“You liked that?” Her fingers now tickle from the crown of my shaft to balls, helping me lose my train of thought.
She chuckles against my chest. “I think you did.”
She laps at a nipple before moving lower and lower until she’s kneeling between my spread thighs, her red locks a curtain separating us. I feel her breath as she hovers over my dick, causing it to jerk with need—desperate to have her mouth wrapped around it. Then, I arch into her touch as her wicked tongue swirls around the crown, which tingles and releases my excitement against her lapping tongue.
My thighs twitch with restless abandon, and my fingers tangle in her hair on my stomach; the softness is like a silk caress over my skin and around my groin as she moves on me.
Rising up slightly, her ass in the air, she takes my cock into the warm, wet suction of her mouth…and brings back the dream I had of her in this exact position, doing the exact same thing. Except, where my dream ended before completion, the reality isn’t going to stop—at least, I hope not.
“Oh, God, Savannah,” I groan, the vision affecting me just as much as her tongue.
“I’ve only just started,” she whispers.
With her hands caressing my sac, and the warmth and feel of her mouth bobbing up and down on me, I’m going to blow sooner rather than later. Her tongue caresses as she uses suction on the bulging head before taking me deeper.
My breathing deepens and all my pleasure is centered in the middle of my body, as my hips start moving beneath her.
“I can’t hold on…fuck…Savannah…”
“Let go.”
The fire in my body is so ready to explode that I can’t get enough…and then she seals her mouth around me and I see, fucking, stars.
Feeling the head of my dick explode over, and over again, I can’t breathe—catch a breath—everything has been expelled in my climax that came on all too soon.
Even now, small after tremors of pleasure are shooting along my spent dick while Savannah laps me up—so damn hot.
With a gentle tug, I pull her off me and catch my breath when she meets my gaze. Her eyes are heavy lidded, and she’s licking her lips as though she’s the cat who got the cream—I suppose she did.
“You are so,” I pull her into my arms and flip us over so she’s comfortable on her back, “beautiful that you cause my breath to catch… Seeing and feeling you doing that to me blows my mind.” Surrounding her with my body, my tongue traces the soft fullness of her lips before my mouth covers hers hungrily.
I’m always hungry around Savannah and have been since we met.
As our kiss turns less heated, it becomes a slow dance of tongues; I pull back and realize she’s exhausted.
The smile at her condition spreads across my face as I kiss her on the nose. “I’ve exhausted you.”
“So that’s why you’re looking so smug all of a sudden, huh?”
“I love a satisfied woman.” I kiss her lips. “C’mon, you need to sleep.” I lie on my back and pull her into my arms, letting her fall asleep on me.
I wish I could stay the night with her, but I can’t and it hurts me a lot knowing that I have to leave once she’s asleep.
Savannah is like a craving, and no matter how much I want to always be with her, the thought of staying terrifies me. But the more time I spend with her, the more I want to see her, to be with her. My mind and body know that I’m in love with her, I just wish that I knew what the hell to do about it instead of running because of my fear.
Watching her sleep in my arms causes a longing so strong that my heart feels like it’s breaking. I gently move from under her and shove a pillow in her direction for her to cuddle into.
I don’t look back because I’m afraid of what I’ll see, so keeping my back to her, I grab my clothes and move quietly into her front room where I dress.
Savannah isn’t going to be happy with me leaving like this, but I’ve no other choice.
Savannah
With a lazy stretch to iron out the delightful soreness of my body, I turn my head and my heart sinks—no Jace. He can’t have left in the middle of the night…he…left?
Throwing the covers from my naked body and quickly covering up with my robe, I head into my living room and kitchen before it sinks in that he really isn’t here. In hope, I inhale and move the curtain in the living room to one side and, find that I’m fighting tears when I don’t see his truck.
Last night I’d gone to sleep with a smile on my face, and it wasn’t just because of what we’d spent the evening doing, or what I’d just done to him, it was because I’d closed my eyes and been wrapped up in the man that I love. And he left.
All signs that he has been here are gone—his clothes, his cell and the keys for his truck that had been parked in my drive.
Dropping my ass to the bed, I stare at the bathroom door, willing him to climb out of the shower, which I know isn’t turned on. I can wish.
Feeling tears trembling on my lashes, I angrily swipe at them. He isn’t going to reduce me to tears, no way…he really isn’t…one escapes and slides down my cheek.
Turning away from the bed, my mouth quivers with my heartache, and that’s when I see a piece of paper propped up on my dresser. I’m almost afraid to open it for what it might say. But I guess I’m looking for punishment because I need to know, even if it’s going to make me feel worse than I already do.
Tired and fed-up with Jace’s problem to stay with me overnight, I move and pick up the note, which is written on my pink notepaper that I keep in the kitchen.
My heart lurches though when I see my name scrawled across one side, knowing that it was Jace who’s responsible.
Sighing, I open the note.
Savannah, I’ll bring breakfast.
My eyes widen.
He’ll bring breakfast!
What the hell is going on? Did he leave minutes before I woke and he’s gone to buy us something to eat? Or did he leave—like I think he did—in the middle of the night?
Middle of the night.
