Father and Child Reunion Part 3

“For starters,” she whispered.

In other words, what she felt was…overwhelmed.

The pressure of his hand increased, urging her forward. But she held her ground, refusing to move.

“I just want to hold you,” he told her, not sure it wasn’t his own need he sought to fill.

“I want that, too.” So badly she ached for it. “But I can’t let you.”

Sliding his thumb along her jaw, he stepped an inch closer and tipped up her chin. Her eyes looked haunted when they met his.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not that strong. I don’t think I can handle whatever it is that’s going on between us right now. Or what isn’t. I don’t know if that makes any sense to you, but I don’t know how else to explain it.”

“You did about as good a job as I could. I don’t know if I can explain what’s going on with us, either. But I do know,” he continued, running his hands down her arms to pry her hands apart, “that when something can’t be explained, it’s a waste of energy to try. Stop being so stubborn and come here.”

It wasn’t stubbornness. It was survival. But she went, anyway, more because she couldn’t not go than because he drew her closer. Rio knew her so well, knew what she felt, what she needed. He always had.

His arms were already around her. And when he pressed her head to his chest, she felt the fight drain out as surely as if he’d pulled a plug. Not that she had much left. It was just that she couldn’t fight herself and him, too. Not when there was so much else demanding her energy.

That was the only thought she allowed herself as she sagged against his strong, solid body. Enveloped in his arms, she simply let herself rest against him while he stroked her hair, his palm cupping the back of her head as he skimmed from crown to nape. The motion was more soothing than she could have ever dreamed, the feel of him more welcome than she could have imagined. And, in the past few weeks, she’d imagined him holding her more times than she could count.

“That’s not so bad? Is it?”

She shook her head, the motion rubbing her cheek against his shirt. He smelled of soap and fresh air, and warm, musky male. Beneath the soft fabric, she could feel the strong, steady cadence of his heart. He was a rock, and she badly needed the support he offered. The way they’d been lately, with both of them staying away from each other as much as possible, he was the last person on earth she would ever have expected to offer it.

His arms tightened around her back, securing his hold. With a familiarity that shouldn’t have been there, his hand curved easily around her side, the heat of his palm seeping inside her.

“I’d forgotten how small you are,” he murmured, his voice as soothing as his touch. “At least now I know you won’t break. The first time I held you six years ago, I was afraid you might.”

Her whispered “You were?” was barely audible, muffled as it was by his shirt.

“Yeah. I was.”

The admission surprised her. She couldn’t picture Rio fearing anything. “But I didn’t.”

“No,” he agreed, his breath feathering her hair. “You didn’t. You’re a lot stronger than you look. And a lot stronger than you think you are.”

She looked up to find a faint smile curving his sculpted mouth. He was telling her that she was doing better than she thought she was, and she appreciated the encouragement more than he could possibly know. But she wasn’t strong when it came to him. She’d meant that when she said it.

She might have told him that, too. But his glance drifted to her mouth, pooling heat low in her stomach when the smile in his dark eyes faded. When he met her eyes again, a faint tension seemed to have entered his body. She could feel it in his arms, see it in the strong angles of his features. For long seconds, he searched her face, looking as if he didn’t know whether to pull her closer or let her go. Then he carefully tucked back the hair she’d mussed earlier.

“You’re going to be okay,” he told her, seeming to ignore the way his body hardened against hers. “A lot of it will just take time.”

He was right, of course. But she couldn’t think why. She couldn’t even remember what they were talking about. All she could think of was how safe she felt at that moment, how protected. Nothing could intrude when he held her. None of the uncertainties, or questions, or hurts. Even if the feelings were an illusion, for now she needed them desperately.

“Rio?” Her voice sounded thready, hushed. “Please don’t go home tonight.”

The motion of his hand stopped, his fingers still threaded through her hair. “If that’s what you want,” he finally said, sounding as if he found it understandable that she didn’t want to be alone, even if he hadn’t expected the request. “I’ll sleep on the sofa.”

