be hers. This evening was made for them to be together, to share their bodies and to make love, to let the past finally fall away from the present.
They were each broken, each a piece of a whole, and only together could they truly be complete again. She stood before the fire and faced him, unbuttoning her shirt and draping it over the empty chair beside him. It was perfect that she be naked for him, a reckoning of sorts, an admission that she knew exactly what should happen tonight between them.
She reached behind her back, unfastening her bra and letting it fall from her shoulders, her nipples hardening as she freed them. His stare fell to her breasts and she let him look at her, taking his fill just as she had gloried in his body.
Her knees felt weak. She wanted to sit down but feared things would move too quickly if she did, remembering how badly she’d wanted to kiss him again, just needing to feel his mouth on hers, that connection humming between them like a current.
She held out her hand and he took it, putting down his drink before letting her pull him up. He followed her to the bed and she turned out the light, leaving only the orange glow of the fireplace warming the room. “I want to ki
ss you. Hold you in my arms,” she said quietly.
Seeming to understand her need to take things slowly despite her nudity, he reclined on the bed and opened his arm for her to settle against his side. The intimacy was so welcome, and she inhaled the scent of his skin before stroking his chest and opposite shoulder.
His hand was on her back, tantalizing her with lazy circles that made her want to purr out loud. She lifted her chin and met his eyes, lust filling his stare, heavy and dark. He kissed her, softly at first, his lips full and generous, and she understood it was no use to try to hold back, to savor each moment.
They were already making love, their kiss just as erotic and sensual as what they were about to do, and she let go of her foolish timeline. There was only Luke and how he made her feel, what she wanted him to experience, all the things she wanted to show him with her body.
She moved on top of him, cradling his face in her hands as she kissed him, loving the way he grabbed her legs behind her knees and held her tightly against his erection. When she sat up, his hand moved to her breast, cradling it with a reverence that made her feel beautiful and wanted.
He kissed her nipple, a chaste pucker that left her wanting more, then opened wide and took her into his mouth, filling himself with her breast as he moaned, the vibrations trembling through her body.
Her hips moved against him of their own accord, their fervent pace and eager pressure increasing as he ramped up her desire, teasing her as he tasted and touched. She pulled at his pants, carefully unzipping his fly and reaching inside to stroke him through his briefs.
He was thick and hard and he gasped when she grazed his balls with her fingernails. “Jesus, Summer,” he hissed through clenched teeth.
“Take these off,” she commanded, tugging at his pants.
He pushed them off his hips and they fell to the floor. She slipped her hands inside the waistband of his briefs and lifted it past his erection, sliding the material down his ass and lower, bending her knees as she followed them down, and froze.
There, just below his left knee, was a prosthetic. A shining silver rod supported his weight where a calf should have been.
“Sorry I didn’t tell you.” His voice was casual, even flippant, but she knew it must have cost him.
“Mac did.” She leaned
She reached her open palm behind his thigh, feeling the thick bands of muscle beneath the skin and hair before moving lower, caressing his kneecap lovingly.
She needed him to know what she saw, the admirable man, the war hero, the friend. To understand what she felt. She leaned forward and kissed his knee, slowly moving lower until her lips connected with cold plastic.
He hauled her up to face him. “What are you doing to me?”
“Loving you.” They were the most natural words she’d ever spoken, the truest.
His eyes narrowed, a shadow passing over them as his throat worked, and she wondered if he would push her away. Then he was kissing her fiercely, rolling on top of her, desperately moving down the side of her neck with his lips and tongue as she arched her back with longing.
No man had ever felt this right, no coming together so inevitable, no passion so required. She needed to be with this man like she needed to breathe, and nothing would keep her away.
He grabbed his pants and pulled a condom out, ripping the foil and sheathing himself before positioning his cock at her opening and tilting her face up to his. “I want to see you,” he said huskily. He kissed her mouth one more time, his eyes locked on hers as he thrust into her body.
Her back arched again, joy spiking through her bloodstream and lighting up her brain. She cried out, her hips wrestling his for control of their pleasure, pressure already building behind her sensitive bud as her body clenched rhythmically at his.
She dug her nails into his back, needing him to come as deeply inside her as he possibly could, the speed of his thrusts increasing. She held her breath, her mouth falling open as she crested the edge, sensation rushing into every nerve ending in her body like an ocean wave filling the sand.
He cried out, his hips pounding against her pelvis, balls slapping her body as he came, and her muscles milked him, pulling him more tightly inside her. They stayed intertwined, grabbing each other like they might never come apart, until her heart rate returned to normal and his breathing slowed down.