I wish my conscience would shut the hell up even though I have to agree.
So he’ll bring breakfast, will he? Well, we’ll see about that.
Storming to the bathroom, I quickly go through with my morning routine, which includes a long shower to scrub him from my skin. Two can play at this game and I’ve damn well had enough.
Our days when we are together have been amazing, along with our evenings, so why does he always make me feel used? As though he’s only wanting me for one thing, and one thing only.
Feeling my tears threatening again, I quickly dry, and dress in sweats and a T-shirt. Today we were supposed to be going over to Kix for Sunday lunch.
Ryder had been so excited about it that we couldn’t have refused for anything. Jace had been amused at his brother’s excitement until I’d elbowed him in the stomach. He’d glanced at me with a frown before he’d winked at me and continued ribbing Ryder. Brothers!
Everything comes back to Jace again.
Ugh!
Heading into the kitchen, I get the coffee going and place two pieces of whole-wheat toast into the toaster oven.
I’m not sure at what point Jace will be back, even though he did say he’d bring breakfast. Not sure what his idea of time or food is, so for now I’m going to stick with my usual and have toast with butter and strawberry jelly.
Hearing a vehicle coming down my street, I freeze and wait with my heart in my throat…and it stops.
So he’s back.
Wanting to appear calm and as though I’m not really going to bits inside, I continue making my breakfast. I pour the coffee, adding creamer and a pinch of sugar, and follow this with the toast.
By the time I hear a tentative knock on the front door, my breakfast is prepared and ready to eat on the kitchen table.
Indifference is what I need, but I’m not sure I’m going to get there when my heart is hurting.
He obviously has his reasons for not wanting to stay wi
th me, but I wish he’d talk and maybe we can work out whatever is bothering him. Instead, him leaving hurts…a lot.
Opening the front door, Jace has a grin plastered on his face and shows me the tray of coffee from Starbucks along with a bag that has a delicious smell coming from it. His smile slips though when I refuse to meet his eyes or join in his obvious good morning.
“Come in,” I invite, but head back to the kitchen as soon as the words leave my mouth.
I hear the front door lock into place as I sit at the table, sipping from my cup of coffee. The best drink of the day.
“Oh, you already have breakfast.” He doesn’t sound too happy as he places his offering on the table before joining me.
“I enjoy my toast and coffee in the mornings.” I shrug, and finally meet his eyes.
Jace arrived with a smile on his face but now his jaw is pulled tight and his eyes are shadowed. He knows I’m not impressed—well, good!
I’ve had enough and I’m not going to put up with it anymore, at least without any explanation, which I think I deserve. Placing my toast back on my plate, I meet his gaze, and ask, “Did you leave as soon as I fell asleep?” I need to make sure first.
He glances to the back window and sighs before looking at me. “Yes.”
“I see.”
“Savannah, you—”
“Why do you refuse to stay all night with me?”
He doesn’t answer.
“Last night was amazing, the other nights were amazing, but last night you held me while I fell asleep. Have you any idea how much it hurt me when I woke up alone, only to realize that you probably left long before then?”
Jace rests his elbows on the table and places his head in his hands, letting it drop further, until he’s sliding his fingers through his short hair.
The quiet in the kitchen is almost unnerving and starting to become uncomfortable, when he lifts his head and meets my gaze.
I’m shocked when he does, because his eyes are red-rimmed and he looks…haunted. The slight shake to his hands tells me there is so much more to him not wanting to stay the night with me, as though, perhaps it’s not about me at all.
“I—” he starts, but pauses and gulps before he tries again, “I’m sorry, Savannah.” He looks so damn lost that all my heartbreak of the morning is forgotten as I move over so that I’m sitting beside him.
I take his hands into mine. “I’m here. Please talk to me—make me understand so that I’m not thinking the worst when you leave me.”
“I want to stay the night with you more than you’ll ever know.”
“I don’t understand. You keep leaving.” My voice trembles.
“I’m frightened of hurting you.” He sighs and lets out a hard breath. “I suffer from PTSD. You know what that is, right?”
“Post-traumatic stress disorder.”
He nods. “Yeah. In the early days, after I lost my lower leg, I’d suffer flashbacks, which would make me feel like the chase and the shooting were happening again. Every time it was mentioned, I’d start to sweat, and my breathing would pick up. Along with those, I’d suffer from nightmares…and still do.”
Hearing him talk, I want to be in his arms so that I can hold him close, instead of sitting at a table holding his hands.
“Is it the nightmares that you don’t want me to see?”
“Yes and no.” He pulls his hands free and starts pacing around the room. “I once had a pretty bad nightmare, when Ryder was staying with me. He tried to bring me out of it, and got a black eye for his troubles.” He meets my gaze. “It would kill me if I laid a hand on you like that…I can’t risk it,” his voice betrays just how much the thought is hurting him.
Every bad thing that I was thinking this morning drains from me, and leaves me feeling a bit guilty for the direction that my thoughts had gone.
Hurrying over to Jace, I wrap my arms around his waist and rest my head against his chest and feel his slight hesitation before he returns my embrace.
“Why didn’t you tell me that was why you didn’t want to stay with me? I’ve been so upset imagining all sorts of things.”
