Page 38 of 72 Hours

And then he laughed again, genuinely, startling me afresh. “I don’t think I ever was, was I? You’re right. God knows how we ever got together in the first place.”

But we did.

His eyes met mine and held my gaze, demanding, perhaps, that I didn’t chicken out. There was a triangle of light in the centre of each of his dark pupils, like someone had drawn him as a wide-eyed cartoon in the night. “It’s still not easy, is it? There’s too much—or not enough—between us. I’m sorry that all this is happening to you because of me. That I’m the target, not you. That you can’t continue on your search for your own space without my hindrance.”

The pained edge in his voice hurt me. And yet his eyes were still hungry. They drank me in, as if he’d been heavily dehydrated but now found relief. Things were shifting in my mind like a kaleidoscope. My memory of our relationship was taking on a new tone.

“Don’t be,” I said. “Don’t be sorry, that is. Whatever happens with this, I know I can trust you.”

“But you didn’t always before.”

“No,” I replied. Couldn’t trust myself at the moment, to know what was right.

“I... didn’t see that I had to justify myself to you, Tanner. About Joe, about anything. You should have known me better.”

Yeah. Maybe I should. Self-disgust crushed me, regret twisted its knife. “I was stupid. End of story.”

He shook his head very gently, and I felt the vibration in the air as we leaned in towards each other. I don’t know what happened next—or rather, I don’t know why we let it. It was as if something tugged at me against my will, as if both of us were lassoed and drawn in for capture, like hapless, dumb animals. The mattress creaked beneath us, and I felt a gentle crick in my neck as it stretched itself. Just a foot or so between us, didn’t I say? Our breath bridged it, combining in the cool night air. Our words were just whispered sound, our protests melted into raw emotion.

His hands never touched me, nor did I reach out those last few inches to hold him. The only things that touched were our mouths. Hesitantly, like bashful new lovers. Lips dry with caution, yet damp with need. Lips that knew each other’s intimately, yet had forgotten the pure pleasure of the touch. It was like the taste of darkness and fear and ecstasy, all combining together with the wash of heartache and lust. The skin of his cheek smoothed mine; the slight bristles of my neglected chin scraped across his jaw. I felt his eyelashes brush at my eyes as my lids closed beneath him.

His tongue nudged at my lips, and they parted. He slid the tip in alongside mine, his breath expelling into my mouth with a sigh of desire. We melded even closer, mouths together like a single caress, our shoulders now pressing against each other with perfect choreography, allowing the familiar twist of our bodies to draw the other in.

It was like coming home.

THE FLAME OF DESIRE consumed me. I swear I could feel its heat like a real fire. I’d been fairly lukewarm about this part of my life since my flight from the Team. Not that there hadn’t been the occasional opportunities at the park for sexual adventure. There’d been guys passing through without demands or emotional baggage to overload me, and sometimes a healthy interest in me in return. But I’d never taken anything further, never wanted anyone that much. Never got over the memories, perhaps, or had been fighting shy of the hassle. Something like that. Whatever. Now I heard the thread of a moan, and at first I couldn’t have told whether it were from me or Niall.

It was him; it was only a gasp. “Tanner.”

No. Don’t say anything. Some shock that I should be the one to think that, huh? My hand slipped behind his neck and my tongue plunged back into his mouth, effectively silencing him. There was urgency and desperation now in our caress. I could taste the slightly sharp tang of his saliva, could feel his strong fingers gripping my good arm. When he leaned even further into me, I fell back on the bed quite willingly, pulling his body down on to mine.

He felt so good! He’d lost weight I think, same as I had; at least, I felt the definition of his muscles much more sharply under the thin fabric of his shirt. He wriggled to avoid my bandaged arm, but I grabbed him back against me. His mouth snatched at my lower lip, his teeth grazing the skin, and his tongue pulled out of my mouth to run down my jaw and neck. I bared my throat, pushing my head back on the thin pillow. My nipples were hard, sensitive nubs, spiking through the fabric of my own shirt, brushing painfully against his chest.

Hold me... Touch me....

It was the return of that hungry, unadulterated lust I’d known and loved so well. There’d never been any doubt that Niall was the only one who did that to me, the one who made my head swim and my body leap with both greed and need. But it felt different this time, as if there were some other demand inside me that I’d never heeded before. His hands ran down and under my body, tracing the tight lines of my straining thighs, kneading the flesh of my arse as if to memorise the knots and valleys of the muscles. My back arched up to meld myself against him. The sweats were tight across my groin; it had been a very long time since I’d had such a fierce erection. Every nerve I possessed screamed out to be touched by him; every whorl of my fingertips remembered the sensual feel of his dusky, hot skin.

But then my hands braced themselves against his shoulders and I brought it all to a halt.

He responded immediately. His hands stilled on me, and his tongue lifted its damp trail from my throat. A small groan slipped from his mouth. I was just panting loudly, unable to restrain it.

“No,” I gasped.

“No?” His murmur was a question, but his eyes met mine in the darkness, and I hoped my expression spoke eloquently enough for me. I was aiming a fairly shameful plea for his understanding. This couldn’t be. This was what always got me into trouble, what had always obscured everything, distorted everything, enchanted everything. If I opened this rich, ecstatic treasure chest again, I’d never be able to get him out of my system.

Never be able to hate him again.

He reared above me for what seemed like long moments, his chest heaving with deep breaths, his plumped lips glistening with moisture. There were emotions flickering in his eyes that I couldn’t make out, thoughts and questions alike. I thought he might ignore my protest—that he might just lean back down and strip away my pathetic opposition with his mouth and hands. Let’s face it; I’d not have put up much of a fight. My resistance was all intellectual. My true reactions sprang from the pure, delicious instinct of desire.

But he didn’t ignore me. The mattress complained again as he clumsily climbed off my legs and stood up beside the bed.

“Do you want me to apologise?” he said hoarsely.

I shook my head, dumbly. Of course the fuck not. I wanted to protest that I’d been a willing partner in it—I really was! —but my mouth seemed too dry to work properly.

“Good,” he said. “Though I realise that was an appalling loss of control. It won’t happen again, I promise you.” He pulled his shirt back down over a tantalising glimpse of his tight belly, and he ran a hand back through his messed hair. “I never felt any differently about you, Tanner, even when our behaviour was so disgraceful, so destructive. I don’t expect you to believe that, but I want to say it. I think I should have said a lot of things, actually, and a hell of a lot earlier than now. But that’s another regret I’ll live with.”

He turned and walked to the door, and he didn’t turn around again. He took his magnificent body and his rare, astonishing new openness, and—fuck—I let him go. His silhouette filled the door, blocking the fractured light from the next room’s windows for another brief second, and then he passed out of sight.