Risking It All (15 page)

When his heat left her, she pried her heavy eyelids open in time to watch him rise to his feet at the foot of the bed. His gaze locked on hers, he pushed his boxers to the floor and stood over her, watching her for a moment. Her breath caught in her throat as she took in the whole of him, naked before her for the first time. His broad shoulders and wide chest, sculpted abs, and lean hips. Just looking at him had her shivering in anticipation.

He smiled then, returned to her, crawled up the bed, and once again covered her body with his, tucking her into all those beautifully sculpted places. It surprised her how perfectly they fit together, like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Why she was surprised, she didn’t know, but somehow, she’d expected this moment to feel awkward. Instead, his body fit against hers, the way it always did. Holding himself on his elbows, he was so close she drew everything breath with him, and he was all she could see. It was as if they were made to be this way. It was such a clichéd thought, but it chased away any remaining doubts.

One by one, he captured her hands, threading their fingers, connecting to every part of her, and his hips arched against hers. He pushed into her in one long, luscious stroke. His gaze bored into her, as if he could see into her soul, straight into her heart, as if he were claiming her. The power of that possession gripped her, infusing every pore, every cell.

He moved inside her with exquisite slowness. She lost herself in him, in the glorious sensations. In his body, hard inside of her, stroking her inner walls. His skin slipping against hers, soft and warm. He dropped his head, resting his forehead against the curve of her neck, his breath harsh against her skin. He filled her, retreated, filled her again, thrusting slow and deep, and with every torturous stroke drew her further into him.

She lifted her legs, wrapping them around his hips. Her fingers curled into his. Every luscious stroke of him deep inside her jarred that secret place within. Pleasure flooded her nerve endings, from the tips of her breasts all the way down to the tips of her toes. She panted, clutching his hands in desperation, wishing she could put them all over him, to touch him, to . . . God, she didn’t even know what. The pleasure built inside her, building on top of itself, and her hips rose of their own accord, meeting his every thrust, urging him faster, and with every one the tempo increased.

Kyle lifted his head. His eyes were heavy-lidded, his pleasure burning in his gaze, his breath sawing in and out of his mouth, chest heaving. His gaze locked on hers, he released one hand and slid it beneath her bottom, changing the angle, and the luscious bubble inside of her burst, rapturous and freeing. His name left her mouth on a hoarse moan as wave after wave of intense pleasure ripped her apart at the seams.

He followed close on her heels, tensing against her. A long, low groan rumbled out of him, as if it were torn from his chest, and he thrust into her one last time, growling her name into her throat, hips jerking. His body shuddered against hers with the force of his own climax.

When he finally stopped shaking, he dropped his head into the curve of her shoulder, buried his face in her neck, and wrapped both arms around her. So tightly a surprised breath squeaked out of her.

The moment had emotion overwhelming her. Regret and tenderness.

Love
.

And the longer they laid there, the more the truth swelled inside of her, undeniable. Tears welled in her eyes, and emotion clogged her throat. She and Jimmy had made love a lot. Sometimes several times a day for the first few months, but he’d never once held her quite like this. Kyle crushed her to him as if he cherished her. Like letting her go was unthinkable.

The realization seeped inside, wrapped itself around her heart, and squeezed. The tremors started in her hands, spreading outward, and an ache filled the center of her chest. She couldn’t deny it anymore. She loved him. Depending on how you looked at it, she supposed she always had, but somewhere over the years, it had blossomed, changed.

Which meant everything she’d fought to avoid played out before her. Their relationship was forever changed. No matter where they went now, they could never go back from this. She might as well have lost him.

He’d broken his ultimate promise to himself.

When the haze cleared and some of the blood returned to his head, that single thought replayed through Kyle’s mind like a broken record, taunting him. Face buried in the curve of Ceci’s shoulder, he pressed his nose to her neck and inhaled, filling his lungs with the sweet scent of her skin. Wildflowers, fresh air, and sunshine. She smelled like the outdoors, topped with the barest hint of a clean-scented shampoo. Like the earth after a good rain. A scent made only sweeter by the fact she really was there with him this way. Lying beneath him, her long, smooth legs entangled with his. Her body was slick, her skin glistening in the waning light that filtered through the gossamer curtains on her windows.