He kisses the top of my head. “I’m sorry. I hate showing vulnerability, and it’s something that I don’t talk about. My family knows because they’ve been with me from day one, but anyone else, not so much.”
“I know, now.” It bothers me that he’s suffering so badly and won’t allow comfort during the night. It begs the question as to what we can do to help him, because surely he isn’t the only person who suffers in this way. “Have you ever talked to someone who can help you? Like a counselor?”
He stays silent, so stepping slightly away from his warm body, I raise my face to his and search his eyes.
“I did. I’m not big on talking, so I escaped after a few sessions…I tried again after the incident with Ryder, but the same—I went to maybe four that time.”
“Do you always come out of a nightmare or flashback with your fists raised?”
“No.”
“Then—”
“Don’t, Savannah. He tried to bring me out of it and I went on the defensive. If I’m lying tangled with you when it happens, I’m not sure how I’ll react.”
So he doesn’t know that he’ll react the way he did with Ryder, he’s just afraid. I need to move slowly with him, but the only way to prove to him that I trust him with my life is to show that to him. But how, when I’m not sure that he’ll cooperate?
He tugs me close, and wrapping myself up in him again, my mind goes numb. I don’t have any experience with PTSD and I have no idea how to help him, but I’m going to find out.
“Jace, do you trust me?”
He pauses in the caress of his hand on my back.
“Yes.” He starts up the caress again.
“Then trust me to show you that you won’t hurt me. It’s been years since the incident with Ryder, right?”
He nods.
“Then, I think that somewhere in your subconscious you will know that it’s me with you, and I trust you.”
His heart is pounding beneath my ear, and the warmth of his body seeps into me while I wait with bated breath for his response.
Is he, or isn’t he, going to agree with me?
Chapter Nineteen
Jace
The softball field is where I feel most at home. It’s a place that’s helped with my rehabilitation, or rather it did once Ryder got on my ass and refused to let me give up.
The open space has been where I’ve let out my anger at the cards I’ve been dealt. When I’m pissed and having a really bad day, nothing releases the tension and stress like the feel of the bat in my hands and the sound of the ball as it makes contact before it’s carried with speed, and the wind, across the field to land with a thud to the ground.
It’s therapeutic to me and something that I’ve always held on to, and doubt I’ll ever let go of. Not only that, but it keeps me fit and in top condition.
The other thing I like is being in charge, something I’m not when I play on the academy’s team. They’re a good set of guys and I have a lot to thank them for. There was no reason for them to give me a shot on their team, but without question they did.
Breathing the fresh air into my lungs while I’m standing on home plate fills my stomach with excitement.
Today is a scrimmage between the academy and the sheriff’s department, a warm-up done in fun to unite the two teams before the charity event, and Ryder has told me to expect my redhead.
I haven’t seen Savannah in three days. After I’d come clean with her about why I haven’t been spending the night, I’d needed space and I also wanted Savannah to think long and hard about what she wanted. I didn’t want her making a split second decision. PTSD isn’t something to take lightly and it’s something that she needs to understand I’ll probably always have.
Her reaction had surprised me in a way because I’m so used to people running in the opposite direction, but not Savannah. She’d asked me to trus
t her and that she’d show me I wouldn’t hurt her. I just wish it were easier said than done.
Savannah is inside me, and although it’s killing me to stay away from her with no contact, I’m hoping that it’s helped her have a clear head to think. And, hopefully, she’ll be thinking in my favor. Like Dahlia said, I need to have faith in Savannah and stop thinking the worst. I happen to agree—most days.
“That,” Ryder claps me on the shoulders, “can’t be a good daydream as you have a terrifying scowl on your face.”
“I don’t scowl.”
He shakes his head. “I’ve just been introduced to Richard.”
Now that gets my attention.
I meet his gaze and then follow his finger to the side of the bleachers.
“He has a friend with him,” Ryder adds. “A very pregnant friend.”
“Shit. Is Savannah with you?” I slowly walk toward where Richard is standing talking to a guy I don’t recognize but who is on the sheriff’s team.
“No.” Ryder falls in step beside me. “Dahlia dropped Faith at Mom and Dad’s, and then went to collect Savannah. She mentioned they were having lunch first…and I wasn’t invited.”
I snicker with him sounding so disgruntled.
He carries on moaning, “I’m only her husband.”
I stop and smack my glove into his chest. “So you don’t have guy only time?” He starts to shake his head when I raise a brow.
“Occasionally,” he agrees reluctantly. “It’s not the same though. I mean, what do girls want to chat about that her husband can’t be there? Huh?”
“You’re being stupid. They’ll be talking girl stuff. Dahlia will be moaning about your bad habits.” It’s difficult to hold my laughter in with the horror on his face. “Savannah will be singing my praises…”
“Bastard,” he mutters, walking off toward his truck.
Hope he isn’t going to go and find his wife.
Shaking my head, I carry on toward Richard. I’m more than curious as to the woman with him. Is she Erin, the woman he was seeing while engaged to Savannah?
Richard stops talking as I draw closer, and his teammate disappears. The woman is ignored while he watches my approach.
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