Reunion in Death (In Death #14)(68)

She stopped. Because she understood it wasn't just her that might be broken. "It hurts you as much as me. I forget that."

"I want him dead, and he's dead already." He flexed his battered knuckles. "So, nothing to be done about it. Still, I want to beat my fists into his face; I want to rip the heart out of his chest before ever he laid hands on you. I'd give everything I own if I could. Instead, there's nothing."

"Roarke-"

"My father was there." His head snapped up, his gaze boring into hers. "Maybe in that very room. We know that now. I don't know as his various and filthy appetites ran to young girls, but if the timing had been just a bit different, you might have been sold to him." He nodded, reading her face. "I see that's occurred to you as well."

"It didn't happen. There's enough that did without adding to it. And don't say there's nothing. Most of my life I kept all this buried, kept it in the dark. I've remembered more in the past year than I could in all the years before. Because you were there, and I could face it. I don't know if I'll ever have it all. I don't know if I'll ever want to have it all. And after today, I know that it's never going away. It's there."

She clenched a hand between her br**sts. "It's here, inside me, and it'll bite off pieces when it can. But I can take it because you're there. Because you know how it feels. You're the only one who really knows. And because you love me enough to feel it. When you look at me, and I see that, I can take anything."

She took the last step to him, slipped her arms around him, drew him close. "Be with me."

He buried his face in her hair. His arms came tight around her, viced them together as the rage drained out of him. "Eve."

"Just be with me." She skimmed her lips over his cheek, found his mouth. Poured herself into him.

Everything inside him opened for her, opened to her so that she filled the dark corners. The violence that lived with them both shrank back.

Mouth against mouth, he lifted her, cradling her there for a moment. As he would something precious. Something rare. He carried her into the bedroom where the strong sun streamed through the glass.

They would love in the light. He laid her on the wide bed, centered her on soft fabric. He wanted to give her softness, comfort, and the beauty they'd both once starved for. He needed to give her the beauty of what this act was meant to be, a beauty so strong it could smother the ugliness some made of it.

The hands that had pounded with rage until they'd bled were gentle when they touched her.

It was she who drew him down, held him close. Who sighed when he sighed. They would comfort each other now.

Her lips met his, parted. The softest, sweetest of mat-ings. Her hands stroked his back, along the hard ridge of muscle as his body fit to hers.

She loved the weight of him, the lines and planes of him, the scent and the taste of him. When his lips roamed to her throat, she angled her head to give them both more.

There was tenderness in long, lush kisses, in slow, sliding caresses. And warmth, shimmering over skin, then under it until bones melted.

He parted the robe, trailed lazy kisses down her flesh. Steeped in her, he traced fingertips over subtle curves, lingering when she sighed or she trembled. And watched with pleasure as color bloomed on her face.

"Darling Eve." His lips found hers again, rubbed gently. "So beautiful."

"I'm not beautiful."

She felt his lips curve against hers. "This isn't the time to argue with a man." He closed a hand lightly over her breast, easing back to watch her. "Small and firm here." He flicked a thumb over her nipple, heard her breath catch. "Those eyes of yours, like old gold. Fascinating how they see everything but what I do when I look at you."

He lowered his head to nibble at her mouth. "Soft lips. Irresistible. Stubborn chin, always ready to take a punch." He skimmed his tongue over the shallow dent. "I love that spot there, and this," he whispered, trailing his lips down to the underside of her jaw.

"My Eve, so long and lean." He ran his hand down the length of her. And when he cupped her, she was already hot, already wet. "Go up, darling. Slide over."

She was, helplessly, with a quiet moan that was both pleasure and surrender.

He made her feel beautiful. Made her feel clean. Made her feel whole. She reached for him now, rolling with him in a kind of dance without heat or hurry. The sun splashed over them as the air went thick with sighs and murmurs. She touched and tasted and gave as he did. Lost herself as he did.

When she rose to him, when he slid inside her, her vision blurred with tears.

"Don't." He pressed his cheek to hers. "Ah, don't."

"No." She framed his face, let the tears come. "It's so right. It's so perfect. Can't you see?" She lifted to him again. "Can't you feel?" She smiled even as the tears sparkled on her cheeks. "You've made me beautiful."

She held his face in her hands as they moved together, took that silky glide. When she felt him quiver, saw his eyes go to midnight, she knew it was he who surrendered.

After, they lay quiet, wrapped in each other. He waited for her arms to go limp, to slide away so he knew she slept. When they didn't, he brushed a kiss over her hair.

"If you won't sleep, you'll eat."