The Departed

he turned and boosted her up onto the counter, stepping between her thighs. “We’re doing something stupid again, aren’t we?”
    “No. We’re doing something we need to do.” She curled an arm around his neck and scooted closer, twining her legs around his hips. “Make love to me, Taylor.”
    “Gladly.” He pressed his lips to hers, whispered, “I swear, one of these days, we’ll do this right…slower, easier. Spend more time in a damn bed.”
    “This feels pretty damn right to me.” As he pushed inside, her head fell back. A ragged moan escaped her and he dipped his head, pressed his mouth to her neck. “I love you.”
    “Look at me.”
    She lifted her lashes, staring at him. The words were there. Trapped inside—fuck. Why had it seemed too easy for her? He started to move, staring at her, at this woman who was his everything, his world. Nothing mattered, not without her.
    She lifted a hand and touched his cheek, pushed her fingers into his hair. “Jones…”
    “My name,” he muttered. He turned his head, pressed a kiss to her palm. “Say my name, damn it.”
    Chuckling, she pulled his head close. “Taylor.” She said it against his lips. As she did that, she rolled her hips against him, squeezing down with her inner muscles so that she milked him in a teasing, taunting caress.
    Oh, shit…
    Little warning tingles were already shooting straight up his spine, but he gritted his teeth. No, damn it. He wasn’t going to lose it after thirty fucking seconds. Especially since he hadn’t told her yet.
    But then she did it again, and again.
    “I love you.” It came out a broken, harsh groan against her lips, the words he could no longer keep trapped inside. The words he had to share with her, now .
    She stiffened against him. Her hands tightened on his shoulders, her nails biting into his skin. “Taylor…”
    “I love you,” he said again, and it came so much easier. Wrapping his arm around her neck, he cuddled her against him. That burning, driving need to take, to possess, to mark…it didn’t fade…it changed, morphed, settled into something different, so different. Something gentle, something he couldn’t remember ever feeling before.
    They stared at each other. He barely moved against her, his broken arm braced against one of the cabinets by her head. Slow, gentle movements. But it was enough. Slow, gentle movements, while they stared at each other…almost like it was the first time.
    A shaky sigh escaped her, a delicate flush rising from the swell of her breasts, darkening the warm brown of her skin. Taylor dipped his head and pressed his mouth to her shoulder. “I love you,” he murmured against her skin. “I love you…”
    Dez laughed, a dazed, delighted sound. “I know. I love you, too.”
    It echoed in his mind, over and over. The release, as it came for them both, was just as slow, just as sweet and gentle. And for the first time, some of the darkness that had chased him for twenty-five years, it started to recede.
     

CHAPTER TWENTY
    IN the warmth of Taylor’s arms, Dez slept. It came on slowly and because she’d always felt so safe with him, it hit her unprepared. She was so tired, so drained, unconsciously, she’d let her shields slip.
    And when that happened, the ghost was able to slip in and touch her.
    The drop in temperature was gradual. Neither of them noticed at first. Her sleep became more fitful and she grunted absently, shifting in her sleep, one hand closing into a fist.
    The girl—
    Anna? Was it Anna?
    She could see her.
    There was a field.
    Dez muttered in her sleep, the words broken, making little sense. They might not have even made sense to her. But in her mind, she could see pictures. And finally, things began to piece together.
    A hand. There was a hand in hers—no. Not hers —Anna’s.
    Guiding her. “We’ll go play. It’s more fun with a friend, isn’t it?”
    “I thought we were going to go trick-or-treating…”
    “Oh, but we can’t. That isn’t safe. I want my angel safe—”
    Angel—
    Images flashed. Bright and vivid. The child, she didn’t understand. Jerking back, hands slick with sweat, belly clenching with horror, she stared at her new friend. Angel—?
    He’d called her his angel.
    With a scream, Dez jerked upright.
    * * *
     
    SHE was still shaking.
    Taylor sat in the bed, holding her, torn between his own grief and the need to do anything to make this better. Rubbing a hand up and down her spine, he waited for Dez.