Reckless Endangerment (21 page)

“Would you marry me again, Hope Shane?” he asked without looking away from her eyes.  “If I could get down on one knee and ask you to do it all over again, what would you say?”

“I’d say hell ya.”  She kissed him with the slowness of someone who wanted to savor every taste. 

He wanted more.  He wanted her naked and on top of him.  Skin on skin.  Whatever happened, happened. 

“Bed,” he whispered against her lips. “Now.”

“I love it when you order me around.” She caught his lower lip lightly between her teeth before standing. 

“This could get awkward,” he admitted as he reached for the side of the large bed.  No hospital rails.  No nurse.  Just her.  Just them alone for the first time in far too long. 

“Between us? Never.”  She moved onto the bed and allowed him to pull himself up without her. 

Eyes locked on hers, he almost forgot about the chair, the injuries, all of it.  None of it seemed to matter with her looking at him like he was the most loved person on earth.  When she crawled on top of him, he enjoyed the view.   

And then he kissed her, feeling as if he had truly come home.  Not to a house, but to a life.  God, she felt good.  Too good.  Too much like a dream. 

“On the helicopter, I prayed for the first time in years.”  Her hands curled into the hair at his temple.  “On my knees next to you, I prayed that you’d live and I didn’t give a damn how many of your friends heard me, I didn’t give a damn if I made a fool of myself.  And I prayed and I prayed and I prayed for one more time, one more day with you.”

“But I’m not—”

“Do not ever tell me again what you are not.”  Fingers pulled at his hair.  “I know what you are.”

“I don’t want to disappoint you anymore.”  The words scraped like fishhooks pulling on the inside of his throat.

“We can be whatever we want, do whatever we want, however we want.”  She kissed him then as if the world were ending around them, as if the bombs were exploding again and they were hiding in the back of Marishka’s house shrouded in darkness and surrounded by chaos. 

His hands curved over her ass with a will of their own and pressed her close.  He deepened the kiss, needing her warmth and passion more than he had needed any therapy—physical or otherwise. 

“I feel like we’re breaking all the rules,” she whispered into his open mouth.

“What rules?”  His tongue flicked over her lips.  “We’re just making this up as we go.”

“Can you feel it, Michael?  Can you feel that heat?”

Oh, he could feel the heat. 

“Touch me,” she said into his mouth.

His fingers slid beneath the flimsy panties before sliding inside her.  Her warmth and wetness welcomed his touch. He hadn’t felt so much sensation in months and it overwhelmed him now. God, if only…he banished the thought as he felt her muscles contract around his fingers, her tongue in his mouth and her breast filling his hand. 

She wanted him.  Like this.  Here in this bed, in the moment, she wanted him.

“I need you so badly.” She moved against his hand, her breath hot against his skin.  

Her low laugh made him grin.  He’d missed that laugh of hers that he only heard when he had her in bed. 

“Michael.”  Her hands were everywhere, moving over his hair, his shoulders, his chest.  She yanked the sweatshirt from over his head before maneuvering him onto his back. “I missed making love with you, wrapping myself around you, having you deep inside me.  I missed you so much.” 

“We’re getting carried away,” he muttered against the top of her head as she bent over this chest.  Not that he cared much about getting carried away.  It had been too long since he’d gotten carried away. 

She kissed the center of his chest, licked him.  Her hands pulled the sweatpants from his legs.  “I never want to see you in those damn blue sweatpants again.  Here me?”

“Never again.  I promise.” He laughed at the ceiling and let her strip him naked.

  Her hands moved over the width of his hips, the length of his legs, the hardness of his ass.  Her fingers traced the outline of his death before dishonor tattoo centered over his chest.  Her hair brushed over his skin as she kissed the tattoo with as much reverence as she did the first time she saw it.   

His hands were in her hair, pulling her up.  “Kiss me, Hope.”

She straddled him, mouths merged with an urgency neither cared to control.

His hands moved from her breasts to her butt while his mouth worked magic on her neck.  He touched her like an explorer staking claim on new territory.  She grabbed the headboard with one hand while her other held his head to her breast.  His fingers were inside her, moving with expert rhythm.  Teeth grazed her nipple. 

She surrendered completely, allowed him to taste where he needed, touch where he desired, and move her where he wanted.

And when he guided her hips toward his face, she moaned aloud with wanting and need.  His mouth found what he craved.  He licked her while plunging his fingers inside her.  He needed the taste of her on his tongue, needed her body moving over him, needed the feel of her wetness on his hand.

“Michael, please,” she begged. “Please.”  Both hands flat against the wall, she dropped her head back and shuddered with ecstasy.

He slid her body down his until they were face-to-face, both panting and wet.  They kissed as if they’d never been apart, as if time had never separated them, as if they were still locked behind the closed doors of a hotel while war raged outside. 

“I missed you so much,” she said against his face.  Fingers laced with his against the pillow. 

His lips slid over hers.  “We need to do that more often.”

“As often as possible, I agree.”

“I have craved you,” he whispered against her ear.  “Didn’t imagine…”

“You still turn me into a puddle, you know.”

“A puddle, hmm?”


“I missed the way you order me around in bed.  Get naked, up here, down there,” she laughed against his neck.

“I don’t order you around.”

“You do, too.”  She propped up on her elbows and looked into his eyes. “I’m surprised you don’t want me to call you sir.”

He laughed again, the entire bed vibrating.  “Like you would, if I asked.”

“Sir,” she teased.  “What position would you like me in, sir?  Or do you prefer Colonel Cedars?” She rose up slowly, dragging her hands down his arms.  “What are your orders, Colonel Cedars?”

He snagged her wrist.  “Careful, I’m actually enjoying that.”

