Damián's smile faded and he stared at her lips, imagining how it would feel to have them touching his again. "Don't be afraid of me, mi mariposa. You know I won't hurt you."
He waited patiently for her, but she still wasn't sure what he expected her to do. She wasn't going to get onto the bed with him. No way. Savi retreated a step. In an instant, Damián swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, closing the gap between them in one easy motion. The room closed in on her.
"Breathe slowly, Savi."
She didn't realize she was practically hyperventilating until now. Damián placed his hands firmly on the sides of her head, tilting it back to meet his gaze. "Look at me, querida. Breathe in." She did so. "And out." Slowly, the dizziness left her and she remembered how to breathe without instruction.
Her face grew warm with embarrassment. Or was it because he held her so tightly? Having his hands on her head hadn't triggered anything bad for her. Men definitely had held her head before, but apparently not at this angle. She was floored there actually was a touch-safe zone on her body.
Before she had time to think about what he intended to do, Damián's face lowered to hers. He stood at least half a foot taller than her five-four frame and it took him a while to get close enough for the warning bells to go off.
She tried to wrench herself free of his hands. "I can't."
"Yes, you can. It's just a simple birthday kiss." He hovered just inches away, and his breath was warm on her nose. His hands continued to cage her head. She needed to get away and tried to pull back. He released her head, and she gasped for air.
Her gaze was drawn inextricably to his lips and a stray thought had her wondering what they'd feel like against hers. Again. No, she didn't really want to know that.
Or did she?
Damián's fingers brushed the loose strands of her hair behind her ears, leaving a trail of tingling skin in their wake. His hands trailed down to her shoulders and he brushed the pads of his thumbs in a circular motion against the lines of her jaw.
"So soft. Just like I remember."
Distant memories of their time in the beach cave niggled at the edges of her mind. She'd tamped down those memories, along with all the bad ones from her past, except during times when she'd sought refuge in that place to escape the pain in the present. Not having Damián in her life beyond that one perfect day had been one of the hardest things to survive. But she'd gotten over him. Even forgotten him.
Hadn't she?
Well, except for every time she looked at her daughter and found herself staring into his eyes.
But she didn't want any man in her life. She needed to focus on Mari's safety and on getting her career back on track. Getting involved with Damián would just complicate things. She had enough complications already.
But he's just asking for a kiss—not for you to have sex with him.
An unfamiliar heaviness pervaded her lower body, then several pulse points began throbbing as her heart thrummed its erratic beat. No! She wouldn't let her body override her common sense.
His head remained still, but his lips brushed hers as he slowly turned his head back and forth. He captured her lower lip and sucked gently, then released her, keeping his word and not forcing his tongue into her mouth. Instead, he covered her mouth with his and ground his lips against hers. When she tried to refill her lungs, his lips broke free and blazed a trail to the side of her neck. Oh, dear lord, she didn't want him to do this. She parted her lips to tell him to stop, but moaned instead. Her face grew even hotter with embarrassment.
Damián's right hand skimmed along her shoulder and she tensed, expecting him to break her rule and maul her breast—or worse. He surprised her again when he just rested his hand on her shoulder, which nearly made her knees buckle as she melted against him like chocolate left in a hot car.
What was he doing to her?
His lips burned her skin wherever they touched—and they seemed to be touching her everywhere. Everywhere above the neck, at least. Who knew limiting him to that part of her body could produce this much…
No! Savi pushed him away with all the force she could muster and he staggered back, thrown off balance. She'd vowed long ago to never let a man play her body like this again. Never to let a man make her body respond sexually.
The hurt and confusion on Damián's face made her feel a pang of guilt, but she refused to let it dissuade her.
He sighed. "Another trigger?"
She didn't trust her voice and just shook her head. Well, maybe. Her entire freaking body was a trigger.
When he smiled, it was her turn to be confused. "That's got to be the hottest birthday present I've ever gotten."