He must have thought about this moment a thousand times over the years, but the reality was far better than any fantasy his mind had dreamed up. They’d connected in a way that flat-out blew his mind. Making love to her had left him with a sense of completion. A sense of rightness.

It was a stunning realization, to see his love for her in such a clear light. He hadn’t thought he could love her anymore than he already did, but there it was, like a bright, neon sign, flashing at him. He needed her, needed everything about her. He needed her soft, soothing voice at the end of the crappy day. Needed her gentle smile and the feel of her arms around him. Needed to look out over the crowd of his family and see her smiling back at him.

She fit. She was that puzzle piece he’d been missing for years. She filled the empty space.

But he couldn’t ignore the significance of the moment. He’d just crossed the line he swore to himself he’d never cross. He’d made a promise the day he realized his feelings for Ceci had changed. Lying in bed with her three years ago, after her grandmother’s death, holding and consoling her, he’d sworn he’d never become intimate with her as long as lies stood between them.

The knowledge twisted through his gut, coiling like a snake about to strike. He should never have let this happen. They’d promised each other honesty a long time ago. He’d promised her grandmother he’d always protect her, at all cost to himself. And that cost was taking its toll on him.

“Oh God, Kyle, what have we done?”

Ceci’s quiet voice broke through his reverie. Panic and regret all but screamed at him from her tone, and her body began to tremble beneath his for all the wrong reasons. All of it told him she’d arrived at the exact same moment he had. Her words shattered what was left of the bliss and added to his torment.

He lifted his head, leaning on his elbows to search her eyes. Panic shined like a blinking neon sign in her face. Somehow, he’d hoped she’d talk him out of his regret, convince him this was right. God, it had felt so right. To watch the same regret thundering through his chest take shape in her warm, familiar eyes ripped at his chest. How could he ever regret loving her? How could he go back to the days when just holding her filled him with so much pain? Back to the time when being in her presence wreaked havoc with his sensibilities? The thought of going back to the way they were, not getting to touch her, to hold her this way, made his chest want to rip open.

“Don’t.” With a low, frustrated growl, he rolled off her. Lying on his back beside her, he raked his hands through his hair. The whole room screamed of her. The light pastel colors, the soft, sheer fabrics, the flowers everywhere. He was immersed in everything that was her, yet in two seconds flat she’d become a stranger. “Don’t do this to me now, Ceci. Please.”

“Oh God, I’m sorry.” Her voice came soft and sorrow-filled, and her hand stroked his cheek with a tenderness that lodged in that painful place. “You have to know that. It’s just . . . I mean . . .”

The action didn’t have the soothing effect she tried for. Instead, anger and frustration rushed to the surface before he could stop them.

“What did you think would happen when you said that?” He opened his eyes and drew his brows together. “For God’s sake, Ceci, we’re still naked. I can still smell you. You couldn’t have waited until I got out of bed at least?”

She laid a warm, trembling hand on the center of his chest. “Kyle, please, I’m sorry. It was a knee-jerk reaction. I didn’t mean it like that.” She pleaded with him, her voice soft, concerned, intimate, and he opened his eyes.

He sat upright, threw his legs over the side of the bed, and set his feet on the floor. “Didn’t you? You regret it. That’s what you’re telling me, right?”

This wasn’t how he envisioned their first time together. He wanted to curl against her. Spend long hours familiarizing himself with every inch of her silky skin. Until he found those places that made her gasp and sigh and tremble and come apart beneath him. Sex with her would never be just sex. He’d always suspected it wouldn’t be, given how close they were, but to have it confirmed made the thought of making love to her again damn addicting.

