Breathless in Love

  And came completely apart for him.

  But it wasn't enough. He couldn't let her go. Not yet. He had only enough thought left to grab a condom from the drawer before he came down between her legs. "Look at me."

  She opened her eyes, fuzzy with sated pleasure. "I don't know who's crazier anymore."

  "We're crazy together." Then he thrust home.

  Closing his eyes, he held still, absorbed the feel of her around him. "So good," he whispered. "So perfect."

  There was sex. And then there was this. One was merely physical. This was body and soul.

  He pulled her leg to his waist and moved, slowly at first. She shuddered, circled his shoulders with her arms, and as she brought her other leg up, she looked into his eyes and whispered, "It's too good."

  "It could never be too good."

  He held her hips, falling into her, retreating, then moving in deep again. Every muscle bunched, his blood pounded. And he could feel her around him, taking him, holding him tight. He could stay here forever.

  Then she moaned. Her breath hitched. And he knew she was climbing again. He had to go with her this time, needed to jump off right along with her. Pumping faster, harder, going deeper, he steeped himself in her, "Harper. God. Yes. So good," falling from his lips.

  Her heart thudded hard with his. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and smelled their salty-sweet scent, tasted her on his tongue. The heat of her skin became his heat. Her body was indistinguishable from his. And when she convulsed around him, she dragged him over the edge with her.

  He heard her name on his lips. He heard her cry out his.

  Then his voice saying, "I love you."

  *

  I love you.

  Harper's body, her head--but especially her heart--were all spinning as she tried to make sense of what had just happened. And what he'd just said.

  "Harper?" He eased to his side, taking some of his weight from her, even as his arm tightened around her. "I love you."

  He'd put his hand on her cheek and turned her face to his as if he'd known she wouldn't quite be able to process those three little words the first time he said them. And it was so tempting to say them back, her own I love you, too, right there on the tip of her tongue.

  But the words wouldn't come, almost as if they were locked up tight inside her, and she couldn't find the key.

  She could tell him about her fears--that he'd tire of her and Jeremy, that surely he couldn't want to take both of them on when all the other men she'd come across had been horrified at the thought. But she already knew what he'd say--I'm not like them. And he wasn't, because she knew how kind and generous he was.

  Unfortunately, that fact didn't change the others--his money, his lifestyle, or his ability to take whatever he wanted.

  Harper knew her own self-worth, and yet, with the penthouse apartment, the limo, and the glittering jewels of all the people fawning over Will tonight... honestly, she couldn't help but feel out of her depth. It had been like being tossed straight into the deep end when she was only just learning to swim.

  More than anything, she wanted to love with her full heart and soul. All the way, nothing held back. Wanted it more than she'd ever wanted anything in her life. And she knew he'd talk her out of every single doubt.

  But how could she tell him she loved him unless she was able to talk herself out of those doubts?

  When she looked back up at him, he was frowning. Her throat felt tight, her chest ached, and she wished she could tell him what he wanted to hear. Wished she was ready, that she was already there. "Will--"

  Before she could try to figure out what else to say, he surprised her yet again by saying, "You're smart not to say it back to me, Harper."

  Wait...he didn't want her to say she loved him? Why would she be smart to hold a part of herself back from him?

  But before she could voice any of those questions, he said, "You should know I'm not a nice guy. That's why I haven't told you how I felt about you. Because I'm not good enough for you. And yet I can't make myself stay away even though I should."

  Not good enough for her? Will Franconi thought he was the one who wasn't good enough?

  All of this made her head whirl. It was happening so fast and was all so unexpected. Not just how sweet he'd been from the first day she and Jeremy had met him, but also how much he'd done for them since. And how much she wanted to let herself love him, all the way, with nothing held back. This was just supposed to be a thrill ride. But somehow, it had turned into so much more. And now that everything she'd been telling herself was true had spun on its ear, she didn't know what to think. Or how to feel.

