Heart of Stone

by:

A.K. Hunter

Chapter Four

"I know that it's weak, but God help me—I need this." - Matchbox Twenty, "Bed of Lies"

Three years.

It had been three years since Kevin last saw Alexis, since he'd last held her in his arms, since he'd last felt the warmth of her skin or stared into her gorgeous blue eyes. He'd grown used to a world without her; he'd almost come to accept a lifetime of carrying the weight of her death. It wasn't comfortable, on any given day it was only just bearable, but it wasn't as if he had a choice in the matter. No matter how much he wished that things had been different, he couldn't change the way his life had fallen apart. All he could do was salvage what little he had left.

Except, he'd been wrong from the beginning. Alexis had never truly left the world, just his world. She'd been alive—blood pumping, lungs drawing breath—the entire time. With an address from her stolen personnel file, Kevin had gone to her apartment in search of answers. Where had she been? How had she survived? He couldn't articulate the joy and grief and helpless anger that simmered inside him. Was there an appropriate response to that kind of revelation?

And then the door had opened and the world shifted beneath his feet. It was different now, seeing her again. The fire had protected his identity, had given him enough reason to doubt what his own eyes had seen. Standing in front of her, seeing the shock on her tear-stained face, Kevin knew there was no going back—not to the life they'd shared three years earlier and not to the dark, soul-shattering ways he'd been spending his time since then. And that was okay. Because as long as he could taste her lips again, as long as he could feel her warm body against his, nothing else mattered.

His hands moved to her face, and she gasped as his lips crashed into hers. Her fingers wrapped around the collar of his shirt and she sank into the kiss. He walked her backward, pushing the door closed behind him. His hands slid into her hair, just as soft as he remembered it. His tongue traced her lips, begging for entrance. Then, just as quickly as it had began, Alexis pulled back, wrenching herself away from his grasp.

The slap echoed through the apartment. Kevin's head turned to the side, his cheekbone reddening. Alexis stood in front of him, chest heaving with emotion, her eyes betraying confusion and heartache.

"K-Kevin?" Her voice cracked and her eyes filled with fresh tears.

He stared at her for a moment, watching the tears roll down her cheeks. He had no comfort to offer her. His mind still couldn't understand how she could be alive, much less try to make amends for her well-deserved anger. A sob escaped her throat, like she, too, couldn't believe he was standing in front of her, and she clapped her hand over her mouth. Kevin stepped close again, risking her anger, and gently pried her hand away from her lips. He pressed a soft kiss against her palm, tasting the tears that had fallen there.

Then Alexis reached up, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling his lips down to meet hers. She bit his lip, hard, deepening the kiss when he gasped against her mouth. Her hands glided down his chest, and she yanked on his belt, pulling his body flush against hers.

They were almost desperate in their need, teeth gnashing, hands searching for bare skin. She tore his shirt open, buttons flying, her fingertips gliding over his chest, fingernails dragging down his back. He moaned against her mouth and his fingers twined in her hair, roughly tugging her head back. She whimpered as his lips followed the curve of her neck, stopping at her pulse. He brushed a kiss against the beating vessel, savoring the racing pulse beneath his lips and then nipped at her throat. His name on her lips was the most life-affirming thing he'd ever heard.

She pushed his shirt over his shoulders and he saw her pause at the unfamiliar color on his chest. A black Celtic knot stood out in sharp contrast against his skin, right above his heart.

Her eyes locked with his as realization dawned. She pressed her lips against the mark, trailing her mouth up to his throat. She nipped playfully at his neck, then bit him hard enough to leave a mark. His hands squeezed at her waist briefly before picking her up and stumbling down the hallway. Alexis approved of the action as she sank her fingers into his hair, hooked her legs around his waist and kissed him with a ferocity he didn't know was possible. God, he'd missed this. No one had ever made him feel as alive as her.

"Where's your—"

"Door on the right," she answered, barely pulling away from mouth long enough to answer.

He kicked the door open and pressed her against the mattress. Shoes were kicked off in a hurry, and he pulled her sweater over her head, revealing more of that delicious, pale skin he never got tired of tasting.

