Chapter 14

Fourteen

SARA

While he focusedon his artistic endeavor, my mind wondered to more sensual places. Every fiber in my body craved him. My only desire was to ease the always-present tension, regardless of his mood. I ached to unsheathe him, to shred the fabric of his clothes with my fingers, and to caress all the stiff muscles of his body, gently massaging him into submission. My body temperature rose at the thought of owning his release and surrendering mine to him.

Loud thunder shook me out of my daydream. Out in the distance, the heavens darkened with the sudden creep of ashen clouds, the threat of rain looming in the horizon. A satisfied grunt from Tom drew my attention, and I was more than happy to stand up and stretch.

“Well, how does it look?” I asked.

“No artist could capture your full beauty, Sara.”

I snickered at him. “Okay, you seriously have to stop talking like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you are from some other time, that’s what.”

He frowned.

My eyes widened. “C’mon, you know most guys don’t say those kinds of things to women…at least not anymore. Unless, they think that shit will get them laid, I guess.”

His lips thinned into a tight line. “I’m not most guys.” He threw his sketch pad into the backpack followed by the pencils.

“Wait, what are you doing? Aren’t you going to show me?”

He zipped up the bag, ignoring my question. “Is that what you think I’m doing? Trying to get you into bed?”

I finally realized why he was mad. “I didn’t mean to imply—”

“Look, I brought you here because this place means something special to me, and I wanted you to know what’s been happening to me since I met you.”

I lowered my chin. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking when I made the comment.”

“It’s not like that.”

Abashed, I looked back up.

“If…if getting you in bed was all I wanted…” He looked away before continuing. “Last night—”

“You didn’t,” I said, cutting him off. “I was a wreck. You could have taken advantage of me and you didn’t.” I walked up to him and put my arms around his neck. “I’m sorry for making you feel like a jerk.”

After a brief moment, we released each other and he walked over to the ledge where he stared out at the endless view of the Hudson River cutting through the valley. “I am a jerk,” he admitted. “Relationships with women…they haven’t gone past the bedroom. I’m not proud of it, but it’s been safer for everyone.” He turned toward me, the torment in his eyes matched the stormy clouds in the sky. “With you, I need things to be different. I don’t want to mess it up.”

Thunder broke again, shifting our attention to the impending rain.

“We should get going, looks like it’s gonna pour soon,” he said, following the cue from the sky.

“Don’t I get to see my portrait first?”

“You’re sure you want to see it?”

“Are you kidding? I didn’t sit on hard rock for twenty minutes for nothing. Hand over the bag, mister.”

He held on with an iron fist. Then, with terrified eyes, handed it to me.

“Oh, c’mon,” I said, “it can’t possibly be that bad.” I unzipped the bag and slid the pad out.

Oh, God.

While I held the drawing in my hand, my heart free fell into the pit of my stomach, causing me to drop the bag.

“It’s horrible, isn’t it?” He tried to grab it away from my hands, but I was able to steer away.

Moved to tears, I pressed a hand to my heart.

“Sara, enough with the theatrics. You don’t have to patronize me. See, this is why I don’t tell people. Why I never let anyone see my drawings. I shouldn’t have done this.”

“Would you shut up? Tom, it’s gorgeous.”

He rolled his eyes. “It’s just a sketch.”

“Stop it. It’s positively the most beautiful thing anyone has ever done for me.” Looking at it more closely, I absorbed every pencil stroke. It was more than a portrait of me—hair wild in the wind, the landscape sweeping behind me. It was a snapshot of my raw spirit and my eyes. He reached into the depths of my abyss and pulled out all my secrets, putting them on display for all to see, every detail intricately drawn to perfection. I couldn’t stop gawking. A warm breath by my ear startled me, sending chills down my spine.

“What were you thinking as I drew?”

I looked away from him, trying to disguise my blush. “Like the Mona Lisa, you’ll never know, and I’m never telling.”

“I can live with that.”

