All A Heart Needs B&N (24 page)

"And Stacy. I feel like I'm missing something. I don't know what it is, but it tugs at the back of my mind, some piece of information that I can't understand and I can't get out of my head."

"What could you have missed?"

"I don't know, and I don’t think I'm going to be able to figure it out," he said with a frustrated sigh.

"I think it's just guilt that weighs on your mind, Sean. You have to find a way to make peace with yourself."

"I thought I had. I really didn't spend every day of the last twenty years thinking about Stacy. But now that I say that, I feel guilty that I didn't. What the hell is wrong with me?"

She gave him a soft smile. "Nothing is wrong with you. You have a big heart and a strong sense of justice and loyalty to friends."

"A lot of good that does me," he grumbled, covering up the fact that he appreciated her words more than he could ever say.

"You're a good man, Sean. Don't doubt that. Don't let one mistake from twenty years ago color your whole life. Stacy wouldn't want that."

"You never met her."

"I have met her—through her photos and her things and through you. She loved life. She loved you. You owe it to her to have everything she didn't have."

He stared into Jessica's warm brown eyes as her words resonated within him. She was right. And somewhere in his head he heard Stacy's quick laugh, as if she were happy that he was finally getting it.

"Shall we go?" Jessica asked.

"Yeah. Let's go," he said, as they left the garage.

"Should we drive or walk?"

"Let's walk."

"Through the dark neighborhood?" she asked a little nervously.

"I'll protect you," he said, reaching for her hand.

Her fingers tightened around his. "Don't let go."

He met her gaze. "I won't."

* * *

They left through the side door. Jessica took a minute to lock it, and then they headed down the driveway. Sally's house was dark except for one light in an upstairs bedroom. At Brett's house, Sean could see the television on in the living room but no sign of any people. He wasn't worried about being attacked in the street, but he was happy to have Jess by his side as they walked down the block, because it seemed to be a night where memories were incredibly vivid, and he was once again reliving his steps on that fateful night.

The wind picked up and the tall trees swayed, and like Jessica had said earlier that night, he had the feeling someone was watching them. He was glad when they finally turned the corner. There was something about the big Callaway house that felt safe and secure.

"I hope we don't run into your parents," Jessica murmured. "I don't want them to get the wrong idea about us."

"Neither do I," he said, in wholehearted agreement. "But their bedroom is on the opposite side of the house, so with any luck, no one will see us go upstairs. It's the beauty of the garage apartment; it's very private." As they approached the house, he saw lights on in his parents' room but the rest of the home was dark. "Looks like we're good." He led her up the stairs and opened the door, ushering her inside. "It's a little messy. I didn't want to unpack since I'm only here for a short time, so I've been living out of suitcases and boxes."

Jessica nodded as she glanced around the studio apartment. "I didn't realize there was a kitchen up here."

"It used to be a rental when we were small. But as the family expanded, and the kids grew up, my parents started to use it as an extra bedroom. I coveted this apartment for years. But being fifth in the lineup of kids, I was stuck in the house while Burke and Aiden and later Drew had all kinds of crazy parties out here."

"That sounds like fun."

"I'd see hot girl after hot girl coming down the driveway," he joked.

"Your brothers are not bad looking, I have to say."

"Only my brothers?"

"You know what you look like," she retorted. "And if you don't, I'm sure one of the many beautiful girls who come to your concerts could tell you. So, Nicole and Emma didn't try for the apartment?"

"I don't know if they wanted to live here, but I suspect my father wanted the girls in the main house."

"Makes sense. Well, you're here now. You can live out all your teen fantasies," she teased.

"Don't tempt me."

She caught her breath at his words. And just like that he'd changed the air from comfortable to tense. "Sean," she began.

He didn't know where she was going with that sentence, but judging by the look in her eyes he wanted to go with her. She licked her lips, and the swipe of her tongue made his body hard. Who the hell was he kidding? He couldn't do this. He couldn't spend the night with her and not make love to her.

