Chapter Three
The after-dinner crowd flocked to the bar, and she squeezed between a few big bodies to reach him. When she slipped into the space beside him, her elbow brushed against his forearm, and he turned his head to look at her.
Even her adoring memories hadn’t done him justice and her breath caught in her throat. The last traces of boyhood had melted away, and a man stood before her. He possessed the same dark coloring, though he somehow seemed brighter, more vivid, and the sharp contours of his straight nose and high cheekbones were more pronounced than she remembered. When her gaze dropped to his soft, supple mouth, a sigh rattled through her.
“Hi,” she breathed, still struggling to reconcile her memory with the man.
A light flashed in his heavily lashed green eyes, but he didn’t speak. Instead, he shifted on his barstool, and suddenly, she stood between his thighs.
His gaze wouldn’t let her go, and she shivered in response, even as uncertainty flooded her. What should she say after so many years?
“How are you?”
With a shudder, her question seemed to set off a battle in him. “Better, now that you’re here.”
Clearly he was not sober, and yet a warm pleasure bloomed in her chest.
He reached out, and one of his fingertips traced the outline of her cheek. “Wow.”
“Wow, what?”
“Your smile.” He pulled his hand away, rolling it into a tight fist. “I like it.”
Her cheeks heated. “I didn’t know you were so charming.”
“It’s the alcohol. Makes me tell the truth.” He lifted his glass to his lips and drank. “Don’t think I’ve ever been accused of being charming though. Most conclude I’m an asshole.”
Behind her, a broad man in pursuit of the bartender’s attention pushed into her space. Leo’s hand slipped to her waist and he angled his bigger body protectively around her.
“I don’t think you’re an asshole.” At his touch, a delicious tension pulsated through her.
The faintest hint of a playful light came into his eyes. “You’re naïve.”
She tried to laugh, but the sound she made rang hollow. “I’m hardly that.”
His gaze dropped to her mouth, and her smile fell away when his dark pupils dilated, swallowing the gold flecks that glinted around the black centers.
Her breaths came quick, so she sounded oddly breathless when she said, “What are you doing here?”
“Drinking.”
“No, I mean in Boston. Are you visiting, or do you live here?”
A body bumped into her from behind and she pitched forward. Her palms landed on his chest when she tried to steady herself. Beneath the fabric of his faded blue T-shirt, hard muscles bunched.
“Just visiting.” His mouth near her ear, his breath stirred her hair when he spoke. “You?”
“I live here.”
She pulled back to see his face. With only inches between them, she got an intimate glimpse of the dark sadness hanging at the edge of his features. Her heart constricted as she remembered a different Leo. Playful, with a quick smile and a sneaky sense of humor. Or maybe she’d only built him to be that way in her mind? Because there was no humor in this man. At least not tonight.
Tonight, he was lost and hopeless. Broken.
Her hammering heart lurched. What had happened to the guy she’d crushed on half her life?
He’s been to war, you idiot.
He would’ve witnessed up close the distant horrors that haunted her.
More patrons packed into the area surrounding them, and his gaze darted around the circle closing in on them. An agitated scowl disturbed his smooth features.
Her fingers brushed against his hand. “You wanna get out of here?”
With his curt nod, she stepped out from the safety of his warm body. He dropped a few bills on the bar and let her lead him through the crowded room toward the exit.
Outside, darkness had settled over the city, though the day’s heat remained, hanging in the muggy air. The bar noises quickly faded away as Leo dragged in a deep breath, and another. His hand still nestled in hers, she reached up with her other hand to touch the side of his face.
He flinched, but then his gaze latched on to her face with the desperation of a drowning victim clinging to a life raft. She pushed a dark lock of hair off his forehead. Some force seemed to draw him to her and he leaned close.
Her hand moved to the back of his neck. “Do you want to go someplace quiet where we can talk?”
“I’m not all that interested in talking tonight.” His voice grew thick, husky.
A delicious shiver ran through her with the slow lick of arousal sloping in her veins. Gently, she applied pressure to his nape, pulling him closer. His palms came up to smack the brick building on either side of her head, as if he needed the support to remain standing.
His head bent low, but he stopped when his mouth hovered above hers.
“There are a thousand reasons why I shouldn’t do this.” His puffy lips parted. “But I can’t recall even one of them right now.”
His hands shook when he cupped her face, as though he was terrified he’d break her, or that he’d screw it up.
He didn’t screw it up.
