The Truth About Love (17 page)

“You . . .” She touched her hand to his chest. “Are one of the most amazing people I’ve ever met.”

And somehow he knew she believed it. The conviction in her gaze gave him a power, a knowledge, his father could never take away.

He lowered his head, brushing his lips slowly across the softness of her mouth. The tumult of emotions crashing inside his body changed from anger at his father to a passion he’d never known. He cupped her face in his hands, kissing her—gently at first, then pulling her tightly against him while he tried to drink in every facet of her.

He felt like he was put on earth to kiss her. To hold her. To lie beside her.

And he hoped to God she felt the same way.

CHAPTER TWENTY

G
ina closed her eyes as Landon’s lips brushed hers. She knew the unmistakable energy that crackled between them. Felt the urgency of his kiss the second his lips settled on hers.

Theirs was a passion that had been denied too long. A force that drove his body to hers, and hers to him. His tongue claimed hers in a way that hadn’t been present in their earlier kisses—a confidence, a certainty that this was meant to be.

One of his big hands splayed across her back, pulling her to him until she felt each sculpted muscle on his chest and stomach. She raised her hands to his waistline and slipped them inside his untucked shirt. She was rewarded by a barely audible moan as she feathered her fingertips across his sides.

His lips left hers, tracing a line down her neck to her collarbone while his hands glided across her shoulders. He cupped her breasts on the outside of her shirt, his thumbs tracing circles against her hardened nipples.

Everything in her head screamed “Stop.” Yes, the DNA had been inconclusive, but she still planned to work to get Cyrus Alexander out of prison. She had to find an answer, for both Cyrus and Landon. Professional duties and the sting of Christopher’s betrayal wove together in her consciousness, only to be swept away by how right it felt to be here with Landon. How nothing else in the world seemed to matter. How she could sort out her feelings tomorrow, once he’d glided his eager hands over her body.

As she surrendered to the war inside her, he slipped her top over her head, dropping it to the floor. His gaze and his hands followed the curves of her breasts like they were a priceless treasure.

His chest rose and fell twice before his eyes met hers. “You . . . are . . . so . . . beautiful,” he said, then lowered his mouth to her breast, stroking it with his tongue while his other hand caressed its mate.

She arched her back, offering herself to him as if no pain, no sorrow could come from tonight. The need that burned inside her didn’t know tomorrow, but only the urgency of the moment. The need to touch him, to feel his skin on hers. She raised the fabric of his shirt to feel the striated muscles of his stomach beneath her fingers. He pulled away long enough to yank the shirt over his head, leaving her to marvel at the chest that resembled a work of art as much as it did a living man.

Her hands explored the roundness of his biceps, the softness of his hair where it curled at his neck, the feeling of solidness that only Landon gave her.

Finally, her fingers traveled to the front of his shorts, outlining the hardened ridge beneath the fabric. She could tell by the way he touched her that he needed her as badly as she needed him. She used both hands to unbuckle his belt and ease down the zipper.

“Make love to me,” she whispered as he kissed the nape of her neck.

A slow, shuddering breath heated the sensitive spot behind her ear. “Bedroom,” he said, as if he couldn’t say any more.

He followed her there and glided his hands over her hips and backside as she bent over the bed to move the book she’d been reading before she fell asleep. When she turned to face him, those green eyes she would never forget were clouded with emotion, darker than she’d ever seen them.

He gently pushed her panties down, then stopped her arm as she reached to turn off the bedside lamp. “I . . . want to see . . . everything,” he said, his voice shuddering with passion.

She dropped her hand, leaving the faint light on to illuminate them. All the better to see his wonderful body as it joined with hers. Since they could have only one night together, at least her mind would be imprinted with memories of it. She slid her hands inside the waistband of his shorts and pushed them down, marveling at the sight of his strong body. His muscular hips and thighs. The erection that showed her so clearly how much he wanted her.

He guided her to lie on the bed and resumed his exploration as their bodies twined together. Again, his mouth covered her breast. His hand slowly skimmed her rib cage, her stomach, the outside of her thigh.

When his gentle touch slid up the inside of her legs, she parted them, opening herself to him. He slid a finger inside, then bathed her in the wetness, stroking her to a level of desire she wasn’t sure she could maintain. Never before had a man been as concerned with her pleasure as he had been with his own. Never before had sleeping with someone felt like such an act of sharing.

She ran her hands along his spine, beckoning him. Knowing the level of pleasure they’d both get when they joined together.

He rolled away from her and fumbled with his wallet before donning a condom. His face was filled with need as he settled himself on top of her and—with his green eyes never leaving hers—slid himself inside with one motion, gentle but firm.

He touched her in places she’d never been touched before. Drowned her with emotion she didn’t want to have. Gave her more pleasure than she’d ever imagined possible. She closed her eyes, every cell in her body attuned to the uncontrolled passion between them. Her fingers wrapped around his straining biceps, feeling the strength he shared with her.

Three breathless moans escaped her as she came. He thrust two more times, then released himself inside her. When their hips stilled, they lay there, spent, as if neither wanted the moment to end.

