The Virgin: Redemption (10 page)

Stumbling out of bed, I knuckled at my eyes and managed to get the door open. Just as Drake lifted his fist to knock again.

I gaped at him.

His hands came up and caught my face. Any questions I might have had died as he kissed me.

When I went to pull back, he just pulled me against him and moved us inside, kicking the door shut. Velvety darkness wrapped around us. With my mind still hazed from sleep, it was easy to think this was all a dream.

That is, until he hit the lights and lifted his head to stare at me, his eyes stark, almost haunted.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

I blinked, confused. I either needed more sleep or caffeine.

Pushing against his chest, I wiggled away from him and made my way over to the kitchenette and studied the Keurig. It was just as easy as the one I had at home, but just then, it struck me as very confusing. Water. Coffee. Cup. Button. Okay, I remembered now.

“Tell you what?” I asked once I pushed the start button.
Hurry
, I thought silently. I needed caffeine, so bad. Flicking him a look, I frowned. “Why are you here? Isn’t your mom in the hospital?”

“Yes. Her surgery is tomorrow. I fly back this afternoon. Now answer me.” He closed the distance between us with two long strides. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

I rubbed my eyes. “Tell you what? How did you know where I was?”

“Tell me about the parole meeting,” he practically snarled. His hand shot out, planted against the wall by my head. My heart jumped into my throat as I looked up, met his eyes. “As to
how…
your
mom
told me. I called, while you were in the middle of testifying. She went to silence the phone and accidentally hit talk. I practically had a front row seat for half of it.”

My stomach dropped out.

“Oh.” Turning my head, I stared at the little black coffee maker, the wisps of steam rising as the coffee began to stream out. But I didn’t need the caffeine any more. My mind was achingly, painfully clear. Swallowing around the knot, I continued to stare at the cup—the Harry Potter travel mug my mother had picked up for me when she went to Universal Studios a few months ago on a wild lark with Paul. That was what she’d called it. A wild lark. “When did she talk to you?”

“What does it matter?” he demanded. “I want to know why
you
weren’t the one telling me.”

Sighing, I shifted my gaze back around to him, met those haunted green eyes. Haunted, dark. I lifted a hand and touched his cheek, half-afraid to do that. He caught my palm in his hand, pressed it closer. That alone eased the ragged ache inside. “And when was I supposed to tell you, Drake? You were rushing out the door, worried about your mom. You were angry with me—”

“I didn’t kn—”

Pressing my fingers to his mouth, I silenced the words I didn’t need to hear. “I know that. I know, and I understand. But what did you expect me to do—blurt out that I couldn’t be with you when your mom was sick because I had to go to Florida and make sure one of the men responsible for killing my dad stayed in jail? When was the ideal time?”

Drake closed his eyes, pressed his forehead to mine. “Damn it, Shan.”

“If I was going to tell you, it should have been
before
but oddly, it never came up.” I forced myself to smile. “There was that weird thing with me getting a concussion, you not knowing anything about what had happened, then us crawling all over each other.”

“You could have called me.”

“No.” I rubbed my lips against his, felt them part. “That isn’t really something you say over the phone, in an email. Besides…”

I pulled back, tucked my head against his shoulder. “It doesn’t matter if it’s been ten minutes since it all happened, or ten years. I’m still raw. I can’t think about it without freezing—it takes me a while just to get past that, takes my throat a while to unlock. I need to give my heart time to slow and wait for my hands to stop sweating. The first few years, I had to have meds for anxiety and I had panic attacks just thinking about looking at one of them. It’s better now, but it’s a knee-jerk thing that hits me at weird times. I need a few seconds to breathe through it before I can talk about it.”

“And I walked out before you had a chance to breathe,” he whispered against my temple.

“You’re here now. I’ve had a chance to breathe.”

He tugged me closer. “I’m an ass.”

I started to say something, then I shrugged.

“Maybe. But you were worried about your mom.” I stroked a hand up his chest, fisted it over his heart. “I figure maybe we’re even now. Well, maybe not even. I had a ten-year hate-on for you, but maybe this evens the scales a little.”

He boosted me up onto the counter. “There aren’t any scales. I was a bastard then and wasn’t honest. We started over.” His eyes narrowed on mine. “Aren’t you going to yell at me, throw something?”

“I think I’m yelled out for now.” Smoothing my hands down his shirt, I shrugged and smiled up at him. “We can pretend to fight, though. Then have crazy hot make-up sex.”

A sleepy-lidded look came across his face and he pushed his hands under my sleepshirt, found me naked. “Crazy hot make-up sex without the fight? Fine. I’m mad at you and you’re mad at me…now we have crazy hot make-up sex?”

My breath hitched. I caught the hem of his t-shirt, dragged it up but he didn’t let me pull it off. He was too busy fighting with his belt buckle, then his zipper. A minute later, his cock was freed and I went to reach for him as heat flared to life inside me. His hand closed around my wrist, pinning it to down to my side before I could touch him. He pulled my hips to the very edge of the counter with his other hand and I felt the head of him there, right against me.

“We start over,” he muttered, leaning into me.

“Over.” My heart stuttered as I watched him sink inside, my flesh stretching tight to welcome him. Pleasure ripped at me as he sank deep and hard, need was a scream when he withdrew.
More…more…more…

A sob of despair rose in me and I wiggled, trying to get closer. Staring down at him, desperate, I whispered, “Please.”

His cock was thick, wet from me and I gasped in relief as he surged back inside.

Over and over.

It felt…new. Not like the first time. Better. No secrets, no shadows. Emotion welled in me and I lifted my face to his, needing more.

He gave it, his lips crushing to mine. His tongue came into my mouth, echoing the rhythm of his cock, a double pleasure.

His hand fell away from my wrist, moving to cup my ass. Braced by the strength of his hands, I lay there, helpless, full with him and delight, as he drove himself inside me.

It was beautiful.

It was blissful.

And it ended all too soon. The hunger was too much for both of us and I felt the urgency in him, felt the echo of it within me. “Shan…fuck. I need you,” he rasped, tearing his mouth from mine to mutter in my ear. “I love you. I love you…”

The words exploded inside me and I cried out, all but dying in his arms.

Clutching him to me, I whispered those very words, the words I kept inside me all this time, to his mouth. “I love you.”

We were lost then, lost in each other and for the first time in too many years, the past and its shadows fell away from me.

We were all that mattered. The two of us, and that very moment.

I stood in front of the hospital with him that day. It was later. We hadn’t had much sleep. I needed more coffee and I was terrified to take the next step.

But it was time.

His hand closed warmly over mine.

“You don’t have to come inside,” he said softly. “I have to be there. The cardiac surgeon is going over things and I need to know what to expect, how she’s going to do. But, you can go to the hotel.”

The doors were like eyes, staring into my soul, exposing all those weaknesses, all those fears.

But this was just a building. It was a place where sick people went, a place where injured people were brought. I’d lain in a hospital when they told me about my father and that had given birth to that fear. I couldn’t conquer it by staying at a hotel. And I couldn’t help Drake—I couldn’t
be
with Drake—if I walked away. If I was going to fix myself, it had to start somewhere. It had to start here.

“I’m coming in.” I looked up at him. “Just make sure you stay close.”

“For the rest of your life, if I have anything to say about it.”

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