He kissed her cheek and rolled off her, leaving a cold spot on her face. She wiped it with her finger, taking the tiny bit of liquid and touching it to her tongue.
A salty tear.
Luke Arroyo was crying.
29
Luke lay in the dark, gently stroking Summer’s back. She’d been asleep for more than an hour, her even breathing like a metronome tracking the moments until he left her, and he’d be damned if he slept through a single one.
The way she’d given herself to him, taking off her clothes like it was the most natural thing in the world, cuddling in the crook of his arm like she’d been there a hundred times before… It was too much.
More than he could easily walk away from. More than he had any right to wish for or keep.
She stirred in her sleep, settling again without waking, and he kissed the top of her head. She smelled good, like flowers and berries, and he let his eyes close, committing it to memory.
Summer.
He was grateful for the night they’d shared, more grateful than he had ever been for a moment in time. But it couldn’t last, any more than he could erase the past and wipe her memory clean of the consequences.
It wasn’t a matter of forgiveness. She’d forgiven him as best she could, or else she wouldn’t be here in his arms. It was a crack, a fissure in the bond that connected them, the structure forever unable to bear true weight. This night was a moment, a fleeting connection like a bridge just strong enough for the two of them to race across before it collapsed.
He twisted his torso to see her better and she moved closer to him in her sleep. Even like this their bodies fit together, every curve and muscle cradled perfectly by the other. The warmth of her body rose up between them, carrying her scent, and he dipped his head to lightly kiss her lips, parted in sleep.
Blood rushed to his cock from that one simple touch and he stroked his hand down her back from her shoulder blade to her waist. He had to have her. He would always have to have her.
She whimpered in pleasure, still not completely awake, and he wrapped his arm around her midsection, holding her to him. He was stealing time and he knew it, but his need for her was too great to be denied. He had to touch her, had to stroke her, had to be inside her one more time.
He sucked lightly on her neck, her legs parting as she gasped.
“Luke.”
He moved up her body to see her face, her eyes heavy-lidded and pupils dilated, the lightest smile playing at the corners of her mouth. It was his name that had put that smile there, his body she was opening to, draping one silken leg around his hips. They kissed, his tongue teasing and tasting her, desperate for more.
Her breasts filled his hands and he squeezed, her softness spilling out between his fingers. He needed to taste her, to hear her intake of breath as he suckled and pulled at those glorious nipples. He took one in his mouth, lapping at the pink circle and hard center with his tongue, taking it deep in his mouth while his fingers pinched its twin. She writhed against him, holding him to her breast and whispering encouragements.
He was desperate to be inside her but he held off, savoring every touch and moan. She rolled on top of him, kissing his chest and trailing her mouth along his abdomen, and his cock dripped in anticipation of her next stop. Then her hands were on him, one clenched tightly around the base, the other cupping his balls and gently kneading, her breath hot against his shaft.
He ground his hips, knowing what was to come, and she kissed the head of his cock before taking him into the wet heat of her mouth. His breathing was ragged, all sensation centered on what she was doing to him, the pull of her body on his nearly sen
ding him over the edge.
He twined his fingers in her hair and led her back up to the pillow, turning her onto her back and moving down to her belly. He kissed her there, gratitude like a balm for his tattered soul before moving lower and loving her with his mouth.
She was ready for him, the lips of her sex wet and swollen with need, and he touched her with gentle strokes of his tongue. She came apart in his hand, the orgasm overtaking her quickly, leaving her trembling beneath him.
He reached for a condom, sheathed himself, and moved back on top of her. He entered her swiftly, filling her completely with a single stroke before resting his forehead on hers and thrusting again. It felt like their souls were touching, the meeting of their bodies matching the meeting of their minds.
Summer.
He kissed her jaw, tasting the salty bite of her skin.
Summer.
It could never be like this again. This connection only came around once in a lifetime, if you were lucky, and he was not a lucky man.
Summer.
He pushed into her with a yell, her fingers caressing his back, her nails digging into his skin, and he started the climb to orgasm. The moment shattered into pieces, fragments, tiny moments no bigger than a memory. The hitch of breath. The thrust of her hips up to meet his. The tremor of her muscles as she clenched him once more.
He rolled onto his side, pulling her with him, breathing hard. He’d been given a great gift.
One he didn’t deserve and wouldn’t be able to have again.
This was good-bye.
30
Summer awoke and opened her eyes, sunlight streaming through a window onto the pillow beside her.
Where the hell am I?
It took a moment to come back. Her father. Walsh. Luke.
Images exploded in her mind. Luke on top of her. Luke inside her. Their frenzied movements and his quiet breath in her ear as he rested his head against hers.
So fucking good.
