Page 12 of A Perfect Holiday
I wasn’t the only one experiencing fear and grief. Calling myself every name in the book, I bought the ring and strode out the door.
I was running scared, and it was time to face what I had been avoiding. Yeah, too much history with Verity, too much love for a woman I would die for, a boy I loved more than my own life. I was going to have to deal with some heavy-duty emotions, but I would go back and find that thread of connection, mend it, and keep it from unraveling.
Reacting on sheer instinct, I cranked the throttle and released the clutch, leaning into a sharp curve as I headed east.
It was close to midnight by the time I reached Suttontowne. I pulled into my garage and got off the bike, my body trembling from the long, high-speed journey. I went into the house and through the living room to our bedroom. Moonlight cast long, faint shadows through the trees, and off in the distance, a whippoorwill warbled its name over and over, the sound carrying for miles on the moist, heavy air.
My chest tightened while I watched Verity sleep. I was going to show her, in spite of everything that had happened in the past, that I wanted this. Wanted her. No matter what. I would go to my grave wanting her.
I was feeling like my heart was too big for my chest when she stirred, and her eyes fluttered open, as if just by my presence she was in tune and aware of me, even in slumber.
“Boone.” She rose up to her knees and our eyes met in the wan light from the moon. “I missed you so much, my love.” She curled her hands into my leather jacket and pulled me to her, her mouth covering mine, welcoming, soft and warm. She smelled so good, I got lost in her scent and the heat of her mouth.
She rubbed her hands over the leather of my jacket, then pressed her breasts to my chest, skimming her hands over my butt, and I shuddered when she kissed my throat, using her teeth.
Clamping down on the ache pulsating through me, I caught her shoulders, my voice tight and uneven when I whispered, “Verity, sugar.”
She inhaled. “Boone, you smell so good,” as she worked the jacket zipper and pushed it off my shoulders to land in a heap on the floor. Then she slid her hand into the waistband of my riding leathers and jerked me toward her, her other hand going over the hard ridge of flesh.
I gasped as if every muscle in my body was stretched to the limit when she released the button and zipper. I lifted her face, gazing somberly into her eyes while I ran my thumb along her jaw.
“I want to talk first,” I chastised gruffly. Trying to ignore the hot, heavy sensation pumping through me, I eased in an uneven breath and rubbed my thumb along her collarbone. “Shouldn’t we?” I asked, my voice very unsteady.
She stared at me, her face going soft and tender, and the open look in her eyes made my heart lurch. Surety, commitment—and a desperate need. She looked down, pushing the pants off me. “You look like a midnight bad boy lover in all that leather. I can’t think right now, let alone talk. Later will be soon enough. I’ve missed you so much.”
My heart jumped into overdrive, pounding almost hard enough to jump through my ribs. I inhaled sharply when she caught my hand and settled it over her breast.
“Make love to me, Boone,” she said her voice breaking.
She returned my gaze with the expression of a woman who was part of her man, who was diminished by his absence. All my good intentions shot to hell by the need I saw in her eyes, I tightened my hold on her. Struggling with a thick surge of desire, my dick painfully engorged, I clenched my jaw and rested my forehead against hers for a moment, just breathing through my urgency.
Then I yanked the rest of my clothes off, and then her flimsy gown, my body primed and throbbing, ready to renew love and our bond, for our bodies to fuse together. The instant I reached for her, she choked out my name and came into my arms. My heart laboring with the frenzy in my chest, I caught her against me and carried her down onto the bed. With a cry of raw pleasure, she shifted beneath me and opened. On a ragged groan, I settled myself in the hot cradle of her thighs and lost myself almost immediately in her tight, wet heat.
I clenched my jaw against my tremors, my heart still slamming in my chest, the intensity of my release leaving me totally spent. It was the sense of smell that returned to me first. The musky scent of sex, sweat, and hot skin, and the feel of her tight around me, clinging to me, anchoring me. God, it felt so good. So damned good.
Drained dry by the wringing climax, I inhaled unevenly and turned my face against her sweat-dampened neck, the rush of blood still pounding through my head. I lay unmoving until my pulse rate quieted; then stirred, my body heavy, my muscles slow to respond. Dredging up what little strength I had left, I braced my weight on my forearms, my chest contracting when I realized how desperately Verity was hanging onto me.
Sensation wrenched loose in my chest, and I closed my eyes and rested my forehead against hers, my throat suddenly contracting. Every time was like the first time with her. I didn’t want it to be the last.
No, I wasn’t going to think that way. Instead, I drenched my senses with the heated scent of her, trying not to think at all.
Finally getting it together, I inhaled with a hitch in my breath, and lifted my head again. Murmuring her name, I reached behind me, loosening her hold around my back, then pressing her down against the bed. She lay with her eyes squeezed shut, and I could feel her trembling beneath me. Smoothing her damp hair back from her face, I leaned down and softly kissed her mouth, then lifted my head. “Look at me, Verity,” I whispered huskily.
She drew a long, tremulous breath, then opened her eyes.
“You okay?” I asked.
She nodded, then closed her eyes again, her arms tightening around my back as she lifted herself up and buried her face against my neck. A rush of throat-clogging emotion made me hug her close, wishing like hell I had a way of stopping time or going back. If I could, I would hang on to this moment for the rest of my life.
Sighing my reluctance, I gave her one final kiss on the neck, then lifted my head, looking down at her, stroking her temple with my thumb. This hadn’t been part of the game plan—to fall into bed with her the minute I got back. I had come prepared to talk, not confuse matters with physical stuff.
But I hadn’t expected her to push it to the limit, either. I should have. Verity wasn’t demure, even though she looked delicate and sweet.
I caressed her again, then spoke, my voice quiet. “Verity.”
She opened her eyes and looked at me, that same expression of uncertainty in her eyes that was probably in mine. Wanting to reassure her, I managed a wry smile. “We have to talk, sugar.”
I saw a flicker of dread, and got a twist around my heart, but I held her eyes, maintaining the off-center smile. “I owe you a big apology, baby,” I said, my voice a little uneven as I rubbed my finger along her bottom lip. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
