Reaching Hearts (Hearts Series) (6 page)

I
just nod and watch, waking up to the idea that I could be attractive to a man.
This is a first for me. I reach out and touch the glass of the window, see only
hints of the beauty on the other side. I feel dreamy, that’s the best way to
describe it. Like I walked into a picture book where fantasies come true. “I’d
love to live here,” I whisper.

I
turn and see him working on the dinner, a glass of wine waiting for me next to
him. I walk to it, tucking a short lock of hair behind my ear. I want him to
know
how much
I needed this feeling. Not just to feel attractive, but for someone to care for
me enough to cook me a meal. I miss my family. I miss my only friend, who I
lost. I’ve been so lonely.

“Thank
you for this.”

He
stirs the pan. “A zinfandel. Do you like red?”

“No.
Not for the wine. For cooking for me.” I stop, a lump forming in my throat. I
look down and take a sip, try to wash it down, but it only gets worse. “I was
needing a friend more than I thought.”

His
hand stops circling. The waiting oil sizzles and after a moment, he lowers the
heat with a turn of a knob and comes around the island. He doesn’t touch me,
but I want him to. “I’d like to be your friend, Bella.”

I
know what bella means. But it’s never been applied to me by anyone besides my
parents. With no buffer, no sarcasm, I ask him, “Why?”

He
frowns and searches for the words. “Today… come si dice…”

“Earlier?”
I offer, taking a guess.

“Si.
Earlier. Earlier when I left you, it did not feel good. So I went back to find
you. This?” He motions between us. “This feels good. No?”

“Si,”
I answer, feeling I’m butchering even that one short syllable, but wanting to
respectfully try. “Very good. This feels very good.”

My
left hand has been resting on the island and he looks over and picks it up, taking
it and weaving his fingers with mine while I watch. “Yes. It’s good.”

He
brings me to him with the assuredness of a man who has experience. I let him
lead, knowing I know nothing. My lips fall slightly open. His arms go around me
and he leans in and presses his mouth to mine. A spattering, sizzling noise
tears us apart, our eyes flying to it at the same time. The sauce is going
wild, oil spitting out, and crackling like small fireworks. He leaves me
quickly to tend to it and I touch my fingers to my lips as I watch. The
concentration on his face makes him look more rugged and I love how the muscles
of his arms contract and slice against each other as he picks up the wooden
spoon and holds the pan high off the burner with a thick towel for protection.

I
want him. I know I want him. Knowing this is something I would never normally
do, I open my mouth and say exactly what I’m thinking. “I’d like to spend the
night.”

Surprised,
he looks up, the pan still held in his hand. He blinks and a sexy smile tugs at
his lips. “Si.”

That
was his only answer. I spent the night, and every night after for four and a
half years.

I
feel a hand on my cheek. I blink and see Brendan’s worried eyes asking
questions his mouth isn’t sure he wants to know. I bring my hand up and cover
his, press it into my skin as I struggle hard to keep a tear back. Dammit. If
Christiano knew that I’m here with the man I left him for, and that I never
told him that… he’d be crushed.

“I
can’t do this, Brendan. I’m sorry.” My heart is breaking.

“You
have a boyfriend, don’t you?” He removes his hand, and there’s anger building
quickly behind his question. He starts to bend for his jeans. I don’t blame him
for being angry. He’s naked and vulnerable.

“I
don’t.”

He
doesn’t believe me. His fingers hook on a belt loop, grabbing it. “Jesus. I
can’t believe this.”

I
reach out and stop him. “Hey hey hey. I’m sorry. Wait. Please stop. Look at
me.”

With
his jeans hanging from his hand, he waits, not at all happy.

“I’m
making a mess, aren’t I? Brendan, I don’t have a boyfriend. I don’t. Now don’t
look at me like that. We broke up. But it was long term and he’s not…” I’m not
sure how much to say. If I say he’s not even in this country, then Brendan will
ask where he is and I’ll have to say
Italy
and then he might remember who I am. Did he even know where I was going that day I rode off in the cab? I
don’t remember, but he’s already looking at me like I just tried to pull one
over on him. Fuck, I hate lying. You have to think too much to cover your
tracks.

As
if he can read my mind, he says, “You could be lying to me.”

I
wince and look down, but there’s his now fallen cock staring back at me. This
is horrible. “I don’t have a boyfriend. We did break up. Really. It’s just I
haven’t been with anyone since then. I’m not the sleep around type. Not that I
wouldn’t be, or don’t want to be, but I never really had the opportunity. I’m
talking too much.”

