OVER HER DEAD BODY: The Bliss Legacy - Book 2 (28 page)

“Oh, well,” she said, sighing dramatically. “Two out of three ain’t bad.” She moved back to him, into his arms. “My answer is yes, August John Hanlon. For the foreseeable future there’ll be no running. I’ll stay right here, until the day after forever.”

Whatever chill was left in Gus’s sleet-covered heart thawed; he held her fiercely. He’d given her his life, and he would die to protect hers. She was his. “I want to make love to you, Keeley,” he whispered into her hair and felt her arms tighten around his waist.

“I want that, too,” she answered.

“My place or yours?”

“Yours. It’s closer.” She touched his scar, kissed him softly, then smiled into his eyes.

In his room, they fell on the bed together, breathless. When they were side to side, staring into each other’s eyes, Keeley kissed him again, then put her head back on the pillow and continued to look at him. “I love you, Gus,” she said. The words were simple, but the expression on her face was a complex mixture of honesty, fear, determination, passion. “And I will love you forever.”

He pushed some red curls off her forehead, couldn’t take his eyes off her face. He wanted to say something profound but came up empty. Hell, he’d never been much for words at the best of times.

He kissed her hair, her forehead, her eyelids, breathed her scent deep into his lungs. His heart.

In the end the most profound words came on their own, just marched front and center. Potent, life-altering words he couldn’t hold back, didn’t want to hold back. “And I love you, Keeley.”

They were new to him, these words. Not the word
love
; he’d used that often enough, but always in the heat of lovemaking, then it was, I love this, I love that. But never
you
.
You was the word that changed everything. The word filled him with warmth in places long deadened by cold and loneliness. It occurred to him he’d never thought himself lonely. Until the gray of it lifted from him, he hadn’t known it was there.

She kissed him then, deeply, her tongue circling his mouth making her wishes clear. Then she moved her lips to his ear and whispered, “I want to make love with you, Gus. I want to make love with you forever.”

Something in him settled, rested in a way it never had. “You’re big into the forever stuff, aren’t you?” He nuzzled her hair, soaked up the fragrance of it—the fragrance of her. “Trouble is, forever isn’t long enough.”

He undid the buttons on her shirt, slipped his hand in, and cupped her small firm breast. “You’re perfect” He touched her nipple, already hardening, drew a circle around it, listened to her sharp intake of breath.

She kissed his jagged scar. “So are you.”

They undressed in slow motion.

Gus taking off her shirt, undoing the clasp of her bra. Taking time to taste her skin, to know the curves and contours of her.

Keeley slipping his belt from its loops, undoing his zipper. Taking time to enfold him in her hand, run her finger along his hard length, until he jerked and pulsed in her hand.

Until he couldn’t think.

They didn’t get to naked before he was kissing his way down her stomach, savoring her wet heat, savoring her. But if he were going to stop, it had to be now. He kissed her thigh, then shifted off the bed.

“Where are you going?” she asked, hot and disheveled in his bed. And confused.

“Protection.” He turned toward the bathroom. She grasped his hand, pulled him back. “Are you okay?”

“I’m healthy, if that’s what you’re asking.” When it came to STDs, Dinah said he was phobic. He always used protection, always had checkups, and insisted she do the same. Hell, he had a kid to raise. He wasn’t about to leave Josh by being stupid.

“Me, too. And I’m on the pill.”

He was surprised, and it probably showed, because she looked faintly embarrassed.

“Rough menstrual cycle,” she added. “The pill helps.”

He got back into bed. “I hate to be the beneficiary of that, but—”

She smiled. “You’ll make do, right?”

Gus stretched out beside her, propped his head in his hand, and looked down at her. “I’ll definitely make do.”

She hesitated then and he cocked his head.

“You should know I’m a little nervous.” She gave him one of her direct looks, the one with a hint of stubborn.

He gave it right back. “The me-being-experienced-and-you-not thing? Right?”

She averted her eyes briefly, then ran her hand down his bicep. “Yes.”

He quivered, then smiled. “You should be nervous.”

The look she gave him was wary.

He went on, “Because I’ve never made love to a woman I’ve loved. Who knows what might happen?” He tilted her chin, lifting her face to his. “This is my first time, Keeley. My very first time.”

