Chapter 45 Homecoming
homecoming
DUKE
By the time I pull up the drive, the storm has calmed, but my chest hasn’t.
Hours of tension, a charter flight reroute, and Rusty’s text with half-buried information about what happened with Roxanne, have me sprinting up to the house like I’m dodging sniper fire.
I tip the driver, grab my bags, and burst through the door.
Everyone is sitting in the great room, low lights still on.
Leo’s barefoot, a blanket around his shoulders.
Rusty’s got a mug of something he’s sipping, and they both rise when I come in.
My eyes land on Roxanne, asleep on the sectional, Jameson curled up against her hip.
Her hair is damp, cheeks pink, chest rising slow and steady.
She’s tucked in under one of those thick throws from the linen closet, wrapped up like she’s finally let herself rest.
Suddenly, I forget how to breathe.
“Hey,” Rusty says softly. He motions for us to talk in the kitchen and Leo follows. “We were waiting up ’til you got here, but…” he glances toward the couch. “She conked out finally.”
I nod and Rusty moves closer and drops his voice. “She forgot to lock the door to the house and when she thought Jameson had wandered out … she went out there alone, into the storm, saw Goose stuck in the paddock, and she didn’t even hesitate.”
My head swirls with questions, but all I can think about is holding her.
Part of me was pissed off that she would put herself in danger and part of me is overwhelmed by the fact that this seems like something the “old Roxanne” would do.
Maybe she has finally healed enough here to be the woman she was fighting to restore.
“She went out into that mess for Jameson and Goose?” My voice is quiet, but it scrapes my throat raw.
Rusty’s nod is slow. “Didn’t think twice.”
“I should’ve been here.”
“She didn’t need you to be here,” Rusty says gently. “She chose to be brave on her own, but she’s gonna need you now.”
Leo glances toward the couch and back at me. “And you two probably would like to be alone.”
Rusty claps a hand on Leo’s shoulder. “I’ll drop you back at the lodge and then head back to my house.”
“Thanks for waiting up,” I say.
“We knew you wouldn’t have wanted us to leave her alone,” Leo says as he grabs a bag and heads out with Rusty. I wait until the door clicks shut and approach the couch. Jameson finally notices me and hops down, wagging his stump of a tail.
“Hi, bud,” I whisper, kneeling to scratch behind his ears. “You gave everyone a heart attack, huh?” He wiggles into my leg, then plops right down like he’s decided I’m not allowed to leave again. When I look up, she’s staring at me with these lovely sleepy eyes.
“Duke?” Her voice is sleep-warm and full of relief.
“Hey, beautiful,” I say, moving toward her.
She pushes herself up, the blanket falling around her waist. “You made it back.”
I sit beside her and brush a strand of hair from her face. “That unhinged squall was not going to keep me from getting to you tonight.”
She smiles then, wide and full of something soft and golden, and my whole damn core erupts with giddiness.
“I missed you,” she whispers.
“There’s actually no way to quantify how much I missed you.” A beat of silence follows, and then I shake my head. “You went out into a storm, though? You could’ve gotten hurt—”
“I had to,” she says. “Jameson was missing. Goose was out.”
“You could have been hit.”
She gives a tired laugh. “But I wasn’t, and you know, I wasn’t afraid this time. If something happened to Goose or Jameson and I’d done nothing? I’d never forgive myself.”
“And I’d never forgive myself if I was the second man to cause you to get struck by lightning.”
“You’re worth another strike.”
That hits me square in the chest. I smile anyway, because if I let it show what she just did to me, I’ll lose it.
“Well, I’d say you really earned your present, then,” I say, getting up and going to the duffle I dropped at the door.
She perks up, her head tilting to the side. “Present?”
I hand her a large box wrapped in pink paper that sparkles like fine jewels. She stares at me, not even trying to open it yet.
“What is this?”
“Open it.” I insist.
She unwraps it, then grins when she sees it’s the newest scent from her favorite perfume designer.
“Duke, this—” She claws her way through the box and opens the ornate bottle, closing her eyes as she smells it.
“Not sure if you have this one. It’s the newest scent.”
Her eyes are misty now when she looks at me. “You remembered.”
“There’s not much about you I can forget.”
“I love …” she pauses. She wants to say something more, but she freezes. I can tell the wheels of her mind are churning, and my pulse starts to hum.
“Roxanne?”
“Uh.” She shakes her head. “I love this. Thank you.”
She sets the bottle down, leans in, and kisses me. It’s gentle and sweet, but it sets off something in me that I know I can’t turn off now.
When she releases me, I gulp, not able to find my words. “That’s it.”
“What is?”
I stand and hold out my arms. “Come with me.”
Her eyes widen, but she doesn’t hesitate. She slips her arms around my neck, and I scoop her up.
“Where are you taking me?”
“To my room.”
Her breath hitches, and that sound sets me on fire.