With a defeated sigh, he reached on the floor for his shorts and then stood to pull them on. What he needed was space. Time to think this through. He had a decision to make. He either needed to tell her the truth, tell her everything he kept from her . . . or he needed to let her end this here and now.

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” Ceci sat up, drawing her knees to her chest, misery and torment forming a deep crease between her brows. “I only know it changes everything. It means I’m one step closer to losing you, and it terrifies me. And I know I’m changing my mind when I just accused you of that the other day. I was just as much a part of that as you were, and here I am telling you I regret it. You must hate me right now.”

The regret in her wobbling voice stopped him halfway around the end. He drew a deep breath and released it, letting go of his anger along with it.

“I could never hate you. I’m in love with you.” It was a damn vulnerable thing to admit to her. Now definitely wasn’t the right time to tell her. Never mind he’d always envisioned something a bit more romantic when he said the words. Somehow, though, he couldn’t be sorry for saying it. Their entire relationship hung in the balance, and he needed her to know where he stood.

Her gaze seared into his back, but he couldn’t make himself turn to face her. If there was more rejection in her eyes, he didn’t want to know. It would crush him to see it. He had a very big decision to make, one that held two other lives in the balance, not just his or hers. She was pregnant, and he had to think about her baby as well. It meant very likely letting her go.

“Me too.”

Her voice drifted to him barely above a murmur, but the words lodged inside of him with all the force of Cupid’s arrow. Stunned, heart thundering in his ears, he jerked his gaze to hers. She stared at him, eyes wide, full of fear and unshed tears and . . . truth.

She loved him. The very knowledge made him want to shout from the damn rooftops. Or beat his chest. But regret once again took shape in her eyes. She shook her head.

“Which is why I can’t lose you. I’m scared. Terrified, actually. What happens when it ends? When it’s over and we hate each other? When we’re so uncomfortable around each other we can’t stand to be in the same room together anymore? And your family. Oh God, if I lose them, too, like poor Jackson. . . .” A single tear slid from the corner of her eye, making its way down her cheek. “I’ll be all alone. I’ve lost everybody. Everybody. You and your family, you’re all I have left.”

Her words wrenched at his heart. She wasn’t making this damn decision any easier. “You’re not alone. I told you. I’ll be there for you no matter what, and how my family feels about you has nothing to do with you and me. They love you.”

“Look at Becca and Jackson. Jackson was part of this family. He was here every weekend. I haven’t seen him since before their divorce. I miss him. He has to be so lonely all by himself.”

He shook his head. “Jackson’s still part of the family whether Becca likes it or not; he’s her daughter’s father.”

She dropped her gaze at her lap. “Then why doesn’t he come?”

His mind followed the direction of her thoughts, and he sighed. She had him on that one. “Because he’s not comfortable.”

“Exactly.” She wrapped her arms around her knees, so damned vulnerable it killed him that he could do nothing to ease her pain. “I can’t lose you. That’s so selfish, but I’d rather have you as a friend than not at all.”

Her tear-filled ramble soothed his wounded pride. At least he knew she didn’t regret their lovemaking so much as the drastic direction it took their relationship. He could understand that. He was currently wrestling with the very same feeling.

He found his jeans on the floor and pulled them on, then sank onto the edge of the bed. He leaned over her, cupped her face in his palm, and brushed a lingering kiss across her lips. Despite her protest, her mouth melted beneath his, and for a brief moment, that sweet, tender connection vibrated between them. It gave him . . . hope, however irrational it was to cling to it.

He pulled back and, unable to release the contact with her, caressed his thumb along her chin, luxuriating in the softness of her skin for a moment before meeting her gaze. “I don’t know what the answer is. I really don’t. You’re right. I don’t want to lose you, either. But I can’t pretend this didn’t mean something to me.”

Her gaze lifted, still watery, still confused, but steady nonetheless. “It meant something to me, too. You have to know that.”

“I do, but it’s nice to hear you say it.” He gave her a soft smile and kissed her cheek this time. “We’ll get through this. I promise.”

