The fists that had balled at her sides were now pressed against the hard plane of his stomach.
Unfinished.
She didn’t want that. Not for herself. Not for Ryan.
“I need more, Claire…” Running a light finger down the side of her neck, he followed the silk lapel of her robe to the vee where it met its partner. Hooked the panel and steadily drew it back to expose the swell of her bare breast. “…than just another empty phone call.”
Cool air collided with her oversensitive skin. And then the slightly callused pad of Ryan’s thumb brushed the turgid peak of her nipple, pushing a pleading whimper past her lips.
Satisfaction growled against her ear as need spilled heavy and warm through her center.
And then both his hands were on her. Cupping the growing weight of her breasts, one sheathed in silk, the other bare. Silk and rough skin contrasted in sensual harmony, pulling at the needy place in her core. “Give me tonight.”
“Tonight,” she moaned, arching into the teasing abrasion, begging for more. Her own hands clutching convulsively at the sides of Ryan’s shirt. She needed this. Maybe more even than he did.
Ryan’s hand wound into the hair at her nape, coaxing her head back so that she had no choice but to meet his gaze. “I need to say goodbye. Don’t you need it, too?”
Staring up at him, her throat tightened and suddenly she was blinking back the sting of tears.
“Yes,” she whispered tentatively, moving her hands to his face. Then more boldly allowing her fingertips to trace each beloved feature. To memorize them. The sharp blade of his nose. The high ridge of his cheekbones, the thick fringe of his lashes.
Ryan’s eyes closed, the tension in his body seeming to leak out with the weight of his sigh…and then gathered again as something new. Something different. Hungry.
The hand in her hair tightened, slowly pulling her head back so that she was open to him, exposed, waiting for his kiss.
Eyes drifting over the offering he’d made of her, he drew an even, controlled breath. “When I hold you tonight, I’m going to know it’s the last time. I’m going to take my time over you.”
As if to emphasize the point, he bent his head to her mouth and licked a slow path around her parted lips, then slid his tongue between, filling her in increments until a shudder of aching anticipation racked her captive frame and a needy groan chased his painstaking retreat.
“I’m going to make you wait, Claire.” Another rough stroke of his tongue into her waiting mouth followed by the scrape of his teeth across her jaw, neck and that decadent spot beneath her ear.
Hands skating to her hips, he braced her for the steely length of him rocking against her. “Make it last. There won’t be a single inch of you I haven’t tasted…touched.”
Desire churned within her, turning her breath to shallow pants. Hands fumbling between them, she worked the remaining buttons down Ryan’s shirt. Wrestled with his belt and fly until he caught her wrists within his hand and led her back down the hall. In her bedroom he stripped them both naked, then followed her down to the bed. “God, Claire, I need to make you mine one more time.”
Claire closed her eyes as Ryan’s body pressed down on her. The first moments following making love were always a decadent torture. That bit of time when he gave in to the bone-deep muscle fatigue resulting from the total attention he showered on her body. His reckless collapse. Her fingers would trail a light path over the broad terrain of his back, circling one way and then the other as she encouraged him to linger a moment longer.
But tonight was different. She clung to the broad, powerful shoulders of the man she loved, knowing with each second that passed they came closer to that final goodbye. She wanted to savor the weight of him against her. Wanted to remember the heavy beat of his heart and the dampness of his skin. The hold so secure she couldn’t escape if she tried.
But too soon he pushed to an elbow and rolled to his side. A warm hand slid down her back as deep brown, contemplative eyes met hers. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.” Her lips trembled as she tried to smile for him, somehow convey that he had been right. That she’d needed this goodbye too. That she felt right about it. Only, the muscles of her face rebelled, refusing to bow or stretch into a lie they didn’t feel.
These were the final seconds of what she’d once dreamed would be forever.
“Maybe it doesn’t have to be the end, Claire. This last week has been nuts, but think about what it was like before that.”
She was. They had been too good not to want more of. Too good not to wonder if it could last. Salty emotion clogged her throat as she began to force the words she didn’t want to speak from it. “Neither of us were looking for forever. Just an affair, because we’d tried marriage and…look where it left us. Right?”
It was as close as she could come to asking him for the words they’d stopped saying nine years ago. The promises that everything would be okay. That they could make it through.
As close as she would allow herself to come to believing in maybe.
His hand stilled, then resumed its repetitive stroke as he leaned in, pressing his lips to her brow. “Right.” A tight breath filled the space between them, then, “Just say it.”
Closing her eyes, she swallowed past all the wrong words that kept pushing to get free.
Shaking her head, she whispered, “I don’t know how.”
All she knew was that her heart was breaking with every savage beat and she was terrified she’d already let herself fall too far. That she’d never be able to piece herself back together.
Ryan cupped her cheek and, tipping her face to his, brushed the thick pad of his thumb across her tear-streaked skin. A wry smile twisted his lips. “No one should go through a divorce without having their heart shredded, right? Even if the heartbreak is almost a decade old, signing away that promise of a life together should make it fresh. It shouldn’t be easy.”
