Shaken (6 page)

He didn’t move and she didn’t want him to. Their gazes locked even as their hands coursed over each other’s bodies. Caressing. Soothing.

Forgiving.

He lay over her, fitting together skin to skin, still staring into each other’s eyes even as he kissed her. The intensity of the joining stole every sensation that wasn’t about them. Still, he didn’t move his hips. Didn’t pull back or surge back to her. Right now, in this moment, they were truly one. This wasn’t about lust or need or hurt. It was communion. Without words, she knew he wanted them to stay that way as long as they could.

But there were words she needed to say.

“I love you,” she whispered, touching his jaw, his mouth, with her lips as she spoke.

His smile, when it came, still had the tinge of sadness, but she could see the hope in his eyes now, too. Could see it growing. He took her hand into his own, pulling it down so he could twine their fingers together. A second later, he took the other as well, moving both of them just above her head. It lasted a second, or maybe forever, but for a perfect moment, it was pure connection between them. But then he moved. Slowly pulling from her, easing back inside. The urgency, the fiery need, had changed into something different. Something patient, something willing to build within them.

“More.” She lifted her hips for him, urging him to meet her. She was ready now. Ready for everything he needed to give her.

His gaze flickered, his expression growing darker, his thrust burrowing deeper.

“More.” She tightened her legs around him, lifting her lips for his kiss.

He groaned, his mouth fitting over hers even as he increased his pace. He drove into her, grinding against her clit and sending pulses of dark pleasure through her. But she knew there was more. She whimpered for it, clamping her fingers tighter to his. Faster he moved through her slick sex, harder, shuttling against her sensitive walls without grace. Just raw, desperate plunges that stole her breath and stroked parts of her she hadn’t realized she had.

She cried out, her body jerking from the force of her release, and still, he kept moving. Kept plunging into her. Swelling thicker, ratcheting her orgasm higher instead of bringing her down, until finally, she was bucking beneath him as he came, spilling inside her while he groaned against her neck.

She let go of his hands to clasp his shoulders, holding on as their bodies slowly cooled. “I almost never want to leave this elevator.”

He chuckled but didn’t move. “We may have to just bring it home with us.”

She smiled.
Home
.

He seemed to realize how she’d savored the easy way he said it, because he kissed her, his gaze meeting hers with a world of meaning in it.

“Home.”

Epilogue

Julia didn’t hear the door opening so much as the racket that always happened when the front door opened. She wiped her hands on the dishtowel with a grin before heading out of the kitchen toward the foyer. As usual, she had to navigate a virtual minefield of things left out despite having just picked up the debris before going into the kitchen to check on dinner.

The dog was barking excitedly. Almost two years old, little Kirby had yet to realize that being a corgi meant he wasn’t designed for jumping much higher than Grant’s knee, but that didn’t mean he didn’t try. Every day.

As expected, it was the usual mayhem she found. Grant trying with one hand to get the door closed and locked again, his briefcase on the floor, already spilled on its side while Kirby jumped around like a corgi-shaped spring. “Kirby, that’s enough now.”

“Hey.” Grant smiled, finally getting the lock flipped. He managed a step closer to her, despite the giggles and squeals and barks on his other side, already reaching to pull her close for a kiss. Julia gave up trying to be stern. This had been their evening ritual for a year now and it was one she knew he loved as much as she did. “Good day today?”

“There’s a new spill on the carpet, but otherwise, pretty good. You?”

He frowned. “No word from JD?”

“Oh, plenty of words, but I told him no.” She reached for the morsel in his other arm, but he didn’t let her get away with that so easily.

“You’re trying to tell me you don’t want to do a guest spot with the LA Harmonic?” His expression told her how little he believed that.

“Not this year, no.” She reached again, but again he dodged. “
Grant.
”

“Why not?”

“Because I’ll be too busy.”

Instead of handing her what she was reaching for, he put it down with a gentle pat so he could cross his arms and glare at her.

