If You See Her (37 page)

“Yeah. Into about a thousand pieces. That sounds right.” He sat back and stared into her eyes. “So no party. And a party doesn’t have to be a big thing, you know. Could just be Lena, Ezra, Law … me.” He stroked his hands higher along her thighs. “They could bring you nice little housewarming gifts, and Lena can cook. She can cook like mad, too. It’s not even about the gifts. Maybe you need to see you can do a party … your way. Not his way.”

“Hmmm. That’s sneaky, Remy.” She leaned in, rubbed her lips against his. “Very sneaky. I don’t know. I’ll think about it.”

“You do that. And after they leave, we could have our own party—the sleepover kind.” He smiled against her mouth. “You like sleepovers, Hope?”

“Sleepovers?” She laughed. Her laugh turned to a sigh as he slipped his fingers higher, higher along her thigh, brushing the edge of her panties. “What kind of sleepover did you have in mind?”

“The kind where you run around in something skimpy and lacy and I peel it off you … then I fuck your brains out,” he muttered. Catching her lower lip between his teeth, he bit lightly. “You don’t have anything lacy on right now, but I could give you a demonstration … if you want.”

“Why don’t you? Since you’re so keen on talking me into parties.”

Remy eased her off his lap.

She stood, but when he went to reach for the waistband of her shorts, she glanced at the naked windows. “No curtains.”

“Turn off the lights,” he said quietly. “Nobody will be able to see in. Tomorrow, we’ll head out and get the curtains.”

She blushed, but did just that. She wasn’t not having
him touch her the entire weekend—she should have bought the damn curtains.

The lights clicked off, casting the room into shadows. Remy’s eyes adjusted just as she came back to stand in front of him and he caught the waistband of her shorts, stripped them off, but left the panties on. Maybe the barrier would help him slow down a little. Tugging her back down onto his lap, he stripped her shirt and bra away. Immediately, he wished he’d thought about curtains, because damn it, he wanted to see her. Even though he’d seen her slender, sweet body before, it wasn’t enough. A hundred times, a thousand times wouldn’t be enough.

Trailing his fingers along the delicate line of her back, he whispered, “I’m really getting addicted to you, Hope.” Tangling his fingers in her hair, he tugged her head to the side and raked his teeth down the exposed line of her neck.

Her breath hissed out of her. Her spine arched. Smiling against her soft skin, he flicked his tongue along her, tasting salt and woman. “You like that?”

“Yeah,” she whispered. “There’s nothing you do that I don’t like.”

“Nothing, huh?” Intoxicated by the taste of her, he shifted around and spilled her back onto the couch, maneuvering until he was half-kneeling, half-lying on the couch with her, sprawled between her spread thighs. “Let’s see how you like this, then.”

She gave a strangled groan when he pressed his mouth to the silk-covered mound of her sex. He could feel her heat through her panties, but she grabbed his hair, tried to press her thighs together. “Remy …” she whimpered.

Shooting a glance at her, he pressed a kiss to the soft flesh inside her leg. “Problem?”

“I haven’t showered since this morning. I’m hot and sweaty from all the moving …”

“Yeah. Me, too. We can shower later. After.”

“But …”

“No buts,” he muttered. Then he kissed her again. When he licked her through the silk, she moaned. Catching the fabric, he tugged it aside and licked her again. “Hot … fuck, yeah, you’re hot.”

Hope shuddered and fisted her hands in his hair again. But this time, she tugged him closer, gasping out his name.

He smiled against her and then proceeded to do to her what she’d been doing to him from the first time he’d laid eyes on her—driving him out of his fucking mind.

In moments, he had her twisting and groaning against him. When he pushed a finger inside her sheath, she cried out his name. He started to work her with both his mouth and his fingers and she came, so hard, and clenching down around him so tight, his cock jerked in jealous anticipation.

As she sagged against the couch, he sat back on his heels, reaching into his pocket. He’d planned ahead for this, thankfully. If he’d had to get up and walk away from her, even just to get a rubber, it might have crippled him. Severely.

He fought with his jeans, the damn rubber, and all of it took too long. By the time he was ready for her, he hurt with need, and he was hovering almost on the verge of climax himself just from looking at her. She reached for him and it was like she’d wrapped a fist around his heart with that simple gesture.