She nodded slowly, then clasped his hand and kissed it. “Good,” she said and took a breath. “Now where exactly did we leave off?”

Gus slid down the bed, kissed his way down her stomach, and lifted her to his mouth. “Right about here.”

She groaned, opened for him, and Gus, lost in the scent and softness of the woman he loved, did what he’d learned to be expert at—for the very first time.

Two hours later, Gus dragged himself from sleep, his head pounding. No. The pounding was on his door. As he tried to clear his head, he glanced at the bedside table clock. Not quite eight.

He’d been dreaming …

“What is it?” a sleepy voice said from near his shoulder.

Not a dream. Thank God!

“Someone’s at the door.” He leaned over, kissed her forehead. “I’ll get it.”
And get rid of them.

Keeley smiled at him, then dove under the quilt.

He pulled on his jeans, ran his hand over her hip and headed to the door.

It was Bridget. “I’m going into town, but that woman’s come back. She’s downstairs.”

Gus shoved his hair back. “What woman?”

“She’s looking for Keeley, but I can’t find her anywhere.” She tried to look around him and he blocked her.

“What woman?” he repeated.

“Christiana something.” She took a step to his left and looked past him to his rumpled bed. “She was here a few days ago.”

“Tell her Keeley will be right down.”

She was still looking at his bed when he closed the door, maybe a bit too firmly, in her face.

Keeley’s head emerged from the covers, her hair a messy blaze of red. He took a breath. All he wanted to do was stare at her, drink her in.

“Christiana’s here,” he finally said. “She wants to see you.”

“I heard,” she answered, but made no move to get up. “We’ll have to tell everyone. About us. Right away. I’m the world’s worst sneaker-arounder.”

“Fair enough, but who’s everybody and why should we sneak?”

She slid to the edge of the bed, gathered up her clothes, and started to get dressed, then stopped. “You’re right.” She looked at him, her jeans zipper still open, no shirt on. “But I’d feel better all the same.”

Gus sat on the bed she’d just left, his attention snagged by her naked breasts. “We’ll take out an ad if you want.” His breathing quickened. “You’ve got a fantastic body. I could sit here and look at you all day. On second thought”—he reached for her— “I’d rather touch, and taste.” He held her by the waist, curling his fingers into her firm flesh, and buried his face between her breasts, shifting to blow on a nipple, take it in his mouth.

Keeley gasped and plunged her hands into his hair. Her breathing shifted to ragged. “What a … way to start the day.”

He looked up at her. “And end it.” Reluctantly releasing her, he said, “You’d better go. Fordham’s waiting.” Along with her arrival, the Starks and their dirty secrets also came to mind, and he felt the warmth of the night slip away. Mayday was still at risk. His home was in danger. He glanced out the window.

Still raining. When he looked back, Keeley was dressed and looking down at him.

She brushed his hair back from his forehead and leaned to kiss it.”You look grim,” she said.”You’re thinking about Christiana, the Starks. You’re worried about their meeting.”

He considered glib assurances, rejected them. “No. It’s not them. Hell, tangled family ties are nothing new. They’ll work it out, if they want to.”

“It won’t happen without Dinah Marsden.” She stepped away from him. “You have to get her here, Gus. It’s essential.”

She made it sound easy, but Gus knew Dinah wouldn’t do anything it wasn’t in her interest to do. “I’ll do what I can.” He stood. “Now you better go downstairs. I’ll be down in a few minutes.” When she was gone, Gus hit the shower. Standing under the rush of water, he braced his hands against the shower wall, dropped his head, and waited for the water to clear his sex-crazed mind.

Keeley was right, he did feel grim. He might not give a damn about the mess of a family about to gather downstairs, but he sure as hell gave a damn about a man called Mace.

Still out there. Still a risk.

Chances were the bastard was on Hagan Marsden’s payroll. Insurance in case Gus screwed up or didn’t come through.

Mace would be back, all right, and this time it would take more than a feather pillow to take him out.

He turned off the shower, slicked his hair back. This mess had to come to a head, and to make it happen, Keeley was dead right, he needed Dinah’s highly toned ass at Mayday House.

He decided to pay a quick visit to Paul Stark.

Keeley met Bridget in the hall outside her bedroom. The look in her eyes was censorious and Keeley’s stomach fluttered. For a moment she felt awkward, even defensive—until she reordered her thoughts, remembered the happiness, the ecstasy, of last night in Gus’s arms.