Julia only rolled her eyes and walked back into the living room. He’d been pushing so hard on this for weeks now, once he’d realized she’d been ducking JD’s messages. Of course, the traitor had probably emailed Grant, just to get his way. Life had almost been easier when they’d hated each other. “I don’t know why this is so important to you.”

“Because it’s important to
you
, even if you won’t admit it.”

She stopped walking, staring down at the living room floor. Four years. It had been four years since that fateful day in the elevator that had saved their marriage—in many ways, their lives—but when he took that tone, all of it came rushing back to her as if it had just happened. The promises they’d made. The fears that still snuck out every now and again to try to steal what was most important to them.

He was right. She did want to play again. JD had offered her a guest soloist spot for his winter performance. When he’d asked, her heart had leapt, but then the fears had come. The 5 Freeway wasn’t a winding mountain road, but it was still a long drive to Los Angeles. And irrationally, another fear haunted her. Had haunted her since last October.

A small hand, dimpled and soft, grasped her leg.

She stared down into a small face, dominated by smiling gray eyes.

Dillon. The other blessing from that elevator day. She’d been terrified at first, when she’d realized she was pregnant. Terrified that she couldn’t go through it all again. Terrified that Grant couldn’t. But the strangest thing had happened. Having their son, watching him grow within her, had healed a part of Grant she’d thought would never find peace. In many ways, having that tiny life within her had brightened the shadows inside her own soul, too. But Dillon was three now, the same age as Autumn, and no matter how she tried, she couldn’t quell the fears. If she could just speed up time, could race until he was four, she’d feel safe. Well, saf
er
. With JD’s offer, pure terror had struck.

And Grant, damn him, had been watching and waiting for her to confess it all.

She felt his arms around her. It would have been easier to be angry at him if he’d picked an argument, but no, he’d allowed her to mull, slowly drawing her out. His loving arms around her, offering comfort because he knew. He
knew
.

“He’s
three
,” she said nonsensically, blowing a breath out so she wouldn’t cry.

“I know.”

She nodded, because there wasn’t much else to say.

“But we can’t live our lives waiting for the other shoe to drop, remember?”

She didn’t want to nod, but she did. Because he was right. It was what they’d agreed on in therapy.

“You want to play. I want you to play. JD wants you to play. Even Dillon wants you to play.”

Julia looked down to where their towheaded son stood, fussing with his overalls, not caring in the slightest if she took on a guest slot eight months from now.

“Look at it this way. By next December, he’ll be four.”

She blinked, everything else in her going still.

“When you need to practice, we’ll have a babysitter. Or a part-time nanny to help out. We won’t be driving up there until it’s time for the concert. And he’ll be four.”

She smiled, her whole body relaxing into his. She wrapped her arms over his, hugging him back. “You’re not supposed to enable me, remember?”

“I think just this once, it’ll be okay.”

She didn’t kid herself. There would always be a little bit of fear. But he was right. They’d survived so much, rebuilt their lives and moved forward. This was just another step.

He twined their fingers together. She stared down at them, seeing their son peering up at her, his pudgy little hands reaching to join theirs. He had no idea what it meant, but he knew he was part of it. Part of them. She opened their hands to pick him up, hugging him close and taking in that lingering baby scent he had yet to lose.

“You hug me.” Dillon giggled.

“I kiss you, too,” she answered, peppering his cheek with loud smacking kisses and swallowing the fear back down.

Grant wrapped his arms around them both and Julia sighed one last time. It was enough.

“I’ll call JD after dinner.”

“No time like the present,” Grant rumbled with a grin before snatching their son and running out of the living room with the happily shrieking child.

She shook her head, the happiness they gave her taking the place of the fear, the way it always did. He was right. No time like the present…

About the Author

Dee Tenorio is a sick woman. Really sick. She enjoys tormenting herself by writing romantic comedies (often with sexy, grumpy heroes and smart-mouthed heroines) and sizzling, steamy romances of various genres spanning dramas with the occasional drop of suspense all the way to erotic romance. But why does that make her sick?

Because she truly seems to enjoy it.