“So, that’s why you’re freaking out.”

“Why?”
I’m not sure what part has filled in the blanks for him.

“Because
you haven’t been with that many guys. You’re still feeling loyalty to him.”

Exhaling
deeply, I say, “Yes. Exactly.”

“Well
that makes sense.”

“Oh good. It just hit me. I’m sorry. It
was really bad timing. I’ve never gone down on anyone besides him and when you said
I was good…”

He
interrupts me, “You’re talking too much again.”

I
laugh uncomfortably.

“Sorry.
Sorry. This is a really sexy conversation, isn’t it?”

He
drops the jeans. “It could be.”

Halter:
ripped from my body, literally. Black bra: exposed. Me: Shocked.

________

“I’ll
go slow, since you’re such a delicate flower,” he teases, but the heat is back
in his eyes and his voice is deep again.

I
hear the quick snap of my bra popping open and he slides it off with ease. Breathless,
I watch him kissing my nipples as he pulls down my jeans.

“Oooo,
that’s nice. Slow is good. I like slow.”

“I
don’t like cheating,” he murmurs against my skin, his tongue reaching out to
give me a little lick.

I
say on a long sigh, “Me neither. Not a fan.”

A
whip of his barely contained laughter grazes my bare stomach as he kneels in
front of me. I touch his shoulders with the hesitancy of someone who just
confessed she’s thinking about her ex. But seeing Brendan’s naked body kneeling
in front of me is stripping away my reluctance and fast.

But
I can’t get it out of my head that I’ve lied to get here. I can turn back. I
can stop and tell him.

“Brendan…”
I gasp as he kisses my silk panties, bringing his hand up to slip his finger
under.

“Yeah?
Mmm… You’ve got hair down here. I like it.” His cock is hardening again as he
kisses the silk once more, pressing against me so that I burn for him, opening.

“Brendan?
…Oh God.”

He
slides my panties down over my legs nice and slow. I step out of them and now
there’s nothing covering me except for my socks. I start to wiggle out of them,
too, but he stops me.

“Leave
‘em. I’m busy here.”

“Yes
sir.”

“That’s
more like it.” Without warning, he buries his face in me and lifts up my leg to
wrap it around his head. I watch his head moving in and out slightly as he
licks me. Both his hands are on my ass, with one arm wrapped under me. He
pushes my thigh out more so his tongue can easily reach further in. Just like
he promised, he licks me slowly, sliding into my folds and caressing my clit
with the tip of his tongue. I weave my fingers into his hair and curve my hips
so he can get at me. Shivers run up my stomach to my nipples, twisting them.

“You
taste so good. I just want to keep eating you.”

“Who’s
stopping you?”

He
laughs, the sound muffled, which makes me start giggling like crazy. He shuts
that right up by plunging his tongue inside me and grabbing my ass harder. I
cry out and can’t help but rub on his face, abandoning myself to the quaking
that’s just below the surface. I’m moaning so loudly, dripping wet, feeling the
sweet burning sensation build more and more.

“Wait.
Wait!” I pull on his head. “I need you inside me.”

He
rises, wiping his mouth with the back of his arm. Looking down I see his cock
is dark and full again. All I want is for him to plunge it deep inside my body.

“You
could have both.”

“No.
I’ve been waiting for this,” I say, not thinking how strange that must sound.
My mind is gone.

His
eyebrows rise a little, and something stares back at me that I won’t understand
tonight. I grab him and pull him to me as hard as I can. His arms go up on the
wall and our bodies press together, my hands on his ribcage, elbows bent. Out
of breath, I wrap my leg around his hip, feeling his cock hard against my inner
thigh. He reaches for my hands and pulls them over my head, bending his knees
to position himself. I move my hips a little to welcome him in and with a
single thrust he plunges into me as both of us close our eyes and moan
together, our chests smashed. I can taste myself on his lips as he kisses me
hard. I do taste good and the lack of shame in tasting this is so intensely
hot.

He
thrusts into me, going all the way in each and every time, then pulling out
like a man who knows exactly how to do it. I cry out into his mouth, over and
over as he fills me. It feels like we’re consuming each other. My heart expands
as the wave of disbelief takes over me. I yank my mouth away so I can look into
his eyes. With my hands held by him over our heads, he looks back at
me and groans,
moving his hips, lost in his hunger. I grab
his mouth in a kiss, making him hammer harder into me, my back slamming against
the wall. A primal animal instinct has us. He drops my hands, quickly yanking
both my legs up. I grab onto his back and hold on for dear life as we fuck in a
dark corner of my bar
. Best investment I
ever made
pops into my head and I almost start to laugh but he shakes his
head no and clamps his mouth onto mine again, ramming harder to make my
laughter vanish, succeeding instantly. I don’t want it done gently. I want to
be fucked like this. Hard and by someone who knows how.

