The Protector

by HelenKay Dimon

  This subdued version started a revving in her gut. It brought fear bubbling up to the surface. The one thing—maybe the only thing—that could make this day worse would be to watch the life drain out of him. She’d seen hints of that as he argued with his father. Times when it sounded as if he’d given up hope. Brief moments when he really did sound like the hollow empty shell he claimed to be.

  She knew that wasn’t the true him. They might not have known each other long but desperation clawed at her at the idea of him turning into a different kind of man. Not when she’d come to depend on him being this way. Not in a victim-needing-rescuing kind of way. In an enjoy-the-sparring-and-loving-the-intimacy way.

  If her friends could see her now. Her, the one who lectured about romance being fun but overrated. The one who insisted she was fine dating now and then and not getting into a big relationship thing. She’d talked about not having time and being torn in a bunch of directions because of this open question with her sister. Now she knew why the women in her life who loved her so much just shoved wine at her and rolled their eyes.

  Attraction didn’t always hit in big ways. Sometimes it snuck in and surprised. It gave her hope on a grand scale when previously she didn’t have much at all.

  She reached out and slipped her fingers through his, needing to re-establish the connection and loving that such a simple gesture could do it. “Today was unbelievable. I never thought I’d be in that sort of position, so vulnerable and unable to properly fight back.”

  Being at someone else’s mercy was her nightmare. She took self-defense classes and armed herself with information. She didn’t take risks. She’d even picked a career that everyone insisted was a good one without wondering if she might like it.

  She’d made every decision, programmed every aspect of her life, to erase or at least limit the panic and confusion she knew as a kid. To stay away from the carefree life that led to her sister’s death. Yet, here she was. In danger but still desperate to see this through.

  Damon grounded her. He made her feel strong. Right now she needed that strength because if she stopped and analyzed all that had happened in the last few days she feared she’d crumble. Run away, back to safety.

  “You could have been seriously hurt,” he said as he brushed the hair off her face.

  They were having two different conversations. She needed to focus on him because if she thought about what happened to her and how awful the ending could have been—with her helpless and clinging to any hope not to fall off that water tower—her body would shake and her stomach would start that nauseating rolling sensation.

  Inhaling, pushing out the memories of the grass and the water tower, she tried to nudge the conversation back in his direction. “I meant for you. Are you okay?”

  “No one tried to hurt me today.”

  She beat back the trembling that raced through her. “The talk with your dad.”

  “What, you think that scene was odd? Struck me as the usual family drama aired for all to see. No big deal.”

  The way he shrugged sliced through her. He compared the emotional tug-of-war to an everyday argument about the correct way to squeeze the toothpaste.

  There was nothing healthy about that kind of denial and she funneled all her energy, all the anxiety bombarding her, into trying to help him see that. “It sounded big and painful. Like, maybe you’d been holding back and finally let go.”

  “Possibly.” He nodded. “Some of the words had been stuck inside for a while. They needed to come and now they have. Done.”

  He made it sound so unimportant. The sadness in his eyes suggested otherwise.

  “Damon.” She rubbed her thumb over the back of his hand. “You don’t have to fake your way through this. Not with me.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about.”

  “I was sitting in that room, Damon.” Just listening to the accusations they lobbed at each other had been painful. She couldn’t imagine living through those days and that estrangement. She never would have survived losing Shauna if her mom hadn’t been there for support.

  “It’s over. Let’s focus on other things.” His fingertips grazed her neck. “Like you.”

  “I’m fine.” She could almost say the words automatically now.

  “Drink your tea.”

  The soothing touch ran through her, relaxing her. The combination of concern for him and his sweet gestures had her heart flipping. After a brutal verbal battle, he still put his worries about her first. He was that guy.

  She debated cajoling and even insisting that he talk with her about what he was really feeling, but there had been so much talking today. After rounds and rounds it ceased being productive. Especially when Damon clearly had shut off any willingness to relive the discussion.

  Hours had passed since the showdown. The people who lived and worked at Sullivan would be meeting to start dinner preparations soon. But that was out there. In here she could hide and snuggle in her blanket and not have to face anything that happened or whatever could in the future.

  After a few more sips of tea her energy rebounded. His closeness likely helped that along. She wouldn’t be running a marathon anytime soon, but she never had before either. The aches and pains had started to subside. She’d skipped offers of heavy medication and stuck to over-the-counter pain relievers, letting the cloudiness hovering in her brain clear. She wasn’t about to forfeit any more control.

  “I’m going to let you get away with this. This time only.” She peeked at him over the top of her mug.

  “Should I know what that means?”

  Their joined hands rested on his leg, right above his knee. She stared at them, trying to remember when she’d stopped caring about such a perfect touch. At twenty-four or twenty-five? The months rolled by after that and now she thought maybe she’d missed something important.

  “The temptation is to poke and bug you and get you to admit how much today sucked for you.” She chalked that up to her competitive spirit and need to solve problems. But she didn’t have to be an expert in probabilities to know how well that would work.