His lips touched hers with the faintest hint of a kiss. “My God,” he murmured while he toyed with the hair at her temples. “It’s been so long, and now you’re here.”
Her heart cracked open. Could it really be true? That all these years, he had thought about her, too? She ached for his kiss, and his name dropped from her lips as a plea.
His mouth caught hers, and he pressed her against the building, his hard body steadying her while the lush pressure of his mouth sent dizzying sensations spiraling through her. The delicious smell and feel of him scalded her senses. Clean skin and whiskey mingled with the prickly delight of his day’s beard growth.
Unsure how to please him, she mimicked his slow licks and soft bites. With one hand, she stroked the hair at his nape, while with the other, her fingers captured his earlobe and she rubbed the soft flesh, because honestly, even the man’s earlobes were sexy.
She’d meant only to talk to him. To poke at his life a little, maybe find out some information, any information, about Aron King. But when his mouth grazed the sensitive skin on her neck, every thought except one scattered from her mind.
It wasn’t even a thought, really. It was a feeling. A sensation. Her eyes fell shut and a low moan vibrated in her throat. She wanted to chase the feeling, explore it. Revel in it. For once in her life, she wanted to spurn facts, shun rationality, and let her heart take over. She wanted to let her desires rule her and find out where they might lead.
For as long as she could remember, she’d wanted Leo Nolan to be hers. And by the way he kissed her, he wanted her, too. Later, she’d figure out a way to get some information out of him. After she knew the feel of his body on top of hers and the sounds of his pleasure.
His hot mouth found the throbbing pulse point on her neck.
She whimpered. “Are you staying at the hotel?”
“I’m staying wherever you are tonight.” Desperation overrode the hint of playfulness in his tone.
“Wait.”
He pulled back instantly, concern puckering his brow.
She peered into his face. “What do you want from me? I mean, other than the obvious.”
All traces of humor vanished and he dropped his head. “I just… I need some peace.”
Pain rolled off him in terrible waves. Unable to bear it, she reached for him. Taking his face in her hands, she pressed a kiss to his forehead. He sighed and closed his eyes, so she dropped kisses on his cheeks and his temples, too.
“Okay, Leo.”
His head came up. “Are you sure?”
She hadn’t been so sure of anything in as long as she could remember, but her heart had wedged in her throat and she couldn’t speak. Her pulse pounding in her ears, she led him to her car. When he appeared slightly unsteady on his feet, she slipped her hand inside his. Her mouth still tingled from the heat of his kiss, and if not for the crunch of gravel beneath her feet, she might’ve believed she floated across the parking lot on a poufy, wanton cloud of carnal lust.
Leo climbed into the passenger seat as she slipped behind the steering wheel. At the sound of crinkling paper, she glanced over to see the police report balanced on his fingertips. He frowned down at the paper in the dark.
She snatched the white sheet from his grip and sent it sailing into the back seat.
As she steered the car through the city streets, she was hyperaware of him in the seat next to her. He flooded her senses. His heat and his size, his clean, masculine scent and his dark beauty. Her nerves grew taut. She could do this, couldn’t she? She’d never picked a guy up in a bar. Had never taken one home, from anywhere. As Faith so helpfully pointed out, Prue hadn’t even dated a guy in years. Was she really prepared to jump into bed with one now?
She gave herself a small shake. This wasn’t some random guy she’d met at the bar. It was Leo. Her brother’s friend. A soldier willing to risk his life in the protection of others. The first boy to capture her notice, and, moments later, her heart. To her, Leo Nolan was as improbable as Bigfoot or a fluffy unicorn. He was a man she trusted.
But how could that be? She barely knew him. Other than the fact that he’d served in the military and was friends with her brother, she knew very little about him. Next to nothing, actually.
Yet there she was, ready, eager to let him into her bed and her heart, as though he belonged there. Maybe she was crazy, and Faith was right about that, too.
Prue frowned at the road in front of her. It was a cruel thought and she inwardly scolded herself for entertaining it. After years of building Leo up in her mind, she was just a little nervous. Which was completely reasonable. Logical. Once she knew the man better than the memory, her anxieties would recede.
Her hands clutched the steering wheel too tightly and she loosened her grip. “Uh, so, where did you grow up?”
He turned his head and looked out the passenger side window. “A lot of places.”
“How about your parents? Where do they live?”
“My parents are dead.”
