Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
“ONE DAY, YOU’LL UNDERSTAND,” Sam whispered to his sleeping son, kissing him gently on the forehead before lowering the boy into his crib.
“You’ll find out how a woman can turn your life upside down.
You think you’re going to walk away and do the honorable thing one minute.
And the next, you can’t form a thought that isn’t about kissing her. ”
Aiden curled a tiny fist, his features relaxed as he snoozed. Sam turned on the nursery monitor and covered his son with a blanket.
“Bet you’ll be better with the ladies than your old man.” He rubbed the baby’s back. “Night, champ.”
Even now, as Sam wound through the family room looking for Amy, he wondered if it was wrong of him to want her this much after learning what she’d been through.
He had no idea what the right response should be to finding out a woman he cared about had been hurt like that—right under his nose.
He’d assumed she was home safe and sound that night.
Then he’d inadvertently made things even tougher for her by leaving right afterward without a word.
He hadn’t been around to comfort her when she’d needed him most.
He would change that now, damn it. He would be everything she needed tonight.
“Sam?” Amy called to him from the darkened kitchen, and he followed the sound of her voice.
Knowing she was here, in his house, waiting for him.
..that amped him up far more than when he’d chased her through the woods as a teen.
Maybe because now there was no second-guessing.
No wondering if he understood what she wanted.
She’d been very clear. They were going to reclaim what they’d been denied long ago.
She straightened from the dishwasher and pressed the start button. The dull thrum of the machine filled the kitchen as they stared at each other over the butcher-block island.
His chest ached with wanting her. He would have slayed dragons for her ten years ago. He’d damn well send her demons running now. Or at least, he’d do everything in his power to make that happen.
He gestured to the sink. “You didn’t have to clean up.”
“I know. I figured I’d start the dishes to keep busy.
It was no trouble.” She stood still, watching him in the muted blue glow of the light from the ice maker.
She twisted a strand of hair, a sweetly nervous gesture that cued him in to what she was feeling more than anything else. “Did Aiden stay asleep?”
“He did.” Edging around the island, Sam closed the distance between them. “And it just so happens newborns sleep an average of eighteen hours a day.” He threaded their fingers together and squeezed her hand in his.
“Really?” She arched an eyebrow at him, the hint of a smile playing around her lips.
“Yes.” He wanted to pull her against him and kiss her again.
If he let himself do that now, however, they might never get out of the kitchen.
“We’ll hear him better if we’re in my room, though.
” He nodded in the direction of the master suite.
Where he would be with Amy. Soon. Not soon enough.
“The nursery monitor is in there so I can hear if he needs me.”
“Good. I was angling to visit your room.” She backed up a step. “I used to fantasize about where you slept at night.”
The smile she’d been hiding before unfurled now. A rare occurrence for Amy. And so damn welcome after the conversation they’d just had. He wanted to see that smile on her face again and again tonight. When she paused near the closed door of his bedroom, he opened it for her.
“Back in those days, I didn’t even have a room to myself. I shared with Clayton Travers.” The same guy Zach had hired to guard Heather. Sam had called him from the police station that afternoon to invite Clayton to the Hasting fosters reunion. “So it wasn’t much to fantasize about.”
“I don’t know.” She gave a deliberately casual shrug that did enticing things to the collar of her dress. “If I remember Clayton right, he was almost as cute as you.”
“You always did enjoy starting trouble with me, didn’t you?” He flicked on the wall lamps on either side of the headboard, lowering the dimmer to ensure the corners of the room remained in shadow.
“You are a lot of fun to tease.” She turned away from him to take in the room, her eyes roaming over the half-made bed with a gray duvet and pillows strewn sideways. “I think it’s because you look like you’ll breathe fire on anyone who dares to try it.”
“I seem to give a lot of people that impression.” His eyes wandered over her as she let go of his hand to step closer to his nightstand. “Which makes me wonder why you never bought it.”
Reaching the bedside table, she picked up a framed photo of him with Zach and Gabriella on her graduation day. She touched a finger to his face in the photo, and he felt the ghost of it on his cheek.