"I should stay in the main house," he said.

"No. I don't want to be alone."

"Jessica—"

"We can do this," she said cutting him off. "We can be friends. It will be fine."

He wanted to agree, but he had a feeling that her definition of
fine
was vastly different than his.

"Can I use the bathroom?" she asked.

"It's right over there."

He was grateful for the respite. He needed a few minutes to pull himself together so that things really would be
fine
between them.

While Jessica was in the bathroom, Sean kicked off his shoes. Then he grabbed a blanket off the shelf in the closet and tossed it to the sofa, along with one of the pillows from his bed. He forced himself not to think about the night ahead—Jessica curled up in his sheets, her beautiful dark hair spread across the pillow, her body soft and warm, her lips so inviting.

Damn! It was going to be a long night.

He sat down on the sofa and picked up his guitar. He needed a distraction and music had always been able to take him somewhere else. He strummed a few random chords, trying to get his mind off Jessica, but he was still fighting the desire when she walked out of the bathroom and sat down on the edge of the bed. He tried not to look at her. But he could hear her—even the soft swoosh of her breath turned him on.

"Will you play something for me?" Jessica asked a moment later.

He cleared his throat, still not looking at her. "Sure. What do you want to hear?"

"
Moonlight Girl
is one of my favorites."

He looked down at his guitar and then played the opening chords. He'd written
Moonlight Girl
when he was twenty years old, and over the years it had been one of his most popular songs.

He could hear Jessica scoot backwards on the bed, settling against his pillows, but he forced himself to concentrate on the song.

"She came out of the shadows, her face kissed by the moonlight," he sang. "She pulled him out of the dark, gave him hope and a spark for a life and a love that would last forever."

The girl in the song had never really had a clear face to him, but as he finished the last few words, he lifted his gaze and looked across the room at the beautiful dark-haired, dark-eyed woman on his bed, and her face became clear. He hadn't known who he was writing about back then. The moonlight girl had been a fantasy of a love that had yet to come.

Had it come now?

"That was wonderful," she said. "Did you write that song for a girlfriend?"

He shook his head. "No."

"Really? It sounded like you were inspired by someone."

"Maybe tonight I felt inspired," he said quietly.

The smile on her face faded. "It's not fair, you know."

"What's not fair?"

"That you can seduce me with a song."

"It's not fair that you can seduce me with your eyes—your beautiful, expressive eyes that show every emotion."

She stared back at him. "What emotion do you see now?"

"Desire, attraction, uncertainty."

"My eyes told you all that?"

"Am I wrong?"

She slowly shook her head. "You're not wrong. Play me something else."

"What do you want to hear?"

"Do you ever play classical music?"

He was surprised by the question. "As a matter of fact, I do. What do you like?"

"I used to dance to
Bagatelle No. 2
by William Walton."

"One of my favorite pieces," he said, taken aback.

"Really?" she asked, her gaze meeting his.

"Yes. It's haunting, evocative."

"Like you're dancing in someone's dream," she finished.

"Or playing the score," he countered.

She smiled. "I see everything through movement."

"And I see the chords. I have to warn you I'm a little rusty on this kind of complicated piece." He got up and exchanged his guitar for another. "The strings on this will sound better." He settled back on the couch and started to play. He had a few missteps in the beginning, but as he went along, the music came back to him.

He'd spent a year training under a superb classical guitarist and he'd forgotten how much he loved playing compositions that took the guitar to another level, turning the instrument into a miniature orchestra.

When he finished that piece, he played another and another, letting the music surround them with its power and emotion.

Finally, his fingers came to rest and he looked across the room. Jessica had been so quiet, he'd wondered if she'd fallen asleep. But she wasn't asleep, and she was no longer sitting on the bed; she was walking toward him.

His heart leapt into his throat.

She stopped in front of him, her gaze full of purpose. She took the guitar out of his hands and placed it on the ground. Then she sat down next to him.

"Jess," he began.