  She knew only one thing. "No one has ever been nicer to me," she told him. "Or to Jeremy."

  "That's now. But back then--" He broke off and his chest rose with a deep breath as if he was trying to force himself to do something painful. "Remember when I said some kids were bullying Matt the day I met him?"

  She could feel his heartbeat beneath her fingertips. "Yes. And you rescued him."

  "Evan, Daniel, and Sebastian rescued him, Harper." He looked her straight in the eye. "I was one of those bullies."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Harper tipped her head back to look at him. The strong lines of his face were tense, the bedside lamp casting dark shadows across one half.

  "You were bullying him?" She shook her head, unable to put the amazing man she'd fallen for in that picture, even as a boy. "I can't believe that."

  His jaw flexed. "Believe it."

  "But I've seen you with Matt's son, Noah. I've seen the way that little boy looks at you, and the way Matt trusts you. How could he trust you with his son if you did that?" No father would have let a son of his near the man who'd been his bully when he was a child.

  He filled his lungs with another deep breath. "Because, in the end, I changed." He exhaled sharply. "I changed my mind."

  "I don't understand." And she truly didn't--couldn't understand anything he was saying to her when it was the exact opposite of what she'd come to know about him.

  "I belonged to a gang. In my neighborhood, you were either a bully or you got bullied," he said in rapid-fire bursts. "You had to act like them to be accepted. So I did."

  His arm still bound her to him as if he was afraid she'd get away. Reaching up, she forced his palm against her cheek, holding him, too, as she tried to piece it all together.

  "Road Warriors?" When he nodded, she said, "So if you felt you had to be a bully to fit in, then why did you change your mind about Matt?"

  "Maybe I felt sorry for him because he was so scrawny. Or maybe there was just something in his eyes when he looked at me, like they were a kind of mirror that made me see myself in them. See what I was doing." His whole body was rigid along the length of hers. "I told them to leave him alone. So they turned on me." She felt his shrug, as if what the bullies had done to him was nothing and only what he'd been about to do to Matt had meaning. "That's when Daniel and Sebastian rescued me. They were always good fighters."

  "I'm sorry." She understood bullying. She'd seen neighborhood kids pick on Jeremy. She'd put herself between them. But Will a bully? She remembered his defense of Jeremy at the grocery store, and, in a way, his story made sense of his reaction that day. He'd seen himself in that clerk. Cruel and demeaning. And he'd gone overboard to protect her brother. "But the gang took you back?"

  "I went back. I thought they were my people. I thought they were my family, the only one that would ever want me. And that isn't all I did." He caressed her cheek with his thumb, his touch a contrast to what he was saying. "You need to know everything. Everything I've never told anyone but the Mavericks and my foster mom and dad. I was a burglar and a car thief, too." He moved slightly, indicating the tattoo on his arm. "I stole anything I thought I could sell. I was really good at picking out the good stuff." His laugh was more of a snort, angry and mocking. "I still am. I've made a fortune at peddling the good stuff."

  Her lips parted. Sh
e couldn't seem to close them again.

  "My dad sent me into houses. I was small and I fit through windows where he couldn't. He'd toss me in and I'd unlock the place for him. Since I was always able to spot the best stuff, dear old pops put that skill to excellent use. We lifted everything we could carry."

  "Your father?" No one could do that to a child, especially not their own child, could they? Except that she wasn't naive. She knew people did awful things to children all the time. But this was Will. Not some fifteen-second news bite about a stranger.

  "He's in prison now. Three strikes and you're out."

  It was hard to breathe, hard to hear, but she knew it was harder for him to tell. "How old were you when he made you steal for him?"

  "It started when I was eight. A couple of years after my mom died. When my father figured I was old enough to follow orders without screwing up."

  Her whole soul ached for him, as if she'd suddenly been shoved through a tiny window right along with him, shards of glass scarring her the way his father had scarred him. She'd wondered why he'd sidestepped all her questions, why he'd never told her his story. Now she knew: This was the truth he hadn't wanted her to pry up.

