At Peace (The 'Burg #2)(24)
My eyes went to the picture on my nightstand and I felt something move in me then settle. It wasn’t painful. I’d already had the pain, nearly a year and a half of it.
It was life.
“You know I’ll always love you,” I whispered to the picture.
The picture didn’t reply but I knew Tim knew. I’d want this for him too if it was me who was gone and him who remained, though it would totally suck. I wouldn’t want him to be alone though. I’d want him to be excited, to feel alive, to live his life and find happiness.
But I left my wedding rings on, I wasn’t ready for that.
I walked through the dark house. It was far earlier, just eleven thirty, but the girls were out, I’d already checked. I disarmed the alarm and looked at the tangle of shoes by the door. None of them would compliment my outfit so I decided against shoes.
I hustled to the back sliding glass door, opened it, slid through it, closed it and then hopped down the steps, running slowly across the yard, the spring dew cold on my bare feet.
His house was dark again, no light on outside but I didn’t pause. I skipped up Joe’s deck steps and before I hit the top, his sliding glass door was opened.
He stood in it, bare-chested, wearing jeans, the top button undone. My breath caught and my step slowed as I walked to him.
He didn’t move from the door when I stopped in front of him and I watched, holding my breath, as his eyes travel the length of me.
Then his arm shot out and hooked around my waist, he pulled me inside and slid the door to.
His fingers glided into the hair at the side of my head and his chin dipped down so his face was close to mine.
“Baby,” he whispered, “you aren’t wearing any shoes.”
He called me “baby”.
And he was worried my feet were cold.
Yes, something was happening here.
I melted into him and put my hands on his neck.
“I couldn’t find any that went with my outfit,” I explained quietly.
His hand tightened against my scalp and I watched in sheer fascination as he grinned. I’d never seen it but from afar and that close, it was un-f*cking-believable.
My stomach dipped but I didn’t get to enjoy the view for very long because his fingers pressed in, pulling my head up, I went to my toes and he kissed me.
* * * * *
The lingerie was pretty much a wasted effort. Joe liked it, I knew, because he growled when he saw it, but he didn’t take much time to enjoy it before he took it off.
He was just as energetic as last night and as insatiable and I decided he probably got a nap.
I had not, so after round two, I wanted more but I couldn’t hack it. I made this point by sliding off his body, snuggling into his side, wrapping my arm around his belly and resting my head on his shoulder.
His fingers gripped my hip.
“Buddy?” he called.
“Sleepy,” I mumbled.
His fingers gripped my hip harder then he turned into me, my head slid from his shoulder to his pillow and his other arm stole around me.
“Violet.”
“Yeah?” I whispered.
He didn’t speak but his body seemed weirdly tense.
I tilted my head back and looked at him.
“Joe?”
“No one calls me Joe.”
“Isn’t that your name?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you not like it?”
He didn’t respond.
“I like the name Joe,” I told him, moving in closer.
His arms got tight.
I kissed the base of his throat then my head settled back into the pillow and I fell asleep.
Chapter Three
Done
Joe Callahan woke with Violet in his arms.
This didn’t happen, ever. Even if he took a woman to his home, which was rare, she didn’t spend the night. On the more frequent occasion when he was in their bed, he left after he was done no matter how creative they got with asking him to stay.
He f**ked them; he didn’t sleep with them, no exceptions.
He dipped his chin while opening his eyes and heard her hair move on the pillow. When he caught sight of her face, she was looking up at him.
Good f**king Christ, she was beautiful.
“Hi,” she whispered, her voice as sleepy as her f**king gorgeous face and he felt that one, single, quiet word in his gut and in his dick.
He didn’t respond and she didn’t seem to mind. She snuggled into him, tucking her face in his throat but her hand slid up his chest, her fingers moving to run gently along his jaw.
He felt her touch in his gut and dick too.
This was a mistake. A huge, f**king, mammoth mistake. Just like Kenzie but far worse. He knew it, he knew it the minute he kicked Kenzie out of his house, turned to Violet, saw her in those f**king ridiculous boots, sexy as hell nightgown and ratty robe and realized who she was, what she was and that he wanted her. He knew it when he walked across his yard while she was shoveling the snow and he explained himself, something he never f**king did. He knew it when he told Colt he’d take her home, knowing when he did he was going to f**k her and standing at her side in the bar, waiting for his opening, which she gave him again and again, looking so f**king cute, sucking on her straw and then, Jesus, knotting a cherry stem with her goddamned tongue. He knew it when she went hot for him the minute he kissed her then she begged for it rough. He knew it when he f**ked her on his ‘Stang, no control, his brain in his dick. He knew it when she crossed her yard for him that first night he had her in his bed. He knew it the first time she took him in her mouth, not sloppy, f**king Christ, the woman could use her mouth. He knew it when she came on his face, no inhibitions, shit, but she was unbelievable and she was his. His. All of her, his.