“I’m sorry,” she whispered again, near his ear this time and held him tighter, pouring all her compassion and understanding into him, letting him feel her warmth. “I was worried about you. I was afraid…you wouldn’t come home.” She probably shouldn’t have said it, but she wouldn’t take it back.
He grasped her arms a little tighter, though not enough to hurt, only enough to let her know he’d been worried about the same thing. “I’ll always come home, Tresia. Always.”
She pressed her cheek against his and just held him, knowing his words were a lie. He might say it and he might believe it, but they both knew there were no guarantees.
“I know my job is dangerous. I know there are times when I’m in harm’s way. But I wouldn’t change what I do. I’d just much rather talk someone down with logic than take them down with guns.”
He could have so easily lost his life today and instead of holding him now, someone else—perhaps Merrill or Nate or even Doctor Ben—might have been holding her, telling her that he’d never come home again. The mere thought brought tears to her eyes. For Avery. For herself and the overwhelming feelings of love she had for him. She hadn’t meant for it to happen, but truly, she hadn’t been able to stop herself from falling in love with him.
She continued to just hold him, offering what little comfort she could. She didn’t speak as there was no need for words now. Instead, she hoped her warmth and compassion could soothe his troubled mind.
She felt it the moment his tension eased, though he still held onto her arms and then he moved, grasping one of her hands and bringing it up to his mouth to kiss her soft skin.
“You’re all that’s good in the world, Tresia. Sweet. Honest. Kind.” His voice was hoarse, so much more than usual, as he turned his head slightly, enough so he could touch his lips to hers.
It was the gentlest of kisses, but it was filled with so many emotions, almost too many to name, and then he gently removed her arms from around his neck and stood, turning toward her, even though the chair was between them. He moved it with his foot then took a step closer and drew her into his arms, holding her tight, tighter than she had held him, as if she were hisanchor, that if he let go, he would be cast out to sea, adrift on a tide of loneliness and heartache.
She didn’t hesitate to rise up on her toes to seek his mouth, molding her lips to his.
He deepened the kiss, which thrilled her. It had been a long time since she’d been touched like this and she felt it deep in her heart, a swift, rising flood of want and need, so much so that her knees grew weak. The need to give this man comfort overpowered her, the urge to wrap her arms around him and take his pain grew as his mouth moved over hers. Blood rushed through her veins, the erratic pounding echoing in her ears. She shouldn’t want this, but she did.
He broke the kiss and pulled away a little, his startling blue-gray eyes so much darker, like thunderclouds in the distance. He opened his mouth—perhaps to request forgiveness for kissing her. There was no need for an apology. Or any words at all. In the bright light of day there might be, but not now. She wanted to give him solace from what he’d seen and done, to let him know that everything would be all right. And he needed to take it from her so his healing could begin.
He held her a little tighter, his eyes warm but questioning, before he lifted her in his arms and brought her not upstairs to his room, but to the guest bedroom on the first floor, the room where Corianna had rested before Merrill took her home. He laid her gently on the bed then just stood there for a moment, as if deciding whether or not he should join her.
Tresia took the decision from him. She held out her hand, a silent but unmistakable request.
He took her hand, entwining his fingers with hers for a moment before he released her to unbuckle his gun belt and lay it on a chair in the corner of the room. His vest came next, the shiny star pinned to the leather winking in the moonlight streaming in through the window. Lastly, he toed off his bootsthen just stood beside the bed, hesitating, his heated gaze, the intensity strong, warming her from the inside out.
She held out her hand once again.
As if finally making his decision, he stretched out on the bed alongside her, his mouth quickly taking possession of hers.
Tresia let out a little sigh, feeling the weight of his body pressed against hers, the touch of his mouth on hers, the pressure building and building, until she was drowning in it, his tongue slipping between her lips to slide against her own.
He broke the kiss then nudged at the lacy collar of her blouse with his lips and teeth, moving the fabric away so he could taste the tender spot beneath her ear, sending a thrill coursing straight to her core, before he deftly unbuttoned the tiny row of buttons, his big, blunt fingers surprisingly dexterous. At this moment, she wouldn’t have cared if he simply pulled the fabric apart, scattering all those tiny little buttons to the four winds—as long as he was touching her.
He moved slightly, taking his warmth. “Too many clothes,” he murmured against her throat, even as he rose from the bed, bringing her with him. “I need to feel all of you. Every blessed inch.”
“Yes.”
His mouth came down hard on hers, his lips moving over hers, urging hers to open so he could taste her while his hands made short work of unbuckling the belt around her waist, tossing it on the floor. He drew down her skirt, all while his mouth and lips and tongue played havoc with her senses.
She’d never been undressed by a man before, not even with Brett, which should have shocked her, but curiously, didn’t. She would have assumed Devlin would be clumsy as there were a lot of buttons, but he wasn’t. He was gentle. Experienced. Fast, yet slow at the same time. As he slid her blouse from her shoulders, his mouth and hands replaced the material, skimming alongher skin, awakening feelings she had forced away for much too long. He removed her corset cover then reached behind her, and loosened the ties of her corset. Unhooking the garment, he let it fall to the floor. He pulled her chemise over her head then tossed it on top of her other clothes then slipped the pins from her hair, loosening the tight bun at the back of her head. He thrust his hands into her shining locks, loosening them even more before gently laying the soft strands over her shoulders.
She was naked, except for her stockings, and waited while he removed his shirt and trousers and drawers, the moonlight gleaming on his skin, glinting off the dark hair that covered his chest, revealing his broad shoulders, lean waist and long legs. Her eyes opened wide, trying to see everything in the semi-darkness, as he lowered her to the mattress, his weight and warmth so very welcome.
His breathing deepened, as did hers, as his mouth took possession of hers. She felt a rush of passion deep in her soul. He took his time, exploring her, his hands seemingly everywhere—his fingers skimming along her throat, her earlobe, her shoulders, her collarbone…and lower, followed closely by his lips, until his tongue swept across the taut peak of one of her breasts, making it harder. He pulled it into his mouth and suckled gently.
She felt that gentle tug all the way to her toes, which curled inside her stockings, and let out a small whimper, the feelings simply too exquisite to tamp down.
It had been much too long since she’d been touched like this, but her body hadn’t forgotten. Already, there was a tightening deep in her core, a tension that couldn’t be denied. And she wouldn’t have denied it even if she could.
“Tresia,” he whispered as his hand replaced his mouth at her breast and he sought her lips once more, as if he couldn’t get enough of her kisses, which was fine with her.
She couldn’t get enough of him, loving the way his lips clung to her own, the thrust of his tongue mimicking what he would soon do. She brought her hands up around his neck, pulling him closer, her fingers tangling in the soft curls at his nape.
And then his hand slipped lower, moving away from her breast, slowly caressing her belly, the pads of his fingertips a little rough on her skin. And still, she didn’t mind. She wanted this. Wanted him with every fiber of her being.
