Fatal Strike (McClouds & Friends #10)(136)

“I know,” he admitted. “I’m not anywhere near as nice a guy as you seem to think. I fight my demons, too. And I love control. I really do.” He paused, blew out a shaky breath. “But not as much as I love you.”

He couldn’t bear to look at her after saying it. He stared out at the mountains, which were barely visible now, the vast expanse of sky was so blurred with falling snow.

“So, you think that all my feelings for you are just some chemical brew that Greaves cooked up artificially?” Her voice was small. “You think I’m some plastic doll? You push a button and she falls in love? That’s all my love is to you?”

“Not at all,” he said wearily. “I was just trying to let you figure out how you really felt. Without all the drama, all the weird stuff.” He hesitated, then forced himself to ask. “So, uh. How do you feel?”

“Like you don’t trust me,” she said.

He let out trapped breath in a long exhalation and reached out, taking her hand. “Let me show you something,” he said.

She let herself be led across the site. Her slender hand was so cool. Their fingers clasped, tightening, and his heart practically leaped out of his chest.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked.

“It’s a surprise,” he said. “It’s not far.”

She let her hair swing down as she walked, shielding her face from his gaze, but every now and then, he caught a glimpse of her shy gaze, her smiling lips. Her fingers wound around his, and the pressure made every cell in his body vibrate with startled joy. They paced through the towering cathedral of trees. The shadows deepened, but there was still light in the sky as they rounded the curve of the hill.

They heard it before they saw it. An incredulous smile illuminated her face. “Oh, my God, Miles,” she said. “You didn’t. No way.”

He gave her a crooked smile, opting not to speak, since he didn’t trust his voice. He led her around the bend, to show her the reason he’d bought the property.

A mountain stream meandered down the mountain side. It had channeled itself into a mossy cleft between two dark stones, creating a natural spout that gushed down in a thick horsetail of water, about seven feet high. When that stream hit the rocks below, it splashed out and subdivided into smaller ones, creating a pyramid of waterfalls. Icy clear water swirled below into a small, deep pool, which was going to be an awesome place to cool down on a summer’s day. The spray had frozen onto every twig and leaf nearby, turning the place into a crystalline facsimile of itself.

“In a while, it’ll freeze,” he said. “It’ll be an ice sculpture, until spring. Then it will come to life again. If you’re patient.” He couldn’t look at her, just stared at the falling water, his face hot with emotion. “So. As you can see, I had very high hopes about the quality of your love.”

She took his arm and gently turned him to face her. “This is for me, then?” she asked. “For Lara, who loves waterfalls? Not a machine manipulated with chemicals, who can be had by any lucky dog who comes along? You know who I am, right? You feel me?”

“I know you.” His voice was thick. “I feel you. It’s all for you. Only you.”

She pulled his hand up, stroked it against the impossibly soft, warm skin of her cheek. Then she unbuttoned the top button of her coat. “I feel you, too. And this feeling is specific to you. Only you.”

“Yes,” he said.

“You believe me?” She undid another button.

He laughed, wiping his eyes. “Yes. I believe you. I swear. What the hell are you doing with that coat? Button it up! It’s freezing out here!”

“I have something to show you, too.” She undid the buttons all the way down the heavy coat, and shrugged it off her shoulders, letting it drape from her elbows.

He rocked backwards, dazzled.

His dream Lara made flesh, right here, so soft and hot and real. She wore the very dress she’d worn in their dream trysts. He would not have been able to describe the garment until he saw it, but he knew it inside out, right down to the nose-tickling texture and smell of it. So soft and girlish and sexy, with those flirty puckers and swirls and flounces. The low neckline showed off her gorgous tits. An intoxicating waft of hot, honey-sweet Lara scent rose up, dizzying him. His erection, ever at half mast in her presence, swelled to two hundred percent.

“God,” he said, helplessly. “Where did you find that?”

“At that thrift shop,” she said. “I found it the morning that you put me on the bus. You actually bought it yourself, but you didn’t notice, you were so busy talking to Seth, setting things up for me.”

“It’s . . . it’s amazing.” He reached out, touched her.

She had goosebumps from the cold. Under the filmy wisp of chiffon over her shoulder was the scar, angry red against pale skin, the cruel marks of the surgery, the stitches. His fingers brushed over it, and he wished, not for the first time, that he had the power to take all that away. Heal all the hurts with a magic wave of his hand, his love.

“I thought I’d lost the dress at the bus station. That’s where they nabbed me, you see. Then Nina suggested that I try the lost and found, and lo and behold. The bag was there, with everything still in it.”

He shook his head, speechless. Memorizing the details with his eyes, with his fingers. So soft, so warm. The pale globes of her tits, compressed lushly against the tight bodice. Bodacious cleavage. Yum.