Love Me (13 page)

It was the glittering diamond ring encircling the shoe’s spiked heel, reflecting back the Vegas lights like a star.

Chapter Sixteen

Broken noses hurt like a bitch.

But not nearly as much as the pain he’d felt when Brianna had run away from him, so convinced he was like every other man who’d ever hurt her. Every other man who’d left her—even Michael. It hadn’t been her husband’s choice to leave, but that hadn’t left Brianna any less alone. Any less wounded. Thomas hadn’t realized quite how wounded until he’d tried to tell her how he felt…and she’d jumped to the conclusion that he was rejecting her.

Especially when he started off his carefully planned speech with,
I don’t want to date you anymore
. He was a fucking idiot.

Now she stared at him, her eyes wide and disbelieving, her lips parted and trembling. Everyone on the bus was watching him. He didn’t care. He’d been trying to nerve himself up to this for days, and he’d decided tonight was the night.

He wasn’t going to let one broken nose stop him.

The possibly broken fingers might be a problem, but he’d worry about that later.

The bus driver half rose from his seat. “Dude, you can’t do shit like that. Look, I got it on camera that you stuck your hand in, so we’re not liable—”

“I don’t care,” Thomas said without ever taking his eyes from Brianna, only it sounded more like
I gon ger
. Great. He was about to propose, and he sounded like a Swedish Oompa Loompa. He tried again, careful to articulate every word. “I. Don’t. Care.”

“Insurance is gonna care, and you need to get to a hospital—”

“I’ll go when I’m done with my business here.”

The driver sank back down with a mutter. “Yeah? Whatever, man. On or off. I gotta schedule to keep.”

“Brianna,” Thomas said gently. She wasn’t moving, wasn’t responding. He stepped up onto the bottom step and gripped her arm with his good hand, transferring the shoe to his bruised, cramping fingers. “Come on. Let’s find a seat.”

She stood shakily, still silent. Her silence, that stunned look on her face, left his heart heavy. Maybe he’d fucked up too much. Maybe he was moving too fast, but he couldn’t help it. He loved her, and he didn’t see the point in wasting time with formalities when he already knew he wanted to be with her. But maybe she really didn’t want him…

He guided her to a seat and nudged her into it. She dropped down like a marionette with cut strings. He sank down next to her. She just looked at him, brows knitting.

“I don’t understand,” she said, voice lost.

“You didn’t give me a chance to explain. When I said I didn’t want to date you anymore, I meant it.” He tried to smile. It hurt like a whore, and the blood pooling on his upper lip felt disgusting. He could taste it in his mouth. “I didn’t want to just have meaningless sex with you again. Not without telling you exactly how I feel.”

A touch of fire snapped in her eyes, clearing away some of the fog. “You might have started out with that instead of what you said.”

“I know. I’m an idiot.” He caught her chin in his fingers. She was a mess. Her eyes red-rimmed, her hair everywhere in a wild blond cloud, her makeup streaked by sweat. He’d never seen her more beautiful. “And I don’t blame you for running away. I could have done that better.”

Her gaze dropped to the shoe. “Why is there a ring on my shoe?” she asked, her voice practically a whisper of a whisper.

“I’m getting there.”

He slid off the seat. His
everything
hurt; he’d hit the side of the bus pretty hard. But that didn’t matter right now. Ignoring the twinge in his spine and the creak of his knees, he sank down to one knee in the bus aisle. A chorus of gasps and excited chatter rose around them. He felt like an actor on a stage, audience and all—but there was nothing feigned about his feelings. This was too real. So real it was frightening, so real he couldn’t stand to let it go. Without Brianna, his life would feel like a shell. Like he was going through the motions.

He couldn’t stand the thought of going back to a life like that.

She was still staring at him, flushed, her hands fretting together in her lap. She darted a nervous glance around. “Thomas, I—”

“Let me, sweetheart. Please. Talking is a little painful right now. I’d like to at least get it out before the swelling gets worse.”

That got a weak, shaky laugh out of her, at least. His smile widened. Or maybe that was just his lips puffing up.

This was not how he’d imagined this going.

Then again, he’d planned his proposal to Nicole. He’d planned it so perfectly it had gone off without a hitch. Perfectly scripted. Passionless. Predictable. Fake. Just as fake as his marriage had been. This was real.

And there was no way in hell he could let this go.

