Embrace

by Fernandez, Michelle

  “Yes and no.” She pulls her hair up and twists it in a bun on top of her head as she wraps a rubber band around the ball of hair.

  I’m surprised when I see a sun tattoo at the base of her neck. It’s sexy as hell sending a jolt straight to my balls. I shift in my seat and think of something quick or my board shorts will sprout wood at this pool party.

  “Spend your life chasing sunsets,” I read the quote of her tattoo, resisting the temptation to touch it and press my lips on her skin.

  “Something my mama’s been telling me since I was a kid.”

  I take a sip of my now warm beer and I lean back in the lounge chair with my arm spread out over the top, raise a brow waiting for her to finish.

  “She said that the pot of gold is not at the end of the rainbow. The sun is made of gold, so I should chase after it rather than look for it at the end of the rainbow.”

  “So how cliché is it for me to call you Dorothy right about now?” I chuckle.

  “Whatever,” she barks out a laugh and slaps my arm playfully.

  “You know, it’s not all about chasing the sunset. It’s about the journey getting there and if you can weather the storm.”

  “I have definitely weathered the storm,” she mutters, and I immediately think she’s referring to her ex.

  “Anything you want to talk about?”

  “Not really.” Delilah reaches for a chip in the bowl as her skirt hikes up her legs.

  A few men turn their heads and I don’t like how their glassy eyes are ogling her long tan legs. Those donkey-holes have more balls than brains. My protective instinct kicks in as I level my stare at them. It’s not jealousy, it’s called being territorial.

  The music escalates and the buzz of the crowd grows as more guests enter Levi’s massive home. There are a few people at the bar area taking shots with Levi and Sydney.

  I tip my beer to Levi as he motions a toast from across the pool. Sydney slowly turns and looks our way. Her wobbly steps tell me she’s had a few too many and will most likely be spending the night here.

  I glance over at Delilah as she plays with the charm on her necklace, a habit I notice when she’s nervous about something.

  Another man ogles her, and I can see it makes her uncomfortable.

  I grab her hand and squeeze it. “Let’s get out of here.” I put the bottle on the table and pull her up with me.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Someplace quiet.”

  She nods. “I’d like that.”

  Thank fucking Christ.

  Chapter Twenty

  Delilah

  Our joined hands swing between us as we walk on the sand. The moon is full and brightens our path as it also shines across the ocean and the crashing waves beside us.

  “Before I left for the navy, I used to come out here all the time.”

  A breeze whooshes and I push a wayward lock from my face. I want to tell him about Dylan being in the navy too. But decide not to because this evening is about us, not anyone else.

  He points to a large white house with a dim light in the window. “Look up there . . . that’s the house I grew up in. No one lives there anymore.” He clears his throat and I can imagine him as a young boy. “Off the balcony is a set of stairs and when Saturday morning came, I would grab my surfboard and head straight to the beach. I’d be on those waves until the sun went down.”

  “You had your surfboard and the beach for your backyard. I had my horse and miles of prairie grass.”

  “Do you miss home?” he asks, bringing my hand to his lips, and he kisses my fingers.

  “Very much.”

  “Tell me about home.”

  “It’s a small town. Everyone knows everyone. I grew up on a ranch. On the weekends, I rode on my horse, Bailey. But I had to do my chores first. Mama’s rule.” I stifle a laugh. “I have three crazy brothers, Drake, Dylan, and Daxton. I’m the second youngest.”

  “And your parents?” he asks.

  “They’re amazing. Still in love.” I go on about my parents, my brothers, and the kind of childhood I had. Life on a ranch with two horses, a few pigs, goats and cows, and a couple of hundred acres, which has grown into our family business. I cherish every moment I had back in Kansas.

  “Sounds like you have an awesome family.”

  “And what about you?”

  “About me? Not much to say,” he says as a matter of fact. “I have a sister, Avery. She’s two years younger. My dad is staying in Newport Beach and you already know about my mom.”

  “That’s not fair,” I tease. “I’ve told you all about me.”

