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He lowered his hands from her face to her waist, drawing her against him as he had when he’d embraced her the night before. This time, however, as though her form had been sculptured onto him, adjustments were unnecessary. On contact, they fit together so familiarly and perfectly, they breathed sighs into each other’s mouths.
He deepened the kiss, slipped one hand under the roomy sweatshirt, and splayed it over her bottom, lifting her against him until he filled the notch of her thighs. Filled it well.
She gasped and angled her head back, breaking the kiss. He ducked his head in an attempt to recapture her mouth, but she placed her hands on his chest and pushed against him.
“Elle,” he groaned. “What?”
“I won’t cheat with you. I’ve had it done to me. I refuse to participate.”
“Shauna? She isn’t a factor. She and I are over. I moved out.”
She swallowed and panted softly, “Really? You did?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Recently.” Then he cursed under his breath and admitted wryly, “This morning.”
“Thisthis morning?”
“Early. After last night, after you and I—”
“Does she even know yet?”
“Yes.”
“Was she upset?”
“Livid. But only because I denied her the satisfaction of kicking me out. Since the shooting, we’ve unraveled. She was impatient with my inability to snap out of it. I was resentful of her impatience. She doesn’t understand what I’m going through. Not at all.”
Elle eased out of his arms and backed away. “ButIdo.”
He didn’t immediately catch her implication, but when he did, he was swift to dispel it. “No.No. I didn’t come to your door tonight with a hard-on forunderstanding.”
“I think that’s exactly what you did. If it’s consolation—a consolation prize—you’re after, go find another warm body.”
In a flash, she left the room. He charged after her.
“I came here because I think about you constantly.”
She gave a bitter laugh. “Since yesterday?”
“Since the first time I saw you.”
Elle stopped short and turned around. He’d been so close on her heels, she nearly bumped into him. Still skeptical, she held his gaze as she backed into the living room and took up a position in front of the dormant fireplace.
He came farther into the room but wisely kept his distance. “That day at the precinct, when I took my first good look at you, I thought, ‘Damn,’ as in ‘Damn. Those eyes. Those lips.’
“But in the next heartbeat, less than a heartbeat, it slammed into me who you must be. The little boy’s mother. What a shitty twist of fate that was, because I knew you wouldn’t want anything to do with me.”
“I didn’t feel that way. I never felt that way.”
“I did.” He placed his hands on his hips and hung his head, looking down at the floor. “See, I have this issue with failure.”
“I find that hard to believe. What have you ever failed at?”
He raised his head and, in a barely audible and rueful voice, said, “Nothing. That’s the issue. In third grade, I set a goal to sell the most fund-raising candy bars, and I did. In high school I made the varsity baseball team as a freshman. I became an Eagle Scout.
