All or Nothing (17 page)

Minutes—could have been hours—later, once Lucas realized he was actually still alive and so was she, Belinda’s hoarse voice broke the silence.

“You realize, don’t you, that since we kicked off the blankets…this doesn’t count.”

Half-dead or not, he still smiled into her shoulders.

There was a warm, smooth furnace beneath her. Belinda was already grinning before her eyes opened. Faint morning light glowed through her curtains, dappling his golden body where she wasn’t draped all over it. They’d managed to keep the sheet mostly on the bed the rest of the night, but it covered them only from the hips down. She blinked slowly, taking stock and realizing Lucas was still asleep beneath her. If he were awake, he’d probably already be inside her again.

The night before played deliciously in her mind. There was something to be said for the stamina of a man who ran ten miles a day without fail. Gently, she splayed her fingers over the rippled belly next to her cheek. Fine hairs tickled her palms as she let her fingertips find the darker, thicker strands beneath his navel, letting them lead her hand downward where they became denser and surrounded what was quickly becoming her favorite toy.

Before she reached it, though, her eyes focused on what looked like ink on his skin. Picking up her head, she frowned down at the offending difference. Until she read it.

“I was wondering when you were going to see that.” Lucas’s sleep-rumbly voice startled her just as he began to stretch. She watched with widening eyes as he arched and rippled all over. Someday, she was going to have to videotape him, just to have it whenever she needed inspiration. “Couldn’t figure out how you missed it that day in the metal yard. Or last night, for that matter.”

Probably because she’d been obsessed with the rampaging hard-on blocking her view. The tiny moniker had probably been hidden in the shadowy folds while he sat and she had no reason to expect it there. Her brain was
still
soggy about the night she’d gotten her tattoo. But she did remember clearly telling him to drop his pants. “I dared you to do this, didn’t I?”

Half-lidded eyes drifted over her nudity, gaining heat she could feel on her skin.

“Lucas?” She tapped the spot where the letters rode the lowest half inch of his belly, nearly hidden by the regrowing hair.

“Hmm? What? Yeah, you did. You said you weren’t going to quit smoking unless I did something equally drastic.”

That certainly sounded fair. Getting a tattoo within a centimeter of his pubic hair was about as drastic as a man could get and still be Lucas Lonnigan.

The clouds in her mind thinned somewhat. She’d pushed him into the chair while he grinned like an idiot and she’d pointed out the strip of flesh she wanted marked. Licked it. To get him branded.

“I wanted to put my name on you,” she murmured. Hadn’t she accused
him
of that? Had it always been her holding on, unable to let him go?

“I didn’t mind.” He pulled her from thoughts that seemed too dark in the light of morning. “Next time I get bombed, I was thinking of getting a couple of tiny butterflies around it, so we’re even.”

She ran her fingers over the small, flowing cursive letters there, beautifully rendered, well-healed and dark indigo:
Belle’s.

“When I was done, you showed me yours,” he added, smiling wide. “You were stuck with me after that.”

“I’ve been stuck with you for a long time, Lonnigan.” She pulled her hand from his body to ruffle it through her hair, still trying to adjust to the short length and hopefully change the subject. The questions in her head floated by without her permission, opening a door to the conscience she didn’t want to hear from after such a beautiful night.

She felt him shift next to her, could sense his tension rise along with his body, but kept her gaze averted. His hands settled on either side of her hips, turning her toward him as his warm lips settled on her exposed neck. “Are you stuck with me from now on?”

She’d never been so cold in his arms, but the chill deep inside suddenly filled her up. Both his palms slid up her back, gently rubbing, pulling her closer until she realized she was laying her head on his shoulder and letting him comfort her.

Once again, her silence had to speak for her, but she wasn’t sure if he understood it. He pulled the sheet up and over her shoulder, continuing to try to infuse her with his warmth. He whispered into her hair, something that sounded calming, but didn’t resemble, “We can talk about this later”, which
would
have been calming.

She wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight and closing her eyes against all the thoughts and fears clamoring for attention.

“Why are you so afraid of us, Belle?” he whispered close to her ear. “Don’t you know I would never hurt you?”

She did know. Under everything. But the fear coiled deeper.

“He said that once, too,” she heard herself finally say, tears starting to sting. “But he hurt us anyway.”

“I’m not your father.” It wasn’t an admonishment—despite the frown she could hear—but a gentle reminder.

“I know. You would never—” He wouldn’t. He would never look her in the eye and tell her he wished she’d never been born. Lucas would never raise his hand and send her flying into a wall like a gnat that had annoyed too long. There would be no bloody noses or scraped knees from being dragged across carpet. Lucas would never keep her up all night in a roaring rage because she’d hidden his beer or dipped into the house payment money to feed the kids.

But fear still coiled deeper than reason.

“I love you, Belle.”

“I know you do.” She did.

“But you can’t trust me.”

It wasn’t him she didn’t trust. The night before would never have happened if she didn’t. She clung to him, wishing the words didn’t bottleneck in her throat. Too many to come out at once, too huge of a notion to keep in. She shook her head against him, realizing too late that he took her meaning wrong. He stiffened in her hold, probably insulted.

“
I
started the fights,” she choked out, wishing she could make him understand with a look, the way he understood everything else. But this was too big and she knew it. He needed to know, needed to understand.

“It was always me. It’s
still
me. You don’t know the things I’ve done. He…he’d be gone and I kept my mother from his phone calls. I kept hoping someday he’d figure out we didn’t want him there and not come back. But he always did. Eventually. And he always knew it was me.”