  She'd told her story so many times that she'd ended up feeling as though it defined her, as though it had too much power over her. Whereas, even though Will had told almost no one else, she could see the enormous power his past had over him--and that he believed it defined him, too.

  But couldn't he see? "None of that was your fault."

  He pulled from her then, almost to the opposite side of the bed. So far, far away that even if her hand had been on his chest, his heart, she still wouldn't have touched him.

  "Maybe I wasn't to blame at first. But all the stuff I did later was my fault. All the bad choices. Lots of bad choices."

  She ached to run her fingers down his arm or to smooth the tightness from his forehead. Anything to ease his pain. But he needed to get it out, and she was afraid that he'd stop if she pushed him just then. Still, she needed to say again, "You were just a kid."

  "I was a bully. I was a thief. I could hotwire a car like that." He snapped his fingers, a loud, sharp sound in the quiet. "Still can. I probably would have gone to juvie when they put my dad in jail if it hadn't been for Susan and Bob. Daniel's parents took us all in when we needed it. Except for Matt." He shrugged, pressed his lips together, the shadows taking over his beautiful face. "He never moved in officially, he was just underfoot all the time."

  When he talked about Susan and Bob, his voice was reverent, rife with emotion and meaning. The Mavericks, Susan and Bob--these people were the most important in the world to him. No wonder they were bonded beyond blood relation. She didn't know his friends' stories or anything about their lives, but if they'd come to Daniel's parents, she now knew they must have seen things as bad as Will had.

  She wanted so desperately to reach out. But Will remained untouchable. "They must be good people."

  "The best. I should have accepted what they offered me long before I did." A wisp of wind could have carried the soft words away, but other than the rustle of sheets as Will moved, there was only the sound of his voice. "But I didn't stop doing the things my dad taught me." His fingers bunched in the sheet as he pulled it higher. "I loved speed. I loved drag racing. I loved cars. And I loved stealing them. I was one of the Road Warriors. And I thought they loved me, too. But I didn't have a clue." He turned his head, finally looking at her, one half of his face in light, the other in darkness. "That's what I did to Susan and Bob. To the people who tried to help me. Gave them heartache and worry."

  "I'm sure they understood, Will." But she realized the useless platitude in that even as she spoke the words. Words that did nothing to ease his pain.

  "I left the Road Warriors when I was sixteen." He paused, stared at the far bedroom wall as though he could actually see his life playing before him. "Or maybe it's better to say that they ceased to exist." Harper stretched out her hand, across the wide chasm of mattress between them as he told her, "That day with Matt, I at least learned I didn't want to be a bully. And I never did that shit again. But the Road Warriors were different. The lowest on the totem pole always got picked on. That was our way of life. It happened to me, it happened to all of them. Until you weren't the lowest anymore.

  "We had this kid who wanted to be one of us more than anything. He was like a gnat, always buzzing around. And he couldn't do anything right. His name was Eddie, and they called him Eddie Munster after that old TV show." He shook his head at the wall, still watching the movie in his mind. "They didn't let up on Eddie. It was freaking endless. But he kept coming back for more. You just wanted to tell him to give up. It was never gonna happen. He'd never be one of us." Even his voice changed as he spoke, dropping letters off his words. "But ya gotta understand how badly you need a family out there. You'll take any kind of abuse just to belong."

  She closed her eyes, held her breath as her heart broke in two for him. That was Will himself, the kid who'd taken any abuse just so he could be a part of them. She wanted to cry for him, scream for him, take care of him, never let him hurt ever again.

  "Eddie couldn't drive for crap. And someone got the brilliant idea of giving him his absolute last chance to make it with us. They wanted to set him up in a car, let him race, and watch him crash. 'Cause they were all sure he'd crash. I saw Eddie talking to himself, a pep talk, psyching himself up. He was gonna do it. This time he'd get it right." He gritted his teeth. "Light--we called him that because he had the lightest fingers and could pick anything out of any pocket--he stood there telling the Munster he had shit for brains and he couldn't do it, he was nothing, would always be nothing, and this would prove it. On and on. And I watched. All I did was watch."

