The Street Where She Lives

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

THE CODED KNOCK came before dawn. Manuel made his way carefully through the dark, damp cellar. He still didn’t dare risk using a generator at this time of day, so a small flashlight was all he had.

Specs of dirt and dust danced through the air in the beam of light, but he couldn’t focus on that or he’d lose his mind. He answered the door eagerly, too eagerly, but he couldn’t help that, either. Everything hinged on this. “Did you get it?”

“The raid got a little bloody,” came the hesitant answer. “The villagers fought back.”

“Did you get the money?” Manuel Asada repeated with dangerous calm.

“Y-yes.”

Everything within him relaxed. Finally. The tide would turn now, because with the money they’d stolen tonight, it was a start. Money was power, and with power he could do anything.

Like destroy the man who’d brought him down.

FOR RACHEL, the next few days fell into a rhythmic pattern of continued physical therapy, attempting to connect with her daughter and a silent, intense, arousing sort of dance with Ben. The longing, the hunger was unmistakable, but she knew it would be so much worse if they gave in.

So she did her best to ignore the sensual, earthy humming inside her body-and Ben’s promise to ease that humming.

Always in the past, work had been her savior, but Gracie continued to elude her. Instead, when she sat at her easel, she ended up with a sketch of…Ben of all things. Ben on his knees, his arms around Emily, who was not only smiling as she always had in the good old days, she was cradling the well-behaved-ha!-Patches.

A fantasy. She pulled the sheet off, tossed it aside and started again, this time ending up with a sketch of South Village’s joyful, exuberant nightlife, the refurbished firehouse and the street where she lived in the midst of the scene.

Did she really see her life here like that, joyful and exuberant?

Possibly…lately. She’d be a fool to not admit Ben did that for her, made her feel…alive. Shockingly alive.

She wanted him. She could admit that since he was leaving. He wanted her, too. They could easily fall into a pattern of sharing their nights together before he moved on. Would it really be such a mistake? That she was even thinking it made her reach for the phone for a reality check. “Mel?”

“What’s up?” her sister asked, mercifully answering her cell.

“Nothing much.”

“Uh-huh. You let Adam give you an orgasm yet?”

“No.”

“Don’t tell me you let Ben do it.”

“Mel. You make him sound like a…toy.”

“You did, didn’t you? You did Ben.”

“I did not. We did not.”

“Well, whew.”

Rachel stared at the drawing of him on the floor. Even two-dimensional, he looked so vibrant. Charismatic. “Why do you say it like that? Like it would be such a bad thing?”

“How quickly they forget,” Mel muttered. “Remember your past with him? The fact that he destroyed you, and has the ability to do it again with one little ‘goodbye’?”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Rachel said softly.

“Good. Keep repeating it to yourself like a mantra until your hormones are under control. Or if you must do something about them, call Adam.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“He called me last night…told me he wasn’t going to contact me again until I made a decision on what I wanted with Ben.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah, ouch.” But not as painful as she’d thought it would be.

“Well, call him back, tell him you’ve made your decision and Ben is leaving.”

“Mel-”

“Oops, I’ve gotta run, psycho boss alert.”

“Mel-”

Click.

Rachel set the phone back on its base and sighed. She’d gotten her pep talk. No sex with Ben. Determined to forget it, she turned back to her easel.

EMILY SAT on the backyard deck, laptop on her thighs. Her concentration was on the brilliant colors in the sky as the sun went down, her screen forgotten. She loved this house so much, loved the backyard, her bedroom, the elevator, the fire pole, the easy access to shopping and food…she loved everything about it.

But she wasn’t a little kid anymore. She knew her home was special. And expensive. Everyone who saw it oohed and aahed.

And because she knew it, she also understood something else. She was lucky, very lucky. Bending for the puppy asleep at her feet, she pulled the warm, little body close. Patches let out a soft, sleepy puppy sound and yawned so wide she nearly turned her mouth inside out, making Emily smile before she buried her face in Patches’s neck.

Above her came two quiet voices, her mother’s and…her father’s? They must be on her mother’s deck, watching the same sunset.