Tom put the sketch between the pages of his pad then stuck it in the knapsack. We hightailed it back to the parking lot, hoping to outrun the rain, but the water fell by the buckets moments later. By the time we arrived at the visitor center seeking shelter, we were drenched. Dripping wet, our shirts clung to every nook and cranny of our bodies. Tom’s rippled chest and stomach were visible through his white T-shirt and my light cottony turquoise blouse seemed to have been washed completely of color, melting into my skin and revealing my pale-white, lacy bra.

“I didn’t know it was supposed to rain today,” I said, trying to divert the attention from our almost-naked bodies. Tom realized the same and attempted a distracted look away from my breasts, where my nipples had decided to perk up in salutation.

“Weather guy said scattered showers. Thought we’d get lucky. Can’t ride out until the rain stops.”

A few minutes later, the downpour became a short drizzle before turning into a light mist. Tom opened the door and urged me out. We sprinted to the bike and took our jackets out from the top-box and unlocked our helmets from the frame. After gearing up, and despite wearing the jacket, my body shivered. Tom noticed me trembling and rubbed his hands up and down my arms. “Gonna take the highway to make it home quicker. It’ll be cold since we’re wet. I’m sorry. I should have planned better.”

“Don’t worry, just get me some place warm,” I stuttered out.

“We should probably stop at my place to dry up before I drive you back to the city.”

“Sure. Let’s get moving.”

* * *

Malcolm Place, Tom’s apartment complex, located near Sinatra Drive in Hoboken, was a high-rise luxury residence sitting on the Hudson River waterfront with views of the Manhattan skyline. We pulled into the garage and parked next to the Rover then took the elevators to the ninth floor.

It was a long walk to his unit, and Tom fumbled with his keys as we approached. The idea of being alone made my insides churn. In public, I was safe from the clawing feline I put away in her cage the night before.

In private, there was no predicting what could happen.

Tom opened the door to his home and I gasped as I slowly stepped through, peeking around at the surroundings. The far wall of the living room and dining area was a splay of floor-to-ceiling windows facing the river. It was a corner apartment with a southern exposure, capturing a full-blown panorama of Midtown Manhattan, the Empire State Building dominating the view. And he thought my East Side apartment was something to brag about?

Before I was fully inside, soft taps padding against the hard wood floors thumped from inside one of the rooms. A large, bouncy chocolate lab poked from around a corner then made a beeline toward us. He huffed at my sight, but quickly saw Tom, and with recognition flooding his senses, he ignored my presence. The dog jumped up to greet him, licking Tom’s face with excitement, tail wagging like a propeller.

“Hey, buddy. Good to see you, too.” He patted the dog and gave him a scratch under his neck. The canine sat by his master’s feet, head tilted back, enjoying his rub, tongue drooping to the side, panting in utter glee.

“You didn’t tell me you had a dog.”

“You didn’t tell me you had a cat.”

“You met Skiddles?”

“Skiddles? Yes, I met your angry cat. It wasn’t very fond of me last night. I had to shoo her off your bed. She nearly attacked me before scurrying away in a never-ending hiss.”

“Skiddles is harmless,” I said, shaking my head. I nodded toward his furry companion. “He’s gorgeous.”

“This is Bax. Bax, say hi to our guest.”

I let him sniff my hand and he stopped panting, intrigued by the new scent. He licked my hand and walked over, circling and smelling around my feet and crotch before stopping in front of me, waiting.

Tom whispered in my ear, “Extend your hand and ask for his paw.”

Curiously, I looked at Bax then put my hand out to him. “Paw.”

His eyes lit up and he gently gave me his paw. “Nice to meet you, Bax,” I said with a gentle handshake.

Satisfied with our greeting, he pulled away and walked toward the front door and sat.

“He needs a bathroom break. Gonna take him for a short walk. Shouldn’t be more than fifteen minutes. Make yourself at home.” He clipped the leather lead hanging by the entrance to Bax’s collar then headed out, shutting the door and leaving me alone in his apartment.

Well, this was unexpected. Looking around the apartment, I couldn’t believe I was actually inside Tom’s place. Mr. Wright. Mr. Iced Double. The guy who’d caught my clumsy ass when I tripped over my shoe. The man I’d fantasized about for days, wondering exactly where he went to sleep at night, and now, here I was.