She leaned on her door and looked at Bridget’s sullen face. “Okay, out with it.”

Her gaze slid away. “Out with what?”

“I was with Gus. You’re shocked.”

“I didn’t know, uh, nuns did that kind of thing.”

“What kind of ’thing’ are you talking about?” God, she was so tired of the darn nun thing.

“You know. Have sex.” Her gaze shot to Keeley’s, then slid away again.

Keeley let out a breath. “For the millionth and absolutely last time, I am
not
a nun, Bridget. I haven’t been for a lot of years now.”

“I know, but—”

“And Gus and I—” She stopped. She didn’t need to explain. Besides, how could she expect anyone to understand what was between her and Gus when she wasn’t sure she understood it herself? “Get used to Gus, Bridget, he’ll be around for a long time.” She smiled.
Forever.
“Now would you please go and tell Christiana I’ll be right down? I need to change.”

“Sure.” Bridget nodded, started down the hall, then stopped and said, “Keeley?”

“Uh-huh.” Keeley was opening the door when she heard her. She turned.

“I felt like you once. I know what it’s like to, uh, want somebody. Real bad like.” She looked as if she were going to cry, ran a hand under her nose. “With me, it didn’t work like I wanted.” She sniffed and squared her bony shoulders. “Gus is nice, super … hot, but you’ll be careful, won’t you?”

“I’ll be careful, Bridget. Thanks.”

Bridget nodded and headed for the stairs, leaving Keeley with a lump in her throat and a dose of morning-after reality.

When she’d closed the bedroom door behind her, she leaned against it. Bridget was right. About Gus being … hot—she smiled—and about the need to be careful. She should be smart about this, not rash or impulsive. She should be logical and cautious. Sober as a nun. Maybe the least bit guilty …

But she wasn’t any of those things. She was in love, and last night she’d given Gus her body—and more important—her heart. She had no intention of taking either back.

Keeley brought the thermos coffeepot to the table, set it down between her and Christiana, and took a seat. “Erica and Paul are upstairs now.”

Christiana instantly got to her feet, looked around the kitchen as if to pinpoint an escape route. “God, I don’t know if I’m ready for this. For them.”

“You can always cut and run.” Keeley’s response was facetious and accompanied by a smile. She didn’t peg Christiana for a runner—from anything, but she empathized with the tense woman now pacing her kitchen. It had to be emotionally tricky to stay calm when you were about to meet a brother and sister you didn’t even know you had until a few days ago.

“I think you know I won’t do that. I want to meet them. Need to. But my … mother? Have you found out anything about her?”

Keeley didn’t know what to say, and she wasn’t ready to tell this elegant and proper woman her first sight of her mother might be in a triple-X-rated film. She was glad when Gus came into the room and answered for her.

“We’re working on it.” He took a mug from the cupboard, strolled to the table, and poured himself a coffee. He glanced at Keeley. “Where are they?”

Keeley knew he meant the Starks, but before she could tell him they’d be right down, Erica strode into the room. She looked tired and irritable. But then Erica always looked irritable. Paul, his hand securely bandaged, followed her in. Both were dressed casually, but expensively, in jeans and shirts, Paul’s neatly tucked in, Erica’s flowing over her pregnancy.

Erica stopped in her tracks when she spotted Christiana. For a few seconds, the two women stared at each other. Christiana looked calm enough, but Keeley saw her knuckles whiten.

“Jesus,” Erica finally said, “You’re her.” If she was feeling anything, it didn’t show through her obvious shock.

“If by ‘her’ you mean your half-sister, you’d be right.” Christiana held out her hand; Erica ignored it and continued to stare.

Paul stepped toward the two women and took Christiana’s hand just as she was pulling it back.

“Paul Stark,” he said. “You’ll have to excuse Erica. We weren’t expecting you. Not yet, at least.”

“Neither were we,” Keeley said. “Christiana’s visit is a surprise, but now she’s here, I thought you should meet.”

Erica shook her head as if to clear it. “I need a coffee.” She followed Gus’s path to the cupboard and retrieved two mugs, poured for herself and Paul, and sat down heavily at the table.

“You’re pregnant,” Christiana said, stating the obvious and clearly no more able to start a dialogue than Erica.