“No. It shouldn’t. It isn’t.”
His lips met hers in a gentle clasp. Held as he gathered her close for one final embrace in a marriage of fools.
And then it was over.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“ARE you sure about this?” Sally asked, her concern weighing as heavily as the delicate burden balanced between Claire’s fingertips.
It was a small lacquered box, constructed of wood so thin, it threatened to crumble under even the most careful touch. Claire didn’t look at it often. Seldom allowed herself to even think about it tucked into that safe corner, deep in the recesses of her walk-in closet. But it was there. This little treasure box of broken dreams.
Tucking one leg beneath her, she sat at the edge of the bed and opened the lid. As always, the sight of the few items within pulled at the dark places in her soul, freeing a destructive love that made her want to clutch the box tight to her chest until it shattered against her heart.
Sally settled across from her, carefully steadying the box as her slight weight shifted the mattress. Then, with one finger, she stroked the pale green nubs of a single half-finished bootie nestled within and whispered, “Soft.”
The hushed word, both caring and reverent, loosened something within Claire and she smiled across at her friend. “Isn’t it? This was my great-aunt’s pattern and her hook.” Then pulling up a layer of tissue, she withdrew a photo and passed it across to Sally, who gingerly held it by the edges.
“Oh, wow, is that you?” she asked, pointing to the twelve-year-old version of the woman before her. “Your family is beautiful.”
They were. And the love she’d felt when that family snapshot had been taken was beautiful too. She’d never believed it to be a conditional thing, or that the possibility of that love being revoked could exist.
She’d been so naive on so many counts.
After carefully replacing the photo, Claire moved on to what she’d come for. A slender platinum band, worn thin at the base, and channel set with five diamond chips. Ryan’s grandmother’s weddi
ng ring.
Her wedding ring.
She could still feel Ryan sliding that symbol of eternity over her fourth finger. Still feel that hollow pit opening in her belly when she realized it didn’t belong there.
“You don’t have to do this, Claire. I mean, did he even ask for it?”
She shook her head. Ryan would never ask for it back, but that didn’t mean he shouldn’t have it. The ring belonged in his family. Whether he married again or not. And returning it with the papers seemed like the appropriate thing to do.
“I’ve held on to it long enough.” It was time she let go.
Sally snapped open the lid on a small black velvet box they’d picked up at the jeweler’s that morning.
Fingering the delicate band one last time, Claire felt the cool trail of a tear slip down her cheek. Surprised, she laughed, wiping it away.
“Claire?”
Waving off Sally’s growing concern, she set the band against its silk pillow and closed the box. “I’ll be fine. I was before. I will be again.”
Maybe if she said it enough times, eventually she’d start to believe it.
“So what do you think?”
Ryan’s head snapped up and his stare locked on Ty Baker, the man seated across the conference table. Then shot over to Denis, who signaled with the barest nod as an IM popped up on the open laptop in front of him.
“You called it. They’re willing to give on every point, except the water rights.”
Thank God for Denis. The man didn’t let anything slip past, including his jackass boss taking a brain break in the middle of high-stakes negotiations.
“Ty, I think we can work something out. Let me go over the new numbers and we’ll talk Monday.”
“Fair enough.” They pushed back from their seats and met at the door to shake hands. “This one’s going to make us a lot of money, Brady.”
Yeah, if only Ryan could care enough about it to keep his focus until the deal closed.
Once the Baker team departed, Denis turned a cool eye on him.
“It won’t happen again,” he answered to the unspoken What the hell? Denis was shooting him.
“Are you sure? I’ve never seen you drop the ball like that. Not after thirty hours of negotiations, not ever.”
Ryan’s molars ground down as his jaw clenched in self-directed frustration. “I know.” Like he knew his performance affected people beyond himself. He had to get it together. Had to stop spiraling into that state of Claire he couldn’t quite break free from.
Denis blew out a breath and scanned the ceiling, looking more out of his element than Ryan had ever seen him.
Oh, come on. Denis couldn’t quit.
Okay, he’d messed up today, but they’d been together for seven years. “Something else you want to say, Denis?”
“I realize these last few weeks have been difficult for you. And I’m wondering—” the man actually pulled at his collar before turning a strained, sympathetic eye on him “—if you’d like to…talk about it.”
Hell. No.
Ryan wanted to puke. Denis, his hard-hitting, all-business rock of an assistant was not asking him if he needed a hug and some ice cream.
“That bad?”
Denis weighed the question long enough to where the answer was obvious.
“Forget I asked. Get me the revised offer for Baker and then take off.”
At Denis’s nod and quick exit, Ryan headed back to his office.
After a few minutes the email arrived with the updated file, Ryan’s schedule for the coming week, and a notice that the settlement agreement had been dropped off for Claire’s signature.
He’d known the papers would be delivered today. Had been telling himself it was a good thing. That once they were signed, he’d be able to put her behind him. Close his eyes without seeing the smile that was heartbreak, acceptance and longing all wound into one as Claire had watched that little boy in her studio. Her hair whipping like black ribbons in the wind as she crouched above a tide pool, marveling at the starfish she’d found within. He’d stop dreaming of her each night, reaching for her every morning and taking it like a slug to the gut when he remembered what they had wasn’t what either of them wanted and that the sultry moans and breathless laughter were only echoes of a time come and gone.
