by Teresa Hill
Slowly, other things started to creep in. He could hear himself breathing heavily still, could feel the chill of the cold air on his hot skin, and he knew where he was—sitting on Julie's back porch.
His lungs were still working. His heart hadn't exploded inside him. That bastard's blood was still running through his veins. He'd told Julie the worst of it, and she hadn't run away. He'd asked her not to let go of him, and she hadn't.
Thank God.
Still, he'd probably terrified her. "It's crazy," he said, his voice raw with despair. "There's a part of me that can step back from it and see how illogical it is—me falling apart because this man I hardly remember at all is out of jail and just had to see us. I mean, I've known my whole life exactly what I came from, and I didn't give a shit. It didn't have anything to do with who I was. Logically, I still know that. But I can't stop feeling this way."
"Zach." She squeezed him more tightly for a second and then let go.
He thought that was it, she was done. He couldn't blame her, any more than he could stop himself from trying to grab her and make her stay. God, Julie. Don't. Don't leave me now.
"It's all right," she said. She eased down off the porch, never taking her hand off his right knee. Slipping around in front of him, she stood on the ground by the edge of the porch, which put her face level with his. She slid her arms around him and pressed in close between his thighs, holding him. His head fell to her shoulder, and his arms locked around her. If he could just never, ever let her go...
"That's it? That's what's been going on this whole time?" she asked.
"Isn't that enough?"
"I just wanted to make sure there was nothing else you wanted to tell me."
"Well, I kind of attacked this guy on the street tonight. When I was walking back from Grace's apartment, I heard somebody following me and thought it was George. Grabbed him and shoved him up against the wall. I'm damned lucky I didn't really hurt him, and that he just cussed me out and walked away. Of course, he could be calling the police right now. They could be looking for me."
"Zach—"
"I was sure it was George, and then I couldn't hold all this in any longer. I attacked him, and then, I had to get the rest of it out. How bad it's been. How bad I've felt. What a mess I am. Everybody said it would start to get better, if I could just get it all out."
"Well, okay. Then it will. And I'm here. I'm right here."
And then she just held him some more. He groaned because it felt so good, and then he started shaking. It really had gotten cold out here. He was worried about her now and thought he should be trying to warm her, but he wasn't sure he could move.
So he stayed there with his head on her shoulder. He could breathe again, the air going into his lungs effortlessly. His heart was slowing down. He no longer feared he'd go running off into the night, trying to escape the thoughts running through his own head.
"I tried to tell you," he said finally. "So many times, I tried. I just couldn't do it. I couldn't tell anybody. I... don't think I've ever really been scared in my life. Except when I was still living with that man, but I didn't remember it that well, until lately."
"Everybody gets scared, Zach."
"Like this? This out of control? This crazy?"
"I don't know. You said Emma thinks you'll be okay. Do you think she'd lie to you?"
"No. I just... didn't... she didn't see me like this. I didn't let her. I didn't want anybody to ever see this. Especially not you."
"Well, it only seems fair that it would be me, doesn't it? You've seen me at my absolute worst. My most reckless. My angriest. My saddest times—"
"I hate it," he said. "I hate having you see me like this."
"Well, I sure wasn't happy about having you witness all my finer moments, but there you were. One thing about you, I knew you'd try to understand and help me, and that's a lot, Zach. It's a whole lot. You can't think I wouldn't do the same thing for you. Do you?"
"I don't know. I don't let people take care of me."
"Well, you're going to have to start," she said. "How did you think this relationship was going to work? That I'd be screwed up forever, and you'd just keep fixing things for me?"
"I know how to do that," he said. "But this... I don't know how to do this."
"Well, you'll just have to figure it out, Zach. And I think the first thing I want to do with you is get you inside and warm you up. It's cold out here."
That was it? She was worried about the cold?
"Okay," he said.
She eased away from him, never completely letting go, and he loved her for never letting go. She did a little circular move around the porch beam and up the steps, one hand staying on his knee until the other landed on his shoulder. It didn't even seem ridiculously awkward when she did it. It seemed exceedingly kind and comforting to him, half crazy as he was.
"Come on," she said.
He got to his feet, moving like a man in a stupor or like one who'd been beaten to within an inch of his life. They went inside and down the hall, toward the room where she was sleeping.
"It's late. I think you should come to bed with me," she said.
He hesitated. He could think now, kind of, and he didn't like what she was doing. "We did this before, Julie. It wasn't fair to you then, and it wouldn't be fair now."
"Oh, hell, when has life ever been fair to me?"
"It should be," he said. "Better than fair."
"And it's not exactly a hardship, having you in my bed, Zach, you know?"
"Yeah?" He managed to make his voice almost sound normal, like he hadn't thought he might die a few minutes ago. "Trying to make me think you'd do anything to have me?"
She frowned. "I'm worried about you, and I don't think you should be alone tonight."
"Afraid of what I might do, if I were?" he asked.
"No—"
"Liar. I thought we weren't going to do that anymore, Julie."
