by Loraine, Kim
He released her hand and rose, needing less clothes and more contact. Pulling his shirt over his head, he scooped her up in his arms, and carried her, laughing, to his bedroom.
He worked to control his breathing as he slowly undressed her. Her hair tumbled down her back when he released it from the plastic clip, freeing it for his fingers to dive into the silky, and slightly damp, strands. She returned the favor, tangling her own fingers in his unruly mane. When she tugged, a moan escaped from deep in his chest. He was painfully aroused, wanting to surround himself with her warmth.
“Bed?”
She nodded.
As she lay back on the bed, he took in her body—taut muscles flexed in her belly, but she still had the feminine softness he loved. His lips rose in a grin as she wriggled out of her yoga pants.
“Nice panties.” His eyebrow rose at the hot pink, lace fabric.
She shrugged and wriggled out of those as well, leaving his mouth dry and his heart racing. He wanted to take his time, savor her, but his hormones had other ideas.
“I need to be inside you.”
She lay back on his bed, hair fanning out behind her. She still had that bra on, hiding her beautiful breasts.
He frowned and whispered, “Take off the bra.”
His nerves were on fire, each brush of her skin against his sent flames running through him. He needed to be connected to her more than anything at that particular moment. As soon as he seated himself between her thighs, a feeling of calm spread through him. Her eyes locked onto his, causing a flood of emotion which took his breath. She felt so good, so right.
As they moved together, all he could think of was never letting her go.
Valerie inhaled deeply, taking in the delicious scent of the man in bed with her. “I missed the way you smell. Like sandalwood and something spicy,” she whispered as she pressed her lips to Donovan’s bare chest.
His laugh rumbled in her ear, bringing her eyes up to stare at his chin.
“I don’t think anyone’s ever said that to me.”
“Really? I love the way you smell. I honestly missed you so much while I was in Braley, that I wished I’d stolen one of your shirts to take with me.”
She felt a blush creep up her cheeks. Why was she just blurting all of this out? Like he needed any more confidence.
He jumped out of the bed and strode across the room, his perfectly sculpted ass on full display. Thank God for firefighters and their constant stair exercises. He rifled around in a drawer until he pulled out one of his old fire department T-shirts.
“Take this. And you can sleep with me anytime you want.” He winked as she slipped it on and inhaled.
“It’s so big.”
“That’s what she said.” He beamed, obviously trying to contain his laughter.
“Ha-ha. You think you’re funny, Miller?”
“Yes, in fact, I do.”
His gaze grew heated as he stared her down and crawled up the bed to claim her mouth.
They lay together quietly, his heart beating rhythmically under her ear. She thought he’d fallen asleep by the sound of his even breaths, and her bladder was screaming. She scooted out from under his arm and pulled the sheet over his naked form before heading quietly to the bathroom. When she emerged, bladder much happier, the bed was empty and the smell of coffee wafted in through the open bedroom door.
She found him leaning against the kitchen counter with a full mug of hot coffee in his hand. His eyes looked pained and alarm raced through her.
“What’s wrong?”
“Bad dream.” He cast his eyes down and took a sip.
“Want to talk about it?”
He shook his head and motioned to the coffee. When she nodded, he poured her a generous cup full.
Uncomfortable silence weighed heavily in the small kitchen as they both stared at their mugs, waiting for the steaming liquid to cool.
“So you . . .”
“Does this . . .” she started at the same time.
He smiled and gestured to her. “Ladies first.”
She blew on her coffee and built up the courage she needed to ask the question that had been eating at her.
“Does this nightmare thing have anything to do with your job? I read that firefighters deal with PTSD and survivor guilt a lot.”
Again, his gaze dropped and his face shifted to a closed-off mask.
“I’m sorry. I guess that was crossing a line.”
He shook his head. “Nah, it’s just something we don’t usually talk about.”
“It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me.”
Setting down his coffee, he ran a hand over his jaw. “I’ve seen a lot of awful shit. Things I’ll never be able to un-see. Sometimes it sneaks into my dreams, but I’m okay. I’m good.”
“John?”
His lips tightened in a grim line.
“You said you were on the call. That must be hard, thinking about him.”
“Yeah. Sucks.”
She reached out a hand and touched the rough stubble on his jaw. “I’m sorry.”
He jerked away at her words. “I don’t want you to feel sorry for me.”
“I’ll listen if you ever need an ear. I know what it’s like to be there, on the other side of a tragedy.”
“I’ve already got a shrink, Valerie. I don’t need another one.”
His words cut deep, but she wasn’t surprised at his reaction. Grace had told her about John and his tendency to close himself off rather than let her see him as weak.
“I’m here. I want you, all of you.”
His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Thanks, but that’s a pretty fucked up part of me I don’t want you to have to deal with.”
She didn’t know what to say. How could she be with someone who wanted to keep a big part of himself separated from her? Before she could ask him why, he snatched up his coffee and headed for the bathroom.
