“Will we even know if it was official US business? What if it was just my father seeking revenge?”
“Well fuck, baby. I wouldn’t blame him. I damn sure wouldn’t if it were you. Don’t make this into something it doesn’t have to be.”
“But what if Gabriel knows? What if he can use that to ruin my father?”
“If he knew, he wouldn’t be trying to kill him.”
“But he could use it to ruin my father when he returns, right?”
“You assume he knows. I promise you, baby, they have all kinds of shit on each other. That’s why he wants your father gone.” He kisses me. “We’re going to get him home tonight. Right now, I’m going to make coffee because you like it when I make coffee. Right?”
“No, I don’t. You make it too strong. I’ll make the coffee.”
“Maybe I got better at it?”
“Did you?”
“We can find out.”
“Like I said, I’ll make the coffee.” I throw away the blankets, shove my feet into slippers, and for the first time in years, I head into the kitchen to make coffee while wearing Rick’s T-shirt. Rick doesn’t follow and I can hear the deep rumble of his voice talking on the phone.
I set the pot to percolating and turn to find Rick standing in front of me. “Was that call anything important?”
“Asher asking a question about one of the missions on the data drive. Nothing relevant right now.” He takes a step closer, and in nothing but low hung sweats, his abdominals rippling, his perfect tattooed body is a welcome distraction from my dream and the night ahead. My hand settles on his Green Beret tattoo.
His big hands capture my waist, and he closes the small space between us, our legs intimately melding together. “What are you thinking?”
“That the scar on you face, and your tattoos represent a life you lived without me and yet somehow I still know how you make coffee and you know what ice cream I like. It’s pretty amazing.”
“Yes,” he says softly. “Yes, it is.” And just that quickly he’s kissing me, and I’m against the counter with him pulling the shirt over my head and throwing it aside. His gaze skims my naked body and my nipples are instantly puckered, my thighs slick. There is no wall between us, no divide, none of the drama of last night. It’s just me and him, against the world.
My hands settle on his chest, over his thundering heart and it’s as if I turned a switch. His mouth is instantly on my mouth, his fingers wrapped around a chunk of my hair, the taste of him raw, masculine hunger. His touch is possessive, his hands traveling my body, and he’s suckling my nipple, the sensations rocking my body.
I moan and moments later, his sweats are lower, his hands beneath my naked backside, and his thick, hard cock, is pressing inside me, stretching me, filling me. A wildfire blazes between us, a sense of desperation, that consumes every touch, lick, and stroke. He’s thrusting inside me. I’m arching into him. I need him deeper. I need him harder. I need and need, and that need dominates every buck of my hips. It’s short and intense, too brisk but somehow not brisk enough. The spiral of my orgasm comes suddenly and intensely, and he shudders into release with me. We melt into each other, holding onto each other, panting and then sighing.
He eases me to the ground and helps me clean up and pull the shirt back on.
And then we just stare at each other, a collision of emotions between us that have everything to do with what we once lost and what we’ve found. And everything to do with how easily tonight could take that from us. So much so that if he tried to walk out of this room right now, I’d pull him back. But he doesn’t. He stays right by my side.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Savage
Already dressed, I head downstairs to make coffee and make a call I dread. I dial my father. “Well isn’t this a surprise,” he answers dryly.
“I’m attending the party with you Saturday night. Put me on the list.”
“Why?”
“Because I am.”
“What do I get in return?”
“Nothing. Put me on the list.”
“Coffee. We haven’t had that coffee.”
“You come to New York and see me and we’ll have coffee.”
“You’re leaving again?”
“Soon.”
“You want to take Candace with you?”
“I am taking her with me.”
“You’re going to give Tag what he wants?”
And there it is. Him baiting me for information he can fed to Tag. “I’m going to get what I want.”
“I’ll meet you at the door,” he replies and hangs up.
A few minutes later, with a coffee cup in my hand, I stand in the closet and watch Candace pull on a black T-shirt and jeans, the way I used to stand in this exact spot and watch her dress. Not because I’m a pervert, though hell yeah, I’m all kind of hot for this woman, but because we always talked about the day ahead of us. And because right now, I’m trying to keep her mind off her father, I decide on a little chatter about my favorite places in New York City.