Taking a gentle stroll through the open area, I took in every detail. Cherry cabinets lined the modern kitchen. It was well equipped with top of the line appliances and granite countertops. The rest of the living area was furnished with a more contemporary flare: straight lines, glass, and dark woods. By the windows, a massive, black leather sectional completed his living area. A large flat screen was mounted on the wall above a gas fireplace, and the console was packed with high-tech, big-boy toys. Plush white area rugs softened the room. The only touches of color came from abstract paintings scattered across the walls.

Seemed he owned an expansive collection of movies—mostly war dramas, epics, and psychological thrillers. Near the southern-most windows sat a massive telescope aimed at the heavens. Nearby, a long accent table was topped with an array of old, worn books. They tempted me to skim through their titles, but the covers and bindings were extremely faded and probably very fragile.

There were a few personal black and white framed photos on a wall. A picture of Tom and Bax on a hiking trail hung to the right of the wall collage. Another frame held the face of a young, beautiful woman. Her long, light hair was styled straight, but in a vintage style. She was laughing at something behind the field of view. The slight resemblance to Tom was uncanny.

In another picture, Tom wrapped an arm around another man’s shoulder. They looked to be the same age, enjoying each other’s company over drinks at a party. This guy also shared a slight resemblance to Tom. Finally, in the middle of this collage was a picture of a group of three men decked out in military combat gear and equipped with rifles. It was apparent from the background they were somewhere in the desert. The picture was taken at a distance, so leaning in for a closer look, I was floored when I noticed who was in the picture. To my amazement, in the center of the photo and flanked by two soldiers wearing the familiar Marine pattern fatigues, was a young unmistakable face.

“Holy shit, Tom’s a Marine.”

“Surprised?” Tom rasped behind me.

I jumped at the sound of his voice, my hand automatically leaping to my heart. “Christ. You scared me,” I said as I turned to face him. “I didn’t mean to…I was simply looking around.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” he said as he walked back toward the kitchen.

“You didn’t tell me you were a Marine.”

He reached into a cookie jar and pulled out a doggie treat that he fed to Bax. “That picture was taken a long time ago.”

“How long?”

He breathed deeply, a hand pressed to his nape, as if mentioning his past was a heavy weight on his neck. “I was nineteen when I was first deployed to the Middle East.”

My eyes narrowed, intrigued yet cautious of this side of him I didn’t know. “Still in the military?”

He paused before he answered, a dark cloud hovering over his eyes. “My last tour was a couple of years ago.”

“My father was also a Marine,” I said. “A soldier in Vietnam and the Korean War. Never liked talking about it much.”

Looking away, he said in a somber voice, “War is never an easy topic.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Hey, you hungry?” he interrupted promptly, changing the subject. “I’m famished. I can whip up a quick meal.”

Tom didn’t want to talk about his time in the military. That was obvious. As civilians, one could never know the true demons soldiers combat in the face of war. The damage is at times irreparable, as I learned for so many years with my father. I didn’t want to press Tom, but a part of me remained confused.

Being a Marine is such a big part of a soldier’s life, and even though I understood why he didn’t want to talk about it, what I didn’t get was why he hadn’t mentioned it before. Perhaps I was beginning to comprehend the cloud that seemed to hover over him at times.

Already picking things out of the fridge, he fired up the range, engrossed and happy to be cooking—a completely different man than two minutes prior. He was the opposite of my father. You wouldn’t know by looking at him that he once wielded an assault rifle or witnessed more horrors and death than any one person could ever imagine.

“What are you making us?” I asked as I walked toward the kitchen.

Tom held a package of chicken tenders in one hand and a bag of lettuce in the other. “Given we kind of pigged out this afternoon, I was thinking…herb-rubbed grilled chicken tossed over fresh greens?”

“How can I help?”

“You can relax and keep me company.” He poured me a glass of chilled wine as I sat on the island barstool.

