Susan Amarillas - Scanlin's Law

“Becky. Honey.”

Rebecca jumped, not having realized he was so close. “I’m all right.” It was a lie. Luke was her last hope, her certain hope. “All day, as the search parties returned...nothing. I kept thinking that you would—” She closed her eyes and turned away.

“I know,” he said softly. “Becky, answer me one question. Is there anyone who would have something against you? Anyone who would want to hurt you?”

Her eyes flew open, sparked with astonishment. “No. No one.”

“You’re certain?”

She shook her head. “No one. Why?”

“Then, since the boy hasn’t been found, all my experience is telling me that he’s been kidnapped.”

She didn’t move. Deep down, she’d known all along that was the truth; she’d simply refused to acknowledge it until now. She rubbed her eyes against the tears that threatened. “Why?” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. “Why is this happening?”

“I don’t know, darlin’.” His tone was soft and easy.

Fresh tears slipped down her cheeks. Dear God, hadn’t she cried enough? Rage and fear mixed and mingled until she started to shake, and the tears continued.

“I can’t—” Tears clogged her throat.

Wanting privacy, she started past Luke, but he blocked her way. He caught her face in his work-roughened hands and looked at her in that way that was uniquely Luke’s, and much too familiar.

He had the softest eyes she’d ever seen, and a way of looking at her that made the world spin away. She could drown in those eyes and not care. She felt her defenses dissolving, releasing the pain and fear she’d stored there since Andrew’s disappearance.

“Tell me what you’re thinking.” His voice caressed her like the summer sun. “You need someone. You’re trying to carry the weight of the world on those slender shoulders of yours.” His hands traced the line of her shoulders. Her skin warmed to his touch. “Everyone needs someone. I’m here for you.” She didn’t resist when he pulled her into the fold of his arms and kissed the top of her head, resting his cheek there. “Tell me your fear.” He kissed the top of her head again. “It isn’t half so bad when you put a little light to it.”

That fear that had been circling in her mind grew fiercer, more intense. She slipped her arms around his narrow waist and pressed her cheek against the hard wall of his chest. He smelled like rain and leather. He felt like sanctuary.

Luke.

He was here, and she needed him.

“I—”

“Yes, honey?”

“I’m afraid Andrew is dead.”

With the words came a great sob, and all the horror she’d held in check came rushing forth, threatening to carry her away if not for Luke’s strong arms around her. Desperately she clung to him, her hands splayed against the soft cotton of his shirt, feeling the work-hardened muscles beneath.

“It’s all right, honey. You go on and cry. You cry all you want.”

And she did cry. Tears washed down her cheeks and stained the front of his shirt. She sobbed and cried, and he let her. Never once did he try to stop her.

“I’m here, honey. I won’t let you go.” He tightened his grip with one hand and rubbed her back with the other.

It felt so good to cry. It felt so good to be in his arms. When at last her crying slowed, she looked up at him.

“I shouldn’t—”

He covered her lips with the tips of two fingers. “Shh. Don’t.” He leaned back and brushed the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. “Of course you should. Aren’t you allowed to have feelings? Aren’t you allowed to break down sometimes?” He cupped her face in his hands. “Hold on to me.”

And she did. Standing there in the entryway, she continued to cling to him, letting the strength of his touch and the slow, steady rhythm of his heart soothe her raw, aching nerves. All her earlier threats to send him packing were forgotten as she held on to him for dear life.

They stood like that for a moment or an eternity, she wasn’t certain. It didn’t matter. All she knew was that she felt safe and warm and protected. For the first time in two days, she felt good, and the fact that Luke Scanlin was the one who gave her that— Well, so be it.

He angled backward, and she craned her neck to look up at him.

“Luke, I can’t...” She started to pull away. He tenderly tightened his hold and smiled down at her. There was a lazy lifting of his mouth, a gentleness in his eyes that made her sigh. She made a halfhearted attempt to return the smile, grateful for his comfort and his concern.

He surprised her when he reached up with the pad of one finger and traced her bottom lip, then pulled the ribbon from her hair, arranging it over her shoulders. A shiver of anticipation fluttered through her. Her heart rate moved up ever so slightly.

Their gazes met and held for the span of two heartbeats, and then his slid down to her lips and lingered. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came forth. The world seemed strangely still, as though it were holding its breath in anticipation. She knew she wasn’t breathing. How could she? All the oxygen in the room had disappeared. He was going to kiss her, she was certain of that. She was also certain that she was going to let him.

Slowly his smile faded. He was very aware of the woman in his arms—every curve, every flat plane seemed custom-made for him, only him. “Becky. Darling Becky.” He dipped his head.

“Luke, don’t,” she ordered, and it stopped him for the span of one heartbeat. Hers.

His breath was warm on her cheek and lips, and she saw his eyes flutter closed an instant before his lips touched hers, lightly, lingering there only to lift away. It was a sensual invitation, one her body remembered even as her mind refused.

He waited to see if she’d object, if she’d move away. She didn’t.

“It’s been such a long time, Becky,” he said, cupping her face lightly between his hands. “It’s been much too long.”

This time, when he lowered his head, he saw her lips part an instant before his mouth took hers in a demanding kiss that gave no quarter and accepted no retreat. She set off a hunger in him that plunged through his blood, heating, exciting. He leaned into her, wanting to feel her body against his, wanting to feel her, length to length.

His mouth slanted one way, then the other, and he felt her fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt and the flesh beneath.

He groaned deep down inside at the longing that was consuming him. He wanted her. He wanted her naked, and he wanted her now.

Rebecca was lost in a world of desire. She leaned into him, feeling his chest pressed hard against her breasts, her nipples pulled into tight, aching nubs. She twisted against him, trying to assuage the ache there. She felt his hand curving around the side of her neck, his thumb hooked under her chin as though to prevent her escape.

She didn’t want to escape. She wanted exactly what he was offering. Longing, familiar as yesterday, unfurled within her, warm and pulsing, spiraling outward, touching every part of her, rekindling a fire she’d banked years ago.

It felt so good, so right, as though they’d never been apart. Her body awakened to his touch, nerves coming slowly to life with each passing moment, with each strong, steady beat of his heart and hers.

She made a small animal-like sound deep in her throat, and it was enough to send Luke’s control spinning. His arm curved around her slender waist, his fingers digging into the boning of her corset. Damn, he hated corsets, hated all the cumbersome layers of clothes women wore.

She was like flame-warmed brandy, the kind that flowed smoothly down inside to set a man on fire, inch by delicious inch. And he was on fire. Lord help him. Rebecca was the spark that ignited his passion.