So Magda means we're demonstrative." She loosened the knot of his tie, which had never in his life been sexy until Merina started doing it. "Hmm."
Hmm. That sounded as dangerous as "fine" and "never mind."
"She's known you a long time, then?"
"Since I was ten. She was part-time then, raising her own kids."
"I didn't know she has children," Merina said, eyes brightening.
"I didn't know you cared," he said as Merina finished undoing his tie. "She has three." Merina unbuttoned his top button and then one more and stroked her fingers down his throat.
"My parents kiss each other on the cheek and on the forehead," she said, continuing to drive him wild. "They lovingly bicker. But I can't say I've ever seen them passionate with each other." She screwed her face into a cute look of disgust. "Eww."
"You aren't missing out." His hands moved down her back and over her bra. With the flick of a thumb, he unclasped it.
"You're good at that." She pursed her lips. "I guess you've had a lot of practice."
"A trap I refuse to walk into."
"Smart man." Holding both sides of his tie, she tugged him closer, but still didn't kiss him. "Tell me about your mom."
"Merina." He backed away but she had a grip on his tie and he didn't get far.
"Other than the fact you named your boat after her."
"It's a yacht." He pulled a hand through his hair, feeling uncomfortable. None of them talked about Mom. Not because of a written code, they just…didn't.
"How did she die? I don't need gory details, just the facts."
"You mean you don't know?"
"How would I know?" she asked.
He was stalling and she wasn't letting it go, or letting him out of it. And really, what was the harm in discussing Lunette Crane? But the urge to hide, to keep the details of his personal life private, was strong.
Habits. Years and years of habits. Merina's fingers stroked over his skin again. He met her eyes and told her the truth.
"She was driving to work one day and was involved in a three-car pileup involving two semis."
Merina winced, and before he could stop himself, he told her the gory details anyway.
"Hers was the compact car in the middle."
"Reese…" She shook her head, pain searing her pretty face.
"One day she was sending us out the door to school, and that night she wasn't home. A few days later I was saying good-bye to a wooden box." He didn't know if the position of his mouth was a sad smile or a grimace. "She was a beautiful woman, but there wasn't enough left of her to reconstruct for the funeral.
One of Merina's hands left his tie to cover her mouth. Something about her reaction—her shock, the pain in her eyes, the tenderness she showed him when she gently rested a palm on his chest—drew him in instead of pushing him away. The last five years had been about enjoying a woman's company for the short-term, and conversations rarely if ever veered into "how did your mom die" territory.
Keeping Merina at arm's length was something he'd thought he could do, but that idea was becoming less and less desirable. The more she was around, the more he realized he liked talking to her. He moved her hair over one shoulder and stroked a finger over super-soft skin and along the collar of her shirt. Once there, he undid one of the delicate pearl buttons.
"I shouldn't have asked." Her eyes were glassy, her mind no doubt locked on the horrors he'd described.
"You deserve to know. It's something a wife should know about her husband." He wanted to distract her. To erase her pain. Especially since it was for him. Seeing it sliced into him. Deep. He undid another button and parted her shirt. "Your turn."
"My turn?" Distraught, her mouth sagged.
So he did what came naturally, lowered his lips to the edge of her tattoo and pressed a kiss against the ink.
She caught his head and breathed a heated sigh into his ear.
"You have a story, Merina." He took the kiss she wouldn't give him earlier. When she tried to deepen it, he denied her, robbing her of his mouth. "Tell me. I've earned it."
* * *
Reese swept broad fingers over her tattoo. The point at one end down to the bright flames streaking from the end.
"What's it mean?" he asked, his voice low. He ran the tip of his finger back over her body art.
"You wouldn't appreciate it." Her voice came out husky, his touch turning her on. Truthfully, he'd been turning her on since he mentioned wanting to "fuck her." A phrase she was sure she didn't like before she'd met Reese Crane. What was it about this man that flipped her world upside down?
"Try me." Navy eyes snapped to hers. His fingers dipped between her breasts and then over one of her nipples.
She sucked in a breath, locking her high-heeled shoes behind his knees. She supposed she owed him a personal story. Being physical with him was easy, sharing…not so much. They'd come this far. He hadn't pulled punches when he told her of his mother, a story that absolutely broke her heart.
"I grew up in the Van Heusen hotel," she told him. "Part-time. The VH was my home in a lot of ways. I played in the hallways, helped the housekeepers with laundry. Sat with Arnold for hours while he worked the desk."
"The older man. I've seen him."
"He's been there for years. The flames"—she undid another button and slipped the shirt off her shoulder, revealing the arrow in full—"are a theme."
His eyes held hers for an impressive few seconds before recognition sparked, then he moved to her tattoo and his lips curved into a small smile.
"The Phoenix." He opened another button on her shirt. "That building rose from the ashes."
"Yes."
"Did you rise from the ashes, too, Merina?" The last button open, he removed the shirt from her arms, his gaze finding hers unerringly.
"In a way." Cool air hit her bare breasts when he took her bra off. Her heart hammered, half afraid he would ask her about her past, half relieved when he didn't.