  He ran his fingers over hers, paying each one special attention. “Getting that text saying you were in an accident sure as hell sucked. I still can’t believe someone tried to hurt you. Are you sure you’re okay? There’s probably an urgent care nearby and we could—”

  “There you go, changing the subject.” Taking it away from where she wanted it—on him.

  “Are we fighting?”

  She bit back a laugh. “You can’t tell if we are or not?”

  “You don’t sound pissed but I thought I should check. Just in case.”

  “I’m just letting you know I’m on to you.” She leaned over and set the mug down on the coffee table. The move had her dropping his hand for a second but she picked it right back up again. “These tricks you do, where you pivot off a touchy subject then act like things don’t matter? Not buying it.”

  He sighed at her. “Today should be about you. Someone drugged you.”

  The conversation kept circling back to the place she didn’t want it to go.

  “I don’t want to think about what happened and how close it was to being so much worse, Damon.” She’d tried everything else, so now she tried begging. “Please.”

  He gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. “I want to argue with you.”

  “Of course you do. That’s who you are. We argued about potato salad on the drive to Pennsylvania.”

  “It’s still an unnecessary side dish.”

  She had to smile at his stubborn insistence on that point. “Then let me win this one. Talking about what happened at the water tower will just make me relive it, and right now I need to tuck it away. We can analyze later.”

  His gaze searched her face for a few more seconds before he nodded. “Fine, but it’s no use discussing my dad. We’ve talked about this.”

  “The dead-inside thing?” She rolled her eyes because there was no way to hold it back. “I got it.
”

  “You think you know me so well.” His delivery stayed even. All the anger of earlier today had disappeared.

  She had the sense he was treading carefully through their talk, trying to avoid trouble and desperate to prevent them from going too deep. “I didn’t actually say that.”

  His head fell slightly to one side. “What am I thinking right now?”

  Pushing could lead to fighting and she had no interest in that. “Probably dreaming about burgers.”

  The exhaustion had eased from her bones. Revived and gaining strength, her needs shifted from comfort to something else. She wanted to feel something. To not think or worry or investigate. For a little while, she wanted to be Cate the woman and not Cate the sister.

  A smile stretched across his mouth. “I could eat.”

  “Shocking.”

  “But I was thinking you should rest.” His palm slipped over the blanket to squeeze her knee underneath. “Sprawl across the bed. I’ll drive and pick up food a little later.”

  Not tempting at all. She didn’t want to be alone. Didn’t want him to leave, even though she knew she’d be hungry soon. Her ideal next few hours included him and a bed and so much touching. She’d avoided a disaster today. After that violence, she needed softness. He might not think he could provide it, but she knew better.

  Time to clue him in on her preferences for the evening. “Hmmm.”

  His smile didn’t waver. “What’s that noise about?”

  “Napping is not what I had in mind. Not right now.”

  “Napping plus food. Did you miss that last part?” He sounded so serious, as if he were describing sacred activities.

  “Sounds interesting.” She nodded, pretending to think about his offer.

  “Do I need to sweeten the deal?”

  Now he was getting it . . . sort of. “Shower.”

  “Oh.” His eyes widened. “Sure, right. You should take one of—”

  Since that answer took them a step backwards she sped up the game. “Together.”

  “Us?”

  He was extra cute when he got confused. She was starting to wonder if that stammering would always be his reaction when she took the lead on their bedroom activities. “And then we climb into bed and a few hours from now after we’re both satisfied and starving, you go and get food.”

  His hand stopped rubbing soft circles against her leg. “But you were injured today.”

  The chivalrous response wasn’t a surprise but she was not having it. “I’m not delirious. It’s not adrenaline.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I need to feel something.” She knew that with absolute certainty. She lifted their joined hands and kissed his fingers. “With you.” Her mouth slipped down to his wrist and she licked a gentle line along his pulse.

  “I . . . we should . . .”

  She smiled against his skin. “Don’t worry, I won’t expect you to feel anything.”

  His fingertips below her chin, he lifted her head to meet his gaze. “Am I allowed to like it?”

  The sound of his deep voice spun through her. He might sound amused but the intensity in his eyes was very serious. Very sexy.

  She fought for breath. “I can probably let that happen.”

  Without another word, he slipped his hands under her thighs and shifted her until she sat on his lap. Facing him, she wrapped her arms around his neck and let her legs fall close to either side of his hips.

  The intimate position provided her with a front row seat to the emotions passing through him—worry, need, determination. He morphed from one to the other. By the time he landed on the last his hands tightened against her thighs.

  Sitting there, not kissing him, became impossible. She leaned in and pressed her mouth to his, at first light then not. As it had every time before, the kiss tumbled through her. The touch of his lips started the world spinning. Heat flushed through her and her muscles trembled.

