Finding Home #SYTYCW15 #SpecialEdition

Finding Home Part 11

Chapter Ten

A cold curl of wind pulled Conner out of his sated daze. Andie mumbled something as he levered himself back a few inches. Her eyes had slipped shut; her lips were swollen and pink from his kisses. He felt her skin brush against his chest and it caused a surge of want to roll through him again. But the cold breeze blew across his spine, making him shiver.

Conner looked over his shoulder and realized that one of his windows was open a sliver, the curtains billowing in the icy wind. He'd cracked it when he was vacuuming, to let the dust out, something his mom had always insisted on. He must have forgotten to close it. He cursed his stupidity silently as he rolled off Andie and levered himself from the bed.

"Where're you going?" she asked, her voice husky with sleep.

Conner smoothed her hair back from her face, dropped a kiss on her forehead. "The window's open. I'm shutting it. I'll be right back."

He yanked his boxers back on before he crossed to the window. He slammed it shut and clicked the lock, then cursed when he realized the windowsill was sopping wet. He grabbed his t-shirt off the floor and balled it up, using it to sop up the worst of the mess, then stood there, the wet, clammy fabric clenched in his hands as he stared outside. Or rather, attempted too.

It was pitch black out there, not a single light on anywhere. If he squinted hard, he thought he could make out the ghostly white curl of the waves, breaking against the rocks along the shoreline, but that was it. He could still hear the wind, moaning now as it hammered the windows, the building, the boats in the marina. He could hear the harsh tap of the rain against the window too, and knew the storm hadn't eased at all. His vision blurred for a moment before his focus shifted, and he found himself not looking out, but staring instead at the candlelit reflection of Andie, splashed across the dark glass.

She lay on the bed, the comforter pushed down around her ankles. Her eyes were still closed, her hair tousled around her face, one hand curled beneath her cheek. The flickering light from the candles slipped and slid over her, highlighting the curve of her hip, then the deep indent of her waist. There was a smile curved across her face and her body was limp. This was the Andie he remembered, free and spontaneous and relaxed. It was the only time he'd seen her like this since he'd returned home. He felt a burst of pure male pride at the thought that he'd done that, he'd put that smile there.

He touched his thumb to the icy glass, to the cold, reflection Andie. She put everyone before herself. She didn't do anywhere near as good of a job taking care of herself as she did everyone else. She was so alone, so closed off, so brittle. She was barely hanging on, and Conner didn't think she even knew it. He could only assume that it had something to do with her parents, with her being afraid of getting hurt, of losing someone. And that was a problem, a big, big problem. Because he wanted in. He wanted all of her. He wanted her to love him.

He turned and stared at her, watching as she shivered slightly in her sleep. He took a step toward her, and then another. And when reality plowed into him, as hard as one of those frigid waves battering the shore, it took all of his willpower not to drop to his knees.

He was in love with her. Somehow, some way, she'd stolen his heart, one little piece at a time, until she owned it, owned him.

He loved her. Totally and completely. And wasn't that a kick in the head? He'd fallen in love with a woman he could never have a future with, a woman who would eventually reject him, a woman who would never give him her heart in return.

Andie opened her eyes, gave him a sleepy satisfied smile. "Hey."

"Hey." He rubbed a hand across his heart, trying to shove away the sudden ache burning there.