Under the Wire (41 page)

"I loved you, Lily. So much. So much that it was easier to believe you would betray me, easier to hate you for that betrayal, than to deal with the prospect of losing you. I realize that now."

"Just like I realize," he added after searching her eyes, "that hating you became easier than loving you. Loving you hurt too much. Hating you gave me purpose."

It had taken him the past several weeks and a lot of soul-searching to understand all of this.

"As the years passed, it wasn't even about you anymore. It was about me. If I hated you, I didn't have to hate myself."

"Hate yourself?"

This was the hard part. This was the part that cut closest to the bone. "For letting my country down. Letting my family down. For the men I've killed," he added, swallowing thickly. "The lives I've taken."

Death. He'd been a part of it. And now he had to live with it.

"You protected, Manny. You fought for freedom. For basic human rights. There's no guilt in that. There's only honor. And the only regret is that you have to live with the result of the wrong choices others made."

He closed his eyes, saw the stark, gray faces of death—in the jungles of Nicaragua. The mountains of Afghanistan. Even on the streets of Boston. Most recently near the caves in Sri Lanka.

They were always with him. He never slept alone. Never woke alone.

He didn't know when Lily had stood and moved in beside him. Didn't know when he'd leaned into the comfort of her arms around him. Pressed his face against the soft, giving warmth of her breasts.

Didn't know there were tears inside him to shed until he felt them wet and hot on his cheeks.

Embarrassed, he pulled out of her embrace. Stood with his back to her. Sucked in a bracing breath.

Jesus. He'd come here to tell her he loved her, to beg her to forgive him, and he was coming apart in front of her.

"We all have demons," she said behind him. "We all have regrets. The trick is to not let them define who we are. Decide what we do."

Yeah,
he thought. That was a trick all right.

"I love you, Manny."

He stiffened. Not sure he believed what he'd just heard. After he'd just spilled his guts, exposed his deepest secrets, laid bare the ugly truth of his transgressions, and cried in her arms like a baby, she couldn't have said ...

"I love you."

He turned to her then. Saw the tears on her cheeks. Tears for him. Love for him. Honest. Open. True.

"I love you because of where you've been," she said when he drew her into his arms. "Because of who you are. Not in spite of it. Ti amo, Manny. I have always loved you."

He touched a hand to her cheek, pressed his forehead to hers, and squeezed his eyes shut to stem the tide of emotion rising inside him.

"It's time," she whispered. "It's time we get on with our lives."

Love swelled, ripe and hot and sweet, as she tipped her face to his and kissed him.

Then she took his hand and led him to her bed.

CHAPTER 26

"It's as true now as it was then." Manny dipped his head, took her breast in his mouth, and savored. "It should be against the law for a body as beautiful as yours to be covered by clothing."

Lily stretched with pleasure under the possessive caress of Manny's mouth and the hand that trailed over her ribs to caress the curve of her waist, the flare of her hips.

She was forty-five. She knew what her body looked like. Her breasts were heavier. Her hips a bit wider. Her muscle tone not as tight. But he loved her this way.

For the past hour he'd been making certain that she knew without a shadow of a doubt that he
adored
her this way.

"Have I told you that I love it when you go all Latin lover on me?" she said with a smile.

And oh, had he gone Latin lover. She hadn't yet recovered from the sweetest, most tender, most exquisite lovemaking and he was gearing up for another round.

"You must not mock me,
querida
,"
he warned, both devil and desire in his voice. "The punishment will be severe if you continue to do so. In fact, I think I should give you a little taste of it now, just to keep you in line."

She loved this playful side of him. Loved that earlier he'd spent the passion and the power of his pain pumping into her body. Loved that love did heal and that she would play no small part in his recovery.

But most of all, she loved that he loved her. Trusted her enough to let the boy in him come out and play.

She giggled, then shrieked when he pushed off the mattress, gloriously naked, 100 percent aroused. With little effort, he pinned her arms above her head and imprisoned them there with one big hand.

"Oh, please, sir." She batted her lashes—a blushing fair maiden helpless against a marauding bandito—and feigned dread. At least she tried to. No easy feat considering they were both laughing. "Show some mercy."

"I'll show you mercy," he promised, and, straddling her with his knees on either side of her hips, bent down and captured a quivering nipple in his mouth.

She sucked in her breath on a rush as sensation shot from her breast to low in her belly where it pooled between her legs like quicksilver. Hot and liquid and melting her from the inside out.

And then his hand was there. Between her legs, stroking her, teasing her, driving her over the edge of sensation.

"Sweet mercy, woman ... the sounds you make," he murmured against her breast.

