Behold the Stars Page 5

  Isaac nodded. “I remember.”

  “Your solution was to ask me to marry you. To take your name.”

  He nodded again. “That’s not why I want to marry you, though.”

  “I know. But Isaac, everything in my life here is yours. I don’t have anything.”

  His eyes went wide. She knew he’d been trying, but she was surprised by his surprise. She wondered what he thought about their life these past few months, and she realized that he had everything he wanted, except getting her pregnant. Maybe he hadn’t seen what she didn’t have.

  “Lilli, what?”

  “Your great-great-whatever grandfather built this house. The walls, the floorboards, the furniture is all Lunden. How many Lunden asses have sat on this sofa? How many Lunden women have cooked in that kitchen? When I’m cleaning out the planting beds in the yard, I’m wondering whether I’m pulling up the remains of a plant your grandmother seeded. The town is yours. People in town know me as yours. People introduce themselves to me with ‘You’re Ike’s woman, right?’ or ‘Hey—you’re Ike’s old lady.’ Isaac, I don’t know where I am in all this. I’m what’s missing.”

  They’d been holding hands the whole time she’d been speaking, and his hand had tightened steadily around hers until, now, it was hurting a little. Plus, he had hold of the hand with the cut finger, and she was pretty sure that was bleeding again. But she said nothing.

  “Baby, I will burn this house down tonight. I don’t care. I don’t. You know growing up was shit for me. I don’t have many good memories in this house. My home is with you. We can build a new one. We can move to another house—plenty of empty ones available. If you don’t want to take my name, we’ll figure out a way to get yours back. I want to marry you, but I don’t care if you’re a Lunden, if you don’t want it. None of it matters. You matter. Tell me what you want, and I will make it happen—no. No. I’ll get out of your way while you make it happen.”

  “And if I don’t know what I want?”

  “Then I’ll get out of your way while you figure it out. Just—stay with me. Let me be part of it. If you love me.”

  She felt tears coming, and she closed her eyes to hold them off. She had expected him to feel guilty, or conflicted, or even to fight her. But he was all in. It humbled her. “Nothing in my life is like I thought it would be.” She met his eyes. “I’m scared.”

  He laughed, a tired, ironic huff. “Oh, Sport. So am I.” Bending toward her to brush a gentle kiss across her lips, he asked, “We okay?”

  “Yeah. I’m sorry.”

  “Me too.” He smiled. “Wanna make it up to each other?”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  He was exhausted, mentally and physically. Just exhausted. As soon as the danger had passed, at the sound of Lilli’s voice saying they were okay, relief pushed through Isaac’s veins and brought fatigue in its wake. But it didn’t matter. They were okay. She wasn’t leaving. She was in his arms, he was in hers, and she was soft and pliant. The fight was over. And she was still here. He dropped his head to her shoulder. He wanted to take her to bed, but he needed a minute.

  She nudged her head against his. “Hey, love. Can I have a raincheck on the making up? I’m starving.”

  Laughing, he lifted his head and looked into her beautiful grey eyes. They were bright, sparkling, and her smile was sweet and calm. The storm had passed. He’d come so close to losing her. He didn’t think he’d ever been on the emotional ride he’d been on this whole damn day. “Yeah, Sport. We should eat.” He checked the old clock on the mantle—fuck, it was late. “Nothing’s open. You in the mood to cook?”

  With a gentle push, Lilli slid out from his hold. “Nope. I have a better idea. Come with me.” She held out her hand, and when he took it and stood, she led him into the kitchen.

  “Fuck. I keep forgetting about this mess.” She bent down and picked up a leafy carrot top.

  Isaac put his hand around her arm and pulled her back up. “Leave it for tomorrow.”

  “But there’s blood, and vegetables everywhere. It’s gross.”

  “It’ll still be gross tomorrow. It’s been here for hours. Blood’s dried. There’s nothing to hurt the cats. And it’s too damn late, Sport. Let’s just find something quick to eat and deal with this tomorrow.” He put his hand on her cheek. “That okay?”

  She smiled. “Yeah. You pick up the chairs, and I’ll make dinner.” She skipped—she literally skipped—to the cabinets as Isaac went to the table and set the overturned chairs to rights. The butcher knife was on the floor—that was a possible danger, so he picked it up and put it in the sink. He saw that Lilli was collecting bowls and spoons. When she went to the far cabinet, he grinned and went to the fridge for the milk.

