shoulders before she could skitter away. God, the feel of her under his hands again fed the cold, empty places inside him. Damn, he’d missed her.
“You finished it yourself, remember?”
“You’re the one who walked out,” Justice reminded her again.
“And you’re the one who let me,” she snapped, her gaze locked on his as she stiffened in his grasp.
“What was I supposed to do?” he demanded. “Tie you to a chair?”
She laughed without humor. “No, you wouldn’t do that, would you, Justice? You wouldn’t try to make me stay. You wouldn’t come after me.”
Her words jabbed at him but he didn’t say anything. Hell, no, he hadn’t chased after her. He’d had his pride, hadn’t he? What was he supposed to do, beg her to stay? She’d made it clear that as far as she was concerned, their marriage was over. So he should have done what exactly?
She flipped her hair back out of her face and gave him a glare that should have set him on fire. “So here we are again on the carousel of pain. I blame you. You blame me. I yell, you get all stoic and stone-faced and nothing changes.”
He scowled at her. “I don’t get stone-faced.”
“Oh, please, Justice. You’re doing it right now.” She choked out a laugh and tried to squirm free of his grip. It didn’t work. She tipped her head back, and her angry eyes focused on his and the mouth he wanted to taste more than anything flattened into a grim slash. “Our fights were always one-sided. I shout and you close up.”
“Shouting’s supposed to be a good thing?”
“At least I would have known you cared enough to fight!”
His fingers on her shoulders tightened, and he met that furious glare with one of his own. “You knew damn well I cared. You still left.”
“Because you had to have it all your way. A marriage is two people. Not just one really pushy person.” She sucked in a breath, fought his grip for another second or two, then sighed. “Let me go, Justice.”
“I already did,” he told her. “You’re the one who came back.”
“I didn’t come back for this.” She pushed at his chest.
“Bullshit, Maggie.” His voice dropped to a whisper, a rough scrape of sound as the words clawed their way out of his throat. “You could have sent your lawyer. Hell, you could have mailed the papers again. But you didn’t. You came here. To me.”
“To look you in the eye and demand that you sign them.”
“Really?” He dipped his head, inhaled the soft, flowery scent of her and held it inside as long as he could. “Is that really why you’re here, Maggie? The papers?”
“Yes,” she said, closing her eyes, sliding her hands up his chest. “I want it over, Justice. If we’re done, I need all of this to be finally over.”
The feel of her touching Justice sparked the banked fires within and set them free to engulf his body. It had always been like this between them. Chemistry, pure and simple. Combustion. Whenever they touched, their bodies lit up like the neon streets of Vegas.
That, at least, hadn’t changed.
“We’ll never be done, Maggie.” His gaze moved over her. He loved the flush in her cheeks and the way her mouth was parted on the sigh that slipped from between her lips. “What’s between us will never be over.”
“I used to believe that.” Her eyes opened; she stared up at him and shook her head. “But it has to be over, Justice. If I stay, we’ll only hurt each other again.”
Undoubtedly. He couldn’t give her the one thing she wanted, so he had to let her go. For her sake. Still, she was here, now. In his arms. And the past several months had been so long without her.
He’d tried to bury her memory with other women, but he hadn’t been able to. Hadn’t been able to want any woman as he wanted her. Only her.
His body was hard and tight and aching so badly it was all he could do not to groan with the pain of needing her. The past didn’t matter anymore. The future was a hazy blur. But the present buzzed and burned with an intensity that shook him to his bones.
“If we’re really done, then all we have is now, Maggie,” he said, bending to touch the tip of his tongue to her parted lips. She hissed in a breath of air, and he knew she felt exactly as he did. “And if you leave now, you’ll kill me.”
She swayed into him even as she shook her head. Her hands slid up over his shoulder, and she drove her fingers up, into his always-too-long dark brown hair. The touch of her was molten. The scent of her was dizzying. The taste of her was all he needed.
“God, I’ve missed you,” she admitted, her mouth moving against his. “You bastard, you’ve still got my heart.”
“You ripped mine out when you left, Maggie,” he confessed. His gaze locked with hers, and in those pale blue depths he read passion and need and all the emotions that were charging through him. “But you’re back now and damned if I’ll let you leave again. Not now. Not yet.”
His mouth came down hard on hers, and it was as if he was alive again. For months, he’d been a walking dead man. A hollowed-out excuse for a human being. Breathing. Eating. Working. But so empty there was nothing for him but routine. He’d lost himself in the ranch workings. Buried himself in the minutiae of business so that he had no time to think. No time to wonder what she was doing. Where she was.
Months of being without her fired the desire nearly choking him, and Justice gave himself up to it. He skimmed his hands up and down her spine, sliding them over the curve of her bottom, cupping her, pressing her into him until she could feel the hard proof of his need.
She groaned into his mouth and strained against him. Justice tore his mouth from hers and lowered his head to taste the long, elegant line of her throat. Her scent invaded him. Her heat swamped him. And he could think only of taking what he’d wanted for so long.
He nibbled at her soft, smooth skin, feeling her shivers of pleasure as she cocked her head to one side, allowing him greater access. She’d always liked it when he kissed her neck. When his teeth scraped her skin, when his tongue drew taut, damp circles just beneath her ear.
He slid one hand around, to the front of her. He cupped her center with the palm of his hand. Even through the fabric of her tailored slacks, he felt her heat, her need, pulsing at him.
“Justice…”
“Damn it, Maggie,” he whispered, lifting his head to look down at her. “If you tell me to stop, I’ll…”
She smiled. “You’ll what?”
He sighed and let his forehead drop to hers. “I’ll stop.”
Maggie shifted her hold on him, moving to cup his face between her palms. She hadn’t come here for this, though if she were to be completely honest, she’d have had to admit that she’d hoped he would hold her again. Love her again. She’d missed him so much that the pain of losing him was a constant ache
