Damn Wright (The Wrights 2)

“It’s all in who you know, right?”

A faint smile lifted her lips. “But it may take a while. The treatments are spaced apart to allow the body to heal in between. So, I wouldn’t want to put your name in the hat if you’re just going to—”

He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She searched his eyes. “If you didn’t know about the house, what really brought you home?”

Dylan’s mind darted to Amir, and his heart hurt. He wasn’t ready to talk about it, but he wasn’t going to lie either. “It’s hard for me to admit this, but the intensity got to me. I suffered one too many tragedies. The kind that make you realize all you have in life and all you take for granted. I needed to come home and spend real time with Gypsy and Miranda. And I’ve needed to apologize to you for years. I know it’s wrong that it took such a tragic situation and such a shitty place for me to realize all I have at home, but I’ve always had a hard head.”

A sad smile tipped her lips. “We both do.”

He found himself on yet another cliff ledge. “I knew I had a lot of unresolved feelings for you, but the second I saw you…” He shook his head remembering how the sight of her punched heat through his chest. “I knew we had to try again.”

She pulled her hands from his and rubbed her palms down her thighs. “I’m not going to sugarcoat this. You crushed me. Absolutely crushed me. I could never put into words how completely you ruined me.”

The words hit him like a kick to his stomach.

“Not only did I lose the love of my life, I lost my best friend. I lost my entire future. When I got home, I was so depressed, I wouldn’t get out of bed for days. I worried my parents sick. I had to go on medication for depression and anxiety just to get outside the house. And when I managed that, I had to suffer all those pitying looks and whispers behind my back from people who knew what happened. All the judgment and I-told-you-sos over getting married too young.”

Dylan curled his hands into fists. He hated himself for doing that to her. Hated others for punishing her for his mistake.

“The worst part of the whole thing was that you took away all my control. You kept me from taking care of you and supporting you. Those were my privileges as your wife. Parts of the marriage I absolutely loved. Things that gave me purpose. You robbed us of the strength we would have built getting through your rehab together. You stole all the memories we would have made during those eight years of growing together and loving each other. I took you for better or worse, but you didn’t.”

He wanted to argue. Wanted to plead his case. But he couldn’t. She was right. Sh

e’d always been right—from trying to dedicate herself to him to filing for divorce. All her moves had been the right ones.

A tear slid down her cheek, and she wiped it away before he could. “We’re different people now, and we’re not trying again, Dylan.”

Panic burned a path through his body. “We’re not that different. We’re older, more mature, more experienced, but we’re not fundamentally different people. And we still have memories. Lots and lots of memories of growing together and loving each other.” He took her face between his hands. “And there are so many years to create more.”

He leaned in and kissed her. Her lips were warm and soft and moved with his as if they’d never been apart. All it took was a few slow kisses for Dylan’s rational mind to evaporate. He broke the kiss, gripped her hips and pulled her into his lap.

“Dyl—”

He kissed her quiet and pulled her chest flush with his. When she pulled back, he let her, but didn’t release his hold. Her eyes were heavy lidded, her lips wet. She stroked her hands down his face, slid them around his neck, tilted her head, and kissed him again.

Fire surged through Dylan’s blood. He slipped his hands beneath her T-shirt and slid his hands over the smooth skin of her back. Dylan moaned into her mouth, moved his hands back down to her hips and pulled her against his hardening erection. A sound purred in the back of her throat, lighting Dylan on fire.

He broke the kiss and trailed his mouth down her neck to catch his breath. Synapses crackled and connected, but he wasn’t thinking. Just feeling. He leaned away and stroked her flat belly. Slid his hands up her body, cupping her breasts, sliding his thumbs across her nipples beneath the silky material. She shivered.

God, he’d missed her. So many nights, he’d lain awake, thinking of what it would be like to hold her again. Touch her again. Now, he couldn’t think about anything but loving her again. Learning every inch of her new body. Pushing deep inside her and returning to the only real home he’d ever known.

Her head rested against his, her hands cradling his face. “Dylan.”

He pushed her T-shirt up and covered her breast with his mouth. He slid his tongue over the silky fabric of her bra and felt her nipple rise for him.

“Dylan.” She was breathless now, and the sound of his name in that voice was truly a dream come true.

He scraped his teeth across the fabric, and Emma arched, pushing her hips against his.

“Dylan.” She leaned away and kept his face between her hands. “Stop.”

The order was soft and raspy, but it slammed him like a hammer. Need pooled in his groin. His head was light. He hadn’t been this turned on since the last time they’d made love, the morning before he’d left on that assignment from hell.

But she was pushing back. Putting space between them. Then climbing off his lap and wandering the yard, eyes closed, one hand pressed against her lips.

Dylan rubbed his face and reined in all the need swimming through his veins. He swung a leg over the bench, put his back to the table and pressed his elbows to his knees, hands to his face.