She pushed him onto his back, then climbed on top of him to remove his belt and unbutton his pants. Air escaped through clenched teeth when her fingertips brushed against him, and he caught her wrists in his hands. Despite three years of longing, he wasn't ready to fuck her. He wanted to savor her a little bit longer. He wanted to revel in the fact that she was alive, that he could feel her heartbeat beneath his fingertips, that he could taste her mouth, smell her perfume, and listen to her pleasured gasps as they moved together. He sat up and removed his pants, then rolled back onto her.

Her legs immediately wrapped around his waist and her hips ground against his. He groaned into her neck as each roll of her hips threatened to end their union before it could truly begin. His fingers made quick work of the buttons and zipper on her jeans, tugging them down her legs with her panties. His fingertips skimmed up her thighs and as her hips rolled upward once more he slid a finger inside her. She gasped and bucked her hips as his fingers teased her, giving her just a taste of what was to come. His teeth nipped at her pulse point, and she moaned against his mouth as she came undone beneath him.

The blush that spread down her neck and chest, combined with the blissed-out expression in her eyes, almost broke him in half. His mouth claimed hers, plundering as he pulled her up and lifted her camisole over her head. His lips trailed over her jaw and down her neck, and a gasp tore out of her throat as she clapped her hands over her sternum.

That gave him pause. She didn't have that relaxed, pleasured expression, nor could he see the desire burning in her eyes. She just looked frightened. His eyes dipped down to her chest, and comprehension dawned. His fingertips pressed against her cheekbones, and he kissed her gently, slowly, methodically, until he felt her panicked heartbeat slow. His fingers wrapped around her wrists as he gently pulled her hands away.

The scar started between her breasts, sloping down across the left side of her rib cage. The mark was jagged, thick, and pink—easily seen against the pallor of her skin. Acute grief washed over him, and he was momentarily breathless. Not because of the scar itself, but because of the pain she must have endured while it healed. He locked eyes with her, hoping his expression wasn't as devastated as he felt. Her lower lip trembled, but she forced herself to look at him. She kept her expression blank, empty, and he realized that the pain had continued long after the wound had healed, pain that he surely had played a part in. Yet she was still brave enough to expose herself, to trust him with the truth that had been cruelly etched into her skin.

"Alexis," he whispered. Years of loss and love and longing were wrapped up in those three syllables. He closed the distance between them, brushing a light kiss over her lips before moving downward. His mouth moved across her neck and stopped at her breastbone. He glanced up at her once, seeing anxiety in her eyes. His fingers entwined with hers as he pressed his lips against the scar, following its trail over her ribs. He took his time, listened to her gasps and shuddering breaths at the sensation of his warm mouth against the angry fissure.

She pushed him onto his back and sealed her mouth over his, her teeth sinking into his bottom lip, her fingers tugging at his hair to deepen the kiss. Something wet fell onto his cheek, and he realized she'd been crying. He brushed his thumbs gently over her cheeks, but she ignored the caress and rolled her hips over his. He groaned at the sensation, and she roughly yanked his boxers over his hips, tossing them onto the floor. Before he could process it, she climbed back onto his lap, rolling her hips against him once before impaling herself on his length. His fingers clenched the bed sheets and her mouth muffled any protest as she rocked against him, sending tendrils of pleasure through him.

His hands dug into her hips, guiding her into a rhythm as he pressed upward against her. Sweat broke out on their skin as they moved together, and Alexis' fingernails dug into his shoulders as she neared the edge. Kevin hands moved over her back, rolling them over and angling her hips with the confidence of someone who had brought her to climax countless times.

His hands moved through her hair as he thrust into her, and he felt her begin to tighten around him. Pleasure was building inside of him; he didn't have long either. He grabbed a handful of her hair, using it to tug her head back, and his other hand slid down her body and nestled under her thigh, lifting it around his waist. He devoured her mouth, thrusting deep into her once, twice, thrice, until she cried out against his mouth and her body clamped onto his. Pure sensation washed over him as he shattered against her skin, his hips moving against hers by pure instinct.

