Curvy Valentine Match

She nodded. “More than one. Until Helen.” Mara bent over to put the pizza in the oven and my fingertips tingled to touch her, to comfort her, but I couldn’t, not now when she was opening up. Finally.

Helen. Her mother, at least I thought so back then. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you were the first person who didn’t look at me like some poor charity case, foster kid in secondhand clothing. Or if you did, you hid it well, and I liked that I was just Mara to you.”

I hadn’t known, and that still burned. “I wish you had told me.”

“It wasn’t an important detail, and after a few months, I looked at Helen like my mother. She treated me like a daughter.”

“Do you see her often?”

“No, but I’m working on changing that.” Her brown eyes studied me for a long time and I wondered what she saw when she looked at me. The arrogant boy she’d been in love with as a kid, or the boy she hated? “Why did you become a police officer, Xander? I thought you were going to take the computer world by storm.”

That had been the plan. “After you left and my parents eased their grip on my comings and goings, I had a long time to think, and the truth was that without you, I didn’t want any part of the life we were supposed to have together.” Her gaze was riveted to mine, focused on every word, so I let them flow. “In the military I realized that I could help out my community in a different way, a way that would help people on an individual level.”

“Do you feel as if you’re doing that now?” The question was genuine. There wasn’t a hint of her patented snark to be found.

“I think so, at least most days. And I try even harder on the days when I’m not sure I am.”

Mara nodded and rounded the counter, stopping at the table to drink the opened but long forgotten beer. “So far, I think you’re doing a good job. Most of the people of Pilgrim think so too. By far the best cop I’ve met, and that’s even with our, ah, history. Just don’t let it go to your head, Sheriff.”

“It’s a little late for that, Mara. A genuine compliment from those lips is definitely a stroke of the ego.”

She looked up at me, an intense heat-filled look on her face, lips slightly parted. “It’s always about the strokes with you, isn’t it Xander?”

I blinked, sure I misheard her, and dumbfounded when I realized I hadn’t. A smile spread slow and hot across my face. “Not always. But when there’s a beautiful woman supplying me with pizza, beer and compliments, my mind goes to stroking.”

Instead of being angry or offended, Mara laughed. She shook her head the way she used to, as if she was amused by me. Affectionately amused. “I’ve missed you, Xander.”

I’ve missed you. How long had I waited to hear those words without realizing it? Too long, a voice inside of me confirmed. “I’ve missed you too, Mara. So damn much.” She must have read the intent in my gaze because she took a step backwards, right against her small kitchen table.

“Xander,” she called out, her voice a warning.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, I’m right here.” I cupped her face and slammed my mouth against hers, kissing Mara like I had all the right in the world to kiss her. Like she was mine. Like she loved me and was ready to reclaim the life that had been stolen from us.

Mara

I was kissing Xander. Again. The one thing I warned myself not to do when I issued the invite, yet here we were, kissing like it was the end of the world and all before the pizza was served. I should have pulled back, but instead I pulled him closer and fisted both hands in his shirt.

I should have slammed my mouth shut, instead I opened to him and welcomed his tongue inside. Accepting it with enthusiasm and kissing him back as if he were mine. As if this were any normal day after work and we did this all the time, got so consumed with one another that we forgot about everything in the world except for the taste of each other. His breath was fresh and minty, like he’d brushed just before leaving the house. Just for me.

His hands slid down my back with the speed of an aging tortoise, torturing me as the slow slide finally found my ass, gripping it tight and pulling me closer. He groaned as his hands squeezed, like he missed having his hands on me, as if he was trying to memorize the shape all over again, eager to know it as well as he once had.