Harlequin Romantic Suspense April 2021 Karen Whiddon (best fiction books to read TXT) 📖

She sat in front of the fire, cross-legged, as he’d watched her do before. Dominique was good at meditating, at allowing herself to zone out when she needed to. He had a pang of envy as he watched her. Quickly replaced by the burning need to touch her. Hold her.

To make love to her, if only one more time.

He kicked off his shoes and walked toward her, the warmth from the stove already significant. She didn’t move as he sat down on the floor beside her.

This is a bad idea.

He was tired of listening to his mind, to that place that still had some integrity left. All he wanted was to be able to show the woman that mattered most to him what it was like to be made love to by the one man who loved her most. No matter the cost, because in truth, tonight was all they had.

She turned to face him and watched him. He was lost in her gaze, their eyes locked together as they’d been since he could remember.

“You know what’s funny?” His voice caught, and he didn’t think he’d ever felt as vulnerable.

Dominique reached out and ran her fingers on his cheek, smoothed back the hair that had fallen on his forehead. “That we’re still awake?” Her tender smile tugged on their connection, the thread that ran through him, right to his center. Her hands grasped his and they intertwined their fingers, all the while never breaking eye contact.

“That, yeah.” He cleared his throat. “I was about to say something a little more profound.”

Her laughter was pure, without the weight of the past days. “It’s just like me to stomp on your seriousness, isn’t it? Or to jump in, thinking I already know it all? Go ahead, tell me.”

But now he was...nervous? It wasn’t a usual feeling for him. “I’ve been thinking that I can’t remember a time when we weren’t together.”

“Um, what about the last two years?”

“Have we really been apart, though? Sure, we didn’t see one another and you avoided me at every event we ran into each other at, but it hasn’t broken this.” He carried their hands to his heart, and then hers. Her pupils dilated in the amber glow of the woodstove, her lips parted as if she needed more air. If she was like him, her heart was pounding in her ears, too.

“No, it hasn’t. We definitely have a connection. But...” She kept looking at him, blinking, her eyes reflecting tears. “What are we going to do about it? What can we do about it? We’re not compatible.”

“I’d say we’ve done exceptionally well through...let’s see, an attack—” he hated bringing that up again, worried that the memory triggered the pain she’d already survived “—being shot at twice, and the worst thing of all.”

Her brows rose and she leaned in. “What?”

“Fireworks.”

Her gasp of surprise turned into a laugh, until the air between them electrified. They were no more than a whisper apart.

“We have done very well.” She agreed. But did that mean she’d been having some of the same thoughts he had? “But we’ve also been under a lot of pressure. I don’t know, Stanton. We’re a good team, and we work together like lifelong partners. I mean, career-wise.”

“And I mean all-wise. I made a big mistake when I pushed you on a solid commitment. Love is an action, and you were right there, every night, no matter how far my jobs took me. Those two weeks I was in Syria—”

“Protecting a hellcat actor on the movie shoot from Hades.” She grinned. Her voice on the other end of the line after every day, while he’d been guarding the inconsolable diva who’d insisted on partying each night after her shoot, wearing the entire crew out, had been his saving grace.

“I’m sorry I tried to make you agree to something you’re not cut out for.” He’d been an ass, plain and simple.

“Oh, Stanton, I was awful to you. It’s not that I’m not cut out for family. All during my father’s party, all I kept seeing was how it would be if we had a child, who would they look like. Would you be holding him or her or would I?”

The last of his restraint broke. “Dominique, I can’t promise you anything, not before you get this story. Not until we know all the cartel players are behind bars.”

She placed her finger on his lips. “You’re not the one who needs to be apologizing, and we’re going to get this story and help GGPD get the bad guys.”

“I’m glad we had this talk.” He grinned, the elation in his chest almost too much to bear. “We both need rest now.”

“Not on your life.” She placed her hands on his shoulders. “How’s your arm?”

“My arm? It’s fine. Why?”

“Because we’re going to be up for a while, and the way I want you, you’re going to need your arm.” She closed the inches between their mouths and when her lips touched his, he let himself be the man he was always meant to be. With Dominique.

* * *

Relief buoyed the constant desire she had for Stanton as the kiss deepened from a physical seal of their mutual regrets and hopes for the future, to an expression of the searing passion they’d never been able to let go of. His lips molded to hers as his hands held her face like a precious piece of glass art, his fingers reaching to her nape and his thumbs stroking her jawline. Heat rained over her skin, each caress heightened by the warmth from the woodstove. She ran her fingers through his hair, pulled him closer, unable to get close enough.

It’ll never be enough.

With Stanton, it was true. She could never get enough. But there was an awful lot of satisfaction between her need and how she knew she’d always want him.

“Babe.” He broke from her lips, dragged his mouth down the side of her throat. When