Nothing Else Matters (Romance on the Go Book 0) Read online

  She applied lotion and brushed her teeth before finding her robe. She didn’t want to chance being naked with Liam still present in her bedroom. She might do something impossibly stupid like throw herself at him. Her robe provided optimum, unsexy coverage to serve as additional armor. But he wasn’t waiting for her and her belly clenched in an echo of remembered acute disappointment.

  A glass of water and two white tablets sat on her nightstand beside her double bed. Her headache had retreated, but she took the painkillers anyway and guzzled the water. If he was still around, she’d get it over with. If he’d walked again, she’d cope, once more without closure. Like there was a different choice.

  Liam lounged on the couch, the blanket folded over the back and her wine glass gone. He was on his feet as soon as he saw her, his gaze filled with caution and something else she refused to label. She thought he’d loved her before. Assumptions were misleading and sucked.

  “Feeling better?”

  “Yes.” She shouldn’t be giving him the time of day.

  The kettle whistled, and she jumped. Trust Liam to take charge and make himself at home. Resentment stoked her anger and eased the pain. She stomped over and poured the boiling water over the tea leaves and left it to steep.

  Pettiness nearly made her choose only the one cup, but she sucked it up and set out two. She dug out a small package of biscuits she’d purchased on impulse in a bistro, forgetting they were in her purse and then storing them in the pantry.

  It felt strangely like breaking bread in some kind of symbolic truce as she set them on a plate and carried the tray in, and she pushed the feeling away. Liam took the tray from her and carefully placed it on the coffee table.

  They sat on either end of the couch, and she poured their tea, fighting not to get pulled in by the familiarity. Most men would want a beer or even coffee, but Liam always took a cup of tea with her. He cited his Irish ancestry, but it felt like something they shared.

  “I told you what I did for a living, back when we got together.”

  Startled by his sudden leap into speech, she blinked. “You did. You said you were a security consultant.”

  “I minimized.” He paused, and she could almost see his resolve. “I lied to you. Out of necessity, but it was still a lie.”

  She grappled with what he’d shared. She couldn’t find anything to say. Maybe everything they had was a lie. Her body had told her the ultimate lie.

  “I’m in security, that part is true. But while I’m based stateside, I don’t work here. My team and I go where we’re contracted to go. And that means other countries, sometimes South America, sometimes the Middle East, Africa.”

  Mercenaries. The label left a sour taste, but she remained quiet, images of morally corrupt killers for hire racing through her head. It didn’t fit with the Liam she knew. Nor with his friends, the men who doubtless made up his team. They hadn’t been around for her to ask when she’d cast her pride aside and gone looking, but she hadn’t considered they were away together. Liam had hidden many truths from her. And she’d been too blind with love to see.

  “When I knew we were about to be deployed this last time, I decided to break things off with you.” He looked away, staring out the window. “I don’t do long term, Claire. I hadn’t, that is. I meant to make that clear to you but … what was between us kept me from saying it. I fooled myself into thinking we’d have more time. And if I’d approached you, I don’t think I could have done it. Left, that is.

  “When I got the word about the contract, I guess I panicked. I could have fed you a line, asked you to wait, told you I’d be back but for once I put you first. Completely.”

  She understood the first part. She’d been like his woman in this particular port, and it’d been really good. She shouldn’t feel any satisfaction in hearing that it meant something to him, yet she did. But how did leaving, not asking her to wait, mean he put her first? “I don’t get it.”

  She wished to recall her question. Why would she care? It didn’t matter, after all. She should have let him say his piece and then shown him the door. And if he hadn’t rushed into speech and intrigued her against her will, she would have. Before she could take it back, he moved closer, and the words froze in her throat.

  Her mind might hate him, her heart bruised and reluctant, but her body, the traitor, hadn’t forgotten. His lean, muscled frame and handsome, craggy face inflamed the dormant chemistry, and she nearly salivated, like Pavlov’s dog. Her core had no control, heated and damp.