  The kiss had her moving in closer, slipping her hands down his back. Need pounded on her. The kiss stole her breath. Snapped her common sense in half. Then the world started spinning as he stood up, taking her with him. The air rushed under her and his strong hands clamped against her thighs. She hooked her ankles around his hips and held on.

  A few lunging steps and they crossed into the bedroom area. She heard a thump as his elbow hit the switch. The soft yellow light above the bed clicked on. Her back hit the mattress a second later.

  Watching him crawl over her filled her with a revving excitement. She knew what came next. Those long legs. The strong hands. How he could use that mouth to make her chant his name. The whisper of naughty words as he slipped inside her. Having already been with him, she needed all of it again.

  He balanced his weight on his elbows and looked down at her. “Be sure.”

  The words didn’t sound like a question but she knew it was. He didn’t move or touch her, didn’t lean down and kiss her. He wanted permission after the long, hard day.

  Of course he did, because that’s what good guys did.

  She slipped her fingers over his bottom lip, trailed them along his mouth. “Yes.”

  Chapter 19

  The word echoed in Damon’s head. Her clear eyes sent a burst of relief spiraling through him. The sound of her voice, all scratchy and sexy had him wanting more. He’d held back because of the day and the horrors she’d been subjected to. Until she mentioned the shower he’d been worried about her and thinking they could rest. But he was wide awake now.

  Shower. He was more than ready to try that fantasy.

  He lifted up to his knees and dragged her to a sitting position then to her feet. Her eyes widened but she didn’t say anything. The only sound he heard was the distinct humming in his ears that told him he wanted her. Bed, couch, shower . . . it didn’t matter where. He needed their bodies together and his hands on her.

  Walking backwards, he guided them toward the bathroom. He kicked his sneakers off as he walked, fumbling and shuffling. Kissing her through smiling and laughter. A lightness that was so different from every other minute that day.

  The white tile felt cool against his socks. Half out of balance, he put his foot on the toe of the other and pulled his leg back. The move stripped the socks off as he pulled his shirt up and over his head.

  They were a mass of jerky movements and hands tearing at clothes. Her sweatshirt landed on the edge of the sink. She flicked her purple slippers off with two quick kicks. He didn’t bother to see where those fell. He was too busy skating the glass door on its tracks. A second later he reached for the handle and a stream of water pounded against the empty shower walls.

  Before he turned fully around to face her, she’d dropped down to sit on the toilet and went to work on his zipper. Damon froze. He waited to see what she would do, silently begging her not to toy with him. He needed her hand and her mouth.

  She peeked up at him. Those dark eyes filled with wonder. With . . . excitement. He loved how she reacted to him. She didn’t hold back. She didn’t hide. His body belonged to her and she took full advantage.

  Her hand dipped inside the band of his briefs. Her cheek rubbed over his length. He knew then he’d never survive a long round of foreplay. Whatever cool he’d shown would soon expire. Watching her shift from disconnected and not interested when they first met to confident and ready now had his fingers curling in her hair.

  Steam filled the room as the rush of water echoed around them. When her lips closed over him, the last of his control expired. A moan rattled up his throat and his hips tipped forward.

  Her hot mouth moved up and down on him. From this angle, he could see her flushed face and watch her hand press against him as desire ripped through him.

  “Cate, now.”

  She didn’t hesitate. The sexual torture stopped . . . but then it started again when she stood up. She shoved her lounge pants off and stepped past him. After a quick test of the water, she lifted one of those long lean legs and stepped inside. With her
eyes closed she faced the spray and let the water run over her. It soaked her hair and dripped down her chest.

  He’d never seen anything sexier, so he didn’t waste time getting to her. Naked now, he slipped in behind her. His hands skimmed over her damp shoulders to circle her waist. He pulled her back against him, letting the spray douse both of them.

  Her hand slid down his hip then over the outside of his thigh. Nails dug into his skin, pinching and exciting him. It only took a slip of an inch for her hand to land on him, to travel up and down his length. The squeeze, the pumping. Every touch made his hips buck.

  From the way her mouth dropped open when his hand slipped over her belly and kept going down, to the way she grinded her ass against his erection, everything about her tempted him. She had him whipped up and gasping for breath. The friction of skin against skin sent his need spiking.

  Slick from the water, their bodies moved against each other. He kissed the side of her neck then her shoulder. He tormented her with gentle bites then licked her skin to soothe her again. When she spun around to face him, he lost it. His hands traveled over her. From her breasts to her back, cupping her ass, then he started again. Desperate to know all of her, he caressed every inch. Let his finger slide deep inside her.

  The slip of his feet stopped him. His hand shot out and it smacked against the glass to hold them steady. Through pure will he kept them on their feet, but one thing was clear—they needed a bed. Any flat surface, or one not slippery from water.

  He reached behind her and turned off the spray. His muscles moved on fast-forward now. He whipped out one of those thick white towels and wrapped her in it. Without separating from her, he got them out of the tub. They turned and bumped into the counter. He lifted his head from hers long enough to look for another towel and he stubbed his toe against the bottom of the cabinet.