She hadn't really given him anything, had she? She didn't even remember kissing him back. One good thing, though. At least he considered the gift delivered and she didn't have to worry about kissing him anymore.
* * *
"…Happy Birthday to you." He'd listened to them sing to him, lots of Damiáns and one sweet "Daddy" in the chorus.
Damián grinned, surrounded by his family singing to him. Hearing Marisol, Savi, Dad and Karla, Marc and Angelina, and Grant all singing to him was about the second-nicest birthday present he'd ever gotten, the first being that mind-blowing kiss he'd had with Savi earlier today. He looked across the table at her smiling face. Damn, but the woman sure had cranked up his libido with that kiss.
"Blow out the candles, Daddy!"
Damián pulled his mind away from the carnal thoughts that had been hounding him all afternoon and evening, and looked down at the slightly lopsided chocolate cake.
"You made this for me, mi muñequita?"
Marisol nodded and smiled, rightly proud of her accomplishment. Most beautiful cake he'd ever seen. She stood beside him, her little hand resting on his leg, and looked across the table. "Karla and Angie helped, too. And Boots!"
The kitten heard his name and came over to rub against Damián's leg. Why me? All the people in here and he has to pick me.
Karla stood by ready to cut the cake. "Mari did all the hard parts. I just read the instructions on the box while Angie was busy working on dinner prep."
Angie smiled. "Marisol has some serious talent. Baking will never be my expertise."
Damián shook his head. "Anyone who cooks like you do doesn't need another expertise."
For the first time, he noticed the dark circles under her eyes. He glanced over at Marc, who looked like hell, too. He remembered back to New Year's weekend in Aspen and the conversation about Marc's mask. ]
Damián suddenly realized Marc wasn't the only one of the Masters at Arms Club owners wearing a mask. Damián hadn't revealed himself to Savi, either.
Before he had much time to think about how to remedy that, Marisol reminded him about the candles. Damián met Karla's and Angelina's gazes and mouthed a silent thank you to them over Marisol's head, then tweaked his daughter's nose. "Thanks, doll-baby, for making this beautiful cake for me. Best present I could get."
He looked across the table at Savi and winked. Her face turned pink. At least she hadn't forgotten yet.
Marisol crawled up into his lap. "Do you want me to help blow them out, Daddy?"
"I thought you'd never ask." He wrapped his arm protectively around her and they leaned toward the cake. "One, two—"
"Wait!" Her tiny hand yanked at his ponytail, jerking his head back. "You have to make a wish first, Daddy."
A wish? Damián hadn't made a wish for anything since he was twelve, sitting in the ER waiting along with Mamá and Rosa to hear how Papá was doing after several farm workers had found him face down in a field he'd been harvesting for the rich bastards up in Rancho.
That wish hadn't been granted. He pulled back and looked across the table at Savi as he placed his arm more firmly around their daughter. Maybe his answer would be the same, but, then again, maybe God would grant him a positive answer this time.
Under his scrutiny, Savi nibbled on her lower lip, reminding him for th
e millionth time today of the special birthday kiss she'd shared with him earlier. Yeah, there was only one thing he wanted—even if it were impossible.
So as not to disappoint his daughter, he formulated the wish in his mind. Thank goodness birthday wishes had to remain a secret in order to have any chance in hell of coming true. "Got it." He and Marisol leaned forward again. "One, two, three." They blew out all the candles together—all twenty-eight of them. Mierda, some days he felt more like fifty-eight.
Then his daughter pulled his goatee toward her face and kissed his cheek, his innocent child, content to live in the moment without a care in the world. His childhood had been taken away from him; he wouldn't let that happen to Marisol.
After Karla cut the cake, Angelina brought a container of chocolate ice cream from the kitchen. He almost asked for a bottle of cinnamon, but didn't. Having a birthday party just made him think of Mamá, who always sprinkled a little of the spice on his chocolate ice cream.
