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When he finally moved inside her, she was trembling. Or he was. Maybe it was both of them. Her face was flushed and glowing, her pupils huge, lips swollen. He pressed into her slowly, pausing a few times because he had to or he’d lose it. There was nothing like this. Nothing in his life that could have prepared him for what it felt like to be joined to Ellen. Every time, it killed him. Every single time.
She closed her eyes, and he asked her to open them.
I love you.
He didn’t mean to tell her. Not really. But he was already telling her with his body, and she must have seen it in his expression—something vulnerable he didn’t intend her to catch sight of—because her eyes went wide and alarmed. Pushing at his shoulders with both hands, she shoved his face away as her legs wrapped tighter around his hips, holding him in place. “Don’t,” she said, turning her face to the side. “Don’t look at me like that.”
With his hand on her cheek, he brought her head back around and waited for her to open her eyes again. When she did, he started to move, and she cried out, panicked and aroused.
He kissed her temple. “Relax. You don’t have to do anything about it. Just let me.”
She closed her eyes again, but she allowed him to kiss her, parting her lips and accepting his tongue. She brought her hips up to meet his, matching his speed. He worried her nipple with his teeth, and she gasped and wrapped her arms around him again, pulling him close. “This wasn’t part of the deal,” she whispered. The fear in her voice tore him up.
“No. Sorry. This is all me.”
As their breath came short and each stroke came faster and deeper and harder than the one before, he moved his arms beneath her and braced his hands over her shoulders. When she started to tighten around him, she said his name and clung to him so tight, he thought she might never let go.
He wished she never would. Heat rushed through him, and he came inside her with that wish ringing like a bell in his head. Don’t let go.
But she did. Afterward, she turned her back to him, curling up into a little ball. He curved his body around her and held her as her breathing settled and she fell asleep.
He lay there awake for a long time, knowing he needed to head back outside. Get back to work.
He couldn’t bring himself to leave.
Chapter Twenty-six
Caleb awoke to the sound of shouting. Blinking, he shook his head, trying to clear it. He’d been dreaming of the Green Zone, some minor altercation between a crowd of Iraqi civilians and Jefferson, a hot-headed southerner who’d never been able to resist an argument.
Jefferson was dead. Someone was outside yelling Ellen’s name, pounding on her front door.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed, his body ready to move before his head caught up. Ellen was gone. Gray light seeped at the edges of the blinds, which meant it was dawn, maybe five or five thirty in the morning. He’d fallen asleep naked in Ellen’s bed, with his phone turned off and sitting on the flagstones out back.
Not good. Not remotely good.
The deadbolt turned on the front door, and then Ellen must have opened it, because the man got a lot louder. “Ellen! Let me in my house, Ellen! I want to—oh. Hey, Els.”
Richard. Drunk. Fuck.
Caleb found his pants, pulling them on as he listened to Ellen exchange greetings with Richard as if it weren’t practically the middle of the night, and he weren’t totally out of line.
By the time he got to the door, she’d managed to quiet Richard down some. He was telling her earnestly about how he’d realized for the first time tonight what had gone wrong with their marriage. Wearing nothing but Caleb’s shirt, she stood in the doorway with her hands on
her hips. Her mouth was stern, but she tilted her head in a way that suggested she was receptive to whatever line of bullshit Richard was feeding her.
“… and I see it clearly now, Els, the way I kept a wall between us emotionally, because I always feared you would leave one day. I think it must have been because of my father—you know he never thought much of me. But I’m ready to live without walls. I want us to be together, so much closer than before, and I’ll move back in here and you can cook for us again, and help me relax when I get tense, and—”
He caught sight of Caleb standing behind Ellen and stopped talking. For several seconds, it was silent, and Caleb surveyed the scene: Richard at the door with bloodshot eyes, smelling like a still. A few paces behind him, Cassie, horrified, either to see Caleb or because she was only just now realizing what a major lapse in judgment it had been to allow Richard onto the property. At the base of the steps, Eric and two other members of his security crew clustered together, Eric with his phone out, probably to call Caleb.
He put a hand at the small of Ellen’s back and watched a muscle jump in Richard’s jaw as he added up Caleb’s bare chest with Ellen’s bare legs and got a sum he didn’t like.
“This guy again, Els? Is he why you were so pissy with me earlier?” His tone had turned bitter, on its way to vicious. “I come to you with my heart in my hand, trying to make this grand gesture with Henry to show you what a family looks like—our family, Els, you and me and Henry—and you act all holier than thou. But the whole time you’re banging the help behind my back.”
“Watch your mouth,” Caleb said.
Ellen turned slightly toward him. “Stay out of this.”
“I’m not going to stand here and listen to him insult you.” He kept his voice low, but it didn’t do anything to tamp down the fury. That Richard should be here. That Ellen should be listening to this shit. Defending him. Jesus Christ.