  She screwed her eyes shut and tried not to breathe him in, stoking the anger and hurt.

  “My job…” he continued. “It’s in US interests. We don’t knowingly take on questionable contracts and have backed out of some when we see what they’re really about. I’m not defending my work. I’m proud of what I do. But I won’t deny it’s dangerous.

  “And I know you, Claire. I know how you invest in others, how much you give and how little you expect to get back. So the thought of you waiting for me, worrying yourself to death … I decided I couldn’t do that to you. So I bailed. I thought it for the best.”

  His single-minded stupidity took her breath. “You bailed,” she nearly choked. “Without an explanation, without a word or warning. I had no idea what to think. You talk about worry…”

  Liam’s face clouded with remorse. “You’re one of the strongest women I know in addition to having a big heart, sweetheart. I figured you’d write me off and move on. I thought I could. Turns out, I couldn’t. Those months without you were torture. There’s no other woman in my life but you.

  “I thought about you every day. We were under a security blackout, and I couldn’t get word out. But when I got home and picked up your messages and texts … I dared hope for another chance. You want me to have a happy life and there’s no way I can do that without you.”

  The humiliation attached to remembering how she’d sounded in the communications he referenced should have stung. She’d begged. Shown all her colors. Forgotten her pride until she called on it to repel any pity from others. It’d been like living a double life and took so much energy, but she couldn’t have done anything else. She loved him that much.

  So much that she’d conjured up an imaginary pregnancy, simply to hold on to a small piece of him. Crazy times for a crazy woman. Driven crazy by him. How could she risk such a thing again? She needed to ignore the last part of his comment.

  “Claire? Will you? Can you give us another chance?”

  Blessed numbness crept over her body, whether a learned behavior or the result of a shock, she didn’t know, couldn’t differentiate. It gave her the courage and ability to say what she needed to. “No. There won’t be any more chances.”

  When he closed the distance and encroached on her space, she felt immune this time. He said, “I can’t accept that. What we had—”

  Forcing her tone into neutral, she said, “Careful what you hope for, Liam. You’re in close proximity of a mental case. A seriously messed-up individual.”

  He stared at her, eyebrows drawing together, brow furrowing. He shook his head. “I… I can’t see that. What happened?”

  She took a deep breath, and a tortured laugh coughed out on the exhale. “I thought I was pregnant.”

  To her astonishment, his face lit up, his eyes like warm caramel and his gaze swept down to her belly before he frowned. “Thought? You aren’t? Did… I mean…”

  She forestalled his stammering, still pondering his reaction to even a suspicion of a baby. “I seriously thought I was pregnant, Liam. I somehow fooled one pregnancy test and saw a doctor who ordered tests and assured me I wasn’t. Despite the symptoms.”

  He jammed his fingers through his hair, strain tightening his mouth. “Christ. And I wasn’t there for you. You had to deal with that alone. Sweetheart, I—”

  “You don’t get it.” She eased away from him. “I missed you so much I created a phantom pregnancy. And then … then it wasn’t true.” And I had nothing. Again
.

  His eyes were stark with pain, deep brown in his pale face. His mouth opened and closed, that sculpted mouth that had kissed her into mindless need. He said, “I fucked up, so bad.”

  She wanted to cry again, having learned how, and fought it. She laughed, instead, a bitter burst of sound. “You got off lucky.”

  His eyes flared, and he took her by the shoulders, leaning close. “Don’t. Don’t talk like that. You aren’t crazy. I’m in fucking awe that you wanted my baby. And kicking my ass that I hurt you. What does that say about how adjusted I am that I’d do what I did to the woman I love?”

  She stilled. He’d never said the words—she hadn’t either, not exactly, though anyone could determine the depth of her feelings from those calls she’d made when he’d dropped out of her life. She’d loved him. She still did, and that fact made her sigh. So damn weak, on top of crazy. She had to find a way to make him leave before she couldn’t.