The
whole length of him slips into me and he holds there. He moves his hips around,
still set deeply inside me and I throw my head back. “Oh God,” I say on a gasp
as the rocking of his hips pulls out my first contraction.

“Hey.
Look at me.”

I
do and he stares at me, jerking his whole body up. Gazing back at the man I’ve
loved for so long throws me completely over the edge. My release is intense and
rocks into me to, enjoying that he’s doing this to me. He groans and moves in
and out again, staring at me as he pulses, releasing into me and bringing my
orgasm higher. I realize suddenly that this feeling is new. It’s the feeling of
not having a condom on. There is nothing between us. But it’s too late. There’s
no turning back. My back arches, my breasts pressed into his as his mouth falls
onto my shoulder, sucking on it as his body jerks. “Oh my God. Shit. I forgot
to put a condom on. I haven’t done that in six years.”

“It’s
okay. I’m sure it’s fine.”

He
gasps, holding me, our eyes closed, spent and delirious. We don’t hear the door
open. We don’t see the man standing by it, wearing a ski mask, high on
adrenaline and drugs.

“GIVE
ME YOUR MONEY!!!”

Our
heads whip in the direction to see a gun pointed directly at us. Before I know
it, Brendan releases me and has grabbed my jeans and halter with one hand, his
other held out like he can block a bullet with his palm.

“Hold
on, man. Now just settle down. Annie, get dressed.”

“FUCKIN’
GIVE ME YOUR MONEY OR I’LL BLOW YOUR FUCKIN’ BRAINS OUT!
HERS
TOO, LOVERBOY.
NOW LET’S GO!”

“Oh my God,” I whisper, pulling up my
jeans as quickly as I can as Brendan yanks his on, too. The gun jerks a warning
at us. Other than this warning, his hand is shockingly still. This isn’t the
guy’s first robbery. My halter scrambles back over my head as fast as I can get
it on.
I forgot to lock the door after
Brendan got here.

“Give
me all your money!” His voice is terrifying as louder he yells, “NOW!”

Brendan,
shirtless and barefoot, tries to appease him, saying as calmly and soothingly
as he can, “Look. Here’s my wallet. Take it.”

“Throw
it on the ground!”

I
can’t keep my eyes off the gun. Brendan takes half a step and drops his leather
wallet onto the floor with a dull thud. “There. Take it. Just leave us alone,
okay?”

The
guy eyes him through the mask. He bends for the wallet, the gun trained on
Brendan the entire time. But he doesn’t leave. My heart is slamming in my chest
and I’m holding my breath. I see a ring on the guy’s finger. It looks like a
silver skull of a bull.

He
growls, “Now the register!” and jerks the gun toward the bar.

Brendan,
on high alert, looks to me. “Annie.”

“I
have to open it,” I whisper. Fury flashes across Brendan’s face because we have
no other choice. He knows it. I know it. He nods and I edge toward the bar.

“FASTER!”
the gunman yells, taking one terrifying step toward me.

I
jump and Brendan races to soothe him, “Okay. She’s just nervous. Give her a
second. You’re gonna get the money.”

The
gunman backs closer to the door for an easy escape, his gun shifting to cover
us both. I almost fall when I hit a divot in the rubber mat behind the bar.
Gasping, I right
myself and rush to open the register, body
shaking
. Twenties, ten, fives,
ones
– I
grab them all.

“Under
the drawer!” The gunman growls at me.

I
throw him a curt nod to let him know I understand. Lifting the register, I hold
up the few fifty and hundred dollar bills I have, for him to see. “This is it.
There’s no more.”

He
jerks his gun toward him, urging me back. I begin my return, walking slowly,
staring from the barrel of the gun to Brendan’s face. He’s watching the gun,
too. His shirt is still off and all I can think is
why is this happening?
Tears well up in my eyes. My business is
struggling already and now he’s taking all the money we made tonight plus the
extra I had in the register, hoping we’d have a busy night. My mind is swimming
and my heart hurts as the tears fall. I don’t see his finger tense on the trigger.
I don’t see that he has no intention of letting us escape. I don’t see it. But
Brendan does. He sees the intention and jumps in front of me, yelling “NO!”