  Standing before the biggest cabinet, both doors open, she asked, “You want Cookie Crisp, Peanut Butter Crunch, or Lucky Charms?”

  “There enough Cookie Crisp for both of us?” Lilli was a sucker for sugary cereals. She acted like a giddy little kid about them. It was cute as fuck.

  Now, she was giving him an contemplative eye. “I suppose I could share. With the right person.” She brought the box to the table.

  “What’s it gonna take to make me the right person?”

  With a saucy grin that did his heart inestimable good, she walked up to him. He put his hands on her hips, and she grabbed his shirt in her fists. “Kiss me like you mean it. Then we’ll see.”

  “Oh, baby, I always mean it.” He bent down and kissed her. Like he meant it. She gave over to him completely, melting against him. He lifted her and set her on the table; his heart raced when her legs immediately circled his hips. Her tongue moving against his, her passion matching his passion, her breath mixing with his—there was something more, something bigger, in this contact, like the fight had released something that had been trapped between them.

  She had his shirt open—he hadn’t even noticed her undoing his buttons, so intent he was on the feel of her tongue, her skin, her breath, his hands in her hair. But now her hands were on his bare chest, her fingers combing through the hair there, and he was going to fuck her right here. God, he was so hard. He was painfully bound up in his jeans and like to bust a seam.

  He tore his mouth away, panting, his vision tunneled. “Thought you were hungry, baby.”

  Her eyes were unfocused and heavy-lidded, her skin flushed. She laughed. “I am. I really am. I haven’t eaten since breakfast. I feel a little lightheaded, and not just ‘cuz you’re a sexy motherfucker.”

  Last thing he wanted was for her to pass out. “Okay. We need to back it down, then.” He cleared his throat and stepped back to help her off the table. They sat, side by side at the big cherry table he’d made, and she poured them each a bowl of kid cereal. She had a system to maximize the number of little cereal cookies she could get in a bowl and still add milk. He watched her do her magic, feeling unsettled by the power of his love for her. He’d almost lost her. Jesus Christ. He couldn’t let that happen.

  For a minute or two, they just ate, the only sounds of the room the crunch of cereal, the vaguely metallic chime of spoons against stoneware bowls, and the mewling tussle of the kittens who’d stirred from their sleep when Isaac and Lilli came in. Lilli bent down and picked up one of the kittens—a long-haired, calico one. Isaac figured he’d have to get their names straightened out eventually. This one was one of the girls, so Stella or Biddy. Apparently, they had housecats. He had a sneaking suspicion that some or all of these beasts would eventually be sleeping with them, an idea that didn’t thrill him. But he watched Lilli with this little furry moppet batting at her fingers, and he smiled. Her face was open and happy, and he knew three things. One—Lilli loved the kittens, really loved them. Two—he’d happily share their bed with cats as long as he was sharing it with Lilli, too. Three—Lilli was learning that she was a nurturer. He wanted her to know that. He wanted her to feel that. Because he wanted her to have his babies.

  Another kitten—one of the black ones, so a boy—was clim
bing up his jeans. Instead of swatting it—him—back to the floor, Isaac picked him up and held it—him—in front of his face. He had a little white mustache. His bottom half dangling from Isaac’s hand, he seemed perfectly content. He yawned, making a little squeak. Yeah, they were cute. “Which one is this?”

  Smiling, Lilli looked over. “That’s Pip. He has the milk mustache and the white belly. Tim has the paint-pot paws and white hairs in his ears. Dodger’s all black—and the biggest. This”—she touched noses with the bundle in her hands—“is Estella. She and Biddy have the same markings, but Stella has long hair.” He must have been making a face, because she laughed when she looked at him again. “You’ll figure it out. If you care to know.”

  He looked at Pip. “I do care. And I think I got it now.” Something occurred to him, and he turned back to Lilli. “They’re yours, you know. They’re you. In this house.”

