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The tears are now slipping faster, hotter down my cheeks. “Good.”
“It will take time, girl.”
“I know. It’s fine.” I stand on tiptoe to kiss his beautiful mouth. “As long as it takes. I’ll be here.”
“You’re crying.”
“Just kiss me.”
And he does. It starts out gentle, but then he deepens the kiss, hijacking my body and mind, until I’m moaning against his lips, my legs trembling.
He pulls back, the thick hard-on pressed between us. “Damn…”
“Love you,” I breathe.
He closes his eyes, and his lashes look damp where they rest on his cheekbones. What’s going on?
Before I lift my hands to check if those are really tears, he sits down on the bed, hauling me down with him.
“I’m not a poet,” he whispers. “Never been to fancy schools or read many books. But you’re my sunshine, Dakota Madden.”
That makes me cry harder, and it’s a good, cleansing flood. I giggle between my tears and straddle him, pressing my body to his, needing to feel him as close as possible.
It’s been too frigging long.
“Stay,” I tell him. “Stay in our bed tonight.”
Even if he’s not ready to move back into our bedroom yet, even if the nightmares torturing him mean he’d rather sleep in the living room like a guest, not my husband.
He says nothing, but he rolls me onto the mattress and pulls the covers over us, gathering me in his arms again. I fall asleep to the beat of his heart, steady and strong.
When I wake up early in the morning, he’s gone.
***
Summer is giving way to the fall. The difference is small, but it’s there—like with everything in my life nowadays.
Like Zane going to bed with me, even if he left later, not to wake me with his bad dreams.
Like finding the kids in that basement, but not catching Kenneth Shaw.
Okay, so these aren’t small differences. Failing to catch Kenneth Shaw is a heavy blow. I thought that he’d be in prison by now. In a dungeon, like he deserves. Like the basement where he kept those poor kids.
God, when I remember that place, and those young faces, those frightened eyes…
I wipe at my face. Enough tears. I want to blame it on the hormones from having a baby, but truth is, this has been one of the worst emotional rollercoaster rides of my life.
Besides, Zane is here. He’s sitting in the living room when I enter with Lee in my hands, reading something on his tablet. He’s sprawled back on the sofa, bare-chested, one arm folded behind his head, the other scrolling down on the screen.
I stop and stare.
So sue me. He’s gorgeous, and honestly I can’t remember the last time I saw him bare-chested, let alone naked.
Holy crap, the way his biceps bulge, stretching the colorful ink covering his skin, the dragon rearing on his muscular chest, the barbells shining in his small brown nipples… the fine treasure trail leading into his sweats… his Mohawk and the hoops in his brow, his strong jaw, his full lips, and that intense dark gaze focused on the tablet…
Heat spreads up my body, making my breasts tingle and sending an ache between my legs. I want him. I want him so much. I’m dying to feel him inside me again.
“Morning,” I say, and he puts the tablet down, his lips curving in a faint smile.