He caught himself before he collapsed onto her and lay next to her on the bed while he caught his breath. She seemed similarly disarmed by their passion, and Kevin tensed in surprise when she snuggled next to him, resting her head in the crook of his shoulder. He pressed a kiss against her forehead. Silence settled in, and as the hormone-fueled haze slipped away he was amazed, once more, that she was laying beside him, that her chest rose and fell against his. It was a miracle. She was a miracle. And he was the lucky bastard who got a second chance to be with her.

"Kevin."

She was watching him, hesitation clear on her face. A tiny crease had appeared between her eyebrows, and he knew she was gathering the courage to ask the one question that would break them.

"Not tonight," he said.

"Kevin—"

"Please. Not tonight."

Alexis watched the indecision play over his face, and for a brief moment he saw fear and regret flash across her eyes. Guilt forced his eyes shut. He couldn't look at her. He couldn't see those emotions on her face, knowing he was the one who had caused them.

Her lips pressed against his cheek. A gift—an offering of trust that he didn't deserve. He allowed himself to look at her again. A small, tentative smile pulled at her perfect mouth, and her fingertips pressed against his cheekbones as if she was trying to memorize his face. Uncertainty and hope minged in her eyes. "I can't believe you're here," she whispered.

That hope, more than anything else, forced his hand. She'd waited for three years. How could he ask her to wait for the truth even one more second? Kevin hadn't forgotten the way she'd looked when she'd slapped him, the mix of grief and defiant distrust in her expression when she'd shown him her scar. He knew in his heart that the fact that they were in bed together had more to do with her love for the man he used to be than her feelings for the man he was now. The discrepancy scared him, but it was nothing more than he deserved. Alexis, on the other hand, deserved the truth and so much more. He couldn't not give it to her, even if she hated him for it in the end.

"Alexis–"

She kissed him hard, killing his confession, and her fingertips danced down his chest and across his abdomen, sending all his blood southward. She finally pulled away, watching him with rapidly dilating eyes. His body ached for her touch.

"Not tonight," she echoed.

She pressed her lips against his again, and this time his hands moved through her hair as he kissed her back, feeling more than a little relieved. As they began to move together once more, Kevin thanked every patron saint he could think of that they'd been given this night and that Alexis was willing to wait just a little bit longer.

For three years, Alexis hadn't slept well. She'd had nightmares. She'd woken up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, her heart racing. Sometimes, she just couldn't stay asleep. She'd doze for a while then toss and turn for hours. The only times she'd slept well in the last few years she'd been drunk, sick, or driven to exhaustion.

So when she'd woken up fully rested, satisfied, and at peace for the first time in three years, it was somewhat disorienting. Alexis sat up, pushing her hair out of her face and wiping the remnants of sleep from her eyes. Her bedside clock told her it was nearly ten—way past the time she usually woke up. Gentle clinking noises echoed from the kitchen through the open bedroom door, and the air smelled of bacon and coffee. She had a guest, a very considerate guest, and judging by the fact that she wasn't wearing any clothes—

The memories of the previous night slammed into her mind: the bottle of wine, the pictures and letters, the ring box, the knock at her door and everything that had happened afterward.

Kevin.

She gasped and scrambled off the bed, catching her feet in the twisted bed sheet and bringing herself and the bedding into a heap on her bedroom floor.

"Good morning."

Alexis looked up from her nest and her heart arrested at the sight of Kevin leaning against her door frame, sipping coffee from one of her mugs. Her favorite mug, in fact. The product had been washed out of his hair, but he was wearing last night's clothes. He looked mildly amused and a little concerned. Her mouth went dry. "Morning," she rasped.

"Are you alright?"

She sat up straight, trying to look dignified despite the fact that her bed sheet was wrapped around her like a glorified toga. She cleared her throat. "I'm fine." Those two words sent her tumbling back, and she saw a similar distance in Kevin's eyes.

He seemed to shake himself, then took a sip of coffee and asked, "Do you not eat food anymore?"

"Excuse me?"