He reached for her hand and enfolded it in his, gently stilling her trembling fingers against his palm. He took a deep breath. He’d planned a careful speech, too, every word precisely chosen…but that speech had been for a woman like Nicole. And Brianna deserved better.

As real as she was, she deserved the real Thomas.

“I’m an asshole,” he blurted out. “I’m a blundering, stupid idiot. I came into your life and put us both in a compromising position that could have screwed up your career and mine. I have no clue how to tell you how beautiful I find you without repeating the same thing until I sound like a recording, because I suck at flattery. I came stomping into your family and started swinging around like I had the damnedest clue what I was doing, when I know as much about what to do with a kid as I do with a nuclear reactor, and with pretty much the same results. I’ve gotten a black eye and a broken nose all within a week of each other, but I’ve never been happier.”

She pressed her knuckles to her mouth, her lips twitching. “Like mother, like son. At least it wasn’t your eye this time.”

He chuckled. “I should start wearing padded armor.” He shook his head. “No. Scratch that. I’m tired of wearing armor around you, Brianna. I’m tired of keeping you out. And even if I’m an asshole, and an idiot, and a lot of other stupid things…I love you. I love you, I love your kids, and I want to be a part of your family. A real part of your family. I couldn’t stand to even think about buying a house in Vegas, because it wouldn’t be a home without you in it.”

She was looking at him again, her expression stricken. His heart inched a little further south, relocating a few ribs down, somewhere around the spatter of blood spots staining his shirt. Hell. She wasn’t going to make this easy, was she?

Fine. He’d do this the hard way, and for once he wouldn’t hold back.

“I understand if you don’t love me. And you don’t have to give me an answer now, whether it’s yes or no. I know you probably need time to think. And if you don’t want me around your kids that much, I understand. I know they come first. And I…I’m not trying to replace Michael—”

“Shut up,” she said. Her voice cracked. She pressed her fingertips to his lips, her skin stained with his blood. “You talk too much, you know that?”

“I might have heard it once or twice before,” he said wryly.

She smiled. He could barely see the hazel of her eyes past the reflective sheen of tears. “You can’t replace Michael,” she said, and his gut knotted up tight. He braced himself, started to let go of her fingers—but she held on tight. “I don’t
want
you to. I was never looking for a replacement for Michael. I never wanted you as a substitute for him. Yes, I’ll always love him for who he was.” She hesitated. “But I also love you for who you are.”

Thomas’s heart stopped. Either he was hearing things past the throbbing in his skull, or she’d just said she loved him.
Him
, not some fictionalized expectation of who he should be. Not the man Nicole had wanted or the slick, smiling asshole he pretended to be for work.

Him.

He let out a whoop—then groaned and clutched at his face. “
Ow.
”

“Idiot,” she said, then laughed and cupped his cheek gently. “I love you, Thomas. But everyone’s staring at us, and if you don’t ask me now I might black your other eye for Zach’s sake.”

“Ask…? Oh!”

He’d almost forgotten the shoe he was clutching like a lifeline. Brianna loved him, and that had eclipsed everything else. He let go of her hand and fumbled the ring free from the shoe; he’d wedged it on too tight, and with his swollen fingers he couldn’t get a grip on it.

“Let me,” she said with patient amusement.

She took the shoe from him and gently slid the ring free. He closed his fingers around hers and captured the ring against her palm, looking up at her. Her golden hair was like a halo, wild as she was, framing that lovely smile that he’d do anything to keep on her face.

“Brianna Faulk,” he said, and hoped to God he wouldn’t trip on the words that meant more to him than any words in his life. “Will you marry me?”

Her fingers curled into a fist inside his. “If you marry me, you marry my kids.”

“There’s nothing I want more.”

“Then…” Oh God, was she trying to kill him? That pregnant pause nearly turned his heart to stone, that unreadable look in her eyes—before she broke into another smile, so brilliant it filled him up with all the love, the life, he’d been missing for so many years. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

A sudden chorus of cheers, shouts, and catcalls cut off Thomas’s response. He startled, blinking and looking around. He’d forgotten they were on a public bus surrounded by people. Those people were grinning now, laughing. A burly-looking man with a hardhat in his lap gave him a thumbs-up. An older woman, her nut-brown skin wizened and grooved, favored him with a kindly nod, her dark eyes gleaming.

“Well, go on, young man,” she said, her voice creaking and whispery. “Kiss the girl.”

He laughed. God, he couldn’t even feel the pain anymore. He swiped a hand across his mouth. Once. Then twice. Finally, it came back clean. “Gladly.”

