Tragedy had shaped both their lives, made them the people they were today. And maybe that was why he had felt a kinship with her from the beginning.
“Have you tried to use the sources you’ve amassed over the years to bring down the alderman?”
“Luckily, I didn’t have to.” She absently circled his nipple with her finger. Even given the topic of conversation, his areola contracted. The muscles in his stomach did the same. Her touch, no matter how innocent, sent an erotic blast of sensation through his body. “Donny did that for me. He was dogged in the two years following Dad’s death. He turned over every rock until he finally had enough to write an exposé. A trial followed; a conviction was handed down. The alderman will spend the next fifteen years finishing out his sentence. If he lives that long. Last I heard, he was undergoing treatment for liver cancer.”
Her throat clicked with dryness when she swallowed. The story didn’t end there. She had more to tell him. He waited, gently trailing a finger over her delicate spine and the tattoo on her lower back. The ink was a pen lying across a sword with scrolling letters that read: How I Change The World.
Little does she know that she’s already changed mine.
Eventually, she said, “He was never convicted of my dad’s murder though. Donny doesn’t think he was the triggerman. Figures it was one of the alderman’s hired thugs who did the actual shooting. Over the years, I’ve tried to find the culprit, but”—she shrugged one shoulder—“so far, nothing.”
There were a million things he could have said. All of them seemed trite. So he went with the tried and true. “I’m so sorry.” Sorry she’d had her heart broken. Sorry she’d had no real closure. Sorry she would carry the wound of her loss for the rest of her life.
She pushed onto her elbow, gazing down at him. “I am too.” There was a sheen in her eyes, the echo of tears long since shed.
He wanted to go back in time, go back to every moment she had ever cried and take her in his arms. Hug her and kiss her and protect her from the horror of the big, wide world. Then when she said, “Kiss me, Ozzie,” he realized there was no place he’d rather be than right here, right now. With this woman…
*
There were a hundred different ways for two people to kiss…
They could kiss with passion. With hello or good-bye. With joy or sorrow. Hell, even with anger. But as Ozzie’s lips moved over Samantha’s, it was the first time she knew what it was to kiss with love.
At least on her part, there was love. Huge, crashing waves of it that washed away the ghosts of the past. There was so much tenderness in the stroke of Ozzie’s tongue. So much caring in the brush of his big, warm hands down her back and over her hips that she dared to hope there might be a little love on his part too.
“Samantha,” he whispered against her lips, his breath hot and sweet, a world of understanding, of longing in his tone.
“Ozzie, I—”
“Hey, you two!” Emily yelled from the other side of the door, making Samantha squeal in alarm.
When Emily followed with a loud knock, Samantha bolted upright, grabbing the edge of the blanket and wrapping it around herself. She wasn’t sure if she should curse Emily to hell and back for the interruption, or kiss the woman smack on the lips. Because she was pretty sure she’d been a second away from confessing her love to Ozzie. She was so swollen with it that she’d nearly allowed it to explode out of her like an overfilled water balloon. Just…bam! And as with most explosions, she figured the outcome would have been painful and bloody.
Holy shit, Sammie. Get your head on straight.
Good advice. Trouble was, when it came to Ozzie, her head wasn’t in charge. At first, it’d been her hormones running the show. Now, it was her heart. Her silly, hopeful, desperate heart.
“What the hell, Emily?” Ozzie called. Unlike Samantha, he made no move to cover his nakedness. In fact, he crossed his arms beneath his head and directed his question to the ceiling. Truly, he was resplendent in his nudity.
“I wouldn’t have disturbed your…” Emily’s voice trailed off. When she finished with, “workout,” it sounded like she was suppressing a giggle. Samantha felt her cheeks heat. “But I thought you’d both like to know those military records you requested just arrived by courier. Guess they were too sensitive for email or fax. That’s interesting, don’t you think?” Emily’s tough Chicago accent made don’t you sound more like doncha.
Ozzie glanced at Samantha, one eyebrow raised. “That is interesting,” they said at the same time.
“Pinch, poke.” He gave her exposed flank one of each. “You owe me a Coke.”
“Ow!” She slapped his abusive hand away. “How old are you? Seven?”
“Would a seven-year-old be sporting one of these?” He used both hands to indicate his wonderfully erect penis.
Her throat dried at the sight. For the record, that was the only part of her that dried at the sight. “Not sure,” she admitted. “I was under the impression that erections, particularly involuntary erections, started pretty early in life.”
“I’m not talking about its state.” He glowered at her. “I’m talking about its sheer size and majesty.”
It was hard for Samantha not to smile. But she managed, pursing her lips instead. “You have a pretty high opinion of yourself, don’t you?”
He shrugged. “Maybe. But that opinion has been backed up by many satisfied customers.” When he realized what he’d said—come on, you don’t talk about past sexual partners with current sexual partners—a look of horror passed over his face. “Shit! Sorry! That was stupid. I’m an idiot.”
She had to bite her cheek to keep from laughing. Ozzie was the only man she had ever known who could go from being arrogant as hell one minute to boyishly charming the next. She couldn’t resist teasing him. “Save your breath.” She gave him the stink eye. “You’re going to need it to blow up your date later on.”
*
Christian was sitting at the conference table on the second floor when Emily climbed the stairs. She’d already changed into what passed for sleepwear for her, silk pajama bottoms and an old pullover—or sweatshirt as Americans liked to call it. Although, for the life of him, he couldn’t understand why.
Sounds as if one is wearing a shirt made of sweat.
“You’re laughing,” Emily declared, staring at him from the top step. That beauty mark was a blatant taunt. Made him have to fight the urge to kiss it.