Long Way Home (9 page)

Her hand did tighten on Tom’s arm. “Please.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Whatever he planned to say cut off and he went with a simple response. “Fine.”

Callen moved out of the way to let Tom by. The man didn’t storm, but he didn’t go quietly either. He pulled away from their mom and stomped the few feet to the door. One final look and he shut the door behind him. Not a slam, but close; then his footsteps thudded as he walked down the stairs.

Declan stared at the shade over the window and tried to think of the right thing to say. “Should you be dating a guy with a temper?”

“Both of you sit.”

The whip of her voice had Declan spinning around to face her. “But I—”

“Now.” She pointed at the small couch, which was really a love seat, as if to emphasize her point.

The brothers dropped onto the cushions. With the small size, their shoulders touched until they were almost sitting on top of each other. Not that Declan thought now was the time to complain—and Callen clearly didn’t intend to say anything at all.

Their mother paced in front of them, back and forth, her steps growing louder with each turn. She finally stopped and stared them down. “Look, I get that I didn’t date much when you were growing up. And I understand that you know Tom and he works for you. But this nonsense has to stop.”

“What?” Declan regretted asking the second after he did. Maybe if her eyes hadn’t popped open wide like that.

“The overprotective thing.”

“You’re our mom.” Declan thought that explained it.

She looked at Callen. “Nothing from you on that?”

He shrugged. “I’m just sitting here.”

Declan thought he heard her swear under her breath. The woman never swore. Well, very rarely. God knew she had every right. With her life, she should have broken out with a whole string of
motherfucker
s every day, but she refrained.

She folded her hands in front of her, looking every inch the proper schoolteacher who refused to entertain any crap in her classroom. “You are welcome to visit anytime, but tell me why you are both here right now.”

Declan went with the obvious answer. “You’re our mother.”

“You should move back into Shadow Hill,” Callen said at the same time.

Her attention went right to Callen. “Why?”

“Leah likes having you there.”

Leave it to Callen to find
a
right answer but not
the
right answer. Declan almost felt sorry for the poor bastard.

Mom smiled. “That’s lovely, but no.”

“Did I give the wrong response?” Callen sounded confused by the idea.

“This is not a game.”

Callen frowned. “Are you sure?”

She sighed back at him. “Oh, Callen. You are never easy.”

“What does that mean?”

“Listen up.” She balanced on the armrest of the only other seat in the room. “I’m only going to say this once, so you can email your brother and let him know.”

Callen looked at Declan. “What does Beck have to do with this?”

Their mom talked right over the question. “I am a grown woman. I will date whoever I want, however I want, and it is none of your business.”

Declan was pretty sure she’d just told them she planned to have sex with Tom. Maybe she already had. For some reason, Declan couldn’t wrap his head around it. She was fairly young and attractive, in a mom way, but he’d never thought of her as part of a couple, and trying to change gears now was a slow process.

“I want to forbid it, but I’m guessing that’s wrong,” he said.

“Tell you what.” She looked back and forth between her sons. “Let’s strike a deal.”

“Uh-oh.” Callen mumbled the comment.

Declan thought something stronger might have been more appropriate.

“You can know about my sex life.” When both brothers started to talk, she raised her voice and her chin, then kept talking. “But then I get a say in both of your sex lives. I can ask whatever I want, offer all the advice I want and talk to your partners.”

Silence streaked through the room. Declan wondered if he wore the same wide-eyed look of horror as Callen did right now.

Declan cleared his throat, trying to find his voice again. “I think you’ve made your point.”

“I’m trying to imagine Leah’s reaction to that.” Callen’s voice sounded distant.

“You wouldn’t be immune, Callen,” Mom said. “I’d get right in the middle of this thing you’re having with Grace.”

The expression of horror switched to whatever came after that on the tragedy scale. “Oh.”

“Right, so let’s work on respect.” Mom stood up, no longer fumbling with her clothes or looking pale. She clearly felt the balance of power shift back in her direction. “And so that we don’t have any misunderstandings and so you aren’t tempted to use Beck’s legal wrangling to find a workaround, know that if I find out you’ve gone after Tom, it will be my turn to move in and start nosing around.”

Declan looked at Callen. “She’s serious.”

Mom answered, “Yes, she is.”

