Come to Me Softly (Closer to You #2)(50)
Author: A.L. Jackson

He inched forward before he came to settle behind me. A heavy exhale pushed from his lungs as he flanked my legs with his. He pulled me close to him. Over my shoulder, he stared, his breath in my face and in my soul.

His fingers fluttered along the picture of our child, his knuckles stamped with the year of his birth.

Life.

All I’d ever wanted was for him to experience it again.

He swallowed hard, his face buried in the back of my hair, his voice full of the deepest reverence. “Thank you,” he murmured, the words hoarse, speaking of everything I wanted for our lives.

FOURTEEN

Aleena

I scrubbed down the kitchen, cleaning the gorgeous granite, my movements slow and fluid as I rinsed off the rag and squeezed out the excess water. Satisfaction thrummed a steady beat within every inch of my being.

I still couldn’t believe this house was mine.

My ear tuned in on the other room where Jared worked. He fumbled around. A clatter of nails spilled to the floor. “Motherfucker,” he mumbled over the commotion he caused.

I resisted a smile.

These evenings were my favorite.

I didn’t know what it was, but I loved when it was just Jared and me. Christopher stopped by about every day, and Megan had dropped in twice this week. They missed me. And I missed them too.

Right now, though, I yearned for this time with Jared, to learn him and to let him learn me. Even though I knew him better than anyone in this world, and I knew his heart just as well as he knew mine, we were learning how to live together like a normal couple.

But deep within my soul I knew Jared and I were not a normal couple. We’d never be. Too many scars were scored on his heart. There was too much history and too much hurt.

My chest tightened and I fought for a breath.

And I knew, without a doubt¸ that I loved him too much.

It left us in this boundless bliss.

Yet vulnerable.

Volatile.

“Goddamn it.” His voice rumbled from the family room.

I tossed the dishtowel to the counter and crossed the kitchen. I leaned my shoulder up against the wall and watched him from behind. On the floor, he knelt on his knees in front of the fireplace. Shirtless. Even though it was nearing the end of December, the winter days mild and the nights cool, a slight sheen of sweat coated his skin from the exertion he put into the job in front of him.

He ducked his blond head, dipping it low to carefully drag a pencil down the length of a piece of wood against a metal carpenter’s square.

Shuffling around, he grabbed another piece of wood. He situated it next to the other on the clear piece of plastic he set out to protect the new carpet that now covered our family room floor. His jeans rode low on his hips. Strength bristled in his corded arms as he reached forward, his defined shoulders taut and straining as he moved. Muscle rippled down his back, a potent, slow dance of power beneath the horror of colors that swirled and bled across his skin.

Desire throbbed low in my stomach.

One thing I definitely knew was that body.

And God, did he know mine.

Jared took me places I didn’t know existed, brought me more pleasure than should be humanly possible. One look and I shook. One touch and I came undone.

My gaze wandered in slow appreciation. He rose up on his knees and stretched out his long body to measure the height of the fireplace, verifying all his calculations were correct. Concentration edged his brow, his eyes drawn into a deep furrow as he studied his work, completely absorbed in it.

Not a moment existed when I didn’t want him.

The crazy thing was I’d be content to stand here all day long and watch him work. I loved seeing him in his element. In the place where he appeared entirely free.

Here, his eyes never dimmed and his demeanor never shifted.

He never froze for a blink of a moment as he was overcome by a memory.

Never disappeared into the past where his spirit remained chained.

Never shook it off and continued on like he hadn’t been slammed by an uprising of guilt, his body wrenched tight by a bolt of shame.

Jared hid those moments well. Pretended they didn’t exist. He shoved them off faster than he thought I saw them.

But I did.

Because with Jared, I could never look away.

But here? In the midst of a project he was building?

Jared was lifted above what fought to keep him down.

“I can feel you staring at me,” he muttered toward the floor, aligning two pieces of wood.

Fighting a smile, I crossed my arms over my chest. “You can, huh? And do you have a problem with that?”

From over his shoulder, Jared lifted his chin toward me with a cocky smirk. “Depends on what you’re thinking about.”

That smile let go, and I cocked my head, my eyes making another pass down the length of his hard body. I fastened him with a smirk of my own. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Jared scowled, blue eyes narrowed. “Goddamn it, Aly, I’m never going to get this fireplace finished if you keep looking at me like that.”

I pushed off the wall, dodging a toolbox as I wound my way over to the couch. “And how am I looking at you?” I asked, playing his game, because there was no doubt what I was thinking, no question Jared was trailing those thoughts like a hound. Sitting down, I tucked one leg up to my chest, sinking into the comfort of the plush cushions.

Jared’s eyes stroked over me, resting a beat longer on the back of my bare thigh. I figured I’d better wear my little sleep shorts as much as I could, the ones that Jared somehow both seemed to love and despise, before I couldn’t fit in them anymore. They were getting snug.

Still, I felt incredibly sexy under the intensity of Jared’s heady gaze.

Beautiful.

Because I knew that’s how he saw me.

Blatant desire flashed in his blue eyes when they flew back up to mine. “You’re looking at me like you want me to drop this hammer, throw you over my shoulder, and carry you to our bedroom. Or maybe you’re just thinking you’d like me to take you right there on the couch.” He inclined his head like he was deep in thought. Like the man could dig right through mine. “Yes . . . yes . . . that’s exactly what you’re thinking.” His voice lowered, all indecent, making me squirm. “Definitely, the couch.”

Heat flushed my body, from my ears to my toes.

“Pretty sure you just described exactly how you’re looking at me,” I countered, feigning disinterest, the pretense dropping from my mouth like a rock.

Throaty laughter rolled from him, and he shook his head.

He knew it, too.

As if I could really pretend he didn’t have this irrational hold on me.