"There's no food in your apartment. Just coffee and liquor."

Confusion set in. Was he trying to lecture her about her unhealthy habits? That was what he was going to start with? He'd disappeared without a trace for three years, and their first proper conversation was about her eating habits? Alexis was speechless, unsure of whether she should laugh, cry, or scream at him. She settled for staring at him silently until heat rose in his face.

"Um, there's breakfast and coffee, if you want them."

She nodded absently. "I'll be there in a minute."

He took the hint and left her alone again. Soon she could hear him humming an old Irish folk song from the kitchen—the same one he'd always hummed in the mornings. The song was infused with countless mundane actions from the life they had before. She'd heard it when he cooked breakfast, when he showered, when he dressed in the morning.

Alexis pressed her fingertips against her sternum, half-expecting her fingers to meet unmarred flesh. Surely she'd woken up in some kind of Twilight Zone in which she and Kevin had never been apart. Or maybe she was having a coma dream. She must have fallen and hit her head in the fire. Maybe she was dead, and this was her version of Heaven.

She felt the raised, twisted flesh on her chest. She wasn't dreaming. She wasn't dead. She hadn't fallen into an alternate universe. Alexis untangled herself and dressed with shaking limbs, forcing herself to go through the motions. Brush her hair, brush her teeth, wash her face. It helped, a bit. Because the alternative to maintaining her calm morning routine fell somewhere between storming into her kitchen and doing physical harm to the man who was cooking her breakfast and storming into her kitchen and making love to him on the cold, tile floor. She honestly wasn't sure which option sounded better.

She watched from the bedroom doorway as Kevin set two plates on the kitchen island, filling them with bacon and omelettes. When her father had been hospitalized, she'd lived on Kevin's omelettes. They were the only thing that ever sounded good when her mind and heart were both so shattered. Did he know how impossibly hard this was? Is that why he'd bought ingredients to make her favorite comfort food? Thank God he hadn't made pancakes. The morning was bizarre enough without her dry-heaving at the scent of fried batter.

He was so much the same it physically hurt to look at him, but there was a hardness in his expression that she'd never seen before. There were lines on his face she didn't remember. His eyes were guarded, though in them she saw something akin to loss.

"You can come closer. I don't bite," he said. His attention seemed focused on pouring a fresh cup of coffee, but she'd been caught all the same.

"Are you sure about that?" she asked, echoing words from another time. A time that, with perfect hindsight, she now understood had set into motion every event that had brought them to that moment in her apartment.

Kevin's eyes took on that faraway look once more, and his head bowed as he took a deep breath. It wasn't any easier for him. She clearly wasn't the only one reeling from the last twelve hours.

Alexis forced herself to put one foot in front of the other until she was sitting at the kitchen island, the cheap faux-marble countertop the only thing separating them. She reached across the gap for the coffee. "Would you pass the sugar please?"

"Already added it."

"Two spoonfuls?"

"Just how you liked it."

Tender surprise and discomfort mixed in her chest. He remembered. She tried not to think about the past tense as she brought the mug to her lips. The perfect balance of coffee and sugar made her want to cry, and she stared into the opaque liquid as Kevin took his place beside her. Not as close as he used to sit, but closer than a stranger would. She supposed that was about right, seeing as how he was both a lover and a stranger.

Silence set in, and Alexis put down her mug. "I can't do this."

"Eat breakfast?"

"Where have you been?" she asked. "It's been three years. The last time I saw you—" She shuddered at the memory, and he moved closer but didn't touch her.

"You died," he finished for her. He watched her with unspeakable sadness, clearly struggling with some questions of his own. "I saw you. You were dead and cold. How did..?"

"Blood transfusions, sutures, and epinephrine," she shrugged. "Thanks to modern medicine, I'm as good as new. Well, minus the hideous scar." She couldn't entirely erase the bitterness that laced her tone. She might be alive, but that didn't mean she wasn't broken.

His finger tentatively laced through hers. "You're still the most beautiful woman I've ever known."