Together.

Her heart hitched, but she reminded herself that they’d been together all this time now and, despite her best efforts, they weren’t making wedding plans. In fact, her father had tried to tell her he was going soon. She’d pretended not to understand, but she knew she couldn’t put him off forever. He wanted to say goodbye.

She just didn’t want to.

How could he walk away from them, when lately she’d felt things softening between him and her mom? It wasn’t just her hopeful imagination. Her mom smiled more often, at him. And he often simply watched her in return, something in his eyes making Emily sure he cared.

“Not a bad sunset,” came her dad’s voice. “For a city offering.”

Her mother laughed. Laughed.

Emily strained to hear more, but all she caught was her father’s answering deep chuckle and a husky, low reply.

They were laughing together. Talking. They were-Wait a minute… If they were sitting on that particular balcony together, it meant they’d been together in her mother’s bedroom.

Maybe they’d…done it. Ewww! But realistically, they’d already done it at least once, she was living proof. Torn between disgust and hope, she grabbed her laptop and the puppy before she heard something she didn’t want to, and took herself inside to give them privacy.

With renewed hope, she sat at her desk to work out her next move in her plan of attack of making them fall in love.

WITH NO IDEA her daughter sat just below her planning on a miracle Rachel couldn’t imagine, she was enjoying the sunset on her bedroom balcony. She sat on a lounge chair, wishing she had the energy to go get a pad and her pencils to capture some of the beauty before her.

Then a deep voice from the shadows said, “Not a bad sunset, for a city offering.”

She laughed even as she felt a catch in her chest. Looking up, she found Ben propped up against the double French doors of her bedroom, just watching her. “That’s why we have smog and pollution, to give such brilliant color to our sunsets. Just for you, Ben.”

He grinned at her.

Her heart fluttered. “What are you doing?”

Pushing away from the doors, he came toward her in his easy, graceful, confident walk, the one that always reminded her of how comfortable he was in his own skin.

What she would give to be half that comfortable.

“What am I doing?” he repeated thoughtfully, sitting next to her even though there wasn’t really room for the both of them. It left her plastered to him thigh to thigh, arm to arm, intensifying the connection between them.

“I guess I’m just being,” he said. “With you.”

In the past, when they’d been young and full of lustful hormones, there had been no just…sitting and being. He’d always had his hands on her, and though it had been a new and frankly terrifying experience sharing such easy affection, she’d grown quite dependent on it.

In the years since, she hadn’t allowed herself much of that. When Ben had first showed up on her doorstep again, she’d felt the jolt of awareness all the way to her bandaged toes, and had wondered how she’d ever manage to ignore him and his blatant sexuality.

They were older now, and supposedly far more mature than they’d been at seventeen, so one would think it would be easier. After all, they’d decided there could be nothing between them, and certainly they could control themselves.

But here in the dark, on a warm, tempting late-spring night, with the stars far above and the city lights around them, with his warm strength and familiar scent…God, she needed. She needed him. “Just sitting, just being, is a bad idea,” she whispered. “You know that.”

“Yeah.” The chair squeaked as he leaned in, touched her face. Stroked his thumb over her lower lip and started a set of delicious shivers racing down her spine. “But being here with you is making me want in a way I haven’t in a good long time. Since you, actually.”

She laughed. “Don’t tell me there’s been no other women.”

His thumb covered both her lips now, halting her words. His soft, wry chuckle brushed over her cheek. “Do you really want to talk about other women? Now?”

Through the dark she met his eyes. He’d shifted closer, with a hand on either side of her, so that she felt surrounded by him. And liking it. Thinking about him doing this with someone else was a problem. She shouldn’t care, she knew that. It had been a long, long time, and someone as naturally sensual as Ben would never have gone a year without a physical connection, much less thirteen. “No,” she whispered. “I don’t want to talk about other women.”

In the dark, he smiled, slow and long. “Good, because there’s not room in my head for anyone but you.” He nudged even closer. “Right here…with you.” His mouth nuzzled along her throat. “What do you think?”

“Think?” With his hands gliding up her body, his mouth making its way toward hers… “I can’t think.”