Whoa! What was with all the trips down memory lane tonight? He hadn't thought about that in a long time, but somehow felt closer to Mamá as a whiff of cinnamon reached him, anyway. What the…? She'd been gone since he was fifteen, but her spirit stayed close to his heart. Mamá and Papá were enjoying their well-earned rest. They'd worked so hard so that he and Rosa could have a better life than they'd had, which only wound up putting them both six feet under long before their time. He'd lost two older siblings much too early. Mamá told him once—one of the few times she'd spoke about her dead children—their deaths could have been prevented if life hadn't been so hard for the family.
He knew none of them could come back, but still wished Mamá and Papá could have been here to share this birthday with him and see how his life had turned out, despite a few bumps along the way. He also wished they could have gotten to know their newest granddaughter, but they hadn't lived long enough to meet any of their grandchildren.
He glanced down at the pinky ring. Mamá's wedding ring, which had been passed down on Papá's side of the family to the oldest male, Damián being the third generation. He looked across the room at Savi and wondered if he'd ever see it on her finger.
But he'd already used up his quota of impossible birthday wishes for one day.
Marisol jumped off his lap and ran to help Karla serve the cake. She brought Damián the first piece with a huge scoop of ice cream, watching the plate intently and being very careful not to drop it. A lump formed in his throat, and he wasn't sure he'd be able to swallow past it. When she placed it in front of him, the triumphant expression on her face just about did him in.
"Hurry, Daddy! Taste it!"
He picked up the fork and took a big bite of the chocolate-on-chocolate cake. How the…? He tasted cinnamon. With some difficulty, he swallowed and looked at her. "How'd you know Daddy likes cinnamon in his chocolate, doll-baby?"
She shrugged, but beamed. "I just had a feeling."
Karla piped up, "I told her I'd never heard of putting cinnamon in chocolate cake, but she insisted that's the way it had to be."
Damián was speechless.
"Daddy, your eyes have tears. You don't like it?" Her little chin quivered with her distress and disappointment.
Damián blinked the moisture from his eyes and shook his head. "No, honey, it's the best cake I've had in a long time. Just like mi mamá made for me when I was your age." He leaned forward and placed a kiss on her cheek and whispered, "Thank you, Marisol. Daddy loves you."
She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly, then whispered back, "I love you, too, Daddy."
He wasn't sure she was going to let him go, so he lifted her into his lap again and took another bite of his cake after Karla placed a plate in front of Marisol, too.
Thanks, Mamá. He didn't know how she'd communicated his love of cinnamon in chocolate to Marisol, but he had no doubt that she had.
Damián looked across the table again at Savi and saw her cheeks had red splotches on them as she fought tears, too. As usual, none fell. She had an iron grip on her emotions most of the time. He wished he could wrap his arms around her and hug her until she let the tears spill, but she wouldn't stand for that, so he just smiled at her and mouthed a thank you to her, too. Even better than the birthday kiss, she'd given him Marisol.
No fucking way could he let either of them go. First, though, Damián had a confession to make. He should have said something sooner. He couldn't run the risk of her counting on him to do more than he was able to do if they were in a dangerous situation. What if he failed her or his baby girl when they needed him most? Sure, he could get all macho and promise to protect them from harm, but could he? Could he fucking protect them with his bum leg? She needed to know the score.
Yeah, it was time to come clean about who he was—well, that part of him, anyway. He hoped she wouldn't take Marisol and run. Not that she'd get far. He wasn't going to let her go back to California before they'd managed to neutralize the threat out there. But he didn't want to make her feel she was a prisoner.
He couldn't let anything happen to either of them. They'd quickly become a major part of his life. Mierda, they were his life.
He fought the urge to mouth "I love you" to her, but didn't want to scare her off. So he just mentally tattooed the words on his heart, instead.