He drew Brianna down to him with their clasped hands and kissed her. Despite his bloody nose he could taste only her—her sweetness, her laughter, her warmth, her love. He’d always felt he was missing something in his life. Always thought it was just another midlife crisis he’d fill with a sports car and an executive title and a nice house, but all those things were empty. They didn’t matter.

What mattered was the woman whose mouth fit so perfectly against his—and the way she fit so perfectly into his heart.

Pulling back reluctantly, he stroked her fingers, coaxed them apart, pried the ring free. And when he slipped it onto her finger, gliding it over the softness of her knuckles, her breath hitched and she stared at him with wonder.

“You really mean it,” she whispered, and ran her thumb over the ring.

“I always will. Now, and when you’ve been Mrs. Jones for fifty years.”

“If you survive for fifty years,” she said, and laughed as she stroked his jaw with a sweet, tender touch before reaching up to pull the cord for the bus to stop. “Let’s get off here.”

He rose to his feet. His knees popped, and he hissed through his teeth. “Back to the hotel?” he asked.

“No, dummy. To the hospital.” She twined her fingers in his. The warmth of the ring pressed into his palm, and she looked up at him with a trust, a need, that he would hold on to for the rest of his life. “Then I’m taking you home…where you belong.”

Epilogue

They’d come full circle.

Brianna stood at the open window of the honeymoon suite of the Lana’i Resort and looked out over the Hawaiian shoreline, the sand brilliantly white beneath the moonlight, the water a blue like midnight suede. The scent of the tropical air was like wine, light and floral with just a tang of salt and a hint of fruity sweetness. She closed her eyes and breathed in with a smile. One night in a hotel had led to so many amazing things.

And now, in another hotel an ocean away, she’d get to spend her first night with her new husband.

No kids. No interruptions. No drama. Just her, Thomas, and the ache that had been building between them since the day he’d proposed.

They’d managed to steal a few moments together. Twining together hastily on her desk in the back office of the Golden Hand Casino. Biting her hand to keep from screaming as they wrapped around each other in the shower, the one place her children seemed to recognize as too sacred to walk in on. Clinging to each other under the covers and praying Katelyn wouldn’t have another nightmare right now, when Brianna was
so close
—though Katelyn usually did, and
so close
was never close enough.

She loved her children. But she loved Thomas, too, and right now she wanted to love the things he could do to her.

The suite door opened, and a pile of luggage on two legs walked in, cursing and reeling. Thomas dropped the suitcases with a wheeze. “Good God, why wouldn’t you just let me tip the bellhop?”

“Because he was half your size, and you could use the exercise.”

“Are you saying I’m going soft?”

“I’ll have to find out for myself.”

She pushed away from the window and crossed the room. His arms wrapped around her and jerked her roughly against him with a fierceness that made her instantly wet. No, there was nothing soft about him—and the hardness pressing against her stomach reminded her that she hadn’t had a taste of him since before the wedding ceremony.

He sighed, warm and content. “You know, I was thinking about this right before I met you. All that’s missing is the ice-cold beer.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” He laughed, and the sound rumbled through her until her toes curled. “I’m just being an idiot. It’s my way of saying I’m happy.”

She bit her lip and reined herself in, reaching up to carefully touch his cheekbone. “Your nose looks better.”

They’d taken the tape and bandages off before the wedding, but there was still a slight bump and crook to his nose. She thought it was adorable—but she’d never tell him that.

He grimaced. “I still think my sense of direction is permanently shot now.”

“You’re not a pigeon, navigating with the iron in your nose.”

“No, right now I’m a dog and you’re in heat.” His hands slid up her back. His grin was devilish, dark. “That makes you my—”

“If you finish that, it’ll make me the wife who made you sleep on the balcony.”

“That’s not happening…Mrs. Jones.”

He dipped down and swung her up into his arms with easy strength, his powerful muscles bunching in ways that made her melt. She squeaked and clasped her hands behind his neck.

“I thought you were supposed to carry the bride across the threshold.”

“Across the threshold, to the bed…same difference. But if you want, I can go back out and bring you back in.”

“No,” she said. “Just kiss me.”

His dark, hungry smile was the only warning before he possessed her mouth with a hunger and intensity that swept her away in the sizzling fire between them. Kissing Thomas was like flipping a switch; the pent-up passion inside her broke free, infusing her with a wild desperation that left her hot, needful, her body tight and quivering with consuming hunger. His tongue caressed her lips, her mouth with a desire that made each stroke resonate through her entire body until her breasts felt heavy and her nipples peaked against the thin fabric of her sundress.

