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He hated the tightness around her eyes, the strain in her voice. His protective instincts now in the driver’s seat, he pushed his concerns about her father’s threat to the back of his mind. “You are. At least I know we need to be on guard.”
“I’m sorry,” she murmured, rubbing at her right temple. “My family has brought you nothing but grief.”
Even though her words were pretty damn close to the truth, he couldn’t let them stand unchallenged. “It wasn’t all bad.” The memories rose, flooding him with images of her flushed cheeks as she rode him and her lips swollen from his kisses. Her laughter still echoed in his ears; the silky softness of her bare skin tingled on his fingertips. No matter how many years passed, it was all still there, right beneath the surface.
Her tongue darted out, wetting her bottom lip. There was nothing hard in her expression, only a softness he hadn’t seen in years. It was the same look she’d given him when he used to tell her about how he’d grown up. None of the earth-shattering stuff. Just the uncelebrated birthdays or the TV dinners he had to cook himself. Things like that. He’d tried to tell her it wasn’t so bad. He liked frozen nuggets fine. But it was never fine with her. She’d tell him how she loved him and how he deserved better, and somehow, she was the one who hurt over things he chalked up to reality.
It always ended with him kissing her, trying to replace her sadness with something else. Showing her he was happy and whole in her arms. Watching the sorrow in her eyes give way to pleasure untangled knots inside him he’d never realized were there.
He wanted to do it now. He needed to.
Honestly, he’d never stopped. She’d been the only force in the world capable of keeping them apart. Anything else was a lie he told himself so he could live with her decision.
Without even thinking, he reached out and tucked a lock of red hair behind her ear. Her eyes widened, but she didn’t pull back.
He palmed the back of her head right where it met her neck and pulled her toward him at the same time he leaned toward her. Making his movements slow and deliberate, he gave her every opportunity to stop him. Her absolute stillness told him everything he needed to know. He kept his eyes locked with hers until the moment their lips touched, then his lids squeezed shut, and his other senses took over.
Traces of wine teased him as his mouth moved over hers, and he breathed in her familiar scent, the lavender from her favorite soap. The one from Before. It was like coming home.
His left hand glided up her arm, and she shuddered beneath him. Then she wrested control of the kiss, taking it deeper. The sharp bite of the zinfandel bloomed stronger as he slid his tongue against hers.
Crushing Mandy against him, his heart sang with the rightness of having her in his arms again. It was as if the past thirteen years had never happened. All those times he’d tried to convince himself it hadn’t been as good as he remembered, there had been areasonhe hadn’t been able to let go.
Nothing had changed in all these years.
She was everything. The sun in the sky. The air he breathed.
Her arms were around his neck, and she moaned softly against him. Every cell in his body screamed to feel her skin-to-skin—to strip her bare and plunge his aching hard-on into her wet warmth.
It could be like it was. She could be mine again. We could go back and get it right this time.
Only, he had no idea where it had gone wrong before.
Digging deep for every drop of self-control he had, he broke the kiss and rested his forehead against hers. “You’re killing me, Mandy.”
She choked back a small sob, sending him on instant alert. He pulled back to see her face, which she immediately buried in her hands.
“What’s wrong?” His heart raced. “Did I—”
Her hands dropped to her lap, revealing green eyes shining a little too bright. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I—nobody’s called me that in a really long time.”
He doubted it was the name so much as the possibility she was drowning as much as he was right now, though he could be wrong. She’d never stopped being Mandy in his mind, but he couldn’t remember the last time he said it to her face.
A lock of hair fell over her left eye, and he itched to reach out and smooth it back again. He stifled the urge, rubbing at his beard instead. The culprit behind the now scraped, tender skin around her mouth, a telltale redness left in its wake. She’d always hated beards. He had a sudden, overwhelming urge to shave.
What the hell was wrong with him? Nothing had changed. She was still the woman who broke his heart, and he still had no idea why. He took a deep breath. “I was going to buy you a ring. The day it happened. The day you left.”
She swallowed, then wrapped her arms around herself.
“Scott offered me a ride to the mall, but he took me to the apartment building instead. It was a set-up, my brother and Sucre changing the balance of power.” He scoffed. “I see it now, but back then, I had no idea. I put myself in front of a knife to save Scott. I almost died. Then you damn-near finished the job when you left me broken in my hospital bed.”
“I’m sorry.” She curled into herself, getting smaller before his eyes.
He didn’t like it. His Mandy was tough as nails. She could look a tiger in the eye without blinking. “Don’t be sorry,” he said gruffly. “Tell me what happened. I deserve the truth.”
“You do.” She straightened.
Finally. He was getting an answer to the question haunting him for more than a decade.