* * *
Savi rubbed the towel over her hair as she came out of the bathroom, not paying attention to her whereabouts as she tried to sort out her feelings about what had happened at Marc's last night. She tried to think about what she'd do with herself again today while Mari was at school. Karla had gotten her addicted to reading again, but most of the books on Karla's e-reader were sexually explicit and about things Savi had no interest in—bondage, whips, and such. Savi couldn't imagine Karla being interested in such books. But she'd recently discovered the mystery series of a forensic anthropologist and had bought one after another until she'd run up quite a bill. She really should stop, but escaping into that world had helped fill her long days alone while Mari was at school and Damián at…
"Savi, I need to tell you something. About me."
She jumped, stilling the motion of her hands as she opened her eyes, surprised to find Damián sitting on the side of the bed in her room. Well, technically it was his room. His bed. She was the interloper.
She lowered the towel in front of her chest, as if it could shield her from his gaze. Thank the Lord she'd put on her robe rather than come out here naked. She didn't want him to see her arm.
Not just her arm, but her body. She'd fought to keep her body very thin, almost boyish, not wanting to attract any man's attention. Warmth suffused her face as she thought about Damián seeing her naked. Again. Would he compare her thinner body to Savannah's slightly more filled out one?
She held her breath. He seemed so serious, his jaw and body held rigid, guarded.
"Sit down."
Savi looked around. The only place to sit was on the bed. That didn't seem like a good idea.
"Sit. Down." He pointed at the bed, clearly upset with her. She wasn't sure why that bothered her so much. "Savi, I'm not going to…touch you. We're only going to talk."
Savi crossed the room slowly and sat on the same side of the bed, keeping a safe distance away. She wasn't sure what she was afraid of. Intellectually, she knew Damián wouldn't hurt her. He'd been nothing but gentle and supportive since she and Marisol had arrived here.
But he was still a man. Sometimes they changed into monsters.
He raked his hand through his hair, pulling it back from his face. She wondered why he hadn't tied it back. She didn't see his hair loose like this, except when he got up in the morning. What was it he needed to tell her that made him so uncomfortable? She didn't want to know anything bad about him.
"When I got out of Iraq, I was fucked up."
"Damián, that's not unusual. You saw horrific things. War is…"
He held up his hand and halted her string of words she had meant to be supportiv
e. She supposed they sounded trite, but she hadn't meant them to be.
"Don't go into therapist mode on me, Savi." He grinned slightly, so maybe he wasn't upset with her for trying to put him at ease. He was such a gentle soul. Last night, when Marisol had surprised him with the cake, he'd had unshed tears in his eyes. Processing the horrors of war would be difficult for someone who was much better at making love than war.
Don't think about his lovemaking abilities.
His grin faded and he looked down.
"I fucked up a mission."
Savi's heart went out to him. She knew how hard it was for Marine to admit failure concerning a mission.
"We lost our sergeant because I couldn't act fast enough…"
"Damián, you can't blame yourself for…"
He glared at her. "Hear me out. This is hard enough to admit as it is."
"I'm sorry. Go on."
"I still have nightmares about it, especially around my Alive Day."
"Alive Day?"
He looked down at his feet again. "That's the day I should have died, too. But I surv…I didn't die."
Savi knew not to interrupt anymore. He needed to talk and she needed to be quiet and listen. He held his body so stiffly, he barely breathed. She waited.
After several moments, he continued, "A grenade landed on the roof where we'd held our position all day. I saw the damned thing, but I froze until it was too late to get away. When it went off, Sergeant Miller was killed. He…" Damián's breathing became rapid and she scooted closer to him on the bed, laying her hand on his thigh. She squeezed, hoping to help him focus on the present and not get lost in the memories. She knew how much it helped to have someone keep her in the moment when the past threatened to take over. He placed his hand over hers and squeezed her back as if she were a lifeline.
"He died on top of me."
"Oh, God, Damián. I'm so sorry!" Savi shuddered. Beads of sweat broke out on her upper lip. What a sad thing to have in common, neither being able to stand having weight pressing on their chests, albeit for very different reasons.
Nobody's Perfect Page 14