And she has every intention of keeping at it!
If you would like to learn more about Dee and her work, please visit her website at
www.deetenorio.com
or her blog at
http://www.deetenorio.com/Blog/
.

Look for these titles by Dee Tenorio

Now Available:

All of You

All or Nothing

Burn for Me

Love Me Knots

Love Me Tomorrow

Kiss Me Again

Test Me!

Midnight Legacy

Midnight Temptation

Midnight Sonata

Betting Hearts

In this game of love, winning is not an option.

All Or Nothing

© 2010 Dee Tenorio

The Lonnigans, Book 2

Lucas Lonnigan thinks he’s finally gotten the best of his twin brother, until he discovers his half of a date-swap is none other than metal artist Belinda Riggs. A leather-dipped Goth queen who considers him a cross between a pin cushion and a science project—and the woman he’s loved forever.

Belinda isn’t exactly overjoyed to see him, either. In her opinion, love means becoming a punching bag, and she won’t be anyone’s doormat. Lucas is too dangerously tempting to allow within striking distance of her heart, but that doesn’t stop her from wanting.

After one blazing night of passion, Lucas finds himself locked out of Belle’s life with seemingly no chance to get back in. With nothing left to lose, Lucas makes a final play and appeals to the one thing Belle can’t say no to—a dare. Winner take all.

Lucas may think this crazy game will decide their relationship, but she sees it as her chance to finally set him free—and maybe indulge in the sexiest goodbye of her life…

Warning: Story may sizzle your undies off. Includes pigheaded hero with a cranky heart of gold, bitchy heroine with a flamethrower, massively inappropriate behavior, make-up / break-up sex of the sinful kind…and a puppy!

Enjoy the following excerpt for
All Or Nothing:

Only decent people feel guilty, Belinda told herself while she tried to drown in her shower. Face to the hard, hot spray, she hoped the stinging impact would wash the sense of guilt away. The last thing anyone had called her for the past decade was
decent
. She thrived on being rude, heartless and flat-out bitchy when the occasion called for it. The tugs of conscience were harder to feel that way. Usually. But now, because of a box of scraps, the tugs of guilt were feeling more like whips.

It’s for his own good.

He’d move on. Find someone who would love him like he deserved. Love him like he needed. Someone at least
slightly
less wrecked than herself.

But being right and being guilt-free were apparently not mutually exclusive.

Angry, she turned off the water…and heard so loud a clank Michigan could have landed outside. She frowned at the handle, but then there was another crunching clank. Rising on her toes, she tried to look out the small window at the top of the stall, but could only see a piece of metal flying. What the hell was going on out there?

Then she heard the bark.

Eyes wide, she lowered herself from the window. Lucas. In her yard. While she was naked.

That sprang her into action more than anything, despite the fact that he was hucking around heavy metal like it was a discus tournament. She threw back the curtain, grabbing the towel waiting there on her way out. Not wanting to take any more time than necessary, she dried off with only a ragged pat-down. She was too busy trying to rustle up her temper to acknowledge her terror at being cornered. He had no right to be there uninvited. He had no right coming when he knew she didn’t want him there. He simply had no rights at all.

She stomped into a pair of coveralls, yanked on a worn pink tank top that had seen enough bleach to make it good for summer work and wrapped a bandana over her wet hair to keep it out of her face. By the time she had her work boots secure, she was fantasizing about introducing him to the steel toe. He probably didn’t hear her rumbling down the steps, but he damn sure heard her when she exited the bay doors to the open yard beyond with her hands on her hips and the fire of hell in her lungs.

“What the
fuck
do you think you’re doing?”

“You don’t want to be pushing my buttons right now, Belle,” he answered in typical growl mode, not bothering to look at her.

She scoffed, watching him pick up an abandoned sink from the back of the ancient Mazda flatbed she used for junking and take it to a pile of other midsized items. He was in cut-off gray sweat shorts and tennis shoes. His T-shirt was off, one end tucked into his back waistband, leaving all that warm honey skin open to her viewing pleasure. Mad or not, it
was
a pleasure to look at him, especially since he was already slick.