  “Not everything,” he asserts, and I know he’s referring to the other night when I ran from him and tried to lose him in the crowd.

  He slows down our pace and turns to me after a stretch of silence. His thumb slides across my cheek and the simple touch sends a spark to inflame the aching burn that he’s already ignited.

  With his body pressed against mine, our faces inches apart and the scent of his clean cologne overwhelming my senses, all I can think about is his mouth on my lips.

  Please kiss me, Brody. Make all my doubts and bad memories go away.

  I close my eyes as his fingers trace the lines of my face. His lips are on my cheek, a peck on my nose, then a kiss on my mouth. It was quick, yet it packed a punch and weakened my legs.

  “How could he hurt you, Delilah?”

  My sandals slip from my fingers as I pull back from his embrace and walk away from him, needing the distance. I feel like a ping-pong ball. One moment it’s blissful, then the next I’m in the past where I have been running from.

  My feet touch the cold water as it rises to my ankles and sinks back to the sea.

  “Why do you keep running away from me?” he asks as he gets closer.

  “Why do you keep bringing this up?”

  My breath hitches when his chest warms against my back. His hands are on my shoulders as his gravelly voice vibrates in my ears. “Because I don’t want you to flinch when I touch you. I want you to feel comfortable around me. I don’t want you to fear me when all I want to do is protect you.”

  “What makes you think I need protection, Brody?” I wrap my arms across my chest.

  He moves around and stands before me, blocking my view of the full moon. There’s sadness in his eyes and I know there’s more there than he’s letting on. “Is this some kind of redemption for you?”

  “I have made some bad decisions in my life. And I don’t want to do that with you.”

  “Me?” I narrow my eyes at him. “What do I have anything to do with your bad decisions?”

  “My past has made me who I am.” He rakes his hand through his hair and lets out a breath. “When I was in the navy, my teammate, Matt . . . our job was to rescue two reporters and their team. They didn’t listen to the evac instructions. Matt told me to stay with the reporters so he could clear a path and make sure there were no combatants that would slow us down. Then that’s when it happened . . .”

  “What happened?” I can hear the hesitation in his voice as I take his hand in mine. My thumb slides over his scar, smoothing the bumps and ridges on top of his hand to show him support.

  “A rocket grenade hit the building,” he continues, his internal struggle is palpable. “And I fucking hate myself for letting him go on his own. I should have been on his six, to protect him. Maybe things would be different now had I stopped him. It’s my fault that his wife is a widow and his kids don’t have a dad.”

  “Brody,” I whisper and hope my voice comforts him as my hand cradles his face soothing the sadness and hurt I see in his eyes.

  “And when I lost you at the club only to find you again, I swear you are my second chance. So, yes . . . maybe it’s redemption . . . to make it right,” he says as he stares into my eyes.

  “Make what right? I’m not hurt. I’m right here.”

  “I know I said I wouldn’t bring it up until you’re ready. But I can’t help it . . . Ple
ase, Delilah, tell me how bad he hurt you.”

  “Why?” I raise my voice slightly, taking a few steps back as I hold back the tears stinging the back of my throat. “So you can pity me? Treat me like a victim? Heal the bruises and broken bones that are long gone?” Now I know I have said too much. Any idiot would figure out I was in an abusive relationship.

  “Fucking hell, Delilah.” His hands brace on my shoulders and locks his eyes with mine. “You are far from a victim and these hands would never hurt you.” He wraps his hands around me, pulling me closer to him. “I care about you so much and I’m sorry you went through that. I know you don’t want to tell me anymore, but I just don’t want you to see him when you look at me.”

  I’m stunned and don’t know what to say. Had I been doing that?

  I look up and cradle his face. “Brody. I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

  “I want this thing to work with us. But if you keep closing up and not talk about it, he will always come between us.”

  He’s right. Ever since I met Brody, Todd has somehow seeped his way into my thoughts. I take in a fortifying breath as if I take out the proverbial key to unlock one of my doors to my fortress. I know he can feel the tension in my body, the hesitation in my voice. But I need to reassure him there’s no comparison.

