Everything to Lose (Moonlight Dating Series #2) (7 page)

“What matters is holding you like this…”

He kissed her parted lips.

“…showing you how it should be…”

And her
right cheek.

“…never letting you go…”

He traced her delicately arched eyebrows. First one…

“…caring for you…”

…then the other.

“…knowing that you’re close. I won’t let you throw this away. Hear me?”

What about showing me the real you? What about ripping off that mask and telling me what makes you the way you are?

He paused to stare at her, and the look on his face told her just how much the horror of losing her had gripped him in its sharp talons.

Not good enough.

“But more than anything else, loving is letting go. I want to be good to you, Lissy.”

No more, dammit.

Her eyes misted. “Dane, stop talking and just kiss me, please.”

His smile sent her heart aflutter.

He snaked his tongue into her mouth and she gladly welcomed it.

When he started to move inside her, in slow, shallow thrusts, she wrapped her legs around him and urged him closer. He grunted, her action seeming to crack his reserve, and his thrusts grew more primal, faster, greedier. Her mind reeled.

She wanted more.

Needed more.

A wild storm raged inside her
.

“Let me feel you come,
”
he
coaxed
.

His words plucked a chord in her, and her world exploded into a million pieces.

Dane groaned. Her inner muscles tightened around him, milking him
,
and he cried out as her pleasure seemed to catapult him toward his own climax.

He slowed his thrusts, not stopping until the last shudder escaped her, then regained momentum, followed the same frenzied rhythm that reflected the emotions in h
er gut
. He caught her wrists again and raised them above her as pure instinct
seemed to dri
ve him.

“God, Lissy!”

He threw his head back at the peak, while an invisible hand etched his face with wonder. 

Sated, he fell beside her on the mattress. He sighed and kissed
her
.

“I love you.”

The response in kind got stuck in her throat.

But if he minded that, he didn’t say anything. He gathered her in his arms and pulled her up on the pillows, holding her spoon fashion.

In the aftermath, they lay quietly. She listened to life go on outside the hotel window. It was close to dinner time.

Despite his soothing touch, her mind
reeled
. She was a rag doll dangling from a drunk puppeteer’s string.

On the one hand, wonderful sensations rippled through her, and she sighed with contentment as Dane whispered beautiful words in her ear. Dane’s voice was an anchor, sinking into her the promise of a future together.

But on the other hand, reality crept in. Could she trust him? Could she trust herself?

Bittersweet.

One thing frustrated her – she knew that she’d take him back, even though she didn’t know the answer. Life could be full of scrapes with him, but it would be worse without him. It was a great and terrible thing all in one.

  She couldn’t sleep. Dane’s even breathing told her he would be lost to the world for a while, but all she could think of was how she was going to pull this off.

After another quick shower she slipped into jeans, blouse, sweater
,
and flat boots.

She penned “Went for a walk” on the hotel stationery and left it on the desk, still figuring she’d be back before he woke up. Dane was a heavy sleeper.

She grabbed her padded jacket and let her legs take her downstairs to the street.

In normal circumstances, she should be bursting with joy. Chomping at the bit to spend time with Dane.

Wanting him was not an issue. It was her emotional health that she was concerned about. Going blind into this was neither wise nor safe. She was grown enough to make decisions based not only on her feelings but on what was best for her.

She spotted the tall columns of the theater to her left a half block down. Before that was what she was subconsciously searching for – the welcoming entrance of Bottega Trasi.

Therein lay the key to her happiness – or else, the cold truth as to why a marriage between her and Dane could never work.

To go inside meant getting answers, perhaps some she didn’t want to hear. Putting one foot before the other, she entered, her stomach sinking like
that of a martyr heading
to a gruesome death.

She got a table outside in the courtyard
,
as the winter evening was pleasant and mild. Then, she ordered a glass of white wine and a local starter dish of
Olive all’A
scolana –
deep fried olives stuffed with ground beef, cheese
,
and seasonings. If this was just a café, she would be content with a drink but not ordering any food would have raised eyebrows here.

She picked at the arugula and lemon salad that came with it, scared of the unknown that awaited her.

Finally, she gave up, leaving it mostly uneaten. Her hands were freezing by now as cold air had slowly seeped into her bones. She called the waitress to the table.

“Uh, Mr. Marsh…
per favore
? I’d like to talk to him.”

She responded in a stilted accent.
“He is in office now,
signorina
. I will tell him. What is your name?”

“Thank you. Please tell him I’m a family friend. I’ll wait for him inside.”

The waitress nodded and asked her if she didn’t like her food. Lisbeth apologized and said she hadn’t been hungry, but stressed that it was delicious.

Her hands in her jacket pockets to get the circulation going, she took the first table indoors with a good view to the outside. She welcomed the warmth of the large fireplace and after a while, took her jacket off. She drank her
espresso lungo,
straight up, without sugar, and toyed with her spoon, turning it over and over, dangling it like a pendulum, watching her face in the shiny metal.

Time stretched until Lisbeth was a tight bundle of nerves. How long ago did she talk to the waitress? Five minutes? Half an hour?