There was something about this strength that eased some of the anxiety rumbling around in his gut. Declan had spent a lot of time over the last few weeks feeling sorry for her and worrying that Callen’s cold disinterest was pushing her to the edge.

Now Declan saw her in a new way. As a person, and not just a mom. “I think I like this side of you. Not the part where I know you’re having sex, but the other stuff.”

“Get used to it.”

Callen winced. “She didn’t deny the sex part.”

“And that goes for you, too, Callen, because I am just about done tolerating your emotional shutdown.”

Instead of firing back and getting upset, Callen ran a hand through his hair. “You’re the second woman to tell me that today.”

“Grace?” Declan asked.

Mom’s smile looked downright conspiratorial now. “I knew I liked her.”

Declan had seen that look before. Callen didn’t stand a chance. “Now you’re really screwed, man.”

He frowned. “Why?”

“If Mom and Grace join forces?” Declan made an explosion sound and matching gesture with his hands. “Done.”

“Then I guess it’s a good thing we have our understanding.” Mom’s voice sounded downright cheerful now.

Callen’s frown deepened. “Why do I think I’m still in trouble?”

Mom smiled. “You always were a smart boy.”

Callen showed up ten minutes after texting he was on the way over. At least Grace assumed he was the one in the motel hallway thumping on her door. Either way, she now had his new phone number. She just hoped he didn’t get ticked off at her again and change it in the next ten minutes.

She’d run after him enough. If he took off again he was on his own. Well, she wanted to think she’d take that tough stance—but who knew?

When it came to Callen some of her female smarts misfired and her willingness to accept bullshit increased. Deep down she knew he was worth the risk and all the waiting, the heartache and the crying. But, man, she needed him to turn a corner soon.

Wearing her usual uniform these days of black leggings and an oversized shirt, she headed for the door. A quick check and she opened it.

Then her back hit the wall.

Callen stood in front of her with his palms flattened by her head and his body leaning into hers. Without breaking eye contact, he kicked the door shut. “I know you want to talk.”

With his windblown hair and sexy darkness he looked downright delicious. They could talk later.

“Not right this second. Not anymore.” She ran her hands over his chest, remembering the comforting feel of his weight over her. The way he pushed into her as his hot mouth claimed hers.

“I’ve spent all afternoon thinking about you.” His lips went to her chin, then traveled lower.

He rotated between kissing and licking a path down her throat. Each touch of his mouth against her skin sent a new rush of heat pumping through her. Her breath caught and she fought for air, but all she really wanted was his mouth on hers.

Her fingers curled into his soft shirt, gathering the cotton in her fists. “Were we doing this in your daydreams?”

“Fantasies.”

That sounded so hot. So forbidden and naughty. She loved him like this, when he didn’t hold back. When he abandoned control in favor of losing himself in her body.

She brushed her lips over his hair as her fingers went to the buttons of his washed-out oxford. One by one she unbuttoned them, unveiling the thin gray T-shirt underneath. “Tell me about these sexy dreams.”

“You were naked.” With a finger hooked on the neckline of her sweater, he pulled down, revealing the tops of her full breasts and dropping kisses there.

“Oh . . .” She couldn’t say anything else. Couldn’t form another word.

He nipped at her skin. “And I was inside you.”

“That’s pretty specific.”

Moving his head back and forth, rubbing that rough chin stubble over her chest, he applied just enough pressure to start her heartbeat hammering in her ears. She gasped as her fingers slipped through his hair and held him against her. The position brought back a flood of intimate memories. All those times rolling around in bed and watching bad science fiction movies. The heat of their bodies as they rubbed all over each other while they were watching gave way to more touching.

She leaned her head back against the wall. His scent and hands, that mouth, it all made her dizzy and excited. Ready to throw off all her shields and dive back in with him again, talk or not.

“I almost crashed the damn car on the way here because I was remembering what you tasted like.” The rumble of his voice vibrated against her collarbone.

“Okay then.” She lifted his head so she could see those sexy eyes. “You’re thinking we should—”

“Stop talking.”

His mouth covered hers as soon as the words left his lips. The kiss overpowered and conquered. He backed her into the wall and held her there with his hips as his hands skimmed over her breasts and around to her back. He was over her and around her. Sensations bombarded her and she felt wild and free and beautiful.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled him in closer. The kiss deepened and his hands lingered on the small of her back. One minute her feet touched the ground and the next her legs wrapped around his slim waist.