"I don't see any reason why you should be alone, not when I'm right here, and I'm worried about you, dammit. You scared me. I've never seen anybody who just couldn't breathe like that and said the problem was all in his head, and I get to worry about you and take care of you. That's the deal. You set down all the rules, and you can't back out of them now."
Which brought them squarely back into the territory of the serious stuff. He had to say this. He owed her. "You can back out. I give you permission to completely and totally ignore any rules we agreed to."
Her face turned furious. "Well, I'm not giving you permission to do that. I'm worried about you, and you owe it to me to stay with me tonight. Otherwise, I'll worry even more."
"So... it's like I'd be doing you a favor by staying here?"
"Yes, dammit. You said we'd take care of each other. You promised. You're not going to back out on me the first time it gets hard for you to let me help you."
He turned away and swore softly. "I really don't want your pity, okay?"
"Did you pity me?" she asked. "All those times I was out screwing things up again and again, and there you were, always so ready to drag me out of one mess or another and make me see how stupid I'd been or how reckless or how foolish—was that pity?"
"No, dammit. That was me wishing you'd get your shit together and straighten up. That you'd get past all that crap your parents dealt you and realize you were special. That you could do anything you wanted. That you deserved so much better than the life you were living back then."
"So, when you're helping me, it's all of those things coming into play, and when I try to help you, it's pity? Explain that to me, Zach. Because I just don't see the difference."
"It's... Shit."
"What? That was you, and this is me? And you're the strong one, the one who always has to be right, and I'm the screwed-up one—"
"That's not what I'm saying."
"You're the man? Is that it? And I'm the woman? And the big, strong man always has to take care of the woman?"
"No," he growled. "Ok
ay... maybe that's a little bit of it. I... it's not exactly the kind of thing women want to hear these days or that men are supposed to think, but Sam—"
"Don't blame this on your father."
"A man takes care of the women in his life. It's just what he does."
"And you don't think Rachel takes care of Sam in return?"
"I don't know—"
"Oh, hell. Of course you do."
"He's always seemed so strong to me, like he could handle anything. Like he'd stand between us and the whole world and the world would lose."
"He is strong. That doesn't mean he doesn't need someone else sometimes. The way I need you, and you need me."
"I do need you," he confessed.
"Then come to bed. It's late. Peter's asleep. I'm right here, and you feel like shit. There's no reason on earth for you to be alone tonight. Except some idiotic kind of pride."
"So I'm an idiot and entirely politically incorrect when it comes to some of my views on men and women, and at least half crazy. But you still want me?"
"Yes."
She tugged on his hand. He stood there, eyes closed, telling himself not to go with her.
He'd been so sure before he came over here that it was wrong to go to bed with her now.
"This is getting old, Zach," she said.
"I meant what I said earlier. I love you."
"Only when things are good for you and bad for me?" she asked. "God knows I'm no expert on love, but you can't just love me when it's convenient for you. When you're feeling strong and sure of yourself and can take care of me. You have to get this part, Zach. It's got to work both ways. You have to let me take care of you, too."
She stared down at him from the first step, confounding his every argument with what he was afraid was sound logic, leaving him with a big case of badly wounded pride, fatigue that was bone deep and desire that just wouldn't let up.
He must be crazy not to let her just take him off to bed.
Zach took her other hand, ran his thumb over the back of it and tried to consider what they both needed. He felt like complete and total shit, and here she was, this strong, incredibly generous woman ready to hang on to him, even when he was being foolish and filled with pride.
He loved her more than he'd thought it was possible to love anyone, needed her more than he'd ever imagined needing a woman in his life.
"Take me to bed, Julie. Please."
Chapter 17
She tugged him inside, into her bedroom, and he pushed the door shut behind him, then locked it, just in case.
He'd told her everything, and what had she done? Opened her arms to him. The idea warmed him through and through. Not like his little spells with insanity did, leaving him thinking maybe his blood would start to boil in his veins. This was smooth and gentle heat, the easiest thing in the world. Like lying in the grass on an early-summer day, a little breeze blowing, the sky a hazy blue, when all was right with the world.
As if anything could be right now...
She made him feel like it was. Just knowing she was here, right down the street. That she climbed into this little iron bed every night and went boneless with sleep, and if he was here, he could sleep with her body draped over his, limbs entangled, her hair spread out over him. He wanted to sleep like that, with her, in this bed.
"What are you thinking now?" she asked, slipping her hand into his.
"About you and me in this bed."
She smiled sweetly as she clicked off the overhead light and sent the room into a maze of shadows, undressing him slowly, her hands slipping the buttons of his shirt free and pulling it off. He put himself into her soft, willing hands, the ones that skimmed lightly across his chest, as if she was still learning his body by touch alone. She rubbed at the tops of his shoulders, his arms, her hands running down the line of hair that extended from his chest to below the waistband of his jeans.
She found the snap, grinning as she worked the zipper down very, very slowly, his body stirring at her touch. "I thought you'd be exhausted after the day you've had."
"Exhausted, maybe, but I'm not dead."