For him.
One of these days, she’d be giving them to someone else. She’d move on to some chump who’d been ready, waiting in the wings. Because that’s what strong, intelligent, sexy, alluring women did when they finally put their past behind them.
That’s what he wanted for her, so why the hell did he want to drive down to New York, foot to the floor, and stake out her place. Just lie in wait to sabotage the next guy who thought to press for a kiss or a laugh or a smile or one instant of her attention.
Damn it, what was wrong with him!
Shoving away from his desk, the schedules and the deals he’d been counting on to work him into an emotional oblivion that hadn’t come, Ryan stalked to the window.
It was staying light later these days and the city of Boston was spread out beneath him in evening’s muted glow. Cabs and cars cut through the streets as the sidewalks emptied of suits and began filling with style. Women laughing as they headed out for a night on the town. Couples walking together, some holding hands, others simply creating an intimacy between them identifiable even from four floors above.
He and Claire had walked these streets. They’d gotten dinner at a popular restaurant a few blocks down. Spent the night making plans. They’d been so damn happy then. He’d had everything. A career on the rise. A wife he loved. Their child on the way. Looking back now, though, all he could see was what he’d been about to lose. Everything that mattered.
He wondered if he could go back to the kid he’d been and warn himself about the failures, the heartbreak and the futility that fate had in store for him, if he’d have been willing to give up those good times with Claire to spare himself that future. If he’d have been willing to cut that time short by even one day.
No. Because the kid he’d been then hadn’t yet learned how to quit. Or fail. Or stop trying. And sure as hell not when it came to something as important as what he had with Claire.
Hell, even after his firsthand experience with all the pain, years later he’d tried again—
The thought stopped him cold.
Was that what he’d been doing, trying again?
No, it had been an affair. Attraction. Chemistry. Closure…
Because on some level he still hadn’t let himself believe it was over.
On some level, he didn’t want to let her go. At all. Which was why at every opportunity he’d had to maintain a modicum of distance between them, he’d instead pulled her closer. Found a way to further infiltrate all the parts of her life she’d tried to deny him access to. Her home. The gallery. Those last dark secrets of her past.
And maybe that was why Claire’s shutting him out again—giving him that taste of history repeating itself he just couldn’t swallow—had made him so nuts. Pushed him to the point where he couldn’t let her go without burning across the country to demand something more.
Only, when she’d actually given him more, given him that last chance to tell her he wanted something real, he’d been too lost in the pain and the past and his failures and fears to take it.
A violent curse tore out of him as he stalked across the office, slammed a hand against the wall and closed his eyes.
What the hell was he doing?
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
HER eyes had glazed over again, her focus lost in the ether with all the dreams, memories and fantasies she used to tell herself she couldn’t have. Blinking back into focus, Claire pushed pen to paper, ignoring the clench of her stomach as she initialed yet another paragraph.
No second-guessing. No going back.
Only, at the last page a tremor shook the pen free of her grasp and she found herself gulping air as she dashed for the open window across
the room. All the doubts she’d worked to stifle crowded in at once, threatening to suffocate her.
Forearms resting on the pane, she hung her head, taking long draws of the cool New York night air and an inventory of the sounds that filled it. Car doors thudding. Shouts and greetings. Laughter and sirens. The wind rushing over the building walls.
Closing her eyes, she waited for the calm that inevitably followed the storm of her emotions. A calm that was preempted by the deep call of her name cutting through the night.
She jerked back, bumping hard against the open window as she gaped down at the walk where Ryan stood, hand on his head, muttering a curse about her being careful.
Yes, careful. With her heart. With her head. With her hope.
God, what was he doing there?
Within seconds Ryan was back in her apartment, standing in the same hallway where he’d claimed his last goodbye. Only this time, as he held her, it was to probe at what proved to be a very tender bump on the head.
Cradling her temples between his palms, Ryan searched her face. “Are you okay?”
No. Not at all. Not with him standing so close she could barely breathe or think or keep from reaching out to stroke the stubbled edge of his jaw. “I’m fine.”
Ryan nodded once, his thumb brushing the rise of her cheekbone.
“So strong,” he murmured into the air between them in a way that made it sound as though the reassurance had been for himself. And with sudden crushing clarity, she understood why he’d come.
Because the papers had been delivered today and he’d needed to know that she could handle it. She’d thought she could. But that was before Ryan stood in front of her brushing a brutal stroke of reality across her face.
Defensively she took a step back. Crossed her arms over her chest and pushed a smile she didn’t feel to her lips. “I am strong.”
Maybe they both needed to be reminded of it.
“I know and—” The expression on his face was one she didn’t recognize. He looked almost vulnerable in that second before he glanced away, clearing his throat as he pushed the fallen strands of his dark hair back from his brow. “Are those the papers? You signed them?”
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