  “It took time to figure it out,” he said, now stroking down her arm, his fingertips barely making contact. “I might be stupider than the average male, but I couldn’t call what I felt anything else. I fell in love with you and ran like a chicken. Worse, I told myself it was for the best, like I said. That you didn’t need a guy who was never home and putting himself at risk all the time. I didn’t give you the courtesy of a choice. I left you to deal with … everything. I can’t fix this. All I can do is try and do better.”

  Perhaps if they’d had this confrontation when her shields were strong and impervious, shored up by righteous indignation and grinding pain, his heartfelt words wouldn’t have made a dent. Perhaps she would have turned on her heel and walked away, saved by her pride and able to move on. Perhaps. As if she’d done such a good job so far.

  Maybe she was currently stupid, needy and impractical, caught in a weak moment, but she now had absolutely no inclination to ask him to leave. Nuts. Totally.

  “How did you find me?”

  He peered into her eyes and a corner of his mouth twisted. “Security contractor, remember? Mad skills. At least Noah has those particular ones and he was only too happy to help me out.”

  Noah. She remembered the tall, broad-shouldered blond who kept to himself. Liam had referred to him as a nerd. “He did that so easily?”

  “I needed the info. I’ve been home a day and a half.”

  And the first thing he’d done was look for her. She admonished her heart, but it swelled a tad. Her brain flashed a cautionary light that she contrarily switched off. But she had to make herself clear if she wasn’t kicking him out. He had to understand so it wouldn’t continue to hang over them. “I was devastated. Even before I found out I wasn’t pregnant.”

  He flinched, his lips tightening, the pronounced sun lines around his eyes deepening. “I know. Three months late, but I heard. It brought it home to me. Sweetheart—”

  “And then I hated you.” She shook her head. “I had to—in order to survive.”

  He paled and flinched again but didn’t attempt to defend himself. Defend the indefensible. “I get it.”

  “I’m feeling both right now.” She’d be hard pressed to categorize the cacophony of emotions rattling around inside of her, but she’d never been more aware of the fine line between love and hate.

  “I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you.”

  What exactly was he making up to her? She couldn’t sort through it. She blamed him for leaving her, for the insensitivity that bordered on denseness but hadn’t been able to forget him. Maybe, in time… She didn’t know. She wasn’t sure she wanted to.

  “Claire. Did you have no one to share with?” He drew her from her thoughts.

  “That’s not how I deal with things.”

  He stilled, his fingers relaxing. “Me neither. That has to change.”

  The quiet grew to encompass them, and she set her head on his chest, fitting beneath the crook of his chin the way she used to, wondering what her lack of further harsh words and recriminations meant.

  Levering up, she looked down at him, dark stubble masking the line of his strong jaw and giving him that delicious pirate look she liked so much. “Promise you’ll talk to me? Share? If we … give us a try again?” It felt like the right thing to say, coming from somewhere deep inside. A need for reassurance.

  “From here on in. If you’ll take the chance.” The adamant reply, coupled with a fierce stare, assuaged the niggle of worry and she subsided to think.

  Chapter Five

  He held his woman in his arms. She felt so blessedly familiar, if too thin. The memorable smell of fresh apples wafted to his nose as her damp hair dried, and beneath was a scent that was all Claire. Something warm with a touch of spice.

  Despite the enormity of what she’d shared and the depth of his self-recrimination, his body stirred in another way, at odds with the grief and tenderness in his belly. Chemistry tended to suppress sadness and replace it with something more palatable. He knew it was an age-old response but tried to suppress his need. Stop thinking with his dick.

  Did she mean that she’d trust him to pick up where they’d left off, let him make it up to her as best he could? She wasn’t running away or heaving his ass out the door. And he’d have allowed it, a just punishment for what he’d done, now he’d explained and apologized. Or maybe he wouldn’t. This was what was best for her. Them. Being together.

  “Claire?”

  She stirred and he regretted his impatience, but he’d wasted so much time.

  Sitting up, she pushed a lock of the thick, black hair he loved to run his fingers through away from her face. Those startlingly crystal gray eyes stared into his soul. The tip of her nose was red, her face puffy from crying, and she was still the most beautiful woman he knew.