  Setting Stella in her lap, she stared at him, her smile fading slightly. “Huh. Yeah, I guess that’s true. I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

  The mom cat—Lilli had given her a Dickens name, too, but Isaac couldn’t remember what it was—walked over and stood up next to Isaac’s chair, putting her front paws on his leg and nosing at Pip. Oh, right—Miss Havisham. She was collecting her brood. Isaac and Lilli watched as she herded them all over to the sleeping pad Lilli had set up for them. The kittens didn’t nurse any longer, but they still slept in a pile on and around their mom. Stella was the last in. She didn’t come until mom meowed. Isaac had never paid any attention to all this before, and he found it hilarious. He laughed out loud, earning himself a baleful glare from momma cat.

  Meanwhile, Lilli had collected the dishes from their meal of Cookie Crisp. She rinsed the bowls and set them in the sink. She was yawning hugely when she turned back around.

  Isaac stood and pushed the chairs in. “Let’s go to bed, Sport. It’s been a hell of a day.”

  “I need a shower. Since my last one, I worked out, sparred with you, worked in the yard, had a temper tantrum, took a run, and had another tantrum. I must smell like the Rams locker room on Sunday night.”

  He grabbed her and pulled her close. She actually didn’t stink—or she didn’t smell bad, not to him. She smelled amazing, in fact. “You know I love the smell of you. Don’t wash on my account. I like you like this.”

  She laughed. “Okay. You’re weird.”

  They went to bed, but they didn’t have sex. By unspoken, mutual agreement, they undressed and settled in to sleep, Lilli curled snuggly inside the curve of his body, her hand linked with his at her belly. Isaac nestled into her hair and breathed deep of her, feeling the last of the day’s tension ease away. He sensed it when Lilli’s consciousness dropped off, and she slept. He hoped this night would be a night without bad dreams.

  Isaac felt good. Happy. A few hours earlier, he’d been pretty sure he’d never be happy again.

  ~oOo~

  It was light when Isaac woke; and as soon as he was awake, he rejoiced that he was not alone. He hadn’t lost her. He and Lilli were still curled together in the same position in which they’d fallen asleep. Almost the same position—Isaac’s humungous erection was a new player this morning.

  She hadn’t dreamt. That was good. Her nightmares had been no more frequent since she’d been hurt, but they had been more intense. At least once, at least three nights a week, Lilli woke in a violent agitation. He figured it must be PTSD, from her combat tours in Afghanistan, made worse by what had happened in that deer blind, but she wouldn’t talk about it much. She had, once, told him that they were death dreams, that she dreamt she was being brutally, painfully murdered. It hurt his heart.

  But she’d slept through. He checked the clock on the nightstand. Quarter to seven. Okay, well, they’d only slept a few hours. He should let her sleep, and go back to sleep himself. But his cock, thwarted last night, had other ideas this morning. He was severely turned on, so much that he was having trouble staying still. He shifted a little, like a spasm, and felt himself slide against the soft silk of her bare ass. Oh, fuck.

  She must have felt him in her sleep, because she moaned prettily and shifted, drawing her top leg up. Oh, that only made her more enticing. Her sweet pussy was right there. He could slide his hand over her ass…reach between…and God, she was wet. She was so wet, and hot, and he couldn’t help himself. He slid his cock against her core, feeling her wet slide on him. It was just short of heaven. It felt so good, he almost didn’t feel guilty for disturbing her slumber.

  “Baby, baby, wake up. I need—baby. Wake up, wake up.”

  She moaned again and shifted, making a little stretch and doing amazing things to his cock. She was awake, and she looked over her shoulder at him. “Hey.” Her voice was sleepsexy. “What’s up? Oh—you are.” She smiled. “I love it when you wake me up to make me come.”

  “So do I, Sport. So do I.” He positioned himself and pushed into her, bringing his hand around to her clit. She gasped and pushed against him, bringing him deeper. God, she felt good.

  “Hey—condom.”

  He wanted to tell her no. He wanted her to let him fill her with his seed, with his son or daughter, with his family. He knew it was irrational. He knew this was the wrong time—and not only because Lilli wasn’t ready. They were facing real, life-or-death danger any day. And he’d never wanted a family until a few months ago. It was crazy to want one now. But he did. It was taking over this thoughts, always occupying at least a corner of his mind. But he said none of that. She wasn’t ready. She was afraid she didn’t know how. She didn’t want to be like her mother. He knew she wouldn’t be, but she had to know it herself. So he kept his need to himself and said, “Right. Hold up,” and reached over her into the nightstand drawer.

