Gone From Me: Hearts of the South, Book 10 (13 page)

She rested her head on his shoulder and ran her palm up and down his arm. “I know the feeling.”

Arms draped loosely around her hips, he brushed his mouth across her temple and let himself soak in the simple comfort of holding her. “What are you talking about?”

Silence stretched for long moments, broken only by the hum of distant cicadas and the bright chirping of crickets. She turned her face into his neck. “I don’t know. I guess I’m scared.”

He hugged her to him, rubbed her arm. “Of what?”

“The whole thinking-about-what-you-want thing. What if you decide I’m not what you want?”

“That would never happen, babe.” The small quality of her voice killed him. He hated how his own lack of control over his emotional state hurt her. He stroked soft strands of hair away from her neck. “I knew you were what I wanted since I took you fishing on our first date and you baited your own hook.”

Her soft laugh puffed along his throat, and he smiled into the dark. “And I knew it for sure when I walked you back to your door after our second date and
you
kissed
me
.”

She pinched his biceps. “Because you didn’t kiss me on our first.”

With his thumb and index finger, he traced the hem of her sleep shorts. He cleared his throat. “Babe.”

“Hmmm.”

“We’re also supposed to talk about our relationship habits that might be unhealthy.”

She lifted her head, and he didn’t even need to see her eyes to know she was horrified. “What?”

“Before I go back next week. We’re supposed to identify the stuff we do as a couple that might be unhealthy for either of us.”

“Now I’m really scared.” Humor didn’t quite mask her serious trepidation. “What unhealthy habits?”

He paused, trying to gather his words. “Not talking about the tough stuff probably falls under that.”

“Or pretending everything’s okay when it’s not.” Her voice was small and muffled against his skin.

“Yeah.” Eyes closed, he smoothed his hand over her hip. He swallowed hard, his throat hurting. “Sometimes I’m bad about going along with what you want because I want you to have what you want.”

She stilled, and he tensed. “Like what?”

“Like diving into the adoption process so fast.”

Now she was so still, he wasn’t even sure she was breathing. She was going to hate him. Hell, he hated himself right now. Finally, a slow exhale moved her body against his. “Robert. That is a huge thing to go along with because you think it’s what I want.”

“I know.” He forced himself not to cringe. “I know, okay? You get going on a plan, and it’s all laid out and…I didn’t want to disappoint you again, not so soon after the fertility results came back.”

“I’m really going to have to work on not being so blind where you’re concerned.” Her voice shook, and she touched her forehead. “Savannah’s right. I’m totally self-centered.”

He shifted her on his lap and tilted her chin with a finger, barely able to make out her glittering eyes in the dimness. “You’re not self-centered. You’re focused, and I have a damn good poker face.”

Silence fell over them once more, and desperation tried to dig its claws into him. He fought it down. Feeling like he’d lose her if he disappointed her was stupid. She loved him; he knew she did. But he never wanted the weakness of their communication to come between them again. He swallowed hard and tried to articulate what he needed. “I want us to be partners for real, honey. Part of that means I have to take more of a voice in the plan and you have to take more of a voice in the money.”

“Please don’t make me look at those budget spreadsheets, Rob. Seriously.”

“Babe, you’ve got to know where we are financially and how to handle the money, especially now that I’m working on the road.” He rubbed a hand over his hair. “And we’ve got some big decisions in front of us. I’ve been putting them off, and we really need to make them together.”

“What kind of big decisions?”

“What to do with Dad’s house in Valdosta and the beach condo, not to mention the money he left me. I can’t make those decisions on my own. It’s not fair, to either of us.” He trailed the back of a finger along her jaw. “I want you to be my partner, baby.”

Her shuddery breath trembled across his hand. “Savannah says I have to learn to be a queen instead of a princess.”

Damn it
. He hated those notes of hurt and uncertainty in her voice. On a groan, he leaned in and touched his mouth to hers. “It’s not about changing you, it’s about changing us. Making us better.”

She tucked her face into the curve between his neck and shoulder. Staring into the dark, he sifted his fingers through her hair. He curled the fingers of his other hand about the slope of her waist.

“We’re really screwed up, aren’t we?” she whispered, an edge of tears trembling in the words.