"No talking." She put her fingers against his lips. "We're done with conversation."

His pulse began to race. He wanted to ask her if she was sure she wanted to do this, but as she drew her thumb across his mouth, all questions faded from his mind. He didn't want to talk any more, either. Nor did he want to think about all the reasons being with Jessica was a bad idea. It seemed like an excellent idea right now, and she seemed to feel the same way.

Her hand drifted across his cheek, sliding through his hair, and down to his neck. Then she put her other hand on the opposite side of his face and moved even closer. Her breath teased his face—a tantalizing torture. Then she finally pressed her mouth against his.

It might have been the absolute best kiss of his life.

He loved the fullness of her lips, the scent of her skin and hair that enveloped him in a perfume that was all Jess—only Jess.

He let her lead, enjoying her slide from tentative to certain as she grew more comfortable in the kiss, as she teased his lips apart, and let her tongue tangle with his.

She was such a mix of sweet and sexy, hard and soft, cynical and optimistic, a woman who had seen hard times and yet still seemed innocent. She deserved the best of life and the best of him, and tonight he was going to give her that.

He put his hands on her waist, his fingers moving under her top to find hot, bare skin. She pressed her breasts against his chest as her arms moved around his neck.

He slipped his tongue between her lips, deepening their connection as his hands slid up her abdomen. He could feel her tense, but when she shifted, it was only to give him more room to touch her, and he grabbed the opportunity, moving his hands up to her breasts. He was shocked and thrilled to find out she wasn't wearing a bra. His hand covered one breast, and she let out a small moan of pleasure. The sound made him even harder. There was no more going slow, no more patience for exploring. He wanted her clothes off. He wanted her naked body against his. He wanted inside.

Jessica broke away from the kiss, her lips pink, her eyes glittering with desire and need.

"Please don't say you want to stop," he said.

She smiled. "No way." She put her hands on the bottom of her top and then lifted it over her head and tossed it on the floor.

She had the most beautiful breasts he'd ever seen, her long dark hair falling across one nipple. She made no move to cover herself up, which made him very happy.

"Your turn," she murmured, helping him off with his shirt.

Then she took his hands and put them on her breasts. It was a bold, unexpected move, and he loved it. She smiled again, and he smiled back at her. His hands moved around her breasts in a teasing caress. Her nipples pebbled under his touch. And then he lowered his mouth to her breast and swirled his tongue around the point.

She put her hands in his hair, urging him on, holding him closer. He took his time, enjoying each new inch of discovery. He wanted to touch and taste her all over. He wanted to know her and for her to know him. He wanted to make every nerve ending come alive. He wanted to start a fire that would never go out.

He lifted his head to look at her. "Jess?"

She answered his unspoken question. "Yes."

"Do you want to take this to the bed?"

She shook her head. "No, right here."

"Okay, hang on one second." He ran into the bathroom, grabbed a condom and came back.

Jessica had pulled off her yoga pants and was sliding a pink thong down her legs. His mouth went dry. Looking at her bare body, he found his hands shaking as he unzipped his jeans and stepped out of them. He'd never felt such nervous excitement before.

Then she reached for his hands and pulled him down to her. "Love me, Sean."

She really didn't have to ask.

He pressed against her, wanting every point of contact—mouth, breast, hips, groin, legs. She was so soft. Her curves fit perfectly with his body as they moved together, he felt as if they were creating their own dance. Every kiss, every touch, every slide, every move brought them closer and closer together, until they were one, until he didn't know where he ended and she began, until the dam that had been building inside of him finally burst free.

* * *

They moved from the couch to the bed a little after midnight. The second time they made love, Jessica took more time exploring Sean's body while he did the same to her. As a dancer, she'd never been shy about her body. It was the tool she used to express herself, and she'd been trained to be aware of every muscle, every ligament, every trigger point. Sean had hit all those triggers tonight, touching her, tasting her, teasing her, basically driving her out of her mind. And she'd loved every second of it.