Filed To Story: The Things We Leave Unfinished Novel Free
“Are you going to yell at me?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Okay, then.” I stepped back as he walked in. I closed the door, then leaned back against it.
He pivoted in the entry, leaving only a few steps between us. That distance was too much and not enough all in the same breath.
“I thought you were going to call me when you got back,” I started weakly. I’d been prepared for a lot of things today, but seeing him wasn’t one of them, not that I was complaining.
He narrowed his eyes, then reached into his back pocket and whipped out his cell, pushing two buttons.
My phone rang.
“Are you kidding me?” I asked, spotting his name on the screen.
He raised his phone to his ear in blatant challenge.
I rolled my eyes but answered it.
“Hi, Georgia,” he said, his voice dropping low and turning my insides to mush. “I’m back.”
“When did that happen?” I asked. My cheeks heated as I realized I was actually talking to him on the phone in the middle of my foyer.
He flat-out smirked.
“Ugh,” I groaned and we both holstered our phones in our back pockets. “Answer the question.”
“Eighteen hours ago,” he replied, shoving the sleeves of his sweater up his forearms. “Six of which I’ve slept. I spent one figuring out what you’d done, then a total of eleven booking a flight, getting to the airport, actually flying, renting a car, and driving all the way from Denver.”
“Fair enough.”
“Have you had enough time?” He stuck his thumbs in his pockets again. “Or would you still like me to leave you alone?”
“Me?” I squeaked. “You were the one who disappeared. I figured you’d be back in a week, maybe two, not six. You could have called and told me. Sent an update or a carrier pigeon. Something.”
“You told me you were taking time and to call when I got back. Those are some pretty specific instructions, Georgia, and it fucking killed me to follow them.”
“Oh.”
“Why did you change the ending of the book?” he asked abruptly.
Here we go. “Oh, right. That.” I folded my arms under my breasts, wishing I’d chosen something a little better than jeans and a long-sleeved tee. This conversation called for armor…or lingerie.
“Yes. That.” He lifted his brows. “Why did you change it?”
“Because I love you!”
His eyes flared.
“Because I love you,” I repeated, this time managing not to yell. “And you were right about the ending. I was wrong. And I didn’t want to trash your career because I was being bitter and cold and sharp-“
He was on me before I finished the sentence, his body pressing mine against the door, his hands in my hair, his mouth kissing me into blissful oblivion.
God, I’d missed this-missed him. I kissed him back with everything I had, lacing my arms behind his neck as he picked me up, one hand under each thigh. I locked my ankles at the small of his back. Closer. I needed to be closer.
Over and over, he took my mouth with deep, swirling strokes of his tongue, setting me on fire like a match dropped into a pool of gasoline-like a lightning strike to tinder.
“Wait,” he said against my mouth, then jerked back like I’d bitten him. “We can’t do this yet.” His chest heaved.
“What?” My feet found the floor, and a heartbeat later, he was in the center of the foyer with his hands laced over his head. “What are you doing?”
“This all went to shit before because I hid something from you.”
“Awkward time to point that out, but okay.” I leaned back against the door, struggling to catch my breath. He hadn’t been the only one to keep secrets. “I guess in the interest of full disclosure, I should tell you that I can have kids.”
“I thought…” His brow knit, two little lines appearing in his forehead. “Not that it matters, but that was never an issue for me. Biology isn’t the only way to parent.”
“Well, thank you. But I can. I just…didn’t want to have them with Damian, so I didn’t go off my birth control. Didn’t want to know what kind of mother I’d be in that situation. I also didn’t tell him that.”
“Huh. Okay. Well, I’ve spent the last six weeks between England and the Netherlands.” He fished a small, white envelope out of his front pocket.
“Doing book research. Adam told me.” This was what he’d stopped us for? We could have been naked by now, and he wanted to chat book research?
“Not exactly. I hired a deep-sea exploration company to try to locate Jameson’s plane off the last coordinates from the radio calls that day.”
“You what?”
“I think we found it last week, and by think, I mean I’m pretty damned sure, but there are official channels and a lot of red tape flying around. The Eagles didn’t transfer to the American military until September, and he went down in June, so he was still RAF but an American citizen. No one quite agrees who has jurisdiction.” He turned the envelope over in his fingers.
“But you think you found him?” I asked quietly.
“Yes…and no.” He winced. “It’s a Spitfire, but the identifying markers on the tail have worn off and the wreckage was scattered.”
“Where?”
“Off the coast of the Netherlands. It’s…” He sighed. “It’s too deep to recover the entire wreck, but we sent an ROV down.” He walked slowly toward me. “We found an aluminum panel of the fuselage and what we think was the cockpit, but no…remains.”
“Oh.” I didn’t know whether to be relieved or devastated. To come so close, and yet still not know. “Then why do you think-“
Noah took my hand, palm up, and tipped the envelope into it. A gold ring slid from the paper and into my hand. It was still warm from Noah’s pocket. “Read the inscription.”
“J With love, S.” My throat tightened. “It’s his,” I whispered.
New Book: Returned To Make Them Pay
On her wedding anniversary, Alicia is drugged and stumbles into the wrong room—straight into the arms of the powerful Caden Ward, a man rumored never to touch women. Their night of passion shocks even him, especially when he discovers she’s still a virgin after two years of marriage to Joshua Yates.