“No. I think we’re figuring out what it really means to be us instead of being me and you and calling it us.” He hugged her close and nuzzled along her jaw, breathing in the warm scent of her—coconut, hibiscus and sun.

Wrapping an arm around his neck, she turned her head and met his lips. Her mouth opened beneath his in a slow, soft kiss. She ran the tip of her tongue along his upper lip, and he splayed his hand at the small of her back, urging her closer. Desire settled in him, heavy and low. He cradled her head with one hand and swept his tongue into the sweetness of her mouth. Her tongue met his in a playful tangle. She drew his bottom lip between hers and delivered a light nip. With sure hands, she stroked his chest and side, fingers pressing into his muscles. She wrapped the tip of her tongue around his in a soft circle, and he shaped her hip and thigh with one hand. He hardened, a pulsing running under his skin, and when she scraped a fingernail across his nipple, a tingling shot through his belly to his scrotum.

“I love you,” he whispered into her mouth. “I want to be the man you deserve. I haven’t always been that.”

“You’re the man I want.” She took his face in her hands. After another slow kiss, she slipped from his lap, and he took her hand as he rose. She led him toward the door, and inside, he paused long enough to throw the lock before bending to take her mouth once more. Hands clasped, they walked to their bedroom.

Next to the bed, in the dim light spilling in from the hall, he kissed her and skimmed the sleep shorts over her hips. Her camisole followed, and she perched on the edge of the bed, watching as he shucked his own pajama pants. She eased back to rest against the pillows, brown eyes glimmering with emotion and desire. Eyes on hers, he climbed into the bed, knees straddling her thighs, hands on either side of her waist.

He lifted a hand to sift his fingers through her hair, trailing his fingertips along her jaw and over her throat, across her shoulder. She laid a tender hand on the small bite-mark bruise at his own shoulder. He turned his head to brush a kiss across her knuckles. “Be my partner.”

“Yes.”

With his mouth, he explored the curve of her neck, a slow lick here, a nip there, followed by a suckling kiss. He let his hands drift over her shoulders, across the indentation of her clavicle and to the plane of her sternum.

“Forgot how soft your skin is,” he murmured at her collarbone. She wrapped her arms around his neck in a loose embrace, and her touch flowed from the edges of his hair, down his neck, to outline the muscles in his shoulders, arms and chest.

“I like how you make me feel soft.” Once more, she raked a gentle fingernail across his nipple, and he hissed in a breath at the sharp sensation that arced straight to his balls. “I have to be as hard as the guys in the office, but I get to be totally female with you. Totally vulnerable because I know you’ll take care of me.”

“Amy, I’m sorry.” He rested his forehead against her chest and curled his hands around her shoulders. “I haven’t been taking care of you the past few months—”

“Don’t you dare.” She clutched at him under his arms, nails digging into his sides. She rubbed her knee up the inside of his leg, and his muscles jumped under the easy, sensual contact. “From here, we take care of each other.”

With a smile, he nodded and moved his hands to cup and shape the curve of her breasts. Her moan of approval vibrated through him, and he gave himself up to the warmth of her hands on his body. Under his thumbs, her nipples hardened, and he drew his tongue over one in a rough lap, then blew on the damp skin. The bite of her nails on his back rewarded him. He lingered, lavishing kisses and caresses on her breasts until she writhed beneath him, wrapping both legs around his thigh to rub against him.

He massaged his palm over her hip, down her thigh and behind her knee, then trailed his fingers up to between her legs to find her warm and wet. He dipped a pair of fingers within her and pressed his thumb against her clit. She sighed, and he caught the sweet sound with his mouth. Her body tightened around his hand, and he stared into brown eyes dark with love and desire. Still moving his fingers inside her, keeping up the circular pressure with his thumb, he shifted so her thighs cradled his hips.

Freeing his hand, he pushed forward, burying his body in hers. She threw her head back on a slow moan, and he rested on his elbows, cupping her face in his hands. He set a slow, steady rhythm for them, sliding almost out before pressing home again. Legs wrapped around his thighs, she lifted her hips to meet each easy thrust. He caressed the corner of her mouth with his thumb and let himself enjoy the slow build of tension at the base of his spine, the smooth wet glide in and out of her.

“Listen to me.” He tangled his hand in her hair so her gaze remained on his. “You will always be what I want. Always.”

