Page 85 of Courage, Dear Heart

I nibble on my still stinging lips. “You’ll be a double agent?”

“I’ll be your agent. And only yours. Your man on the inside. We’ll stay a step ahead of him at all times.” He smiles like doing this gives him great pleasure.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“What? Sticking it to my father? Sabotaging him and undoing all his work right under his nose? Yes, I am. I got a taste of it with my cousins. And I liked it.”

I believe him. He’s on my side. With each word, the tension between us unravels, replaced by warmth that feels like the promise of more.

“I’m so full. You’re going to have to roll me down the road all the way home.”

He laughs. “I can throw you over my shoulder and carry you home, fireman style. No rolling needed.”

An image forms in my mind. Me over his broad shoulder, one of his arms around my thighs, holding me to him, the other firmly planted on my ass. And Elliott is carrying me to his bed, not down the street. The image is so erotic. I have to press my lips together to curb a moan.

Something in my face must have given away the dirty thoughts in my mind because his eyes go dark and sultry. His laughing face goes serious and something primal and needy replacesthe expression.

“You keep looking at me like that, and I won’t be able to hold back.”

“Hold back from what?” My voice is husky, low. He releases a shuddered breath. “Hold back from doing wicked things to you.”

“Maybe I want wicked things done to me.” Who am I right now? I can barely recognize myself. I have never been this forward in my life.

“Jillian.” My name is a groan.

I stand up and walk around the table. He pushes his chair back, making room for me to get closer. I straddle his lap. With my fingers in his hair, I pull him to me. My mouth finds his, and he’s ready for me. His hands go to my hips and pull me closer. His erection presses into my belly. It’s been so long since I was touched like this. So long since I felt any kind of desire. So long since I wanted to be with a man. No, not any man. This man.

I give in to my desire, to my need, to the craving he’s awakened in me. His hands grip my hips and I grind into him. Rocking against his hardness and wishing there were fewer barriers between us.

Elliott moans. “Jillian.”

I swallow the sound of my name, rocking harder against him. His hips thrust into me, urgency building and building and begging for release. The friction is a maddening and sweet torture.

“More, more, more,” I beg, my face buried in his neck, my hands clutching at his biceps. My body moves against his, possessed by need and pain and anger and grief and every emotion I’ve buried deep inside me. All of it, all of me bubbling to the surface like lava in a volcano ready to erupt.

And then it does. I explode into a million tiny pieces, my head jerks up, my eyes roll back, my body seizes and convulses, and my lungs lock. I can’t breathe even as my mouth opens in a silent scream.

It’s like having an out-of-body experience. I see myself, so shameless and so forward as I use Elliott as an escape for all the pain I’ve kept inside. I see all the different broken parts of me, all the ways I’ve failed myself. Every fragment of my shattered dreams and the future I’d been so certain of before it was stolen from me.

And like in slow motion, a reverse explosion. Those fragments coming back, rearranging themselves into new shapes, new memories, a new me, and hope for a new future. With or without Elliott in it, I will survive.

My body goes limp. I fall against his chest, hiding my face in his shoulder. My body still vibrates even as my heartbeat returns to normal.

His arms go around me, followed by a shushing sound and his hands gently rubbing my back. It’s then I realize I’m crying. Tears stream down my face unbidden.

I sob and words I never imagined I’d say climb up my chest and claw at my throat and spill out of my mouth. “I’m free.”

FORTY-SIX

Jillian

I’mfree of the prison I created for myself. The grief, still there. It will always be there, but it’s no longer center stage. No longer the dominant force in my life.

Little by little, it’s taking a step back, so very quietly, so very slowly, I didn’t notice it at first.

I’m no longer in survival mode. At some point in the last few weeks, I started living again. Being present. And I have Elliott to thank for it. His gentle presence. His patience. And kindness.

“Jillian?”

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