“Brianna,” he gasped.

She nipped at his upper lip. “Tell me you love me.”

He tumbled her to the bed. His long, hard body covered hers. He looked down at her with a possessive intensity that made her stomach flutter. His breath came harsh, and he spread a broad, rough hand over her stomach, stroking slowly upward until his fingertips grazed the underside of her breast.

“I love you,” he whispered, then dipped his head and took her nipple into his mouth, sucking through the cloth. She arched and wove her fingers into his hair with a gasp.

His teeth teased her gently, tugging carefully, taunting and grazing, before he covered her dampened breast with his palm and kneaded with a delicious strength that stopped just short of pain—a heated firmness and strength that left her writhing and arching up to thrust into his hand. He left a trail of fire everywhere he touched, burning her alive.

She needed to taste him. Her mouth trailed down his neck, and she pushed his light linen shirt back to nibble at his shoulder. Her hips rolled up against his, and she ground against him until he let out a tortured groan. That one sound made her feel wanton. Wild. Beautiful. Seductive. She spread her legs with a willingness that was deliciously shameful, wrapping her thighs around his hips until he pressed flush against her.

“Oh God,” she gasped, and bit at his throat. His cock teased her, pushing her panties into her wet, slick folds until she whimpered. “Oh God, yes!”

His mouth found her ear. His rushed breath teased her; his teeth captured her earlobe and tugged. “I love you. I love you more than anything,” he whispered.

“Don’t talk,” she said, then sucked in a sharp breath as his thumb flicked her nipple. “Just kiss me again.”

He answered with a kiss so fierce it drove all thought from her mind. She loved him like this. Loved when he let her see the wildness of him, the primal need that turned him from a man into this beast who claimed her body with dragging, sensuous caresses and stroked her to a shaking peak. His mouth branded her, bit at her hard enough to leave pleasurably burning-hot marks against her throat, like an animal marking his territory. His hands touched her with an arrogant certainty that said he knew her body too well—and knew exactly how to drive her wild.

When his fingers nudged her panties aside and eased into her, she clung to him, digging her fingernails into his back. The pad of his thumb circled her clit in a maddening counter-rhythm to each thrust of his fingers until she was nearly dizzy, breathing so shallowly her lungs were tight, her throat aching from her cries. Her body clenched and spasmed around him, the callused texture of his fingers caressing her to a painful sensitivity. She felt like liquid fire, scorching and melting all in one.

“Jesus Christ, Brianna,” he hissed. She opened her eyes to hazy slits; he watched her with a near-obsessive intensity, his lips parted, his eyes glazed.

“More,” she begged, and rocked her hips into his hand. “Please,
more
!”

He gave her more. He worked her with his fingers until she was whimpering and lax with pleasure. He tore at her clothing, stripping her with a ruthless efficiency. His clothing joined hers on the floor, leaving his taut, sculpted body bare. She stroked her hands over him, relearning every inch of him by touch, tracing his wide shoulder, stroking her fingers through the light coating of hair sprinkled along his chest, following the thin trail down his stomach and lower.

He was ready for her, filling her hand, and with a low sound he rocked into her touch. “Brianna,” he warned, voice low, dangerous. His gaze devoured her. When he looked at her, she felt like the most beautiful person ever to exist. Inch by slow inch, he covered her body with his, his weight pressing her into the mattress. He kissed the swell of her breast, brushed his fingers along her inner thigh, and slipped his fingers through her wetness until her legs trembled.

Frenzied need swept through her. Suddenly his fingers weren’t enough, and she rolled him over, relishing the startled look on his face. His erection pressed against her, and with a hot little moan she stroked herself against him; his cock stroked against her, slick with her wetness, his thickness gliding between her thighs. He dug his fingers into her hips, held her still, and positioned himself nudging against her opening.

“No,” she said, and caught his hands. She pushed them down to the mattress on either side of his shoulders and leaned over him. “Me.”

He licked his lips, nodding, panting. “All right.”

Yet a little buck of his hips nearly undid her—and she shuddered, tightening her grip on his hands, lacing their fingers together in a silent message.
Behave.
For a moment longer she rubbed herself against him, then braced her knees to the bed and sank down on him with a breathy cry. He glided into her, piercing deep, forcing her thighs wider as she sank down to take inch after inch. His ragged sound was only a faint echo of the moans building up inside her. She rocked her hips and nearly fell apart as sweet, rough friction sizzled through her.