She shook her head. “I mean stay with me. Holding me.”

“Eve. I can’t do that.”

She didn’t know which hit harder. The absolute certainty in his voice, or the look in his eyes that clearly said he thought she’d finally slipped over the edge. She ducked her head, embarrassed for having asked, feeling like a fool for confusing his concern with caring.

“Honey, don’t.” He refused to let her go, his expression as tormented as his words when he saw the hurt clouding her eyes. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“It’s okay.”

He swore, the whispered epithet harsh and unforgiving.

“No. It’s not okay.” Knowing her as he did, he knew she’d never have asked such a thing of him unless she’d been desperate. And all he’d done was make her feel worse than she already did. “I said I just wanted to hold you, but that’s not true.” It had been when he’d said it. When he’d reached for her, he’d meant only to offer comfort. But the moment he felt her sag against him, altruism had gone to battle with want, sensibility with need. “I’ve never stopped wanting you, Eve. Even after all these years, all I can think about when I’m with you is how you taste and feel and move. Don’t you know that?”

Her heart hammering in her throat, she slowly shook her head. “When we’re together, you never come anywhere near me.”

“There’s a reason for that.”

He didn’t trust himself around her. Eve got the message clearly enough when his eyes, dark and glittering, settled on her mouth. The knowledge did something very freeing to her spirit. As controlled as he so often appeared, inside he was a man doing battle. And she was a woman who very much needed that man.

“I’ll stay.” He would do that because he knew how long and lonely some nights could be, and heaven help him, he couldn’t stand the thought of her here by herself. “But you know what will happen if we’re in the same bed together.”

“I think so.” She touched his chest with her fingertips, her fingers trembling. “But it’s been so long, you’ll probably have to show me all over again.”

Her words were too honest to be deliberately provocative, but the images they evoked of the first time they’d made love played pure havoc with Rio’s brain. She’d told him then that he’d have to teach her what to do. And he had. Too impatiently, he was sure.

Clasping her hand in his, he drew it to his mouth and brushed a kiss to her wrist. Beneath his lips, her pulse leapt. “It’s like riding a bike,” he whispered, threading his fingers through hers and drawing her arm behind her back. “It’ll come back to you.”

His last words were murmured against her mouth, his breath hot against her cheek. When his tongue touched hers, Eve thought her legs would buckle, but he caught her to him, letting her use his body for support. Long moments later, her breathing altered, his just as erratic, he bent and picked her up in his arms.

“Get the lights,” he told her, swinging her toward the switch on the way out of the kitchen.

He turned off the front lights himself, using his forearm as they passed through the foyer. With the filtered lights from the porch and hall upstairs illuminating the way, he carried her up the stairs, pausing just outside Molly’s open door.

“Is she okay?”

Seeing the soundly sleeping child, Eve whispered that she was. Quiet as air, he turned to the room Eve had claimed for herself and used his foot to swing the door partway closed once they were inside.

The filmy curtains were open, moonlight streaming into the tiny, atticlike room. The daybed was against one wall. A chair and dresser against another. Eve watched the shadows move over his face as he slid her down his body to the floor, then reached past her to close the door the rest of the way. In those muted shades of gray, his noble features were taut with purpose and possession.

“I can still sleep on the sofa,” he told her, skimming his hand down her arm. He laced his fingers through hers, smoothing her hair back with his other hand.

She shook her head. At least, she thought she did. She was really only aware of his eyes, intent on her face, and the feel of his fingers drifting down her neck.

“I want you here,” she finally said, just so there’d be no doubt.

There was none. The possessiveness in his eyes moved to his touch as the mesmerizing movement of his hand reached the collar of her blouse. With the tip of his finger, he nudged the fabric aside and drew his finger along her collarbone, trailing a line of heat to the hollow of her throat. His touch lingered long enough for him to feel the quickened beat of her heart before he carried it between her breasts, then back up to trace her jaw.