Smiling, I sipped my crisp wine then I caught a glimpse of my reflection on the wall mirror near the foyer and nearly spit out my wine. My hair was twisted into a fuzz-ball, mascara was smeared across my eyes, and my damp clothes were wrinkly and unflattering. Completely self-conscious and utterly mortified, I jumped off my stool. “Um, actually, would it be okay if I freshen up?”

A smirk ghosted across his lips. “Ah…sure. There should be fresh towels in the bathrooms. You can use the one in my room down and to the left or if you prefer, the guest room is down to the far right.”

“Okay, thanks.”

“You can throw your clothes in the dryer if you want. I have robes in the linen closet.”

The guest room was the more appropriate choice for my shower, but somehow, I ended up in Tom’s room. Bax turned into my shadow and followed me into his master’s chamber.

“What is it, Bax? You don’t trust me in here?”

He sat down, looking at me, and tilted his head to the left.

“Yeah, I don’t know what I’m doing in here either. Curious, I guess.”

Tom’s room was spacious, boasting of the same floor to ceiling windows and views of the city. Center stage belonged to the king size, four-poster bed. I ran my hand over the soft, dark-burgundy duvet folded at the foot of the bed and pressed my palm on the plush mattress, loving the cool feel of his white, cotton sheets. Unbidden images of bare skin tangled in those sheets flooded my mind. I shook the thoughts out of my head before those thoughts could get me in trouble.

Tiled in natural stone and equipped with double sinks and vanities, the master bathroom was straight out of a home design magazine. It was adorned with a massive soaking tub and a double shower. Literally, Heaven. I stripped off my sodden clothes and dumped them on the floor. After a quick ten-minute rinse, I wrapped myself in a towel and walked out into the coolness of his room.

Not wanting to be intrusive, but curious to find that robe, I slowly pried open the doors to his walk-in closet. If the manner in which he organized it wasn’t a clue about his military background, I didn’t know what else could be. Everything was neatly folded and stacked. His tailored suits and shirts were arranged by color and type. Shoes were shiny and placed in cubbies.

Still, no robe.

“Ahem.” A cough at the door turned my attention.

Busted.

Tom stood at the entrance, holding the eluding white robe.

I shrugged, shamefully. “Oh, hey. Didn’t mean to be looking through your closet.”

“Don’t worry about it…here.” He stepped into the room and handed me the robe. “It was in the guest room.” His eyes failed to cover the hungry look skimming up and down my-barely-covered-in-his-towel body. The realization of my nakedness in his room and the proximity to him and his bed made the wet beads on my skin evaporate. Tom noticed my flush and dropped his gaze. Seeing my clothes on the floor, he offered to take them to the dryer and was off before I could refuse.

Just perfect. My undergarments were in that pile.

Wrapped warmly in the soft cotton robe, I padded out barefoot into the living room. The moon was now in her glory, and the evening sparkled across the river. Tom was finishing up in the kitchen and waved me over.

“Hey,” I whispered, plopping my ass on one of the barstools in front of the kitchen island.

“Good shower?”

“That bathroom is amazing. Can I move in?”

“Tomorrow good for ya?”

“I’m being serious. I could live in there.”

He smiled. “Ready to eat?”

“Yes. I’m starving.”

He served me a large plate of tossed lettuce, fresh herbs, and grape tomatoes, mixed with grilled chicken chunks and sprinkled parmesan cheese, all drizzled with a zesty lemon dressing. Tom also brought out a steaming loaf of garlic bread straight from the oven. I drooled. He then sat next to me and poured me another glass of wine. “Hope you like it. It’s all I could whip up in short notice.”

I shoveled in a mouthful, savoring the juiciness of the chicken. “It’s delicious.”

His chest puffed and his triumphant smile spilled into his eyes.

“Where did Mr. Iced Double learn how to cook?”

He squinted in bewilderment. “Mr. Iced what?”

Crap.

“Uh, never mind. When’d you become a chef?”

“I just like to cook. Growing up, my mom always made sure there was something good in her kitchen.”

“She taught you?”

“I watched.”

“Just watched?”

He reached for the Pinot Grigio. “More wine?”

I slit my eyes. “I know what you’re doing. Don’t change the subject.”

“I’m not.”