Finally, he raised his head. His gaze returned to hers.

And she feared she was lost forever.

Landon’s fingers toyed with the ends of Gina’s strawberry-blonde hair as her soft breath warmed his chest. Now
that
had been the best, most mind-blowing sex of his life. He wouldn’t even put it in the same category with the times he’d slept with other women.

He still couldn’t believe he’d actually gotten to touch her, to push himself inside her, especially when he’d spent so many days convincing himself he wasn’t attracted to her.

Yeah, right.

Like he’d ever really believed that line of BS he’d told himself.

But he hadn’t stopped long enough to evaluate all the reasons he shouldn’t sleep with her. Not when she was standing in her living room, the outline of her nipples piercing her T-shirt.

There’d been obvious attraction from the first time they’d met, but was she lying there, with her head on his chest, regretting what she’d done? She’d known about his loser dad before she’d slept with him. Known that most people wanted him only for who he’d been on the football field.

And still, she’d let him touch her in all the ways he’d lain awake thinking about on so many other nights. She’d actually been the one, in the darkened living room, to say the words.
“Make love to me.”
He got hard just thinking about it.

The tips of her fingers feathered down his side. She seemed to have a particular fondness for his hip, tracing the curve of his bone with her forefinger. She raised her head, kissed the line of his jaw, found his mouth with hers. Pressed her soft, supple body to his more muscular one. Wrapped her fingers around his already-swelling cock.

And soon, he donned a condom and sank into her warm wetness again, marveling at the feel of her around him. Her pelvis moved with a perfect rhythm as she straddled him, pushing him farther inside her with each slow, seductive movement. He lifted his head to take one breast in his mouth, suckling it, tracing her nipple with his tongue, tasting the sweetness that belonged only to her.

Then his hands moved to her hips, holding them still as he exploded inside her.

Just as her moans of ecstasy echoed in his ears.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

A
peace more complete than Gina had felt in a long time settled over her like a warm blanket being tucked around her on a cold winter’s night. The quiet strength of Landon beside her. The gentle rise and fall of his chest while he lay next to her. The moonbeam cast across his long, muscular body.

“So what are you thinking about?” she asked, somewhat afraid to know the answer.

She felt, rather than heard, the soft chuckle in his chest. “That I hadn’t really planned on this to happen today.”

She rolled onto her side to face him. “Not
today
? Had you thought it would happen . . . ever?” She’d fought an attraction to him every day. Did he fight the same battle?

He grinned as he tucked her hair behind her ear. “I knew you couldn’t keep your hands off me forever.”

“So you come over here when I’m in my pajamas? To tempt me?”

“It was nine o’clock at night. Who goes to bed at nine o’clock at night? I mean, besides your grandma.”

She settled her head on his chest. “It’s been a long day.” She hadn’t slept much since the DNA from Barbara Landon’s clothes had come back inconclusive.

“Hmmm,” he grunted in agreement as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and caressed her upper arm with his thumb. “Tell me about it.”

Her mind replayed the evening as they lay in silence for several minutes. How troubled Landon had looked when he’d shown up at her house. How puzzled she still was by the fact that he didn’t seem to think he was good enough. The way that humbleness only made him more attractive. More human.

“What are you thinking about?” Landon’s deep voice rumbled in his chest next to her ear.

She hesitated. Yes, she’d slept with the guy. Twice. But was his relationship with his father any of her business? Might it be her business someday?

She’d always felt like it was everyone’s responsibility to make other people feel better about themselves. To take every opportunity to share a kindness in the world.

“I’m glad you came to me tonight.” She waited for a response, but none came, so she continued. “I know it really bothers you about your dad.”

Still no response. Was this conversation too deep for him? Too deep for this situation? But, again, she wanted him to know what a wonderful man he was. “I really want you to understand . . . you’re not whatever your dad thinks of you.” She rose to look at him. “Whatever you’ve made of yourself—and that’s a lot—you’ve made on your own. Not because of him.”

A sadness spread through his green eyes. “That isn’t why I came here tonight.”

Gina didn’t believe that. She wasn’t stupid enough to think that Landon would have come to her apartment if he hadn’t had the run-in with his father. Yes, she was glad they’d shared tonight, but she knew that something else had driven him to her.

“I wish you’d stop waiting for him.”

His mouth tipped into a teasing grin. “Are you going to psychoanalyze me every time we sleep together?”

Her heart skipped a few beats, but she tried to be coy. “You’re pretty cocky, thinking you get to sleep with me again.”

He chuckled. “Are you saying it’s not going to happen?”

Of course she wanted it to happen again. And although her heart had recovered from Christopher’s betrayal, the experience had taught her to be wary. And—after all—this was Landon Vista. The man all of Tallahassee fawned over. The man who could sleep with any woman in Leon County he wanted to. Yes, she’d have to be careful. “I’m saying you’d better be on your best behavior.”

His breath warmed her ear as he pulled her toward him even more. “I’m pretty sure you just saw my best behavior.”