  He needs to know that I left Kansas not just to pursue my dreams, expand my creativity, but to get away from Todd. The further away I got the safer I felt.

  I play with the cross charm between my fingers and shift my feet as I let out a shaky breath. Our eyes hold for a moment as if he’s searching for the answer.

  “Todd wasn’t the kind of guy you take home to meet the Marshall family. My dad would have seen right through his façade. And I was stubborn. Thought I knew it all, knew him. I was charmed by his funny personality and the way he treated me at first . . . Flowers, dinners, movies, getaways. It started out sweet until it wasn’t anymore.” A tear escapes and I taste the salt of it as I lick my lips. “Until one day . . .”

  “He started hitting you.”

  “I was so stupid to stay with him.”

  I push my hair back that the wind blew in my face and look out to the night’s sky avoiding his question as the silence stretches between us.

  “Do you still love him?”

  “I hate him with every fiber of my being. He took everything from me. My self-confidence. My dignity.” I wipe the wetness from my face. “Then when he got arrested, I got the hell out of dodge. Even though he’s in jail for a while, the farther I was away from him, the better I felt.”

  Brody wraps his arms around me, and I bury my face in his chest, soaking his shirt.

  “I’m so sorry you went through that.” He kisses the top of my head. “I don’t know what it is about you, but you have me under a damn spell, Delilah. And all I want to do is protect you. Show you how a real man treats a woman.”

  I pull away and look up at his eyes that are focused on my face.

  “Why? Why me, Brody?” I whisper as his sandy-blond hair tousles in the wind.

  “When I first met you at the club. I saw it then.”

  “You saw a pathetic girl,” I say as I stifle a laugh and wipe a tear.

  “See that’s where you’re wrong. I saw a confident woman walk out of that club, with her head held high, and knew exactly what she wanted. You are a lot stronger than you think you are. You were able to pick up the pieces and put yourself back together.”

  His thumb pulls my tucked lip from under my teeth, he leans closer and his mouth is on mine. His words play in my head as his kiss takes control. He’s taking away every fear, unease, and apprehension I had toward him. Every time I want to push him away, he pulls me closer.

  Like this kiss. It’s all consuming and intense.

  I open my mouth to invite his tongue to meet mine as his hands wrap around me, holding me tighter as if I would blow away with the ocean breeze.

  He ignites the sweet ache that’s been dormant for so long and my body can no longer refuse him. This man, in my arms and on my lips, represents new beginnings. And although I’m still scared, it’s not the fear of my past, it’s the fear of losing him and leaving me with a broken heart.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Brody

  I can’t seem to take my eyes off her. I watch her as she sleeps, and I don’t want to move because I might wake her.

  My eyes study her and I grit my teeth knowing Todd scarred her soft skin. By confessing to me last night, it makes complete sense now why she ran away from Kansas, from me at the club, and her comment about the hockey game at the restaurant.

  I clench my teeth and take control of the anger inside. I could kill him with my bare hands. My imagination is getting the best of me and I can’t let it. Not while I hold Delilah in my arms.

  After our walk on the beach, I didn’t want to leave her alone in her house. She invited me in when I brought her home. We talked for hours and fell asleep on her bed. We may be under her bedsheets, but we are fully clothed. As much as I want to show her how much I am falling for her, last night wasn’t the right time.

  The ache in my chest has grown to intense feelings I can’t explain and the warmth of her body against mine makes my insides flip-flop. With Delilah in my arms last night, the bad dreams didn’t come. It was the most peaceful sleep I have had in a long while.

  This woman has captured my fucking heart. The epitome of perfection is right here in my arms. Beautiful, pure, and sexy.

  Her mussed hair is all over my numb arm as she sleeps soundly, using my bicep as a pillow. I breathe in her shampoo’s sweet nectar. She’s so goddamn adorable as she grinds her teeth and moans in her sleep.

