“It’s okay, Ellie. You can talk about him.”
“I was a surgical nurse until Dan was killed. I had just learned that I was carrying twins. He was so excited. I was happy and a little scared. We talked about names over Skype. He liked Otis Henry for a boy’s name and Daisy Mae for a girl. I told him no way could I name a child Otis.” She laughed at this. “The Internet connection was lousy, but he had to go anyway. And then a few days later ... he was gone.”
Jesse knew the crushing weight of grief, knew how deeply it cut. Then he remembered that this was why he’d kept his distance from her all this time. He’d had his own grief to bear and had been certain he couldn’t shoulder any part of hers.
But now, sitting close to her like this and seeing the pain on her sweet face, it seemed as simple as reaching out and taking her hand.
*
“It must have been hard.” Jesse’s voice was soothing, his thumb rubbing circles over the back of her hand. “What about Dan’s parents? Did they help?”
Ellie shook her head. “They never liked me. They’re still angry at me for following his wishes and not putting a cross on his headstone.”
“They got angry at you for following his last wishes?”
She nodded. “They wanted me to bury him in Florida, where they live now, but I refused. I rarely hear from them.”
“Lame.”
Ellie twined her fingers with his and held on. “Claire came out to stay with me. If it hadn’t been for her …”
She hadn’t meant to talk about this. She didn’t want to dump this on Jesse. But now that she had started, she couldn’t stop. “I had him buried at Arlington. I felt he deserved that honor. My sister helped me sell our house and move back to Scarlet. I knew I would need help during my pregnancy and after the twins were born. But nothing felt real to me, not even my babies. I would go to my prenatal appointments, listen to their heartbeats, and it all felt…”
“Like it was happening to someone else,” Jesse finished for her.
Her gaze snapped to his. “Exactly.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that he was empathetic for a man, but even with the two glasses of wine she’d had, she knew that sounded patronizing.
“When I reached thirty-six weeks, I started having contractions. I chose a C-section. I was so afraid something might go wrong. I couldn’t lose them, too. One minute I had a huge belly, and the next there were two crying babies. Daniel looked so much like his father. I wish Dan had lived to see them.” Her throat went tight, and she blinked back tears. “Sorry. I didn’t mean…”
Jesse leaned forward, wiped a tear from her cheek. “Hey, don’t apologize.”
She looked up, saw the concern in his eyes—and slid into his embrace.
For a time, he just held her, his strong body a refuge, one big hand caressing her hair. “It’s going to be okay.”
Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was his scent. Maybe it was the feel of him. Ellie couldn’t say. It had been so long since a man had held her like this, so long since she’d taken comfort from a man.
Slowly her grief faded, replaced by an altogether different emotion, her blood warming, awareness spreading through her body as she remembered the way he’d kissed her today and how it had felt. She sat back, looked up at him, ran her thumb over the fullness of his lower lip. From there it was so easy.
She leaned forward and lifted her lips to his.
He sucked in a quick breath, but he didn’t pull away. “Ellie. You said talk only.”
“I changed my mind. Kiss me.”
He drew back, and for a moment she thought he was leaving. Instead, he took the wine glass from her hand and set it beside his on the coffee table. Then he was back, his eyes looking into hers, so serious. He cupped her cheek. “Are you sure?”
Hell, yes, she was sure. “Kiss me.”
Before she could draw another breath, his lips claimed hers, the fingers of one big hand sliding into her hair, his other arm hauling her against his chest.
Oh. God!
At first contact, her senses reeled, arousal jolting through her. She was overwhelmed by Jesse—the burn of his lips on hers, the hard feel of his body, the spice of his skin. This is what it felt like to be held by a man.
It had been so long, so long.
He caught her lower lip between his, teased it with his tongue, then released it, his mouth covering hers again. When his tongue sought entry, she yielded, his tongue teasing hers with slick strokes she felt all the way to her womb. She stole control of the kiss from him, nipping first his upper and then his lower lip. He moaned, reclaiming his dominance, kissing her deeper and harder, the fingers in her hair clenching into a fist. Then, the kiss grew gentler, until he broke contact and pulled away.
She caught his face between her palms, her words a whispered plea. “Please don’t stop … unless… unless you want to.”
“Are you kidding?” In a blink, he had her on her back, his weight pinning her to the sofa. “I could kiss you all night.”
*