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Braith left the bar and headed for home once again. Twice now he’d started to go, yet each time his feet found their own way back to the bar. His mind wasn’t on work. Indecision kept turning him around.

Sorcha permeated his every thought, his every breath. Part of him was afraid to go home and find her gone once again, like a ghost. The other, larger part, feared she would still be there. Hell if he knew what to do with the woman, or what to say. Did Hallmark make a greeting card that read, “I’m sorry I abandoned you. Sorry I left you to them. Sorry I never told you the truth before I said goodbye. Now go home again before I do something stupid, like start kissing you and never stop”?

Several minutes later, he pulled open the screen door to his house. He could hear the shower running, so he occupied himself with household chores until the water shut off. When he figured he’d stalled long enough, Braith walked into his bedroom.

“Sorcha? I’m home,” he called by way of warning.

She emerged from the bathroom wrapped in nothing but his small, blue bath towel. The swell of her breast rose above her fist, skin flushed a soft pink from the heat of the shower. The long lines of her tanned legs came together as she tried to keep her body hidden in the terry cloth. A blush stained her cheeks, deep enough to be seen even through the bruises. Sorcha cast an accusing glance his direction.

“What?” He smiled and held up his hands in innocence. “I warned you I was here.”

“I didn’t hear you.”

“Not my fault.”

“Yeah, well.” Her mouth quirked up on one side, and she crooked a finger, gesturing for him to turn around. He coughed and lowered his gaze to the floor instead.

“My shirts are in the dresser over there. Second drawer. I might have an old pair of shorts in the bottom drawer too. If you’re interested.”

“It’s either that or walk around naked, right?”

Braith stared hard at the wood beneath his toes. His vote was the latter of the two choices. Not that his vote mattered. Her towel hit him in the head. With a smile, he laid it open over the door to dry and turned to find her tying up a pair of cut off sweat shorts. The dark blue T-shirt she chose dwarfed her lithe form. He watched her teeth nibble on her bottom lip as she worked the drawstring into some semblance of a knot. Damn, he wanted to go over and touch her more and more with each passing second.

Sorcha smiled in his direction. “I don’t suppose you have a brush?”

Braith nodded and pulled a brush from the top of his trunk. He had a few things of hers from when he swiped that dresser top five years ago. He just wasn’t willing to give them all back. Yet. “This one might look familiar.”

He tossed the brush over and made the bed while she tended to her hair. His fingers itched to run through the silken locks, but she braided it back with a speed and ease that thwarted any such ideas. Straightening the pillows, he turned to go into the kitchen and almost ran right into her.

“Damn, I forgot how quiet you move.” He laughed.

She rose on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “Sorry. Thanks for taking me in.”
The feel of her lips, her breath against his skin, sent a streak of need through Braith’s neglected soul. His fingers tightened of their own accord. Awareness flared in her eyes a second before he whispered her name and captured her mouth in a searing kiss.

Drowning, he was drowning. And damn if he cared. A whimper slipped from her throat as her arms wound around his neck, bringing her body flush with his. Gods, how he missed the soft sounds she made when they kissed, touched, loved. Braith pulled her closer with a hand splayed at the small of her back. He kissed her like he never wanted it to end—a kiss to make up for the five years of his absence. Five long, grueling, wasted years. Over and over his lips moved against hers, seeking an entrance to taste what was hers alone.

Her heart drummed against his chest, pounding out a rhythm that his own pulse picked up and joined. Warmth stole through every pore in his body. He didn’t know what he’d expected, but it certainly wasn’t this overwhelming sense of peace. Of relief. Of his soul rejoicing in the only place he could ever call home—Sorcha.

“Gods, woman, I’ve missed you,” he said as she broke the kiss to nip along his jaw.

Her teeth caught at the sensitive lobe of his ear and tugged until he bent his tall frame lower to grant her easier access. Sorcha traced the shell of his ear with the tip of her tongue. “Mmm…Braith.”

His name on her lips pulled up memories he thought long buried. His eyes closed as the air rushed from his lungs, and he squeezed her tighter, silently willing the memories not to fade again.

“I’ve missed you too, Brai.”

The soft whisper wrung a growl from the depths of his throat. Lifting her up by her ass, he caught her lips again and sent his tongue in deep to lick at the roof of her mouth. Her legs wound around his waist, arms locked over his shoulders to hang on tight.

He didn’t care why she had come to him. She was here. Belonged here. With him. Against him. Beneath him. With a smirk of possession, he lowered her body to the bed and followed her down.