In a Fix (Torus Intercession 2)

“If you want that, you––”

“No,” he rasped, his voice thick and rough, the catch easy to hear. “Please don’t change anything.” And then he had a thought, and I saw it flicker almost painfully across his features. “Shit. I didn’t even think about what you might need me to––”

“I don’t,” I declared firmly so he could hear how adamant I was. “You don’t need to do anything different. I love having you under me. I love how you respond to me, and I love being inside you.”

He jolted in my hands, and because he was obviously raw from the honesty we’d just shared, I stepped into him and wrapped him in my arms. There was a choked gasp, and he hugged me back, face in the side of my neck, trembling.

“Honey?” Jackie said, appearing beside us, looking at her son. “Are you all right?”

“He’s fine,” I assured her, giving him a final clench before I stepped free. “It’s just that sometimes we have to face the past to get on with the future, don’t you agree?”

Her eyes were suddenly swimming. “I do agree.”

“Oh, for crissakes, Mother,” Dallas groaned, grabbing her and crushing her against him. “Don’t be such a sap.”

She clung to him, telling him over and over how much she loved and adored him.

“Yes, dear, I know,” he goaded her, kissing her cheek before he let her go. “And I feel the same, as you damn well know.”

She nodded quickly, grabbed his hand, and led him back over to the table. She passed him a plate, then me, and explained what was on the table, never taking her hand off her son.

Eleven

Everyone was surprised that Dallas turned down more drinks during dinner, and after, and when I volunteered to do the dishes, Evan was right there with me, drying as I washed, and Cate and Gina took care of putting away the leftover appetizers and meal.

“How long have you known Dallas?” Evan asked me.

“Not long,” I told him.

He cleared his throat. “He and I used to date.”

“That’s what Law said, yes.”

“He’s terribly high maintenance, you know,” he offered helpfully. “But since you don’t live here full-time, perhaps that won’t be a problem.”

“As long as everyone is on the same page,” I said, staring at him, “and knows exactly where they stand—it won’t ever become a problem.”

He nodded. “Yes. That’s so true.”

We were silent for long minutes.

“I really hurt him when I left,” he confessed suddenly, “and that was never my intention.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about him anymore. I’ve got him.”

“Yes, I…see that.”

I smiled at him, which made his eyes widen, so I was guessing it came off more scary than anything else. It happened sometimes. I either looked like I was grimacing—which was the one Jared hated—or I came off as threatening. I knew it was because I wasn’t a terribly warm person. I was more cerebral than emotional, at least when I wasn’t around Dallas Bauer.

“I can do that,” Dallas said, walking up beside Evan and taking the towel out of his hand. “Law wanted you to make your world-famous Moscow Mule for Mrs. Livingston.”

His eyes softened as he looked at Dallas. “You always loved those.”

“They are good,” he allowed, stepping around Evan to take his place. “Anyway, he’s waitin’ on you.”

“Sure,” he whispered, his eyes flicking to me before he walked away.

“So, I was thinkin’ that––”

“As soon as we get back to your house, I’m going to do very bad things to you.”

His smile was all heat and hunger. “You don’t like Evan.”

“No.”

“He was talking about me, right?”

“Yes.”

“And you really didn’t like that.”

I shook my head slowly.

He crowded me, his lips against my ear. “You’re crazy possessive, do you know that about yourself?”

“I do,” I told him. “I’m normally careful about it.”

“But not this time.”

“No. I didn’t see it coming.”

“And by it, you mean…me.”

“Yes.”

“Yes,” he repeated my answer, his voice going out on him before he recovered and leaned back, giving me room. “So it’s new.”

I met his gaze.

“How new?”

“Very.”

“Is it good that I bring that out in you?”

“It’s not a conscious decision I’m making; it just is.”

He took a breath. “I’m very thankful.”

“Why is that?”

“I want to matter, and most people think it’s too needy.”

“It’s not.”

“Jesus, Croy, where ya been all this time?”

“You should—you don’t know what you’re getting into,” I warned him. “It’s never happened like this before, so…this could get messy.”

“Awww, God, I hope so,” he said, grinning at me, looking at me in a way that no one could miss, that I was more than a friend to him, and that we were on very intimate terms. “Please let it be difficult, and great, and horrible, and amazing, and just—real. I can’t wake up tomorrow and have this not be real.”

I nodded.

“And you can’t change your mind.”

“I can,” I assured him. “But I won’t, and that’s the difference.”