He held her there, high on his body, as he kissed and caressed. His mouth slanted over hers and his palms balanced on her ass. A low hum from the television rumbled in the background, but all she could hear was the heavy push of his breath and the mumbling groan inching up her throat.

The room spun as he walked them to the bed. The white ceiling whizzed by and the heat gathered inside her. He rubbed his palm up and down her thigh as his other hand dipped past the elastic of her waistband to touch bare skin.

His mouth went to her neck as her butt hit the mattress. Balancing on his elbows, he pushed her down and hovered over her, fitting his body to hers while his mouth drove her to distraction. She felt teeth and lips. His hot mouth traveled over her until the top of the sweater dipped down and he kissed the thin fabric of her bra.

So sensitive and lost in a haze of need, her back arched and his mouth fit over her nipple. Sucking and licking, he had her squirming on the bed. Her heels dug into his back as she stripped his shirt off his shoulders. Her fingers touched the cotton of his tee underneath and his skin almost burned her through the fabric.

When he broke away and sat back on his heels she thought she might pass out. Need drove her as she sat up and undid the top button of his jeans. Her lips went to the tee covering his chest and his hand touched the back of her head.

She’d missed this. Missed him. The closeness, the wanting. Desire pulled at her until any possibility of thinking or talking left her head.

This was about touching. About feeling. About pushing away all of those lonely days and replacing the pain with new memories. She’d work the rest out later, but for now she needed him, over her and thrusting inside her.

His zipper ticked down and his chest rose and fell on rough breaths. But he never stopped touching her. His hands brushed over her hair and shoulders. He nuzzled her hair. He unleashed a constant barrage of sensations that had her fingers fumbling as she reached inside the opening of his jeans and closed her hand over his erection.

She dipped her head and took him into her mouth. Her lips closed over him and she felt and heard his sharp intake of breath. In the next moment, his stomach clenched and she slipped a hand under his shirt to felt the hard ripple of muscles toned by hard work and time in the sun. Her mouth worked him, up and down, until his hips shifted in time with her sucking.

He was all man, hot and bawdy. Strong and sexy. He didn’t think about things like clothes or being pampered. None of that was on his radar. The calluses on his hands spoke to his connection to the land. His earthy scent and knowing way around a woman’s body—she loved it all.

“I can’t wait another second.” With a gentle push against her shoulders, he put her back on the bed and came down on top of her.

His body was alive with movement. He kicked his pants off and stripped her leggings down. When he reached to lift her sweater and uncover her stomach she caught his hand and pressed it to the very heat of her. Fingers slipped against the crotch of her panties. Back and forth, the friction making her wet and snapping every muscle into a tight clench.

Music rang out in the background as he lowered his mouth to her. That expert tongue licked along the seam, separating her leg from the cloth. As he nudged the material aside, his lips and fingers went to work. Dipping inside, pressing and thrusting, first one finger, then a second, he had her writhing on the bed with sweat gathering between her breasts.

It was a moment of pure abandonment. She didn’t care what he touched or how much he knew. The feel of him, all of him, driving her to the edge had her thighs falling apart and her hands grabbing to pull him up and over her. Anything to get him inside her.

As if he could read her mind, his mouth broke away. Those warm lips traveled across the tops of her thighs, then over her sweater as his hands tunneled underneath to her breasts.

It was a sensual assault that had released something wild inside her. She’d been longing for this for months. Craving him.

Before she could think or react, she heard a ripping sound and his mouth covered hers. She held on to his shoulders as her legs twisted and shifted until they found his hips again.

She felt his tip pressed against her, then he drove into her in one long aching push. She heard a growling rumble, unsure if it came from him or her. He filled her, owning every inch and sending her tiny internal muscles into a frenzy.

After all the touching, all the wanting, her body was primed and ready. His thrusts rocked the bed and their harsh breaths mixed. Her hand skimmed down his back to tighten on his ass and bring him in closer.

With one hand on the headboard and one supporting her back, he kissed her and pumped into her. There was nothing sweet and lingering about them coming together after all this time apart. This was the kind of long, deep mating she loved. Nothing left over and every need fulfilled.