A slash of grief sliced her heart. “Leo, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” She smoothed a clammy palm down her thigh. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
“No.”
Another pang struck the center of her chest. He was alone in the world? That made her incredibly sad, and she abandoned the small talk.
She wasn’t sure why she’d bothered to try it in the first place. She’d always sucked at it. In school, she’d been consumed by her studies and never really connected with the other kids. It didn’t help that her parents had enrolled her a year early, and then when she skipped first grade, her awkwardness among her peers had only deepened. Two years younger than everyone else, she’d lacked their emotional maturity and didn’t develop physically along with the other girls. At sixteen, she left high school to enroll at MIT, which only replaced her high school ills for college ones.
Until five years later, when she was twenty-one and halfway to earning her PhD, and a handsome classmate took a sudden interest in her. She should’ve realized something was up when Aron King asked her out on a date, but she’d been so elated by the male attention, she’d thrown all her common sense and sound judgment away for a chance to be with him.
Six years later, her foolishness still mortified her. Doubt brewed inside her as an impending storm of insecurity she was helpless to protect herself against.
Until Leo’s hand brushed hers. “You okay?”
She risked a glance at him. “I’m sorry if I was rude, asking you all those questions.”
For a moment, his expression turned agonized. She cut a quick look to the road and then back, hoping to make a study of that expression. But he’d turned his face to the window once more.
“It’s not rude.” A surprising softness filled his voice. “I like that you want to know more about me.”
Her insecurities melted like butter on a hot sidewalk. From the passenger seat, he watched her with a concentrated stare that made her pulse skid. By the time she turned onto her street, the tension between them pulled unbearably high and tight.
She parked on the street a block from the old Victorian house, which had been converted into apartments years before and where she now rented one of the units. As they walked, the warm summer night air aroused a smattering of goose bumps across her skin, or maybe it was the way Leo’s eyes roamed over her body, like hot, questing hands.
In the dark, his heat and hunger teased her, stoking her desire as they ascended the brick walkway to the home’s front entrance and climbed the stairs to her second-floor apartment.
At her door, his hands moved to her hips while she fumbled to insert the key in the lock. When he bent his head to nuzzle the spot below her ear, the slow burn of her passion ignited.
She threw open the door and dragged him inside her apartment. He buried his hands in her hair and as he backed her into the room, his mouth seared a scorching path down the side of her neck, to the swells of her breasts. She yanked up the edge of his T-shirt, and he reached behind him to haul it over his head.
In the darkened room, she glimpsed a tapestry of tattoos spanning one pec and shoulder before his hard body pinned her against the wall and his mouth recaptured hers.
God, he gave good kisses. Soft but not sloppy, fiery but not domineering. While he tasted and explored her mouth shamelessly, he yielded often, then rewarded her each time she took her pleasure in him.
She kicked off her black flats, and they separated long enough to rid her of her top and capri pants. His hands spanned her rib cage. One thumb brushed the underside of her breast while the fingers on his other hand danced along the waistband of her underwear. Then they trailed lower.
When he stroked her through her panties, a vicious moan vibrated in her throat. She placed her hands on his shoulders and shifted, giving him better access. With each soft glide of his fingers, the coil of sensation in her belly wound tighter.
Reaching between their bodies, she fumbled with the fastening of his shorts. His hard erection pressing against the fabric of his briefs filled her hand, and he groaned. At the sound, her hunger swelled. She was hurtling toward the cliff, but she wanted him to go there with her.
She dragged her mouth away from his. “Wait.”
He drew back immediately. His chest heaving with his heavy breathing, he pressed his palm to the wall and squeezed his eyes shut, as though he were in pain.
She ducked under his arm, slipping out from between his body and the wall. He turned with her and she took his hand in both of hers to guide him down the hallway. In her bedroom, she led him to the bed.
He sat heavily, but even before he landed, he wrapped his arm around her waist and hauled her to him. With a swiftness she found mildly alarming, he freed one of her breasts from its bra cup and lightly brushed the pad of his thumb over her nipple. When his hot mouth covered the pebbled peak, her head fell back.
The fog of arousal closed around her once more, until, with a pang of regret, she extracted herself from his arms. “I… I… just need a minute.”
At the bathroom door, she glanced back over her shoulder. When her gaze tangled with his, he straightened, suddenly alert, and an odd expression chased across his features. He appeared startled, stunned even.
And worried. Definitely worried.
He must’ve felt it, too, the pain of their bodily separation. It was more than delayed gratification. It physically hurt not to touch him.
