Page 62 of A Hero Comes Home

To her shock, and his, too, he did, in fact, launch himself forward and tackle her to the floor. He saw red blinking lights behind both eyelids at the pain, but then adjusted himself over her. Raising himself on his straightened arms, with his flag planted firmly between her legs, he said, “You were saying?”

“Are you crazy? I was just teasing.” She tried to push him up and off her. “Move, you idiot.”

No way was he moving now. “Isn’t there a song you can sing about now, sweetheart? ‘It’s a grand old flag,’ or something like that?”

“Idiot!” she said.

Leaning down, he brushed his lips across hers and murmured, “I don’t think I can wait. Are you ready, Sal?”

“I’ve been ready for weeks.”

With those words, he took himself in hand and worked his way slowly into her. Slowly, because he really was damn friggin’ big today. And slowly, because her inner muscles were welcoming him every inch of the way with spasms that about caused his head to explode . . . or something else to explode. And slowly, because he was where he’d wanted to be for more than three years.

Once he was in, though, the agony in his leg caused him to cramp up, and he rolled to his side, his good side, and raised her leg up over his injured thigh. Then, carefully, he was able to begin the long, unhurried strokes that went deeper with each thrust. He didn’t last long, and neither did she, especially when she grabbed his buttocks, hard—he would have fingerprints on his ass by tomorrow—and rocked against him, also hard. She arched her neck back and went into a full-blown orgasm that held his cock in a rhythmically clutching stranglehold, milking him dry.

“Oooooh!” she cried out at the end.

He didn’t cry, but he felt like it, with the sheer joy of a torturously pleasurable climax of his own.

This was the time when he should say that he loved her, or she should say that she loved him. But neither of them said anything, perhaps both waiting for the other to speak first.

Finally, she got up and said, “I have to go to the bathroom. Do you want me to help you up?”

“Nah. I’ll be okay.” And he was, once she left the room, not wanting her to see the humiliating way he had to maneuver himself to get to his feet. As he sat on the side of the bed, trying to catch his breath, the cell phone, which she’d placed on the dresser, pinged a few times, indicating an incoming text message.

When she returned and he was about to go to the bathroom himself, he told her, “You had a text message. Maybe you better check to make sure it’s not from my dad.” Though, if there was an emergency, he would probably call me, Jake thought. And my dad doesn’t do text.

She was in the bed with the sheet pulled up under her armpits when he got back and climbed into the bed with her. He’d taken half of a pain pill when he was in the bathroom. It should kick in soon. “So, who called?” He immediately regretted his words. If it was Kevin, for example, she might consider his question an invasion of privacy.

“It was José. He texted to say that I didn’t need to come in tonight to prepare the breads for tomorrow. In fact, he said I should take off the entire weekend, that he and Mary Lou could handle everything.” She frowned as she relayed that information. “Which is really odd.”

“Why is it odd?”

“This offer, from him and Mary Lou, and all the food that people have been bringing over—I don’t know—everything. They’re being so nice. I mean the people in Bell Cove are always nice, but this is somehow different.”

He began to laugh, first a chuckle, then a chortle, then full-blown belly laughter.

“What?”

“Really, Sal, you don’t know why Dad and Old Mike offered to take the kids for the weekend. Why people have been bringing enough food to supply an army. Why your employees want you to stay away from work.” When she still looked confused, he explained, “They want you and me to spend all of our time doing—” He threw his arms out to indicate the bed.

“Nooo!” she said.

“Yep. All of this so you could get laid and I could get my rocks off. Repeatedly.”

She put her face in her hands. “I feel so stupid.” But then she looked up and over at him beside her and slapped him on the upper arm. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I thought you knew.”

“Oh, my God! They’re all sitting in their homes, or businesses, or walking down the street, speculating on what we’re doing at the moment.” She thought for a moment. “Even Father Brad. Oh, I’ll never be able to look him in the face again. Any of them.”

He just grinned.

“You’re not upset?”

He shrugged. “It’s Bell Cove. It’s what they do.”

“They’ve gone too far this time.”