“Did you really mean that?”
I startled and turned around. Lacey stood at the entrance to the kitchen, blinking at me, the tentative beginnings of a smile on her lips. She was wearing my thin plaid bathrobe; it hung on her small frame, showing her creamy collarbones and the slightest swell of cleavage. Her wet hair, so dark it looked black, clung in tendrils on her neck and shoulders. Her cheeks were flushed from the hot water. Her eyes were huge, making her look vulnerable, and I had to tear my gaze away before I kissed her.
“Yeah, I meant it,” I muttered.
She fiddled with the robe’s sash, fighting her grin. “So . . . you still want to be my . . .”
Sighing, I nodded. Her face lit up and I hurried to add, “But I don’t know if I know how. With Daniella, I never . . . we never dealt in feelings.” Or at least, not the depth of emotion I had suddenly found myself drowning in.
“We can learn how to do this together. I know I have a lot of ground to make up for. I should have told you everything from the start; I know that now.”
I nodded. “I get that you had your reasons for concealing the truth. People do strange things when they feel threatened. And besides, you told me in the beginning you were running from something. I chose not to press you. Maybe, unconsciously . . . I wanted to stay in blissful ignorance. Blind myself to anything that could have gotten in the way of us.”
“Us. Just us? So Daniella’s gone?” Lacey turned her head toward the empty bedroom at the end of the hall.
“She’s really gone.”
“Are you . . . okay with that?” She chewed on her lower lip, waiting for me to respond.
“Yes. I held on to her for too long. I thought at first it was because she needed me, but in a strange way, I guess I needed her too. It was time.”
Lacey nodded. “I understand. You were scared.”
I didn’t deny her accusation. A big badass SEAL shouldn’t be scared of anything. But love? Yeah, that scared the shit out of me.
“I’m not used to being someone’s boyfriend. There’s a good chance I’ll fuck this up.” Better that she know that now.
A crooked smile graced her lips. “You’re probably better at it than you think.” Lacey pondered for a moment. “What’s your first instinct right now?”
“To make sure you’re okay,” I said immediately. And beat the ever-loving fuck out of those men who touched you.
“That’s perfect.” With a gentle smile, she stepped into the kitchen. “I’m a little shaken up, but nothing serious. What would your next instinct be?”
I licked my lips. I could smell the faintest whiff of something familiar; Lacey must have used my shampoo. She was wearing my clothes and my scent. All the hesitant, confused voices in my head suddenly went quiet, letting me hear what I really wanted.
Smiling back at her, I lowered my voice to a whisper. “To take you to bed and not let you out until morning.”
My woman stepped forward again, so close I could feel her warmth. “That’s perfect too.”
She squeaked with surprise when I swept her up into my arms. Leaving my doubts behind along with my whiskey glass, I carried Lacey down the hall to my bedroom, where we had never been together. This was our chance to start over. To empty us both of all our mistakes, all our moments of foolish weakness, and refill each other with our devotion.
For a minute after I laid her on the bed, I just stared at her, enraptured. The robe had fallen open and she lay propped up on her elbows, shapely legs outstretched. She looked like a Renaissance painting of Aphrodite, all alabaster curves and wide eyes and luxurious dark tresses. Delicate, soft . . . and hungry. The shyness in her smile had been overcome by desire.
No man alive could ignore that invitation.
Joining her on the bed, I pulled her into a deep, fiery kiss. My hands pushed under her robe to explore the naked, damp body beneath. I needed to touch every part of her, make sure she really was okay, that she wasn’t some mirage. My fingers trailed down her back, along the tender dip where her spine lay hidden, and slid over the curve of her ass. She sighed and opened her mouth to me, brushing my tongue with hers.
I rocked my hips, letting her feel how hard I was already, and she rewarded me with a husky murmur. I licked and bit at her neck—just under her ear, in the crook of her shoulder, all the spots I’d learned to make her squirm.
She mewled softly and clutched at my waist with one hand, rumpling the back of my shirt. I pulled back just enough to rip it off, then pressed my bare chest against her again, reveling in the feel of her velvety skin and ripe breasts.