Again, Alexis was at a loss. He'd left her alone for years, only to show up on her doorstep, make love to her—and that was truly what it had felt like—and try to pick up right where they'd left off? She never should have let things wait overnight. She should have demanded answers before anything else happened. She'd just been missing him for so long, missing his touch, that once he was right in front of her, she'd given in to that weakness and slept with him. Even now, with the bereft, almost hungry way he was staring at her, she wanted nothing more than to crawl back in bed with him and stay there until the world wasn't such a confusing place. She tugged her hand away. "What are you doing here Kevin?"

He kept his gaze locked on the floor as he spoke to her. "I didn't know."

"What?"

"That you survived. I didn't know until yesterday."

Shock and disbelief rooted her in her spot. "How could you not know?"

He seemed to struggle to answer that question. "I–"

"How could you not know?" Alexis repeated. "All it would take was one phone call. One visit. A text message. An email. Something. You've been missing for three years. Everyone has been mourning your absence, I've been—" she cut herself off. She was quickly heading down the road to hysteria, ready to unlock all the boxes that held her grief, her anger, her feelings of complete abandonment. She had to keep a lid on them. She had to remain calm, if only to get through that conversation.

"I can't," he said softly.

"You can't what? You can't call? You can't tell me where you've been?"

"Alexis—"

"Don't!" She snapped. "You don't get to say my name. You don't get to just show up after three years with no answers and act like it doesn't matter. You left! You said you loved me, that you wanted a someday with me, and then you left!" Okay, maybe the lids were already off. There was no stopping the emotion that spilled out of her.

Silence settled in, and Alexis took in Kevin's devastated expression. He needed to explain himself. He needed to give her the one answer that would make everything right, but she knew that he couldn't. There was no answer that would make it okay that he'd left her for three years. She pushed back her chair and walked out of her kitchen. She sat on the edge of her bed, resting her face in her hands.

"I never stopped loving you." His voice broke through her thoughts as he stood in the doorway. "I missed you every day. I thought about you, about our future, every day."

They were the words she'd been wanting to hear for years, but they rang hollow. If he loved her so much, why hadn't he stayed? Why hadn't he bothered to check in even once over the last three years?

"Kevin," she whispered. "Where have you been?"

"If I tell you, you'll hate me."

"How do you know I don't already hate you?"

He took a deep breath. "You'll hate me even more."

"Just tell me. Please."

He stepped forward and sat next to her on the bed. He maintained a respectful distance, and she was torn between relief and a desire to cross the gap and wrap her arms around him.

"I–"

A knock shook her front door, and Alexis muttered expletives under her breath. Perfect timing, as always. "Don't go anywhere." She closed her bedroom door behind her and hurried to answer the door. Liam stood on the other side, holding two cups of designer coffee.

"Liam, hi."

"Good morning!" he chirped. "We got some new info on the arson case, so I thought I'd stop by and share."

"That's great," she said without emotion. Her mind raced and her heart beat overtime in her chest. She couldn't miss this opportunity to talk to Kevin. Nothing in the world could be as important as finding out where he'd been. "How about I meet you downstairs and we'll go for a walk? You can tell me all about it?"

"Sure, um, do you want this now?" He nodded his head toward the coffee in his hand.

"Hold onto it for me. I'll be down in a few minutes. I just need to grab my shoes."

As soon as her front door was closed, Alexis all but sprinted back to her bedroom. She yanked the door open, meeting an empty room.

"Kevin?" she whispered. Why was she whispering? They were the only two people in her apartment. "Kevin?"

A cold breeze blew in through her open window, and Alexis noticed the ladder on the fire escape had been pulled down. Anger hit her stomach like a freight train. "Son of a bitch."

Kevin was gone.

Author's Note: Full disclosure, I wrote their reunion scene in like six distinctly different ways (totally different kinds of scenes) before I finally decided on this approach. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoy finally having it finished.

A million thanks to everyone who has reviewed, favorited, and followed. I am blown away by the support this story has received. Please keep it coming! There are new promotional goodies on the way for those who participate, so please please please review!

Next time: Sloane gets a new assignment and unsettling revelations abound.