Lucky SEAL (Lucky Devil #2) (20 page)

“I imagine so.” Luc sipped his scotch.

“She didn’t have a key to Rourke’s place or anyone to help her,” Dolce said to the side of his perfect, dark head. She was smiling. Luc wouldn’t have suggested Rourke go home if he weren’t sure that’s where Jennifer was, because it made no sense for her to go there injured and alone with no way to get in and nobody to help her in her convalescence.

Luc didn’t respond. He just pursed his lips as if pondering Jennifer’s dilemma. He took another drink of his scotch.

“How do you suppose she got from the hospital to Rourke’s place?”

“If that’s even where she is,” Luc prevaricated, as if he didn’t know exactly where Rourke’s future wife was resting. “I have no idea, but she seems like a very resourceful young woman.” Luc threw back the remainder of his drink and instructed the bartended to put Rourke and Dolce’s drinks on his tab before he left.

Luc strode assuredly out of the bar, refusing to make eye contact with the always perceptive Dolce. She knew exactly how Jennifer had gotten settled into Rourke’s home and who had been assuring she was cared for in the meantime. Luc was a good man, and Dolce loved him deeply. She could only pray that one day he would forgive himself for his sins and learn to live without the guilt. Until then, Dolce and Rourke would stand by his side. It was likely Jennifer would be joining their little family, as well. Dolce finished her beer with a smile. God, she loved her brothers, testy as they both could be. They weren’t really her brothers, but they’d taken her under their wings from a young age and taught her to be as tough as one of the guys. They were good men, and she was blessed to have them in her life. Dolce hoped one day, a strong woman would come along to knock Luc off his feet and give him the peace and love he deserved. Much as Jennifer had shaken up Rourke, one extremely regimented Navy SEAL, who needed to learn to loosen up. Maybe one day, Dolce would fall in love, as well. Maybe. If she ever got over the one that got away. And maybe not.

*   *   *

Jennifer stepped out of the shower and tugged on the thick, charcoal-color terry bathrobe that hung on the back of the bathroom door. She wrapped it around herself and tied the sash at the waist, wincing at the pull on her shoulder. It was too long and dragged the floor, but it was Rourke’s, so she liked to use it. Raising her arm over head to wrap her hair in a towel was a chore. The shoulder that had taken a bullet got better every day, but it was especially sore after a physical therapy session. Today, her therapist had pushed her hard.

Jennifer was so thankful Rourke had been able to get care for her situated before he was forced to return to duty unexpectedly. She bet he felt terrible about leaving her when he did, but Jennifer understood. His life wasn’t really his own. He belonged to the Navy. Waking from surgery to learn Rourke wouldn’t be there for her was tough for Jennifer at first. It was still hard. He’d been gone for nine weeks, and she hadn’t heard a word from him, but she was being taken care of in his home, and that meant a lot to Jennifer.

The day she was to be released from the hospital, she had no clue where she would go or how she would get there. Just as Jennifer was trying to explain to the doctor that she was homeless and needed help until she recovered, a sharp looking blond woman showed up in Jennifer’s hospital room. She introduced herself as Trina, Luc Christianson’s personal assistant. Trina had everything in order for Jennifer. Everything happened so fast Jennifer barely had time to blink before she was installed in Rourke’s empty little apartment. There was a sweet woman named Rosa waiting for Jennifer. She did all the cooking and cleaning, and she stayed there with Jennifer for the first week after surgery to help her get around. All her things from her apartment arrived that first day as well, and they were arranged or put away neatly as she instructed. Jennifer never lifted a finger. Rourke’s sterile apartment now looked much more lived in.

Rosa stopped by every few days with groceries and fresh laundry. Laundry that only existed because Trina stopped by the day after Jennifer was released from the hospital with some comfortable clothes that were great for lounging and stretching when she had therapy every other day. Rosa premade meals for Jennifer that could be popped in the microwave. It was all really more than Jennifer could have imagined. Rourke had thought of everything. Even the physical therapist came to her, so she never had to leave Rourke’s home. A place she was starting to think of as her home.