She offered him a reassuring smile.
In the bathroom, she flipped on the light and fumbled through the cabinet drawers, searching for the box of condoms she’d bought last year but never used. She’d been entirely too optimistic about the new guy in IT.
Though she’d been on the pill been for years, ever since she was diagnosed with mild endometriosis as a teen and her doctor prescribed the hormones to help regulate her periods, striking up a conversation with Leo just then about past partners and STD screenings didn’t hold much appeal. Besides, he’d already made it clear he didn’t want to talk tonight.
Neither did she.
Snatching up the box, she ripped into it. Optimism won out once again and she removed three of the foil packets before turning toward the door.
Then she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her hair was disheveled, so she shoved her fingers through it. The effort didn’t improve the mess, so she snagged the hairbrush off the vanity and yanked it through her dark tresses. Once done, she wiped a dark smudge of makeup from under one eye.
Her critical gaze dropped to the mismatched bra and panties she wore, and for the first time in her life, she wished she owned a sexy negligée or lingerie. Or at the very least had coordinated her underwear that morning. Before she started cataloging all the other imperfections visible in that mirror, she flipped off the bathroom light and returned to her bedroom.
Her eyes took a moment to adjust in the dark. Leo lay on the bed, exactly where she’d left him, with his feet hanging off the end. With every step she took back to him, her heart tripped.
He didn’t sit, or stir, and at the bed’s edge, she stopped.
“Leo?” she whispered.
Nothing except the deep, rhythmic sound of his breathing.
She went to the night table and switched on the lamp. Soft light flooded the room.
His eyes remained closed and his mouth hung slightly ajar while his chest rose and fell in a steady pattern. She gaped, too stunned to know what to do.
“Leo?” She didn’t whisper that time, and instead injected her voice with strength.
He didn’t stir.
Disappointment tore at her heart. The first time she picked up a guy at the bar and he passed out drunk before they did it? She moved to his side, intending to nudge his shoulder to try to wake him, but when she gazed down at his sleeping form, a soft gasp slipped through her lips.
His broad shoulders and lean, well-muscled torso didn’t surprise her, but the angry scar that zigzagged through his smooth, tanned skin did. It was an old wound, jagged and severe, running along his side to his hip bone before disappearing beneath the waistband of his shorts. Emotion clogged in her throat as she tried to imagine the scenario that’d brought about its mark on his body.
As she watched him sleep, her disappointment morphed into something else entirely. Sadness? Longing? Regret?
All of it.
The troubled frown had released its hold on his features, and while she enjoyed her first glimpse of the well-defined muscles on his chest and stomach, she realized now that he was actually quite thin. Too thin.
Unable to resist him, she dropped a kiss on his forehead. Then she retrieved a nightshirt from her dresser, pulled it on, and climbed onto the bed to lie beside him. Lying in the dark, she listened to the sound of his breathing until her eyelids grew heavy. When a deep sigh eased from him and he settled deeper into sleep, her heavy heart lifted a little.
At least he’d found his peace.
Sometime later in the night, a noise woke her. It took her a moment to recall where she was, and that Leo was in her bed.
He groaned as though he were in pain and she sat up in the bed, a bubble of fear ballooning in her chest. Was he sick? Or hurt?
He mumbled something she couldn’t understand. Was he dreaming?
She gave him a shake. “Leo, it’s time to wake up.” She spoke in a soft voice, not wanting to startle him but very much wishing to rescue him from the pain of his dreams.
But he didn’t wake up.
His body rigid, he rolled toward her, and she realized he was crying. Crying so hard he wasn’t making any sounds at all.
Her heart hammered beneath her breastbone.
“Leo, wake up. Please wake up.” She brushed back a lock of hair that’d fallen across his forehead.
With a flash of movement, his arm shot out to snatch her wrist and he bolted upright in the bed. Air wheezed through his lungs and fire blazed in his eyes, burning into her, as he glared at her. Her heart in her throat, she stared back, and bore witness to a million heartbreaks.
Then he collapsed back on the bed.
“Don’t go.” He fumbled through the sheets until he found her hand. Clutching it tightly, he pulled it to his chest. “Please, Rose, don’t leave me.”
His plea was fierce and desperate, and hearing it, a little piece of her heart broke off and crumbled to dust.
With her free hand, she rubbed his damp forehead. “I won’t leave you, Leo. I promise.”