The pressure built inside her. Each push in and slow pull out, only to dive in again, had her muscles shaking. Everything inside her tightened as she silently begged him for more. When one of his hands snaked down between them and his fingertip slipped over the spot that made her eyes close and her mouth drop open, she no longer worried about sound.

“God, Callen. Now.” She grabbed at his shoulders and tugged on his hair. Anything to bring the madness to a shuddering climax.

“You feel so fucking good.” His words were ground out against her neck as his body kept up its steady rhythm.

Then his control snapped. The rough slide of their bodies mixed with the heat pulsing through the room. Her thighs tightened against his hips and the screaming in her head gave way as her body bucked. From one second to the next the orgasm tore through her, leaving her panting and raw.

Waves of pleasure crashed over her as she moaned against his lips. Everything inside her tingled and her body’s clenching finally let go. While he continued to push into her, her body went lax. Exhaustion swept through her and her hands fell to the bed beside her.

It was a total surrender. A culmination of all those months and all those lonely nights.

When he buried his face in the crook of her neck, she grabbed on to him again, holding him as the orgasm blasted through him and his body shook. When the last of the tremors subsided, his body pressed down onto hers. It was as if his elbows and shoulders had given out and he could no longer hold his weight above her.

He was too heavy, and she needed him to move, but the heat and his body felt so right. She closed her eyes and let the moment sink in and the doubts fall away. For this short instant, he was hers. Not arguing or accusing. Just quiet and loving.

She wasn’t sure if she had drifted off, but she knew time had passed. The world outside the window was now cast in shadows as night began to fall.

Before she could come up with something brilliant to say or even kick-start her brain into forming words, he pushed up and off her. Slipped out and shifted until he sat on the side of the bed with his hand laying on her stomach.

It was as if he knew . . . but he couldn’t. She’d kept her sweater on and they’d been so lost in the moment. Even now she couldn’t get her mind to unscramble.

But he stared. Spread out his fingers over her and looked at his hand. Didn’t say a word. Just sat there with his pants off and crumpled in a pile on the end of the bed.

“Callen?”

He pulled away, dragging his hand across her until it fell against the mattress. Seconds passed before he finally met her gaze. “I need to go.”

Those intense green eyes bored into her, stark but unreadable. Something played in his mind. Probably all the regrets about sleeping with her. She silently begged him not to apologize or write off what happened as nothing.

“At least you got your pants off.” She went with half a joke even though she didn’t feel like laughing.

His fingers traced the bottom edge of her sweater where it lay against her upper thighs. “Missed a chance to strip you bare, though.”

“You did fine.”

He didn’t meet her gaze this time. “Thanks.”

He didn’t have to say what he was thinking. She could guess. In his head he wrote the last hour off to hormones and nothing more. She was a ready and willing body. With his shoulders stiffening and his drawn expression, it was as if he were stacking row after row on the mental wall he built against her.

She recognized this part. She hated this part. “But now you’re running.”

“I’m sitting here.”

In body, maybe, but his mind had already sprinted for the door. “Then come back to bed.”

He shook his head as he looked around the room. “I need to get home.”

“Since you don’t have an office to go to or cattle to feed in the morning, that excuse is pretty lame.” She tried to sit up, but he’d caught the edge of her sweater under his leg. She settled for grabbing a pillow and holding it in front of her, both because she needed something to hold on to and because in some small way it might block the body blows she sensed were headed her way.

He shifted until both legs were over the side of the bed and his elbows rested on his knees. He glanced at her. “How about the excuse that I need some space?”

The words slammed into her stomach and her arms tightened on the pillow. “Not my favorite lame line, but at least I think it’s honest.”

“Honesty . . .” He gave her a rough laugh. “Huh.”

Looked like he’d set up another speech on her trustworthiness—or lack of it—and was ready to launch. Ducking sounded tempting, but she decided she was done with that. “Now what has you upset?”

He shook his head. “Nothing has changed between us.”

That verbal knife dug in a little deeper, past bone and straight to the heart of her. “Everything has. The months we were together and the time since has all been a slow shift bringing us toward each other again.”

He stared at his hands. Flipped them over and kept studying. “I still don’t trust you.”

She had to move. Had to put a few inches between them.

She shifted, and her feet hit the floor. Tugging on the edge of her sweater, she stood there on the opposite side of the bed with nothing but a bra and the sweater covering her. And she told him the truth. “There are times you make it hard to like you.”