She’d paid for each and every betrayal, too. Singled out for his angriest words, for slaps when her mouth got ahead of her sense. She’d stood between him and her siblings, left them huddling in her bed when he agreed that she’d be punished for them all. And always, she stood between him and her mother. If only Amanda had once been on
her
side.

“Why didn’t you ever ask for help, Belle? I would have done anything for you, even then.”

“That’s
why
I didn’t. Your parents tried to help, but they couldn’t make her leave him. Couldn’t protect us. Nothing could. You would have gotten right in his face and he would have crushed you. You were a boy and he was a bastard. A drunk, hateful bastard. I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if he’d hurt you.”

“He can’t hurt me now. He can’t hurt you either.”

“I know.” She’d made sure of it years ago. But no one else would ever know it.

“I’m not him and you’re not her,” Lucas whispered.

“I know,” she made herself say again, trying to leech comfort from his skin.

“No, you don’t, but you will. I’m not going anywhere, Belle. Same old grumpy, pain-in-the-ass Lucas, every day, always here with you, waiting until you’re ready for me.”

She smiled, somehow. “You
are
grumpy.”

“So are you, honey. That’s what I like about you.”

She grabbed the edge of the sheet and mopped at her face. “You’re really going to wait on me, Lucas?”

“Why wouldn’t I? I’ll admit, the first twenty years were rough, but the last few weeks have really been looking up.”

She punched his shoulder and pulled out of his embrace. He chuckled, catching her and half tackling her back to the bed. She looked up into those earnest, burning eyes. Carefully, she placed her hands on either side of his face, letting them drift into the short, spiky lengths of his hair. “I can’t promise I’ll ever be ready for marriage.”

“Or kids?” Her heart cracked at the disappointment he tried to hide but hovered in his gaze anyway.

She shook her head, guilt eating a bit more of her soul. “I don’t know.”

She didn’t blame him for taking a moment to digest that. Even two. But finally, he nodded. “One day at a time then?”

“How is it I never knew you were an optimist?”

“Because I wasn’t. But I told you, the last few weeks were looking up. I’ve got a new frame of mind.”

“You got laid is what you got.” She pushed him away and rolled off the bed, taking the sheet with her.

“Where are you going?”

“Little girls’—ow!” Belinda looked down at his jacket on the floor, trying to figure out how simple fabric managed to stub her toe. She bent down, picking it up and digging into the pocket.

“Oh, sorry, I put your medal in there. You all right?” He sat up, preparing to stand while she looked at the articles in her hand. The medal was there. But so was a hotel room key.

The cold she thought had settled rose again, harder and faster than before. “Kyle, meet me at eleven in room twelve-twenty-three,” she read blankly, her voice sounding hollow to herself, “for some mutual stimulation. Yvonne.” She lowered the card and stared at him. “Something you want to tell me about?”

He sighed, his face taking on a grimness that tightened the pressure on the back of her neck. “Not really, no.”

“Because you have plans to call her and tell her you’re sorry you missed her?”

“Because it’s embarrassing as hell,” he countered. “I didn’t even know that was in there.”

“Sure, you didn’t.” A good-looking woman hands him a hotel key and he blithely misses it? Yeah, she believed that.

Lucas sighed. “Belle—”

“Don’t
Belle
me. You really expect me to believe you didn’t know she gave you a hotel room key? What part of her putting it in your hand skipped your attention?”

“She must have shoved it in my pocket,” he said with a weary sigh. He probably figured from her expression she’d heard that one. “It’s not like it’s ever happened to
me
before.”

She smirked at him, fully angry now. “You’ve never had a woman hit on you?”

“Men don’t hit on
you
?”

“Of course they do, but you don’t see me accepting hotel room keys.”

“Neither did I.”

She waved it at him, then threw it at him when he rolled his eyes. Unfortunately, plastic cards don’t fly well and it only made it two impotent feet.

“The woman is a snake. I’m surprised she didn’t slither into my shoes.” He rubbed his eyes as if he could wish the whole situation away.

“She was never all over
Kyle
that way.”

“How the hell would I know? You didn’t mention what I should do if she tried to feel me up in public.”

“Yvonne MacInerney is a city councilwoman. She wouldn’t attack a man in full view of the entire community! What did you do to make her think you’d welcome her attention?”

“Now you want me to say this is
my
fault? You think I
asked
for her room key?”

She crossed her arms, her face feeling like lead as she listened to the dog barking downstairs. All right, no, it wasn’t likely Lucas would ask for anyone’s hotel room key. But neither was the idea of Yvonne opening herself to repercussions from the conservative right unless she was damn sure her advances would be accepted. “You must have said or done something. She’s not stupid.”

“Have you considered she’s delusional?”

How could he be flip when she was two inches from screaming out of her skin. “Lucas, damn it, be honest with me.”

“I
am
being honest.” He glared at her. “I’m not exactly known for my charm.
You
had to tell me to act like the damn dog, remember? I can’t talk women into bed with me.”

“You do pretty well from my point of view.” She clutched her sheet so tight to her chest she wondered if it would tear or just break her ribs.

He
tsked
, not bothering to look at her anymore. “I should have seen this coming.”

“Seen what?” She backed up when he shifted to the end of the bed and reached down for his pants.

He shoved his legs into them, zipping up harshly enough to make her jump. “You. This. Ten seconds ago you were terrified of our relationship and now you’re on the attack. You’re gnawing your paw but good this time.”

“I’m not gnawing anything.” She hated when he used that phrase. It never failed to make her feel like a panicking idiot. “I left you alone for
ten
minutes last night to go the bathroom and you end up with some woman’s room key.”

“No, you’re looking for a reason not to trust me. And you know what, Belle? There’s always going to be one. Some speck of something that you can twist and turn to make it look like I’m out to get you.”