“Because I’m touching you?”

“Yes.” She had no idea why, but she lifted her face and covered his mouth with hers, swallowing his surprised inhale, sighing with pleasure as he hauled her against him.

Then he surged to his feet, and her world tilted. Gasping, she threw her arms around his neck for balance. “What are you doing?”

“Finishing what you just started.” He kicked the French doors shut behind them and set her on the floor next to her bed. “Be sure, Rach.” He waited, quivering with barely restrained control as he let her make the decision.

The power of that made her dizzy. “Ben-”

He put his finger to her lips. “Yes, or no.”

She stared up at him, feeling as if she stood on the very edge of a deep cliff. Jumping, even with a parachute, would be bad. But not jumping, not living, was no choice at all. “Yes,” she whispered, and reached for him.

The only light in the room came from the sun just sinking below the horizon. Long shadows slanted across the floor and bed. Ben took her face in his hands and tilted it up. Then he kissed her, stealing what little air she had left in her lungs. His mouth felt as firm as the rest of him, and just as sexy, as giving…as male. Everything within her trembled, and she clutched at him for support. She could feel his heat, his strength, and it was so familiar and yet so new, her heart skipped a beat. By the time he lifted his head and looked at her, she was a goner. Being in his arms like this was both heaven and hell. Yes, there were a hundred reasons this was a bad idea, a thousand, but as he sank his fingers into her hair and lowered his face again, she couldn’t think of a single one, could think of nothing but more, please more.

“What’s under the robe?” he asked hoarsely, nuzzling at the opening at her neck.

“Uh…” As his mouth made its way to her shoulder, nudging off the robe as he went, she struggled to put a thought together. “Not much.”

“Not much is good,” he whispered reverently, and slid his hands inside, parting the tie, letting the thing fall open. With characteristic bluntness, he looked his fill, which suddenly made her want to squirm. She knew what she looked like, still a little too thin, scarred…and unlike him, far from perfect. “Ben-”

“Oh, Rach, I’ve missed this body, I’ve missed you.” With those stunning words, he lowered his head, splayed his hands wide across her bare back, urging her closer, and opened his mouth on a breast.

Shocked at the immediate clutching of her body to his, at how she felt as if she was burning up from the inside out, she could only hold on. She hadn’t felt this flash of heat and need and desperation in thirteen long years, an eternity. Far in the back of her mind, she heard the horrifyingly hungry whimpers she let out as he nibbled at her, but couldn’t help herself-she was on fire, shaking, and completely incapable of doing anything but letting him have his way with her. Have his way, he did, teasing a nipple with his teeth, tormenting between her thighs with his fingers, until she would have slid to a heap on the floor if he hadn’t caught her up in his arms. Setting her on the bed, he held her gaze while he tossed her robe over his shoulders.

For the briefest moment, self-consciousness again began to clear the sexual haze he’d spun around her, but then he began to undress, and my, oh my, he was magnificent. Rough, sinewy arms, broad chest, powerful thighs…and between them, he was hard and heavy. For her.

Tossing his pants aside, he caught her looking, and must have mistaken her wide-eyed look of wonder for misgivings or horror because he let out a rough laugh. “Hey, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

“It’s…been a long time.”

“Yeah.” He put a knee on the bed, leaned over her. “But it’s just me.”

Just him. The only man to ever make her feel as if she would die if he didn’t kiss her, touch her. “Ben…”

“No regrets,” he murmured, and bent close enough to glide his lips over hers. “No recriminations, no dwelling, no thinking.” He ran his hands down her arms, linked their fingers on either side of her head as he settled himself between her thighs, which opened for him of their own accord. There was no mistaking his erection nudging at her already wet center, no way she wanted to. Pulling her fingers free, she wrapped her arms around his neck and breathed his name.

“Yeah, that’s it, you’re remembering now.” His hips arched, just a little, enough to make her head swim, and a helpless hum of pleasure escaped her when he dipped his head to run hot, wet, openmouthed kisses down her neck. His hands were everywhere, then finally…right where she wanted them the most.