“I’m gonna shower. I’ve got duty in a few hours.”
She nodded, a sinking feeling she’d just screwed up somehow settling over her.
As soon as she’d finished her coffee, she gathered her purse and dressed, leaving the fire department T-shirt folded neatly on his bed. He clearly needed some space after her prying. As she walked to her car, her heart broke for the haunted look she’d seen on his face and the part of him she’d never get to know.
Chapter 14
The apartment smelled of melted chocolate and creamed butter. Lena’s chocolate chip cookies sat on a wire rack cooling while Sarah McLachlan blasted through the speakers. It was never a good sign when Lena was baking. The fact that it was before eight in the morning made this even worse. Valerie steeled herself for post-break-up Lena.
“Lena? Lena where are you?” She walked cautiously through the kitchen, searching for her friend.
A timer dinged on the oven. She grabbed a pot holder and pulled out the latest batch of cookies. Lena was an amazing baker, but she only did it when she was upset.
She peeked into Lena’s bedroom and found her friend sprawled across the bed, red-faced and blotchy, hair a tangled mess.
“Oh, honey. What happened?”
Lena sat up, pushing her hair from her face. “He’s . . . he’s just an asshole. I need to stop dating firefighters.”
Lena sniffed and got up. She gave Valerie the once-over, one eyebrow raising in question. “You were supposed to be home last night. A little walk of shame after a stop-over at Donovan’s?”
She tried to control the blush creeping up her cheeks.
“Shit, how is it you can land a hot guy like him on your first try and I can’t even get one of them to stick around?”
That stung. She’d always been second to Lena. Always. “Thanks.”
Her friend’s eyes softened. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just, well, I really liked Michael. I thought there was something there.”
She didn’t know how to respond. Lena was always the short-term relationship girl. She didn’t want anything tying her down, keeping her from traveling across the world for photo shoots.
“Cookies are done.”
Lena grinned half-heartedly. “Let’s go eat my feelings.”
They sat at the table, a plate of warm cookies between them, each waiting for the other to start talking. Valerie grabbed a second cookie and popped it into her mouth. Lena had a knack for making the softest and most delicious cookies. This one was the perfect balance of salty and sweet as the melted chocolate chips mingled with the texture of the cookie itself.
“God, you should start a bakery.”
Lena smiled. “I’ve thought about it, but you know I only bake when I’m pissed.”
“The Angry Baker . . . It has potential.”
“It does. I guess if I ever get tired of the life of a jet-setting photographer, I know what my next calling will be.”
Valerie resisted the urge to indulge in a third cookie and grabbed her suitcase, still full of dirty laundry. As she sorted out the clothes, she was conscious of her friend’s eyes studying her.
“What?”
“So, you come back from London, spend the night with a gorgeous man, then come home without any juicy details for me?”
She shrugged. “He’s pretty fantastic.”
“That’s it? Come on. I’m hurting over here. I need a little kiss and tell.”
Before Lena could push any further, Valerie’s phone rang. She heaved a sigh of relief and answered without worrying about who it was.
“Hello?”
“What the hell, sweetheart? I went to shower and you just leave?” Frustration colored his words.
Her heart clenched at the sound of his dismay. “I thought I’d give you some space.”
“Why?”
“I was too pushy. It was pretty clear you didn’t want me asking about that part of you.”
He sighed on the other end of the line. “I didn’t mean I wanted you gone.”
“Look, I get it. You’ve got bad stuff in your past. So do I. I’m not a big fan of the closed-off, broody thing. I’ve done that kind of relationship before.”
He was silent and her heart sank. She wondered if relationship was the right word for what they were doing.
“I’ll talk to you later, Donovan. I’ve got laundry waiting.”
“Val, wait . . .” She heard him, but was already pressing End Call before she realized he was talking.
Lena gave her a concerned look. “Trouble in paradise already?”
“No, he just needs some space and I’ve got laundry to do.”
“Typical.”
Valerie stilled. “What do you mean by that?”
“You. Pushing him away because he’s got his own demons. You haven’t had a good boyfriend since Blake. From what you’ve told me about Mick, he was a real piece of work.”
She winced at the mention of Mick. She still struggled with flashbacks—him holding her down, prying her legs open. And her recent memories of being pressed against the cold cement wall in Braley flooded in this time as well. Pushing them aside, she busied herself with sorting lights and darks.
“Speaking of Blake . . .” Lena’s eyes glittered, filled with mischief. “. . . What’s the story there?”
“What do you mean?”
“Have you heard from him since you shot him down at dinner? It’s been weeks.”
She squashed the butterflies that rose in her stomach. “He’s called a few times. We’ve texted. I think he gets that I don’t want anything else.”
Lena shook her head. “You poor, sad, deluded woman.”
“Thanks a lot.”