She was glad to be able stay inside the apartment. Even though the officer who visited the hospital to question Jennifer assured her that Evan was not a threat to her, Jennifer was still afraid. Evan promised to send his men to find her. She believed him. They could still be out there looking for her now, but none of them knew Rourke, and they had no idea where she might go. So she was safe in her little cocoon of peace.

Jennifer was in the bedroom, struggling to pull on her shirt, when the sound of someone messing with the handle of the front door reached her ears. She froze and listened. Maybe she was imagining things again. It happened. Jennifer knew she was more paranoid than was healthy, but that was getting better with time, as well. When the sound came again, Jennifer knew it wasn’t her imagination. Someone had opened the apartment door without knocking. Had she forgotten to lock the deadbolt before she climbed into the shower after the therapist left? She was sure she locked it, but must have forgotten.

As silently as she was able, Jennifer crept around to the far side of the bed. She slid open the nightstand drawer and withdrew the handgun Rourke kept there. She pulled open the drawer one day to look for a pen and was startled to find a gun. She’d never opened that drawer again. With shaking hands, she flicked off the safety and tiptoed to the closet. This was only the second time she’d ever touched a gun. The first time was when she shot at Evan. She’d missed the bastard, but she had fired the gun twice. She knew she could do it if she had no other choice.

Whoever was out there nosing around Rourke’s apartment was up to no good. Neither Rosa nor Trina had ever entered the apartment without knocking. She heard something in the living room hit the floor with a thud. Jennifer ducked into the closet and pulled it almost shut, but because she didn’t want to make any noise, she left it barely cracked. She hunkered down in the floor of the closet and tried to make herself as small as possible.

Fear crept up Jennifer’s back and wrapped itself around her throat, making it difficult to breathe. Jennifer was starting to panic, and she knew it, but she couldn’t stop the waves of anxiety from drowning her brain. Memories were living things, and Jennifer’s time spent locked up in a room in Evan’s condo followed by the hours of hiding in a tiny storage closet from his men after she escaped came crawling out of the darkness that surrounded her as she prepared for whatever might come next.

Footsteps stole down the short hall toward the bedroom. Could it be Evan? No. It wasn’t Evan. Evan was in jail. That’s what the cops told her. But the cops were in Evan’s pocket, right? They could have lied. It could be Evan. No. It was his men. Evan wouldn’t come after her, himself. He would send his lackeys. Footsteps entered the bedroom, and Jennifer brought up the gun. She checked the safety again. Jennifer stopped breathing and waited. She stared at the closet door and waited for what seemed like an eternity. Someone was bumping around the bedroom, opening drawers and closing them. Maybe it was just a burglar. Never in her life did she think she would welcome a damn burglar, but that was preferable.

Jennifer was sweating and shaking. She felt sick. She wanted out of that damn closet, but she didn’t dare move an inch. When the closet door was ripped open and a large hand entered, not to grab her but to hang something from a hook on the side of the closet, Jennifer was stunned into further silence. The hand returned to hang a heavy jacket on the pole above her head. Jennifer leaned forward to peek through the clothing concealing her.

Relief followed by joy combined to make Jennifer dizzy. It wasn’t Evan, his men, or a burglar who’d scared her into hiding.

“Rourke,” his name escaped her lips on a whisper, but he’d heard her say his name. He looked around his bedroom in confusion. “Rourke,” she said again, a little louder.

Rourke spun around and pushed back the clothes hanging around Jennifer. He jumped back and held up his hands defensively.

“Jennifer, baby, please put down the gun. You’re safe now. I promise you, baby. Nothing will ever hurt you again. Not as long as I live.” Rourke dropped to his knees with hands still up as if he were trying to calm a frightened animal. He put himself on her level and waited. “Please come out, Jennifer. It’s just me here. Just you and me.”

Jennifer forgot she was holding a gun. It was loaded and pointed right at Rourke’s chest. Her limbs unfroze and she dropped the gun.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized sincerely. “I thought. I thought Evan . . .”