  Delilah’s eyes flutter and I wonder what she’s dreaming about. She’s a sleep-talker and although it’s all a garbled mess, there are a few words I can make out.

  “Please,” she mumbles. “More . . .”

  What are you dreaming of, Dorothy?

  “Stay . . .”

  Keep talking, Kansas.

  Delilah shifts and snuggles her ass against my dick.

  Fucking hell!

  I want her. All of her.

  As much as I want to bury myself in her, I need to take it slow. Her physical scars may be gone, but she still has the invisible ones Todd left behind.

  I kiss her head softly. Everything with her feels right. She feels right. This moment feels right.

  As I lie here, I catalog her room with the sun peeking through the soft yellow curtains draped over the windows. The sunflowers in the vase that I sent her rests next to a few pictures that I assume are her brothers and parents, and another with Sydney and a brunette. As I continue my scanning, I spot the night light and wonder if it’s a childhood thing that she never outgrew.

  There are a few tchotchkes on her vanity and one in particular catches my attention. An unopened envelope and with my sniper vision, I can make out the return address.

  Windmill Creek Correctional Facility. Windmill Creek, Kansas.

  Is that asshole writing to her? What the fuck does he want with her? Is she writing back? If not, why the hell is she holding onto them? I rake my fingers through my hair. Frustrated and antsy as fuck to read it.

  Delilah makes another soft moan and I turn my attention back to her. I tuck her hair off her face. She licks her lips and I would love to kiss her senseless. My god, this woman. I want to make love to her and protect her, especially from the asshole and the letter on her dresser.

  She tugs at every molecule of my testosterone and I can’t help the morning wood growing in my board shorts as she scoots her ass against my groin. I know I should get out of this bed, walk my horny ass to her adjoining bathroom, and take a cold shower. But I can’t. I’m completely paralyzed. It’s as if she’s got this hold on me.

  Is this what it feels like?

  The thing Matt had with Laura?

  What Jackson has with Catherine and Mark with Charlie?

  The reason Liam can’t wait to get
home to Natalie?

  I look down at the woman in my arms as she flips her body and her nose now nestles in my chest.

  It’s only been a couple of weeks since I met Delilah. This woman has invaded my thoughts since the first night. Just one look from those big blue eyes and the sound of her sweet voice made me realize how lonely I really am.

  She moans and her eyes slowly flutter open.

  “Hey,” I whisper and press a kiss on her forehead. “You sleep okay?”

  Delilah hums as she nods. “Mmm. Yeah. You?”

  “Best sleep in a long time.” I brush a few loose hairs from her face with my fingers. “You talk in your sleep.”

  Her body jerks and she lifts her eyes to mine, looking at me through her thick lashes. “What did I say?”

  A mischievous grin widens my face. I flutter my lashes like a girl and raise my voice in high pitch and say, “Oh, Brody, you’re an amazing kisser . . . Oh, Brody, I love your muscles . . . Oh, Brody—‍”

  She laughs and lightly jabs her finger in my chest. “Well, you snore, Reinhardt.”

  “I do not.” I laugh as she makes ridiculous snoring noises out of her cute button nose.

  After our laughter subsides, her fingers slide over the tattoo on my forearm. “Does this have a meaning?”

  I raise my arm and stare at the sword, my half of the story and the other is on my dad.

  “Iron sharpens iron.”

  “Proverbs twenty-seven,” she says as her fingers run the length of the sword.

  “You know your verses.”

  “Sunday school ever since I started walking.”

  I sink my head further in the pillow. I stare at my raised arm, reminding me of the day my dad and I walked into the tattoo parlor. “My dad has the other half, the hammer. We did this together before I left for the navy.”

  “I like that.” That’s all Delilah says as she looks up at me through her thick brown lashes. Doesn’t question any further, just waiting for me to open up when I want to.

  Unlike last night. I feel like an asshole forcing her to dredge up her backstory, something she’s locked up tight so she wouldn’t have to talk about it.