“Now,” she gasped, trying to pull him inside her.

“Not yet.” He sank two fingers inside her, groaned when she cried out. She couldn’t help it, couldn’t keep still. “Shh,” he murmured when she cried out again, then covered her mouth with his, eating up her wordless demands, his fingers stroking her insides, her body already halfway to heaven.

“Inside me,” she begged.

His touch deepened, and she caught her breath, feeling suspended… Caught it again when he removed his hand. But then he put on a condom, braced himself and entered her.

Their twin moans floated on the air. Rachel couldn’t put together coherent words to save her life, but she wanted, she needed… “Ben…please.”

“I know, babe.” He flexed his hips, just once. “I know.”

“Oh, my…”

“More?”

“Yes.”

“You feel it, don’t you, Rach?”

Another slow thrust made response impossible.

“Do you?”

She thrust her hips against his. “Yes!”

With another low, slow thrust, he added a knowing, purposeful glide of his thumb, right where they were joined.

She jerked.

“There, Rach?”

She opened her mouth to answer but he made another pass of that thumb, the one that had become the center of her universe, and she exploded on impact. She flew high and hard, remembering now what it felt like to be so filled, so heated, so high, and she might have said so if she wasn’t struck blind, deaf and dumb by the fireworks going off in her head, in her body. And until the ripples within her eased, she didn’t realize Ben was breathing every bit as harshly as she, his muscles quaking as he held himself on his elbows so that he didn’t crush her with his weight.

Still buried deep within her, he lifted his head. Smiled slowly. “Hey,” he said softly.

“Hey.”

He ran his thumb over her sensitive lower lip. “So.”

In spite of her uncertainty, she had to smile. “So.”

“Did you feel the need to fake anything?”

She blinked. “What?”

“The orgasm. Real or Memorex?”

A laugh shuddered out of her.

“You think that’s funny.” He slid his hands to her hips and rolled to his back, pulling her over the top of him. “I’m going to take that as a good thing.”

“You could.”

“Real good?”

“Yes, real good,” she said softly, suddenly feeling shy about it, which was ridiculous given that she lay sprawled, naked, over the top of him.

He cupped her face. “You’re so beautiful, Rachel. You are,” he insisted when she made a doubtful little sound. “Why haven’t you shared this with anyone in all this time?”

“I thought we weren’t going to talk about other people.”

“We weren’t going to talk about other women,” he corrected. “But this is about you.”

“Ben-”

He rolled them over again, and she found herself very carefully pinned beneath him. “I see your cuts and bruises healing,” he murmured. “I see your body healing, but there’s still so much hurt inside you. Where does it come from, Rach? Why won’t you share it? If not with anyone else, at least why not with me?”

She struggled to free herself, but he held her effortlessly. “Talk to me.”

“Why?” She swallowed hard but the sudden lump in her throat didn’t budge. “You’re leaving.”

He went utterly still, then let her wriggle out from beneath him while he flopped to his back and stared at the ceiling. “Always comes back to that, doesn’t it?” Then, without another word, he rolled out of the bed and went into her bathroom.

Rachel pulled the covers up to her chin and tried to concentrate on the good. There was her body for one, still humming with sexual pleasure. And the warmth of his body, which still lingered in her bed.

Damn it, she’d known going in this was temporary, and she refused to agonize or anticipate.

It was done.

But a moment later he came out, walking toward her in all his nude glory. Not cocky, not strutting, just utterly comfortable with himself. At the side of the bed, he stopped. “You want me to go?”

Yes, her mind demanded. Go.

But it was her body in control at the moment, not her brain, and because of that, she scooted over and lifted the edge of the covers.

He climbed in, turned on his side and held out his arms.

With a sigh, she scooted right into them, entwining their legs. Pressing her face into his neck, which smelled so inherently Ben, she let out another little sigh.

“Okay?” He stroked a hand down her back.

“For now.”

“For now is all that matters,” he breathed, and hugged her close.

And if that statement wasn’t a sum of all their differences, she didn’t know what was, but she didn’t care.

She would live in the moment, and enjoy it.

And worry about future moments in…well, a future moment.