  She set her full mouth against his lips, a tentative press that evoked an instant, erotic rush of memories and need. Containing himself, he allowed her to pursue the kiss, hoping she was accepting him again.

  Her breath heated his skin when she trailed her lips over his jaw before returning to his mouth. She murmured, “You taste the same.”

  Lust boiled through his veins and addled his senses, but he held on, giving her free rein until he sensed her need building. Her breasts pushed against him, nipples poking like diamonds through the soft fabric of her robe, and the hitching of her hips and subtle squirming on his rebellious cock signaled to him.

  His alpha side broke loose, and he gathered her up and eased her under him, taking over the kiss, parting her lips with his tongue and tasting her for the first time since his dreams. Tearing free to breathe, he rasped, “You want this, sweetheart?”

  A gasp of sound, something between passion and pain, escaped her and he froze. But she blinked her eyes wide, pupils dilated and nearly mindless, saying, “More than anything.”

  Fully unleashed, he worked his way down the graceful length of her throat, nuzzling and then nipping the pulse point at the base that hammered away beneath his lips. The robe parted before his sensual assault and he kissed over the swell of her breasts, relishing her shiver.

  Catching a beaded nipple in his teeth, he bit down gently, the way she liked it, and was rewarded with a throaty murmur of approval. He cupped the other mound in his hand, filling his palm with the rounded weight.

  It killed him to take his time, lavishing attention on her sensitive breasts, but she deserved every moment. When she was whimpering with sensation, he reluctantly abandoned them and tugged her garment wide, unveiling her pale length and the dusting of dark hair at the apex of her thighs. Sweet feminine arousal rose to further stoke his need, his cock hard and pulsing in the confines of his jeans.

  But this was, first and foremost, about Claire and he trailed his tongue in a moist exploration of her soft belly, avoiding her core and drifting his stubble over her thighs. They parted and rolled wide for him, and he gave in to the temptation.

  Dipping his head, he pressed an open-mouthed kiss against the heart of her, sipping the essence h
e’d nearly lost forever. He tasted every part of her sex, teasing and tormenting, building her up. She pulled his hair and demanded satisfaction, her voice broken and needy before he gave in and turned his attention to her clit.

  A lash of his tongue and a little suction and Claire came apart, her thighs clasping his head in a burst of reaction as he drove her up and over again. Her fragmented moans were music to his ears as he carefully pulled away and watched her come down.

  She lay, arms and legs as akimbo as much as the couch allowed, breasts lifting with her breathing, flushed and sated. He petted her, reveling in his ability to give her that.

  Her lashes fluttered, and sultry, gray eyes came into view. Her gaze dropped over him, pausing below his belt. “If I recall correctly, there’s a part two.”

  His reply was muffled as he yanked on the neck of his shirt to pull it over his head. Tossing it aside, he then carefully lowered his zipper and shoved his jeans down. His cock escaped with a strangled sigh, he swore, or maybe that was just him, and Claire’s eyes widened.

  “Straight to part three before I disgrace myself,” he told her and collected her into his hold. He navigated the furniture and made it to the bedroom in record time, delighting in his woman’s smirk.

  Damn near dumping her onto the bed, he lowered his bulk to blanket her, her much smaller form speaking to his possessive, protective side until his cock begged a reminder.

  Knowing she was wet, he notched himself at her gate and thrust deep, stilling in place as her tight channel clasped him in hot velvet. He bit off a curse and recited the multiplication tables until he regained command over his libido.

  With her thighs around his hips, and her heels digging into his calves, he worked his arms beneath her to plaster them together, setting his lips against her temple. He wanted to move, needed to, but the closeness… His head spun with the rightness of it.

  He rocked into her, his thrusts certain if shallow, sweat coating his skin as his pleasure grew. This wasn’t fucking. It was something else, something he had no hesitation in labeling. Making love indeed had its merits. He was giving Claire all of him.