My grip tightens under her thighs and she shifts in my arms as I cross the threshold of the bedroom, her fingers lightly brushing the back of my neck.
That simple touch is the kind of gentle, absentminded affection that says you’re mine.
I didn’t realize how much I needed that until right now.
I set her down gently when we get to my bedroom door. Jameson tries to rush in, but I stop him, promising to let him in later, though it might be days later when I finish doing everything I want to with Roxanne.
We kiss like we’ve been waiting a lifetime. It’s soft and tender at first and then more urgent. All the turbulence of the last twenty-four hours—the missed calls, the flight delays, and then the image of her out in the storm—is gone.
There’s only this. Her mouth, warm and willing. The lingering scent of jasmine on her throat. Her tongue parting my lips, and her breath mingling with mine. The rush of blood in my ears is no match for the storm that has passed outside.
I’m instantly hard as need rocks my body and from the soft whimper that escapes her as I trail soft kisses down her neck.
Her hands tug at the hem of my shirt, but I still have her clothing to deal with—thin cotton pajama top and pants clinging to her warm skin.
I let my hands drift to the waistband, raising a brow. “May I?”
She bites her lip and nods. I slip them down her legs, and she steps out of them one foot at a time. When I see her simple white panties, my vision almost blurs. I lift my hands and run them up her thighs, over her ass, and back to her waist.
“Christ,” I murmur. “You’re beautiful.”
She gives me a smirk. “You just noticed?”
“No, ma’am. I’ve been suffering since you arrived, but you send a new shockwave through me every time we’re this close.”
She laughs, quiet and breathless, and steps closer, wrapping her arms around my neck. My hands settle at her hips, thumbs grazing bare skin.
“Duke,” she says, pulling away.
“What?”
“You’re still dressed. I won’t stand for it.”
I grin, loving the heat in her eyes, the challenge in her voice.
My hands rush to my jacket, but she stops me.
She leans in, her lips hovering against mine.
She kisses me hard and then steps back, slipping her hands under my jacket and then pushing it off in one swift motion.
My whole body tightens under her touch like a wire drawn taut, begging to snap.
Breath leaves my body in what feels like short gasps.
She kisses me again, but before I can wrap my arms around her, she glances at my shirt. I know I wanted to take my time, but there’s a heat pooling low in my gut—hot and impossible to contain. If I don’t get these clothes off my damn body, they’re going to burst into flames.
Her voice drops into that sultry register that drives me straight out of my mind. “I want to do something to you.”
“Anything,” I scrape out.
“It involves me ruining this very expensive Armani shirt, though.”
I can barely think but still manage to use my words. “Ruin it, ruin me, do it, I don’t care.”
Her smile widens. With a sharp tug, the buttons go flying—at least three scatter across the hardwood floor, one pings off the nightstand.
“Wow, just like in the movies,” she breathes.
She pushes the shucked fabric off my shoulders like she’s unwrapping something she’s waited too damn long to touch. I let her like I’m her prisoner. Our mouths crash into each other, and the way she nips at my lip before pulling away… That little bite of pain mixed with pleasure is so fucking hot.
Her hands are everywhere—my chest, my belt, the back of my neck—and then she grinds up against me once, deliberately, and damn if I don’t nearly lose it right there.
I stop her short of taking off my boxer briefs because I need something to contain the animal in me until I make her come so breathtakingly hard it shatters the windows.
This moment deserves better than my desperation.
My palms find her waist, spanning the narrow space between her ribs and hips.
She sheds her pajama top slowly. Her hands then move behind her back, those blue eyes holding mine captive, and then her lace bra slides away from perfect skin.
The lamplight catches the curve of her breasts, and I have to grip her waist harder to keep myself steady—she’s more beautiful than memory served, more perfect than I dared imagine.
“Wait,” I breathe.
She stills, panting hard, pupils wide and wild.
“What?” she whispers, her hands roaming over my ass.
I lean in close, press my forehead to hers, our breath mingling in the small space between us.
“I need to know you want this,” I say quietly, my voice rougher than I intended.
“Not just the heat of the moment. You want me … us…” My thumb grazes her nipple, and she arches into the touch with a soft moan that nearly breaks my resolve.
“I’ve never wanted anything more in my life,” she whispers, her hand sliding up to cup the back of my neck. “I want you, Duke. I want us. I want to let go with you completely.”
That’s it. That’s all I need to hear. “Yes, ma’am.”
I exhale once, deep and rough. I feel wild and feral like a bull about to pop out of its chute, but I know I must tap into every part of me associated with restraint because I owe her.
I never got to pleasure her the way I wanted to in the tent that morning.
Bending slightly, I grip her thighs and sweep her straight off the ground in one fluid motion.
“Duke—”
“You said my name,” I growl. “Time to finish what we started in my truck that night.”
I toss her onto the bed, and she lands in a heap of wild hair, giggling and perfect. I stare down at her for a second—just one second—before my voice drops into something lower. Hungrier. “And now I’m going to take my time.”