Finally a white-haired man approached her, ruddy
-
faced
,
with a stout frame. His eyes were not unkind, and they sparkled with intelligence.

That face would be Dane’s in thirty years’ time.

A wedding ring strangled his chubby third finger and he fought to catch his breath from the brisk walk to her table. The man looked at her quizzically but greeted her with politeness.

“Yes, ma’am. Laura over there said you asked fer me. Are you family? One of old Ted’s grandbabies maybe. Haven’t seen that sonommabitch in years
.” H
e guffawed.

Lisbeth wasn’t sure how long he’d been here, but the gregarious Texan in him was alive and well.

“Please sit down, Mr. Marsh. I have to talk to you about an urgent matter.”

“Hate to rush ya but someone messed up an order back there and I have to set it straight. Later—”

“I have to talk to you about your son,” she interrupted.

She watched his expression change from confused to grave.

He sat across from her. “Go on,” he said. “I might have something of my own to tell ya, too.”

When
Dane
woke up
,
he found her sitting in the armchair in the corner. He could see only her left outline, painted by the street lighting that bled
in
from the window.

“What time is it?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

He coughed to clear his throat.

“Nine.”

He grunted
,
as it was a long time since he’d managed that sort of thing. He usually stayed up late and woke up early.

Running his
fingers through his hair, he sat up and lowered his legs over
the side of the bed. “You should have w
oken
me up.”

“You needed the rest.”

She got up and switched on the light, which made him wince.

“Dang, I feel like I slept under a ton of bricks.” He rubbed his palm across his eyes to wipe off the sleep. “Were you sitting in the dark all this time?”

“No, I went out for a while. I… needed to clear my head”

He took a good look at her and noticed how beautiful she looked with her cheeks flushed from the crisp outdoor air.

Beautiful and troubled.

He scratched his day-old beard while trying to
t
ake stock of things. “Lemme get to the shower first. I won’t be any good if I don’t get some ice on me.”

She shook her head and smiled.

“Don’t say anything,” he warned, suppressing a laugh. “You know me well enough.”

“Don’t know how you do it but knock yourself out,” she called after him as he went in the bathroom, grabbed the towel and placed it on a hook close to the bathtub. He left the door open.

“I tell ya, there’s nothing like cool water to get your mind straight.”

Her attractive tinkle of laughter lifted his spirits.

“I’ll pass on that one, thanks,” she said.

The cold water ran down his back, giving him a shock but also comfort in its stark purity. He wanted the real thing, not heated up, manufactured – even if it made him groan and brace himself against the shower wall.

Will I win Lisbeth back?

His confidence
, its surface scratched and a little bloody,
tripped on a pebble of doubt.

His mood changed. Rather than give him courage and energy, the steady chill of the water made his spirits sink and body tense. He looked toward the empty doorway. He may as well have locked the door, for Lisbeth kept clear of him and stayed in the bedroom.

He missed the times when they’d stumble into each other in the bathroom, both naked but completely at ease as they
washed up and got ready
. The awkwardness now screamed at high pitch and its echo rebounded from the walls.

Time for some fake comfort.

Increasing the temperature of the water to soothing warmth, he closed his eyes and leaned back to let it stream over his face. He gave himself a long minute then turned off the water and rubbed his eyes.

When he opened them
,
Lisbeth stood in front of him like a divine apparition, the towel in her hands, sad longing in her eyes. She raised it to his face and tenderly wiped off the excess water.

“I thought you’d need me,” she said softly.

Emotion threatened to choke him. He covered her hand with his larger one and stilled her. All he wanted to do was look at her face, drink it in, feel the hope rise inside him.

“I always will, Lissy.”

She gave a small nod and focused on the towel, away from his searching gaze. “I—I think I will, too.”

Her eyes lifted again briefly before she leaned into him. She pressed her cheek to his wet chest and held on to his shoulders, one hand still gripping the towel like a lifeline.

Moments later hot tears trailed onto his skin, burning him. He closed his eyes and bent his head to hers, gathered her closer in his embrace.

“Lissy, I love you. I’m sorry for hurting you. Please believe me.”

“God help me,” she sobbed. “I love you
,
too.” The tears broke through the dam then and she slumped further into him, as if the strength had left her.

He stood in the bath with the dampness seeping into his flesh. When it slowly dried and the cool air hit
him
, he suppressed one shudder after another. It didn’t matter. She needed him now – he would be here for her. He deserved to suffer, anyway.

I shouldn’t hold back with you but I do.

Pain is a small word with a big reach. There were some things he couldn’t explain or change, but he hoped that although he wasn’t perfect
,
his love would be enough.

H
e
rubbed her back until she stopped crying
.
As he gentled her, he felt her slowly return to normal.

Without letting her go, he stepped
off the bath onto the hard, cold floor. She
pulled
back
,
flipped the
soft
towel around his shoulders, like a cloak, and
vigorously dried
his upper arms and
chest
. She smiled
despite her
reddened eyes.