“He’s biding his time.”
“No. I’ve given him no reason to think there could be anything between us.”
“You went out with him. You’re still talking to him. You almost married the guy in college. He knows you better than anyone you ever dated. Trust me, Blake is not going anywhere.”
She scrambled for a way to change the subject. Going back to Blake, being close to him again, confused her. The idea of risking heartbreak all over again with him, or a fresh new kind with Donovan, terrified her.
“I’m seeing Donovan.”
“Does he know you’re still talking to Blake?”
“We haven’t really discussed it.”
“You need to tell him, or you need to stop talking to Blake. Donovan doesn’t seem like the kind of man who shares.”
That was an understatement. She tried to hide the smirk turning up the corners of her mouth. “Wait a minute. You’ve been nothing but nasty to Donovan. Why are you suddenly rooting for him?”
Lena looked down at her shoes. “He shot me down. Hurt pride and all that. He’s a good guy, really.”
“Really?”
“He’d just started at the firehouse, fresh out of probie school.”
She grinned at the idea of him, fresh-faced and full of the ideals of a would-be hero.
“I’m just saying, let him show you he’s not like the other guys you’ve dated.”
Valerie snatched another cookie on her way to the laundry room. “I hate it when you show your wise side.”
“I love you, too.”
Donovan stared at his phone in shock. She hung up on him. What the hell? He didn’t know whether to be angry, frustrated, or amused. His bed still smelled like her, the folded GBFD shirt a glaring reminder of his mistake. She’d said broody and closed-off were things she’d done before, but how could he let her in on the demons he’d struggled with for so long? There was too much bad and not enough good. She deserved so much more, but he was too selfish to give her up.
He threw his phone on the bed and grabbed his running shoes and shorts. A good, hard run to clear his head was what he needed. He swiped up the T-shirt she’d left behind and headed out, earbuds blasting. The pavement met his feet in jarring shockwaves as he pounded down the street on his way to the beach. Thoughts of her filled his head; her skin, the soft hum of pleasure in the back of her throat when he kissed her, the brilliance of her smile.
Harsh pavement gave way to a well-worn, sandy path as the beach drew near. His feet shifted in the sand, his strides becoming smooth and relaxed as he fell into a solid rhythm. The song blasting in his ear made him think of her—everything made him think of her. Clarity shone through the haze of self-doubt. He hadn’t only been thinking of how long it would be until he could get her under him, he’d been planning dates, holidays, television binges on the couch. His eyes weren’t wandering to the women jogging on the coast. He didn’t have a single urge to get laid if she wasn’t the woman he’d be with.
He ran until his lungs burned and his hair was damp with sweat. How was he going to be the man she deserved? Clearly, he couldn’t let her go. That wasn’t an option—no fucking way. She wanted him to open up, to show her all the darkness he tucked away. He didn’t think he could do that, not really, not without breaking down the walls he’d put up to keep the nightmares at bay. But maybe he could share a little. Just chip away at the surface and show her he was willing to try.
The heavy bass beats of his running playlist softened and were replaced by the ringing of his phone. He slowed his pace and worked to even out his harsh breathing as he answered, hoping he’d hear Valerie’s sexy voice on the other end.
“Hello?”
“Donnie? Are you okay? You sound weird.”
His little sister’s voice shot ice through his heart. She only called when something was really wrong.
“Livie?”
> “No, it’s Maddie.”
He lowered himself into a crouch, facing away from the wind. “Maddie, what’s wrong?”
“It’s Mom. It’s bad here. I don’t want to be here anymore. Mom won’t leave. Dad’s been after her every night.”
Anger boiled in his veins. His father was a pathetic excuse of a man. Donovan had lived most of his life in fear of him. Afraid to make him mad, to misbehave and add to his mom’s punishments. His dad never laid a finger on him or his sisters. All of his rage was released on their mother.
“Call Aunt Viv. I’m sure you girls can stay with her.”
“Mom won’t come. We don’t want to leave her alone here.”
He chewed his lip, fear creeping in and replacing the anger. “Has he come after any of you?”
“Not yet.”
“If Mom won’t leave, that’s her business. But you get Livie and Kylee and get to Aunt Viv’s house. Call the police.”
Maddie sighed heavily on the other end of the line. “Donnie, what if he really hurts her this time? It’s never been this bad.”“It’s gonna be okay. I’ve got some time off soon. I’ll come up and talk to her.”
Maddie was crying and his heart splintered into pieces at the sound. “Maddie, I love you, kiddo.”
She hiccupped into the phone, “I love you, too.”
“Goddamn it!” he shouted across the empty beach. He needed a drink and it was only seven in the morning.
He jogged back home and showered again, this time he didn’t think about Valerie. All he could think about was what the hell he was going to do about his asshole father. He needed to get his mom to see the light. After twenty-plus years with a man who beats her, he was worried she never would.