When she’d taken him fully, she fell still, gasping, savoring the sensation of their bodies joined together so intimately, his cock buried deeply inside her. His eyes were closed, his lips parted, his head tossed back, his pulse moving fast against the strong lines of his throat. After long moments, his eyes slipped open, their dark brown molten and scorching, hungry and wild.

“Love me,” he growled, and strained against her grip. “Love me, Brianna.”

She rolled her hips, and he rose up to meet her. Her entire body tightened around him, and she arched back, glorying in the vivid sensuality of the rhythm that swelled and surged between them. He tore his hands free from hers and ran his palms over her stomach, up her rib cage, to cup her breasts. His thumbs toyed over her nipples, and she screamed, tossed her head back, and rode him with an unrestrained abandon.

She’d never known it could feel this good to let herself go, to throw herself into such wild and unrestrained sexuality. Not until Thomas caught her in his arms and didn’t let her go. Their bodies crashed together again and again until sweat licked down her neck and her breasts ached from his rough touch, until a heaviness built deep in her belly and high in her thighs and the hard pressure invading her body on every thrust was too much to bear. She plunged down on him, took him deep, then lost herself in a blinding moment of bliss and glory as desire gripped her in an iron fist and wrung every last drop from her.

His thrusts were frantic, crazed, arrhythmic, and a moment later she felt the intimate caress of him filling her, climaxing, emptying himself into her. She collapsed against his chest; his arms wrapped around her, holding her close. His heavy breathing tickled her neck, but she wouldn’t trade any of it for the world.

“Fuck,” he gasped, and she couldn’t help an almost drunken little giggle.

“Swear jar,” she said, and together they dissolved into laughter.

When they could both breathe again, he kissed her brow and stroked her hair back. “Are you all right?”

“Of course.” She snuggled against him. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

He kissed her nose and rolled to the side, dragging her with him; their bodies slipped apart, leaving her empty yet sated. “I got a little out of control.”

“You? I was a wild woman.”

“
My
wild woman.”

“Only for you,” she breathed, her finger tracing his lower lip. He caught her fingertip between his lips and nibbled.

“I’m ready for round two if you are.”

“Thomas!” She laughed and swatted him. “First…I have a surprise for you.”

His eyebrows rose. “Better than the one you just gave me?”

“It’s a wedding gift from the kids. They made me promise we wouldn’t open it until we were on our honeymoon.” She pushed herself up on her arms and kissed his nose. “Give me a second.”

She rolled out of bed. The night air from the open windows caressed her naked body, making her shiver. Not so long ago, she would have grabbed a robe, covered herself properly as a lady should. Now, she felt no need, and it left her feeling giddy, the way Thomas’s gaze followed her greedily as she walked naked across the room to their luggage.

A small wrapped package was tucked underneath her clothing in the bottom of one of the suitcases. It had been hastily gift-wrapped by clumsy, childish hands, and as she climbed back onto the bed she offered it to Thomas.

“What is this?” He sat up and turned the gift over in his hands, then started picking at the tape.

“I have no idea. They were very secretive. Zach even blushed. Open it, silly.”

Thomas ripped the paper away. Inside was a small plastic bag, red with marker and decorative designs scribbled over it in three different hands. All of their names were on it.
Cody. Katelyn. Zach.
Katelyn had written her
K
backward. Thomas smiled and traced the letters, then reached inside and pulled out a small, square object wrapped in tissue paper.

He unwrapped the paper. His breath caught. Inside was a picture frame with
Family
etched in elegant silver. Slotted into it was the picture of Brianna and Thomas at the tea party in Katelyn’s room. So she hadn’t gotten their laps after all. Instead she’d captured a perfect snapshot of Thomas and Brianna smiling, their eyes lit up with laughter. But even more, the kids had cut out pictures of themselves from other photographs and tucked them in around the edges, so they were all together.

A family. Her family.
Their
family.

Thomas blinked hard, his eyes suspiciously damp. “I can’t believe they did this.”

“I can,” she said. “They love you. We love you.
I
love you.”

“I love you, too.” His throat worked in a hard swallow. “All of you.”

She wrapped her arms around him and kissed his forehead, his nose, his cheek, his throat, and finally his lips. He kissed her with a passion that enveloped her in warmth. In hope. In love. He rolled her beneath him and kissed a path down to her breasts.