“Guess I know you too well, Samuel Reyes.” Setting the heavy silver frame back on the bedside table, she turned toward him again. “You’d never hurt me.”
Her fingers reached for the buttons on her dress.
His mouth went chalk-dry.
He couldn’t take his eyes off her smooth, efficient movements as she unfastened one after another. With an effort, he ground out the word that needed saying. “Never.”
And then he was moving toward her, needing his hands on her. The taste of her on his tongue.
Maybe she was feeling as anxious as him, because she immediately forgot about the dress buttons and wound her arms around his neck, pulling him closer.
A slight hint of lavender teased his nose, a subtle fragrance that made him want to inhale deeply to catch more of it.
He steadied her with a hand on her waist, just above the flare of her hips, feeling the warmth of her skin right through the thin dress and leggings.
Her green eyes studied him through half-lowered lashes; her naturally pink lips parted.
His blood pounded through his veins and in his ears, the sound an echo of his harsh breathing. He didn’t want to rush this. Because no matter that she said she’d healed from what had happened ten years ago, he knew talking about it must have picked at the wound.
Gently, he brushed a kiss along her lower lip, just enough to remind himself of the feel of her.
Her eyelids fluttered closed. She swayed slightly, giving him a welcome reason to tighten his grip on her.
He banded one arm around the small of her back.
Slid the other hand up her spine, pressing her against him inch by inch.
Her breath hitched, the smallest, softest sound. That whisper of air stroked over his ears and made a fire roar to life inside him. Burning him up. A slow shudder trembled over her skin, vibrating through him until he wondered if it was his own.
“I’ve missed the way you touch me.” Her confession, so direct and honest, rattled him even as he savored the words.
He’d missed her touch, too. But damned if he could think beyond this moment. This night.
“I’m about to touch you a whole lot more.” He kissed the words down her neck, then paused to retrace a path to her ear. Tunnel a hand in her silky hair.
She arched her head back, giving him more access right where he wanted. He risked a look down at her in the dim light from the sconces, her body bowed up to him like a gift. So different from the guarded way she usually moved through the world in her dark clothes and quiet ways.
“Less looking.” Her eyes opened, and she pinned him with her gaze. “More touching.”
“Soon,” he promised, gliding the tip of his finger from the hollow of her throat straight down the open V of her dress, lingering in the shallow valley between her breasts.
She hummed her approval as he skimmed aside the dress to expose one breast cupped in simple black satin.
A silver medallion decorated the spot between the cups, and he played with the metal that had been warmed by her skin.
Watched as goose bumps played over her skin.
Then kissed along the pale curve of her breast plumped high by the satin.
Soft, tender kisses. But as the scent of lavender grew stronger with the heat between them, he found it damn tough to hold back. He gripped the bra strap on her shoulder and tugged it down, swiping aside the thin fabric of her lightweight dress to see and feel more of her.
His kisses turned greedy as he delved beneath the satin cup to find the tight peak of her nipple. Amy squeezed his arms, his shoulders. Her touches grew more insistent, her fingers tugging at the buttons of his gray work shirt.
He lifted her high against his chest before depositing her in the middle of his bed.
He followed her down, hovering over her on his arms. Her full skirt clung to his legs while their limbs tangled.
He couldn’t get enough of her. He unfastened the rest of the buttons on her dress while she finished off the ones on his shirt.
She spread her palms over his chest when she’d bared it, her fingers cool compared with the inferno just beneath his skin. He wanted her hands everywhere.
“I don’t remember all these muscles from the last time I touched you,” she said suddenly with a breathy sigh of appreciation, her fingers tracing the ridges on the back of one shoulder. “They feel good.”
“I took physical training seriously at the police academy.” Plus, he’d never forgotten what hand-to-hand combat felt like after that first ugly encounter with Covington.
And he’d done everything possible to be sure he had the edge if he ever found himself in that position again.
And, of course, in his line of work, he had.
“All the better to protect and serve?” She smoothed a hand down his side. Down. Down. Splayed her fingers along his hip through the lightweight wool of pants he wanted gone. “I approve this plan.”