“I knew you would.”  She lowered her head and kissed his neck. 

His hands tangled in her hair.  “Touch me.”

“I am touching you.”

He moved her hand down to his penis. “Hurts like hell but you have no idea how thrilled I am to see it.  I can’t actually move, though, so…if you want…you need to do the work.”

“You feel me?”  Her fingers curved over him.  “You can feel this?”

“I feel something, yes, not like it used to be, though, but something, yeah.” 

And they laughed together with sheets twisted around them and her hand over him. 

“I know I said it wasn’t all about the sex but…” she let her words trail off as she lowered her head to taste him.  Even if he couldn’t feel her exactly, he could see her, see how she wanted, see how she accepted. 

Agony ripped up his back.  Muscles contorted.  He squeezed the back of her head.  Damn it.  Not now. 

“I broke you,” she said. 

“Don’t move.  Spasm.” He stared into her eyes as the pain ripped up his back.  His back arched against her bare chest. 

“Every time I touch you, I hurt you.”  Tears welled in her eyes.  “I’m pushing you too hard, too fast.”

“No.”  He shook his head and held her as tightly as he could without hurting her.  Mouths touching but not kissing.  Eyes a fraction from one another.  “Not you.”

“Remember Tuesday?  Now here we are again.  I—”

“Every day.”  He managed between clenched teeth, willing her to understand that it wasn’t her that caused his pain.  She made him feel normal, feel invincible again. 

“I should call McGee.” 

Unbelievably, he laughed through the pain.  The idea of McGee coming to his rescue as they both lay naked in bed was too much.  She laughed, too, with tears in her eyes. 

“Bad idea?” she asked.

“Yeah.”  He nodded.  Stabs of pain jolted down his neck with the movement.  “Give me a minute. Don’t move.”

But she did move. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her forehead against his until the spasms ceased.  All the while she whispered against his skin about how much she loved him, how he was home now, how she would try hard not to break him, how much she’d missed holding him. 

When the pain subsided, he flattened his palms against her back and breathed in the essence of her.  “It’s not you. It’s not what we were doing that causes the pain.”

She propped herself up on her elbows, a skeptical smile on her face.  “You just don’t want me to stop getting naked around you.”

“True.”  He shoved the hair away from her face and held her close to him.  “But after a physical therapy session like I had today…like I have every day…I have these spasms.  You’re right.  I do have medication, none of which is with me.  I didn’t even bring my wallet.  I didn’t plan ahead.”

Not looking convinced, she slipped away from him.  Sadness seemed to swallow her in a blink of an eye as she sat on the edge of the bed looking away from him.  His fingers smoothed against the curve of her back. 

“You’ll need to go back tonight then?” she asked, her voice not sounding like her own. 

“I don’t have to go.  I can survive a night without my medication.”  Or he could fake it.  He didn’t want to leave. 

“Becky is right when she calls me reckless.”  She shoved her hands through her hair, revealing more of the bruise along her temple.  Hands trembled.  “Devon and I broke into a construction site today, way out in the mountains, the other side of Saint Mary’s Glacier.”

He listened intently while she spoke softly about the day’s events.  He grinned when she confessed about smashing the surveillance equipment even though he knew he shouldn’t. 

“I thought McGee crashing with you for a few days would protect you while we sorted this mess out.  I promised the FBI I would proceed with caution.”  She shot him a look then that made him smile, a look that screamed I-Lied.  “But I want you here with me.  I do. Maybe McGee could stay in Dalton’s room?”

“No.  We’ll figure it out, but I want to be here alone with you.  I can handle myself.”  He couldn’t believe those words were coming out of his mouth.  He shook his head at her raised eyebrows.  “I know, I’m shocked, too.”

Her smile instilled a confidence in him that he couldn’t explain.  “And you trust me not to break you?”

“The best have tried to break me and…here I am.” He motioned at the bed and the surrounding room.  “Not broken yet, a little damaged but still ticking away.”

Again with the teary eyes.  “You break my heart.”

“I’ll go back tonight.  I’ll come here tomorrow to stay.  Is that okay?”  He knew he needed his medication even if he didn’t want to admit it out loud.  He knew his limitations.  At the moment, he seriously doubted his ability to get out of bed because the spasms had drained him of most of his energy.  With a sigh, he decided that if they were really going to make it, he needed to be honest about that, too. “I need your help getting dressed.”

Surprise widened her eyes before she leaned over to press a kiss against his abdomen.  “No way in hell you’re wearing those sweats again.”

He laughed and collapsed his head against the pillow.  God, he could get used to this.  His smile widened when he realized he had all the time in the world to get used to this.  His wife. His bed. His home. 

“You’re looking pretty satisfied with yourself.”  She tossed a pair of his worn jeans at him before walking naked to the dresser where she retrieved his underwear and a new T-shirt. 

“Please tell me that walking around naked is a new habit of yours.”  He winked, still unable to sit up after the spasms but enjoying the view. 

“You like?” She struck a pose before dressing herself.  Slowly.  Without taking her eyes from him.  It was like an exotic reverse strip tease. 

“I like.”  He bit his bottom lip.  For the first time in months, he felt like the luckiest man on the planet. 

Chapter Thirteen

She looked around the living room from where she leaned against the kitchen counter and observed the scene with warmth in her heart that had been absent for a long time. The space she’d begun questioning as overly large and empty now echoed with conversation and laughter.  McGee and Marshall debated the merits of different hockey teams.  Devon laughed at something Michael said.  Dude stared at Michael as if trying to sort out a puzzle. It all seemed so...homey.  Noise.  Beautiful, melodic, happy noise.  She grinned over the edge of her coffee mug.