Landon could see the slate-gray dawn through the curtains of Gina’s bedroom. She slept in the crook of his arm, one of her long legs draped over his. Warm. Content. As beautiful a woman as he’d ever seen. And certainly the most desirable he’d ever held. Maybe what she said about him last night was true. Certainly no one else had ever made him feel as . . . worthy as she had. Not the football boosters or the coaches or the scouts or the other girls he’d slept with. He looked at her, wondering how a single human being could challenge him so much—his notion of right and wrong, guilt and innocence. His perception of who he was. Of who he might be one day.

He slid back the sheet and slipped his leg out from under hers. He hated to wake her, but he had to go pee. She stirred, turning over in the bed. He stilled and waited for her to settle back in.

Finally, he slipped out of bed, eager to return to her warm cocoon as soon as he could. The kitchen light was still on—the one that had barely lit them last night in the living room. He checked the lock on the front door. All was good. Life, for at least tonight’s brief interlude, was going well.

He walked to the kitchen to turn off the light; a stack of Gina’s files and work papers was strewn across the table in the small breakfast nook. He quickly scanned the labels on the files. All names he didn’t recognize. Were they convicts? Or victims?

Then the sheet of paper on a pile of loose notes caught his eye. Notes to the file on Cyrus Alexander. The first entry—a punch to the gut—had some scientific mumbo jumbo about the lab, then concluded in plain English that the results of the DNA from his mother’s clothes were inconclusive. That the DNA was unusable. He already had the news, but seeing it here, in black and white, was like having it branded into his soul.

His gaze shifted to the next entry.

Due to limited resources, Morgan’s Ladder dropping the case.

His back stiffened. His forehead and scalp chilled with a cold sweat. They were dropping the case? They brought all this up in his life and were now going to leave him hanging? With no answers about who’d killed his mother? With the wrong guy maybe sitting in a prison cell? When he could be out raising his son?

Landon looked at the closed door of Gina’s bedroom. He’d walked out of there just seconds ago satisfied. Content. Maybe even in love.

But now white-hot anger simmered in his chest. She’d slept with him. Not once, but twice. She’d talked to him about his father. They’d stayed awake until 2 a.m. talking and cuddling—her strong, soft body pressed against his. Her head resting on his shoulder. His arm wrapped around her shoulders possessively. And she hadn’t told him about this?

She’d used him, just like everyone else had. She’d writhed and moaned underneath him, enjoying the sex as much as he had. That’s all it was for her.

He rubbed the back of his neck, willing the tension away that gathered there. Disappointment and anger roiled in his belly. Last night, as they’d lain beside each other, he’d thought they might have a future together, but she’d betrayed him. She hadn’t told him the truth. And that was something he couldn’t handle. Not from her. Not from anyone.

He went to the bedroom and peered through the darkness to locate his shorts, then quietly pulled them on.

Maybe one day he would understand what last night meant. Maybe as an old man, he’d look back and realize that she was the one who made him see things differently.

But for now, all he knew was that she’d hidden something important from him. Sure, they’d been consensual adults having sex, but she should have told him that Morgan’s Ladder was dropping the case. Something of this magnitude wasn’t a topic you withheld because you had a chance to sleep with someone you’d been lusting over for weeks.

He was sick and damn tired of being used.

And he was sure as hell going to leave before she had a chance to use him again.

Gina felt a warm glow cascading down her body. A glow only Landon could provide. For the second or third time that night, she scooted toward him, unconsciously seeking his warmth, the pleasure of knowing he was near.

Her eyes shot open at a sound across the room, behind her. The soft clinking of a belt buckle?

She rolled to face him. “Landon?”

His head came up, a surprised look on his face. Or was it guilt?

“You’re leaving?” She tried to hide the fact that a predawn departure hurt her. She would have liked more class, more respect, than what looked like sneaking out once the handiwork was done.

But most of all, it wasn’t how she wanted her evening with him to end.

He jabbed a thumb in the direction of the front door. “I’ve . . . ummm . . . got to go.”

She sat up and pulled the sheet across her naked bosom. “Is something wrong?” She turned on the lamp beside her bed. He’d talked about making love to her again in the future, and now he was walking out? “I mean, I thought last night was . . .”
Great. Fantastic.

He nodded, as if he could read her mind. “Yeah. It was.” But the tone in his voice didn’t match the words in her head. His green eyes bored into hers, saying far more than he was apparently willing to share out loud. Confusion and regret roiled inside the olive green.

“But you’re leaving.” She felt as if their intimacy had been siphoned out of the room, replaced with a negativity so thick she could feel it crawling across her skin.

“We’re two consenting adults who should know better than to get involved.”

“And what we did last night”—she hated the sound of disappointment in her voice—“is how you don’t get involved?”

“You asked me to make love to you. We . . .” He couldn’t seem to find the words to describe what had been between them.

But Gina could think of several options to finish his sentence.

We connected.

We shared our souls.

We may be falling in love.

“We shouldn’t get involved.” His voice had a tone of resignation to it.

“If that’s how you feel”—she swallowed, but her throat remained dry—“then you’re right. You should go.”

Their gazes locked for another moment, then he retrieved his keys from her dresser and left her apartment without another word.