She shuddered in his arms, head falling back as much as his hold would allow. Around him, her muscles fluttered and clenched, growing into a sharp squeezing that corresponded to her moan of anguished pleasure. He clenched his teeth, hips moving faster and harder, but no less controlled. The tension spread to his balls, tightening every muscle until the pressure exploded into an orgasm that pulled a yell from his lips.

He collapsed onto his elbows, keeping his full weight off of her. Amy raised a languid hand to stroke through his hair and down his neck. He pressed a kiss to her throat.

“You will always be what I want.” He repeated the promise against her damp skin, their bodies still joined. “
Always
.”

* * * * *

“Tell me again what you’re doing?” Troy Lee slumped in the chair next to Rob’s desk. Well, not his officially yet, but the one he preferred to commandeer. “And why you’re here on your day off, when you should be decompressing.”

“Amy went shopping with her mom, I mowed the grass, and now I am…” Rob looked at the driver’s license number he’d jotted down again to make sure he had it right this time. His concentration was seriously off this afternoon. “Running Zeke and Brittany Jenkins through the system one more time, looking to see if there’s anything I missed. You know, known associates, anything that might give us an idea what avenue to pursue next. And I’m here because we’re still in the first forty-eight-hour period on Zeke Jenkins, and I need to make sure this gets done. Why are you here?”

“Covered half of Monroe’s shift.” Troy Lee eyed the folders and papers spread across the desk. “You realize how completely boring this is, right?”

“No less boring than watching yet another woman try to flirt her way out of a ticket with you.” Rob shoved a folder across the desk at him. “Read through those and see if I missed anything.”

“What are these… Hell, who sends that many text messages in a month?”

“Lots of people.” He frowned at the computer screen. “Chris cited Zeke and Mike Smithwick for underage consumption a year or so ago.”

“Pasture parties.” Troy Lee flipped to another page. “Kids have them around here all the time.”

“But that’s…” Rob rifled through his notebook. “The day Emma was born.”

“Maybe they were celebrating.”

“Maybe. You and Chris go celebrating together when your kids were born?”

“Yeah, right.” Troy Lee glanced up. “But I’m ten years older than Zeke was. Eighteen-year-old kids are stupid. Having a couple of beers with a buddy might have seemed completely natural.”

“Amy would have my ass,” Rob muttered. She’d had a birth plan, a post-birth plan and a coming-home plan, before they’d realized they’d never need any of it—and that post-birth plan had not involved his celebrating with a beer and his buddies.

“Amy already has your ass.” Troy Lee groaned and flipped another page. “Even their phone records are boring.”

“So is your whining.” He scrolled down and clicked to bring up the details of the citation. Across the desk, his phone buzzed and vibrated. He flicked a finger at it. “Check that, would you? Vaughn over at the crime lab was supposed to text me if they had anything.”

Troy Lee reached for the cell. Rob frowned at the report and grabbed his bottle of water. No pasture party, only Zeke and Mike. “Where’s Lime Pit Road? And was that from Vaughn?”

“No, Amy. Her vote is to keep the beach condo, but she wants to repaint. Sent some colors. I like the muted teal.” Troy Lee slid the phone across the desk at him. “Oh, yeah, and she wants you to fuck her out on the balcony.”

He choked on the sip of water he’d taken. “What?”

“Look for yourself.” Troy Lee pointed at the phone. “And Lime Pit Road is an old dirt road off of 112 in the eastern side of the county. It’s a few miles north of Zeke and Britt’s place.”

Sure enough, the first message was Amy in full planning mode. Keep the condo, paint and update, here were some colors. The second? A photo of a plush lounge chair for the balcony and a note that it was perfect for the nights she wanted him to fuck her from behind while listening to the waves and the gulls. He shifted in the chair. Heaven help him. He didn’t care what the damn chair cost—they were buying one.

“Well, well.” He didn’t even have to look at Troy Lee to know his partner was grinning. “Got back in her bed big-time, didn’t you?”

“Shut up, Troy Lee.” Face burning, he laid the phone down with a mental note not to ask Troy Lee to check his texts again. In his defense, it had been a long while since he’d gotten one of those texts from his wife. “And it’s
our
bed.”