It hit him then.

He loved her.

He was fucking in love with this woman. Not just falling in love, but all the way in love with her, and he didn’t ever want to let her go. Shaken, he reached for her. Drew her close.

Need. Lust.

It was a burning, twisting tangle inside him, and it almost faded as the ache in his heart rose to the front. Reaching up, he fisted a hand in her hair and tugged her head back. “Hope … I love you,” he whispered against her lips.

Her soft, pretty mouth parted. Tears glimmered in the depths of her eyes.

“… what?” she whispered.

“I love you.” Lowering his head, he pressed his mouth to hers. “You don’t need to say it back, although damn it, I hope you do, or can, one day. But I needed to tell you.”

“Remy …”

“Shhhhh.” He kissed her again. Soft. Slow. Teasing her mouth into opening for him. He felt something wet against his cheek. Skimming his mouth along her cheeks, he realized she was crying. He kissed the tears away, then returned to her mouth.

She shuddered under him, arched.

As she did, he felt the heat of her rubbing against his cock and he groaned. Shifting his weight to one arm, he reached down, wrapped one hand around himself, angled against her entrance. As he slid inside, her breath caught on a sigh. “Remy …”

“I love you,” he muttered against her mouth.

Already, it was an ache in his chest, a burning, driving ache that would consume him.

She rocked up to meet him. Her hands streaked up under his shirt, bit into his flesh—tiny, sweet little pains. Her hips rose against his, the silken flesh of her sheath clenched around him. Hot, sweet …

Tearing his mouth away, he stared into glimmering green eyes.

“I love you,” he muttered.

And she cried out his name as she came.

The sound of her cries, the feel of her climaxing
around him, under him, was enough to send him over the edge and he slammed into her, swearing as his own orgasm hit hard and fast.

When it was over, he lay, half on the floor, half on her, with his head on her belly. One of her arms curled around his shoulders and they both breathed raggedly, desperately.

Remy closed his eyes, a faint smile on his lips.

He loved her.

A few months ago, this was the last thing he’d seen coming.

And now, it was the only thing that seemed right. Seemed real.

She hadn’t said it back … but she would, he suspected. She would.

Hope came awake to the feel of his hands on her. His lips gliding down her shoulder. She wondered at the beauty of it, the pleasure. As he eased her onto her back, she sighed and opened her eyes, smiling up at him. His mouth took hers and she opened for him, twining her legs around his hips and shivering as the head of his cock nudged her. He pushed inside and she arched her back, tightened around him as he pushed deep, deeper. She clenched down around him and smiled as he shuddered.

A lean hand, strong, but so gentle, cupped her bottom, lifted her up. She rocked against him, staring up at him, lost in his dark blue eyes, lost in him. Lost in the way he made her feel. How could he make her feel this way? How could anybody make her feel this way?

His mouth brushed over hers, skimmed along her jawline to tease her earlobe, her neck. Shivers broke out along her skin and his name escaped her lips on a broken sigh.

It was so slow … so lazy and sweet, and the heat, the hunger built inside on a slow, gradual wave, breaking over her, breaking over both of them and leaving them shaking and wrapped in each other’s arms.

As her breathing calmed, she realized she had both a goofy smile and tears drying on her face.

The things he made her feel …

Then he whispered against her neck, “I love you, Hope.”

He loved her. This insanely perfect guy loved her. How was this possible? Turning her face into his neck, she held him tight. If ever there was a perfect moment in her life, she was pretty sure this was it. Clutching him close, she breathed in the scent of him and prayed this could just last, forever.

But it didn’t. Perfect moments never did.

And just like perfect moments never could last long enough, it ended way too soon. Remy’s phone rang, the musical tune blasting through the silence. He groaned against her neck, then swore.

“Shit.” Rolling over onto his back, he reached down and groped around on the floor for his jeans, fishing the phone out of his pocket. “Jennings,” he said. She tuned out the conversation, her mind still buzzed from sleep and sex. Then he laid a hand on her belly and her sleepy mind focused, heat burning through the fog in no time. Shivering, she rolled to her side and stared at him.