I
go deaf from the explosion of the shot ringing out. Brendan crumbles to the
ground. I scream. Before I even know what I’m doing, I throw the cash at the
gunman’s face and run forward through it. He flinches and closes his eyes as
anyone would. I knock his firing arm to the left. Another shot rings out. I
grab his wrist with both hands where it’s weak twisting it backward toward him
until he buckles, a natural human instinct to avoid breakage. I bend his
fingers, too, just like my dad taught me, enough for me to grab the gun, jump
back and point it at him. “Get out! Get the fuck out of my bar!”

He’s
shocked. It takes him a second to realize what’s happening.

Just
like he did, I yell louder, “NOW!” He backs out. My hand isn’t like his was.
It’s shaking. But I’m just as dangerous because I’m clear on only one thing. I
don’t have time. Brendan is unconscious. I have to call 911. There is no time.
“FASTER!”

He
backs out the door and I shut it quick, fumbling with my keys to lock it. It
starts to open again and I shoot through it. Hear a yell of pain as I hit my
target through the wood, a hole left behind just like the one in my dad’s glove
compartment in our family truck from the time his gun accidentally went off. I
don’t open it to check if the guy’s dead. I don’t care. Locking the door fast,
I race to Brendan thanking God my dad was a hunter and taught me how to use a
gun.
How to respect its power and know how to harness it when
needed.

I
skid to the ground at Brendan’s side. There’s blood seeping out of his ribcage.
I kneel to check if he’s breathing. Feel for a heartbeat. A faint pulsing pulls
tears of relief and urgency from me. Wiping them away so I can see, I run to
get my phone from behind the bar, dial 911 and rush back to him. Falling to the
floor beside him, I pick up his head to hold it tenderly on my lap.

“911,
what’s your emergency?”

“Someone’s
been shot! We were robbed and the guy had a gun and…”

She
interrupts, “Ma’am, where are you now?” I tell her the address and the name of
my bar, demanding she hurry. She assures me an ambulance is on its way and I
drop the phone.

Stroking
his hair and kissing his forehead, I whisper, “Don’t die. Please don’t die.” I
press down on the wound to stop the bleeding, not sure if this works for gun wounds,
just knife wounds, or what. I’ve only seen it done in the movies, so I pray I’m
doing it right. I feel so lost staring at his face. I kiss his lips, always
holding back the blood. “Please don’t die, Brendan. God, please don’t die.” His
eyelids twitch. “Brendan
?!!
”

Through
narrow slits, he tries to focus on my face. He groans from the pain. “What’s
happening?”

I
keep pressing down on the wound. There’s blood all over my hand. “You jumped in
front of the bullet. You saved my life.”

Growing
louder and louder, multiple sirens rush toward us. He closes his eyes again.
“Annie,” he moans. “It hurts. What are you doing?” He tries to look at the
wound, but his head falls back and his eyes close, weak from blood loss.

“I’m
saving yours.” I kiss him. “Can you hear the sirens? Help is coming. Stay with
me. Please stay with me!”

Banging
on the door pulls my head to that direction. The door is locked. They’re
banging on it, but I don’t want to leave him. What if my hand pressed here is
what’s keeping him alive?

A
police officer appears in the window and yells through it, “Ma’am! Unlock the
door!” I shake my head at him, eyes blurred by tears. He slams his baton into
the glass while someone else, maybe two people, throw their bodies against the
weight of the door trying to break it down. The window caves first. He used his
gun to break it, aiming toward the bar. I squeeze my eyes shut at the explosion
of bullet and glass, lunging my torso to cover Brendan and ducking my own head.

Firemen,
Police and E.M.T.s pour in through what used to be my window, stepping over
shards that reach up dangerously from the frame. Their feet crunch through the
glass on the floor as they race to us. I’m lifted up, my arms reaching toward
Brendan as I cry out, “No!!”

“We’ve
got him.”

I
weep, restrained by stronger arms than mine, as I watch the E.M.T.s check the
wound, press on it. Another runs in with a stretcher and they raise him on it,
rushing to the door. It’s still locked.

Through
my dazed mind, I see what they need and reach for the key attached to my
belt. “Here!” This is the last time
I’ll ever wear it like this. They struggle to detach it from me, but the blood
has made it too slippery. The E.M.T.s are already speeding to the window
instead. “Go through the window!” the police yells to them as if they don’t
already know. But everyone’s in crisis mode and trying to help save Brendan’s
life.