He had no idea how. He was well and truly stuck between a rock and a hard place, wedged in a corner he’d dug himself into. But one way or another, he had to soothe her fears.

Drawing on willpower from God only knew where, he forced himself to release her and rise to his feet, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other as he made his way out of the room.

“Where are you going?” she called as he reached the hallway.

He paused at the top of the stairs. The soft sound of her bare feet padding across the wooden floor sounded behind him. An image of her still naked rose in his mind, but he didn’t dare turn to find out if she still was. If he did, he might give in to the burning desire to take her back in his arms, kiss her senseless, and refuse to let her go. Which would get him exactly nowhere.

“To make dinner. Unless I’m mistaken, we have a standing Saturday night date. We usually make dinner together, and I don’t know about you, but I’m starved.” Not waiting for a reply, he moved around the banister and trotted down the stairs.

Bent over with his head in her fridge several minutes later, he could only shake his head. Every fruit and vegetable known to man lined the shelves and packed the two bottom drawers. Reaching inside, he plucked out a long, white root-looking thing and turned it over in his hand. He hadn’t the foggiest idea what this was, let alone how to cook it. His body would no doubt go into shock if he ate this stuff. Then again, he wasn’t pregnant. Ceci ate for two now. Apparently, she intended to do it right.

He closed the door and crossed to the pantry. Finding a jar of pasta sauce, he grinned in satisfaction. At last, something he could live with. He searched again for pasta to go with it and took them both to the stove.

Of course, he had to admit he was attempting to distract himself. A lone thought kept replaying in his mind, tormenting him with reality. A place he didn’t want to be right now.

He bent to retrieve a large pot out of a low cupboard. He needed time to think. Halfway down the stairs, his mind drew up the file he kept on Ceci’s past and now refused to let it go. He kept it locked in a place she wouldn’t accidentally run across it—the bottom of the drawer he kept his gun in. That file contained all the information he’d gathered over the years. What little information he’d collected about her parents’ death, the trial that followed, and his notes from the psychologist he’d spoken to over the years, in regards to PTSD.

He crossed to the sink and filled the pot with water then set it on the stove and turned on the burner. The sole piece of information that would set him free stared him in the face. Taunted him and dared him to keep the promise he’d made to himself. Logic said there was only one thing he could do at this point. He had to tell her. Everything.

At least that’s what his head told him. His heart only knew it meant risking losing her. If she found out he’d not only kept this from her but also lied to her, she’d never forgive him.

He’d also made the decision based on more than his own needs or wants. The promise he’d made to her grandmother three years before ran through his mind. He’d never forget the way her eyes pleaded with him or the strength in her tiny, fragile hand as she clenched his arm. He closed his eyes as the old woman’s words rang through his mind, so clear he could still hear the slight rasp in her voice.

“She mustn’t ever know this. If she remembers, and they’re watching her . . . promise me you’ll never tell her.”

He made that promise with the best intentions, but not because he feared for Ceci’s safety. He’d protect her with his life if he had to. Besides, as a cop, he knew. If they hadn’t found her in twenty years, chances were they’d either given up or assumed her dead. No, he’d made it because of what her grandmother had said next.

“She doesn’t remember, but I do. Those nights she woke up screaming and terrified. The therapy sessions that never worked.” The old woman’s shadowy eyes closed, only to pop open moments later and pin him to his chair. “She’s happy now. She’s safe, and she’s happy. Let her stay that way.”

Kyle shook his head as he pulled a frying pan out of a low cabinet. He didn’t want to bring that back for Ceci any more than her grandmother had.

He moved to the fridge and yanked open the door. As he searched the shelves, the back of his neck prickled with the sensation of being watched, and he turned. Ceci stood in the kitchen’s arched entrance, dressed once again in a pale blue blouse and worn jeans.

“Need help finding anything?” Uncertainty danced in her eyes, and tension rose over the room, like a dense fog pouring between them.