He gave her a smile, but there was a look in his eyes as he continued to listen to whoever was on the other end of the phone. That flat, focused look—his lawyer look, she realized. She recognized that look. It was hard not to, since there had been a few times when it had been directed at her.

Two minutes passed before he disconnected.

“I’ve got to go,” he said quietly.

“I kind of figured.” Stroking a hand down his arm,
she gave him a faint smile. “You got time to eat anything?”

“No. Need to shower. I’ve got extra clothes in my car so I’m good there—it’s the weekend, so I’m not expected to be all suit and tie, but I don’t have any time.”

“Is everything okay?”

He curled his lip. “Yeah. Just a minor problem I need to deal with.” He sat up and bent over her, bussing her lips with his. “Will you be around here all day?”

“Probably. Other than curtains.” Aware of the blush creeping up over her cheeks, she shot the window a narrow look. “I can’t run around this place without curtains up—just can’t do it.”

“If you can wait awhile, I might be able to go with you.” He stroked his hand in absent circles over her belly and the heat of his hand, memories of the night they’d spent, had her aching to reach out and touch him. She curled her fingers into fists to keep from doing just that.

Focus, Hope. Just focus
. Shifting her attention to the naked windows, she concentrated on them for about ten seconds and then looked back at Remy. “I can handle picking out curtains and rods on my own, I think,” she said lightly. “I’m not helpless.”

His fingers flexed. “It’s not about you being helpless.” His lids drooped low over his eyes, shielding them from her. “It’s about him. I don’t like him being around and us not knowing what he’s up to, angel. I just don’t like it.”

Neither did she. But she’d be damned if she let Joe make her a prisoner again. “I can’t just sit around waiting until I know what’s going on with him,” she said quietly. “I’m just going into Lexington—I’ll find a Home Depot, something like that. I’ve already got the measurements and all.”

A grim look tightened his face. “And if it was Joe following you on the road?”

Hope swallowed. Sitting up, she grabbed the sheet and wound it around her before she stood up. “If it was … it was.” On her way to the bathroom, she stopped and looked back at him. “He used to lock me in my room, you know. After I got out of the institution. He’d figured out how much I hated being locked up. So that became his favorite form of torture. If I stay here, just because I think he might be out there … I’m just giving him the keys to lock me away again. And I’m not doing that.”

Brooding, Remy scrubbed his hair and body with more force than necessary and hoped it would lessen some of the anger, the fear. Part of him wanted to tell her she was being foolish—reckless.

But how could he argue with her logic?

She didn’t even know for sure it was Joe. Or so she claimed. He suspected she felt the same way he did.

It was Joe. He was here, looking to take his wife home, probably thinking he could intimidate her into doing whatever in the hell he wanted.

But what were they to do?

Hope couldn’t stand being tucked away inside her apartment—he could see that clearly enough. And although she hadn’t voiced it, he suspected she had finally realized she had a core of strength inside her, the strength that had gotten her through that hell.

Remy couldn’t do anything that would take that away from her. She was trying so fucking hard to find herself again.

“And what if he does try to come after her?” he muttered. “What then?”

Shit. This was a mess.

What he wanted to do was keep her with him where
he knew she’d be safe, where he could watch over her and make sure nobody hurt her. But the entire damn reason she’d left Reilly’s place was because she needed to prove to herself she could be on her own.

Fuck.

Remy already knew how he’d feel if somebody tried to tell him he needed to stay tucked away for his own safety. And despite the fact that Hope was a woman—
his
woman and he wanted to protect her more than he wanted his next breath—he also knew that if he did or said anything that would take away from the life she was finally building for herself, it would damage what they were building. Worse, it would damage her.

He couldn’t do that to her.

No. This was best. She had to just keep living, keep building this life she was building … and he’d just keep watching her.

She didn’t have to know that he was going to have somebody watching her, checking in on her from time to time. That wasn’t really a bad thing to do, considering the circumstances … right?

After he climbed out of the shower, he left the water running while he made the call. It couldn’t hurt. If Hope was wrong, then at least they’d know. But if she was right … then they would know … and she’d be safer for it.