She could explain all of things she thought. Understanding shone in Rourke’s eyes. It didn’t matter anymore. Rourke was there. He was home and she wanted to touch him. Kiss him. Hold him tight. She launched herself out of the closet. Rourke caught her, but she knocked him off balance, and they tumbled over onto the carpeted floor.

Jennifer kissed Rourke with all of the love she felt in her heart. She’d missed him so much. It made no sense considering she’d been cowering in the closet just a moment ago, but she wanted Rourke now more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life. She wanted him more that she’d even wanted to dance on Broadway. She loved him more than he would ever know. Rourke scooped Jennifer up in his huge arms and tossed her onto the bed. He climbed over her with the same heat in his ice-blue eyes.

“Your shoulder.” Rourke jerked back and looked over her apologetically.

“It’s fine. I promise. Get back here.” She wrapped a hand around his neck and pulled his mouth back to hers.

Rourke took over. He came down over her, and his much heavier weight pinned her body to the mattress while his lips took possession of hers. Hot breath mingled, bodies molded and rubbed. The friction was maddening. She needed so much more. Jennifer attempted undo his shirt, but her shoulder protested the movement after the workout the therapist had given it. Rourke saw her struggle and immediately remedied the situation. Clothes went flying. His clothes and hers. When Rourke came back to her, he was gloriously nude. It was like being taken by a Viking god. Her Viking god.

They held each other for long tender moments. Just touching, stroking, and getting to know each other again. Just being in Rourke’s arms was a dream after believing she could never have him, but that was before. Before he’d called her his woman. Before he told Jennifer he loved her. Before she admitted she loved him too. Now, she was grabbing his love with both hands and never letting go. It would be hard to love a man who was gone more than he was home, but Jennifer would never ask Rourke to give up his passionate. She didn’t want to change him. She only wanted to find a place in his life.

Eventually, Jennifer could no longer ignore her body’s longing. Rourke must have felt her restlessness. He inserted his legs between her thighs and settled himself there at the apex of her need. He slowly circled his hips, rubbing himself in her moisture and teasing her throbbing clit. Jennifer moaned and squirmed.

“Look at me, Jennifer,” Rourke said in a husky whisper. She did. His eyes were alight with love and desire. “I love you. Only you. Forever. Do you hear me?”

“Yes,” Jennifer’s heart was stuck in her throat. “I love you, too, Rourke. Now and forever.”

Rourke kissed her. Swallowing her words and stealing her breath. His jutting cock prodded the entrance to her sex and Jennifer relaxed. He pushed and treated, making his way deeper into her tight sheath. If felt amazing. Jennifer was so hot. She was so ready that when his cock stroked over that perfectly sensitive spot inside once, twice, three times, Jennifer detonated. She shouted Rourke’s name and clung to him tightly when the climax dragged under and wouldn’t let go. The orgasm was unending, or so it seemed. Rourke fucked her hard. Riding her through one climax and into another before her body could come down from the crest. Her pussy squeezed him. Gripping and trying to hold onto him as he thrust in and out, sheathing himself and withdrawing.

Rourke held her to him and powered through her clutching heat. He increased the pace. His breathing came faster and his movements became jerky. Jennifer drifted down only to be driven back into another screaming orgasm. Rourke tumbled into the climax with Jennifer. He shouted her name and told her he loved her again and again, as he spilled into her welcoming body.

In the aftermath of their loving, neither of them spoke for a long time. The perfect peace and stillness of the night held them in a bubble Jennifer didn’t want to break. They were together. Soon, they would need to talk about what happened before he was called away. They would need to discuss the future. She would follow Rourke anywhere. Nothing would change that. It was harder than she ever could have imagined to be left behind while he went where she couldn’t go, though. The last nine weeks without a word from Rourke were like a slow, constant torture. But they would get through it. She already had a plan for how she would handle the long separations. She needed to stay busy. That’s what she planned to do.

Jennifer broke the silence first, thought, because Rourke need to know how grateful she was for everything he’d done for her. She would have been dangling in the wind without him.