“My glass is still full, so no need to fill it. It’s okay if you don’t like to talk about your personal life.”

“Why do you assume that?”

“You never told me you were a Marine.”

“I didn’t think it was important.”

“You don’t really believe that.”

He pushed his plate away, the meal only partially finished. Then he crossed his arms. “It makes me a bit uncomfortable…to talk about it.”

I reached out for his arm and squeezed, offering reassurance. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to press the issue. If you ever do want to talk about it…”

He hooded his eyes then turned to look at me. “I know. Thanks.”

I didn’t know what else to say after that. I turned to the rest of my meal and neither one of us said anything while I continued to munch on my salad.

Tom simply watched me eat. Eventually, an awkward silence settled over us. Finishing the last chicken morsel, I sighed and rubbed my belly. “Well, that was good.”

“Was it?”

“Yeah.”

“Now what?” he asked, a playful smirk emerging from his lips.

“You tell me.”

“Well, how about we put you on the hot seat now?”

“On the hot seat?”

“You asked me questions.”

“Barely.”

“It’s your turn.”

“What do you want to know?”

“You haven’t said much about how you feel…about this.” He waved a finger between us.

I dropped my gaze. This was the part that always got me, the part I wanted to avoid. He was coming on a bit strong, but at the same time, I wasn’t saying no. I wasn’t pulling away. I wasn’t looking for my clothes rushing to leave his apartment.

Quite the opposite. My knees turned to gelatin every time he came near. And that’s probably what he wanted me to say. That no matter how hard I tried to stay away, I would always end up here, wanting to be with him.

Fuck. Why couldn’t I just open up?

“Tom, what do you want me to say? We just met. This is happening crazy fast and…”

“You think I don’t know that?” His hot gaze buried into mine. “Sara, you think it doesn’t cross my mind too, how crazy this shit is? You stumbling into my life only one week ago and not being able to rip you out of my head, no matter how hard I try? You’re like a drug I can’t get enough of—the heroin that’s about to turn me into some type of fucking addict.”

All I could do was stare.

“I’m scared too,” he continued, his eyes still seated in mine with a fire he could barely contain. “Scared of what might happen if I reach over and take you into my arms.” Then he lowered his gaze. “Mostly. Scared of what might happen if I don’t.” He looked back up and a shadow of doubt clouded his eyes. “Baby, you’ve got me so fucked in the head, I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.”

Thunderstruck, I chugged the rest of my wine in one swig. How was I supposed to follow all that? I couldn’t deal with so much intensity. It was one thing to feel these things, another to have someone recite back exactly how you felt, as if they’d dug deep into your chest cavity and excavated your soul. He terrified me in the sweetest most surreal sense of the word. Not knowing how to react, I stood up to pick up the dishes, but Tom grabbed hold of my waist and pulled me in between his indecently spread legs. Unintentionally, I rested my hands on his thighs, feeling the strength and power of the muscles beneath his pants, too aware of the level of intimacy, but not backing away from the intrusion.

“Leave that,” he said firmly, then breathily added, “I know what I want, Sara. As much as you want to deny it, you feel it, too—this electricity that singes us both when we touch. I might have denied myself your taste last night, but I’ll be dammed if I’m going to let you slip through my fingers again.” He took a loose strand of damp hair from my face and tucked it behind my ear, slowly caressing my cheek with his long finger and tracing my jaw.

Succumbing to his touch, I closed my eyes and felt the soft press of his lips on mine. He nibbled, the sensation of his hot tongue slowly parting my mouth and tasting me with his wetness sent shivers down my spine, desire coiling in my center. Tom held my face in his hands, and as he kissed me, he whispered through heated breaths, “Stay with me tonight.”

I tried to resist his invitation.

Really, I did, but it was a losing battle. Everything he’d professed spun in my mind. I knew it since the first moment I laid eyes on him. I knew this man was meant to be in my life. Denial was not serving me any purpose. I wanted to be cradled in his arms and be absorbed into him like never before. Every ounce of my being raged with need.

I need this.

I need him.

And not wanting to separate from his mouth, I nodded in agreement, sealing my fate.