  He stopped speaking, then stayed silent so long she thought the story had cost him his power of speech.

  "He lost it," Will finally said in a soft voice, one she could barely hear. "The way they all thought he would. Sideswiped another car. That was it. His last chance. And he was out. I can still hear them laughing at him. Until he made them stop." He closed his eyes, shuddered. "I guess he snapped. He turned the car around, and he plowed right through them." His tanned skin had gone white, as if the memories were draining all the blood from him. "He killed Light and two other guys. Then he slammed into a wall head on. Killed himself, too."

  She couldn't manage to hold in her gasp at Will's revelation, but less than a heartbeat later, she needed him to know, "You didn't bully him. You didn't do anything."

  He looked at her then, and she swore she could see him shutting off the movie screen in his head. "That's exactly right. I did nothing. I let them drive him into the ground. I never stuck up for him the way I did for Matt. Matt was an outsider, an innocent. Eddie, he wanted to be one of us. So I let them haze him to death. Literally. And he took the guys I thought were my friends with him. If I'd done something long before then..."

  "Could you really have stopped it? Or would they simply have beaten on you like they did when you stood up for Matt?"

  He shook his head sharply. "It doesn't matter. I never tried. A crime of omission is still a crime."

  She understood then why he drove so fast. It wasn't so much a love of speed as it was a way to run from his memories, his past. "And you're still racing after all these years," she said aloud.

  His eyes were simultaneously full of emotion and totally bleak. "Yes. I still love speed. Still need speed. Still feel like I'll go off the rails if I don't have enough of it. Being with you is like that, Harper. A total rush. You fill up all those empty spaces. And even though I've known all along that I shouldn't let it happen, I haven't been able to stop. Haven't been able to make myself do the right thing and leave you alone."

  She couldn't stand it anymore. She couldn't lie still in his bed. She either had to touch him--or run.

  And she knew which one he thought she would pick. Almost as if every word he uttered was designed to make her leave. To force
her out. To make her throw his words of love back in his face.

  But how could she, when everything was now so clear? Will had been a small boy who was horribly used. And yet, he'd turned into a man who would champion her brother and teach a small child to swim. He'd been a broken little boy who, with help and love, had glued himself back together again.

  And now, he was a man who loved her.

  All along she'd been telling herself this was just hot sex with a super hot guy. Nothing more than a thrilling ride in a fast car. But the truth was that Will had managed to touch her in all the places she'd been afraid to let anyone near. Not since her parents died. Not even since she'd lost the old Jeremy. She'd never let anyone in. Not until Will had pushed past her barriers, her walls, each of her fears, one by one.

  The honest truth? She was terrified. Terrified that if she truly gave her heart and then something happened to him, how could she possibly keep moving forward without him the way she had before?

  "So you see, Harper, I'm really not a nice guy in any way."

  As his voice thrummed like a chord inside her, she crawled across the expanse of his bed. She couldn't let him believe that horrible lie for one more second.

  She straddled his lap and took his face in her palms. "I don't want a nice guy. I only want you. The best man I've ever known." Putting her hand on the tattoo of his youth, she bent to kiss the inked skin. "Susan and Bob forgave you no matter what you did. And so do I, Will. So do I."

  But she knew she needed to say more, needed to explain why she wasn't echoing his beautiful words back to him. "My not saying those words...it's not because you aren't worthy. And it's definitely not because I'm too smart to fall for you. I'm falling, Will. You have to believe that. I just--"

  She'd been planning to seal the confession with a kiss designed to ease his pain and loss, but he cut off her halting words, pulling her to him, his mouth a breath away.

  "It's enough to know you're falling, Harper. And that one day, maybe, if I'm lucky, you'll let yourself fall all the way."