She laughed, hooked her thumbs into the waistband of his pants and his briefs, and pulled them down in one move. She pushed him down on the bed, took off his socks and shoes, pulled his pants and briefs the rest of the way off and tossed them over a chair in the corner.
He'd been a model of complacency to this point, but he wanted her naked, too. He pulled her to stand between his knees. "My turn?"
She nodded. He moved just as slowly, starting with the tie on her robe, slowly loosening it and pulling the sides of her robe apart.
"Mmm." She had on a little black camisole and a pair of matching black panties, almost as dark as her hair, and everywhere else was pretty, pale flesh. "Your skin looks amazing in this."
He traced the tiny bit of flesh visible between her panties and her top, her belly quivering as he did it, and then eased a finger back to just below her belly button. Then he pushed her top up, uncovering a little triangle of skin. He held her with his hands at her sides and slowly kissed all the skin he'd uncovered, teasing her with his tongue, then tunneling up with his mouth until he could take little bites of her bottom ribs.
She made a little squeaking, gasping sound and tried to squirm away from him. He wrapped his hands around her hips to hold her still and then anchored her to him with one arm, continued up with the other, finding more soft skin, the tender undersides of her breasts. He nudged them with his nose, followed the line of the bottom of them, opened his mouth and placed warm, wet kisses from the inside curve to the outside, pushing at the material with his nose, working his way back toward the center again, toward her nipples.
Her hands caught in his hair as his mouth settled over one, then the other.
"Are you going to regret this in the morning?" she asked. "Because of that stupid no-sex thing of yours?"
"I regretted that five seconds after it came out of my mouth," he admitted, and she laughed again, then sucked in a breath as he used his teeth on her nipple, taking little bites.
He wished he could see her more clearly. Next time, he promised himself. Broad daylight. Maybe outside in the sunlight that felt so much like her.
He felt much, much better. Almost normal. The panic was receding, pleasure moving in. He pulled her top up and over her head, throwing it onto the floor. Now that they were completely free, he held her breasts in his palms, wanting to know the weight and the shape of them, then buried his nose between them and slowly kissed his way back down.
Her belly quivered as his mouth moved over it, and her hips moved restlessly against his. It was the most amazing thing. He'd felt half dead not ten minutes ago, and now he felt deliciously, gloriously alive. If this was a way of running from his problems, he simply didn't care.
He tugged one side of her panties down, uncovering her hipbone and nibbling on that, palming her hips, pulling her to him. She had her hands on his shoulders now, holding on tight, like the weight of her own body might be too much for her legs to manage. No problem. He'd gladly hold her up.
Tugging the panties down on the other side, revealing more skin, he kissed that and moved lower, kissing her through her clothes, going for the heat at the center of her, teasing her.
Her hand grabbed on to a fistful of his hair, tugging him to her. He kneaded the flesh of her bottom, and she started swaying to him and back, ever so slightly, need taking over.
She wouldn't be able to hold back at all soon, and he wanted her that way. Mindless. His. His hands slipped beneath the fabric of her panties and onto the bare skin of her hips.
"If you don't take those off... " she began.
"What?" he asked. "What are you going to do to me?"
"There are other things you could be doing with that wicked mouth of yours besides talking, Zachariah."
He laughed, pulling the panties off and tossing them, too. If the lady thought it was time to stop fooling around, he was willing to accommodate h
er. He pushed her backward one step, went down on his knees in front of her, held her with a hand on either side of her hips, and there was no teasing now. He spread his hands wide, using his thumbs to open her to his mouth, and pushed deep into her with his tongue, thrusting back and forth, another part of his body wanting to do that, too, very badly. And he would. Soon.
He heard her give another little squeak, a sound she muffled quickly. Another time, another place, he'd have her screaming for real. He wouldn't let up until he did. But he didn't have it in him to do that now, and they weren't alone, and he had to be inside her.
He rolled her onto the bed and then followed her down. He was kissing her before she landed flat on her back on the mattress, and he landed on top of her, forgetting to go slow. She felt like life given back to him, like sanity. Her arms came around him, holding him close, and her body opened up to his, and he hadn't so much as settled on top of her before he was inside her.
She groaned and moved instantly to take him deeper, her hips rolling against his and her fingernails digging into his hips. Her knees came up around him, and he got his hands beneath her hips, palming them, pulling her to him even tighter.
The heat of her, the way she clasped him to her and moved against him made it doubtful this would last more than a few minutes, and he wanted more. Going against every need in his body, he wrenched himself back and out of that welcoming heat, holding himself up on his elbows and his knees, groaning as he lowered his head and kissed her.
"What?" she demanded. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing. You're just killing me. That's all. And I really would like it if I could make this last a little while."
He took a breath and let himself move back inside her, shuddering as he did, as her body gripped him in a way that left him groaning once again.
"Give it up, Zach. You're the man who announced the other day that you weren't going to sleep with me at all."
"Only until you knew this was about love and not sex," he said, rocking slowly back and forth inside her in cadence with the words. "I told you how I feel, and you told me you're fighting with everything you've got not to let yourself feel the same way. I probably should give you time to reconsider after that little scene on your back porch tonight—"