She was too caught up in pleasure to be self-conscious when he lifted his head, watched her face as his fingers finessed and pleased and had her writhing against his hand.

"Beautiful. Sexy woman. My woman," he whispered, and, releasing her hands, slid down the bed and took her in his mouth. "Come for me. Scream for me, Liliana," he demanded as he sucked and licked and drove her beyond awareness of anything but the heat of his mouth, the stroke of his tongue, and the fire he kindled and swept to flames.

"Scream for me."

She barely heard him above the roar in her ears as he drove her over the summit with a cry that made him growl deep in his throat as she dug her heels into the mattress and strained against his mouth, clinging to every last shred of sensation.

Wasted, spent, she went lax against the sheets, murmuring his name, pledging her love, as he turned her over, pulled her to her knees, and knelt behind her.

Gripping her hips, he fit himself to her swollen core and eased himself inside.

And the sensations began again.

Vital.

Intense.

Amazing.

Over and over he pounded into her, increasing the rhythm, wonderfully greedy to finally satisfy his own need and drive her wild in the process.

Just when she thought she couldn't take any more, just when she thought she would shatter from the stark, raw beauty of his total possession, he drove into her one final time. His fingers bit into her hips as he held her against him and spilled inside her.

Lost. She felt totally and irreversibly lost in him, in love with him, as, without ever leaving her body, he eased down behind her, turned her on her side, and snuggled her back against him. Beneath his sweat-drenched chest, his heart pounded heavily against her back.

Moments passed. She treasured each one. The familiar weight of him, the seductive scent of him ... of his spent desire, his utter stillness and contentment in the aftermath of physical love.

She was responsible for that. And for that she felt grateful. And suspended in the most amazing pocket of timeless lethargy—until his drowsy whisper shattered the moment.

"What time is Adam due back?"

Adam. Oh my God. She'd forgotten about Adam.

She shot up, checked her bedside clock, and breathed a sigh of relief.

She sank back down and snuggled into the strong arms that welcomed her. "We've got an hour."

He nuzzled her behind her ear. "Just enough time for a shower, I'm thinking."

She laughed and turned in his arms. "Shower or water sports?"

He grinned and caught her chin between his teeth. "Why don't we see what comes up?"

She knew exactly what would come up. In fact, it was already coming up and pressing prominently against her belly.

"You're going to wear me out, lover boy."

He gave her bare bottom a soft slap, then urged her out of bed. "Well, I do have that Latin lover image to uphold."

Forty-five minutes later, the bed was made; they were squeaky clean, dressed, and sitting on the sofa like proper, parental adults, sipping wine.

"I forgot to tell you—Kavith sends his warmest hellos."

Lily grinned. "You saw him again? How's his arm?"

Manny grunted. "His arm is fine. He's fine. Back in school and thinking of changing his major to film production. Wants to put his adventures saving the day in a movie."

"Yippee-ki-yay," she said with a grin, then sobered. "And what about Minrada? How was she doing?"

"She went through a tough time," he said, sobering, too. "But she's strong. She'll be all right. Adam really is in love with her, you know."

Yeah. She knew. Her phone bill was going to be astronomical. "Well, if it's meant to be, those feelings will still be there when Adam is old enough to know what he wants to do with the rest of his life."

Manny nodded, thoughtful. Took a sip of wine. "What will he say, do you think, when we tell him?"

Lily studied his beautiful face and dancing eyes and felt her heart dance right along with them. "Tell him what?"

"That we're getting married."

She felt her heart bump against her breastbone. Several times as his dark eyes roamed her face, serious suddenly and endearingly full of uncertainty.

"I think," she said, not mentioning the fact that he hadn't asked and she hadn't answered, "that he'll be as thrilled as I am to hear it."

He'd been holding his breath. He let it out on a long, heavy sigh. "I love you, Liliana. And more than anything in this world, I want you to be my wife."

"I know," she said simply, and snuggled back against him.

For wonderful easy moments they simply sat that way. His arm around her shoulders, his thumb absently caressing her arm.

"I thought I knew you back then," he said into the comfortable quiet. He kissed her temple. "When I wanted to believe the worst. I was so wrong. It was myself I didn't know—haven't known for all these years."

With a gentle touch, he tipped her face up to his. "I know who I am now. Know what I want. Just like I know you now. Through the eyes of our son. Through the woman you are. I know your heart. And I know you would never have betrayed me."

He lowered his mouth and kissed her—just as the front door burst open.

"Is he still here?" Adam's voice carried into the living room, hopeful, anxious.

"I'm here," Manny said, grinning down at Lily. "And I'm going to be here for a very long time."

EPILOGUE