Page 92 of Danger Close
“We can, Princess.” I closed the distance between us, putting my hands around her waist until her chest was flush against mine.
My blazer fell from her shoulders, pooling around her feet.
It was good to feel her in my arms without resistance.
We belonged together. Whatever higher power existed wanted us here, right now, with each other. Just like my daughter occupied a part of my soul that had been missing for thirty years, Teri was here, molding and filling in the last cracks until I felt like a person again.
“You’re going to be alright, Princess,” I whispered. “We’re going to be alright.”
I swayed her back and forth, rocking her the way I had rocked her those first few days after she’d given birth. She was hit with post-partum depression. She didn’t know why she cried but the only thing that ever helped was slow dancing with our baby cradled between us.
It was what I wanted the rest of our lives to be.
“I remembered your scent,” I whispered, bringing my nose down to her hair. “You always smell like spring flowers, and spice.”
I nipped at her shoulder blade.
I unzipped her dress, and pulled away just enough to see her eyes. If someone had really hurt her the way I suspected, she’d never say no. She’d let whatever happened… happen. She might freeze and retreat into her mind the way she had dozens of times in our short time together, and I could not let that happen.
I had to search for consent. I had to be aware of every touch, every gesture, every flicker in her gorgeous eyes.
“When we were apart, I’d smell a bouquet of flowers, and think of you. It was like feeling your ghost.” She was always on mymind, even if it was just a flicker of her name passing through my mind. “I was reminded of you everywhere. The color of your eyes, when I looked at a cool, blue ocean. The sound of your voice in the whisper of the wind through the trees.”
That was no hardship for me. I loved to look into her eyes.
“We’re going to be fine, Mrs. Guerro.” The name Mrs. Teresa Guerro…Mrs. Joaquin Guerro…ran through my head like a silent prayer. “My wife.”
The words rumbled from my throat as I slipped the shoulders of her dress down her arms, peeling the garment from her body until gravity helped me, and the whole thing pooled around her feet.
I held my breath as I looked at her. Even with the bruises on her ribs, her arms, and the healing cuts, she was still a goddess. My keen eyes traced every curve and line of her body.
There were more scars on her I’d never seen before. They were faded white. I catalogued each one, knowing that I would inflict these same wounds on someone else. I’d take pleasure in it. I’d dance in their fucking blood in worship of my sweetheart.
“Say that again,” she whispered, her eyes pleading for more of me. More. More! And I would give it.
“My wife.” I devoured her mouth, holding her close until our bodies folded into each other.
“How can you forgive me?” She was crying again, and it broke my heart. “I should have waited for you.”
“Can you forgive me for leaving?”
Her desperate embrace pulled me to her, confirmation that she wanted me as much as I wanted her. “There’s nothing for me to forgive. I was wrong. I’ve always been wrong. I—”
I kissed her because the rest of her words would be pure malarkey.
I kissed her because none of that mattered.
I kissed her because no matter what, she’d still be my Teresa Louise Guerro.
“Do you still want me?” she murmured against my lips.
“How can you even ask that?” So many things were a mystery when it came to my sweet Teresa.
“Show me!” she begged. Her fingers brushed through my hair, tugging at the root to bring me closer. “Please, show me.”
I moaned, my hands wanting to grope, and grab at her. I wanted to pull her in, to squeeze her flesh until she molded into my hands so completely, they’d never be able to pry us apart again. No one would get between us. Not now, not ever!
“I don’t want to hurt you Princess!” I growled as I tugged off my blazer and tie.