  He pulled a strip of condoms out and tore one off. Lilli turned to her back under him, and he shifted to kneel between her long legs, spread wide for him. She was long and lean, and he devoured her with his eyes as he rolled the latex over his cock. His eyes traveled up to her face and met hers, bright and full of heat and need. Still holding his cock in one hand, he leaned down, slid his arm under her back, and pulled her up onto his lap, and onto his cock, in a fluid, strong move. As he penetrated her fully and quickly, she gasped and bit her lip, her eyes flashing. Lilli was strong and wanted people to know it, but Isaac knew she liked him stronger. She liked a little manhandling; she liked to be moved around, and she wanted firm touch. She wanted intensity.

  “Aw, yeah,” he growled, taking a moment of stillness to savor the feeling of her tight heat wrapped around him. She hooked her arms around his neck, and he felt her fingers lacing into his long hair, her blunt nails scratching gently at his scalp. She flexed on him, and he grunted. He could fuck her forever.

  She leaned down and brushed her lips against his. “I love you inside me.” Her voice was rough and low, not much more than a hoarse breath tickling his mouth. Easing his hands down the firm, satiny skin of her back, he grabbed her tight hips and lifted off his knees, surging into her. She cried out, her fists clenching in his hair and her eyes rolling up. It was so good, so good, she felt so good. God, he loved her.

  “Isaac, please.” He knew what she wanted. After the night they’d had, this was not the morning for slow, luxurious sex. At least not first. He came up on his knees and laid her back on the bed. Pushing her legs up high, he pressed his hands against the backs of her thighs and slammed into her, groaning violently, getting as deep as he could, moving as fast and hard as he could. He knew she could take it; he knew she wanted it. She was all the woman he could handle.

  Every time he hit home, she cried out, almost a scream. Her hands were tangled in his hair and pulling painfully; he cared not at all. In fact, he loved it, her fierce abandon, the way her body overtook her head when they fucked.

  She was clenched tight around his cock, like she didn’t want to let him go. His emotional overload was seeking its due, and he felt the familiar electric tension building in his gut. “Come
on, baby,” he murmured, shifting his hands off her thighs so he could get closer to her. Leaning on his forearms, still moving with force and rhythm inside her, he took a breast into his mouth, sucking deep and thrilling at the feel of her skin tightening against his tongue.

  “Oh, yes. Harder,” she whispered, her back arched, lifting her breast like an offering. “Harder.” He bit down on the tight nub in his mouth and sucked hard.

  She screamed then, and he felt her orgasm rising as it milked his cock. She took over the rhythm of their thrusts, her hips keeping a staccato tempo. He tried to keep up with her and hold himself off while her release went on and on, but he couldn’t catch her rhythm. So he rolled and gave her the lead.

  For the barest second, she looked surprised at the change, then, still deep in her throes, she smiled and leaned down, her hands clutching at his chest, and drilled down on him. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” she chanted.

  Christ, she undid him. Everything about her was sex—her skin glistening sweat, her long, dark hair wild and tousled from sleep and exertion, her fingers pulling in his chest hair, her eyes unfocused with need, and her scent, sweet and real. The hot coil in his belly was too much to hold off anymore. He grabbed her hips. “Baby, I gotta go.”

  “I’m there. Go. Go.” He sat up, and the shift of his cock inside her did it for them both. He grabbed her head and kissed her, and they came grunting savagely into each other’s mouths.

  When it was over, they didn’t move. They sat in the middle of the bed in a hot, damp, heaving knot of afterglow, simply holding each other, silently but for the sounds of their spent breathing.

  Isaac was the first to stir, pushing Lilli’s wet hair off her shoulders and kissing her neck. “You’re everything, Sport. Everything.” He meant it. When he was with her, when they were good, he didn’t give a shit about anything else. Sometimes, he wished they could just go. Go away.

  She pulled back and combed her fingers through his hair, pulling it away from his face. “Don’t say that, love. It’s too much, and it’s not true. Love can’t be everything. It’ll devour itself.”