He’d gone through the bag she left on the floor in her room to see what he’d done and what he owed her. “Tell him!”
Her face contorted with pure frustration, then she turned to the screen. “Hi. I’m Adria. And you are?”
“Dr. Porter. My psychiatrist. Now tell him.” Drake felt the edges of his mind turning red with fury and tried to hold back the tide of anger and frustration.
She glanced over, glared at him, then turned back to Dr. Porter, leaned over his leg so the doc could see her better, and said the completely unexpected. “Drake doesn’t really know me. He doesn’t know what that nightgown means to me. You see, my sister put it in my bag as a way to tell me to get out of my head and have some fun. I like pretty things, but sometimes—okay most times—they remind me of what happened when I was nine. Back then, my mother owed a drug dealer money. He thought he could earn his money back by dressing me up, taking pictures, and selling them on this kiddie porn site he ran for pedophiles. Nice, right? My mother was so messed up on drugs she completely checked out on her kids and left us vulnerable to that sick bastard.”
“What the fuck?” Drake didn’t know any of this.
She turned to him. “Do you really think you’re the only one bad things happened to?”
“No.”
“But you think living in your own shit, wallowing in it, means you’re tough. You can take it. You survived. You can survive feeling like this the rest of your life.”
“No.”
“Then what the fuck are you doing? You hold all those nightmares inside and they mix like a chemical reaction until you can’t hold them inside anymore and you explode. You lash out at the people around you. And when that happens, well, we get things like this nightgown, and worse.”
“I don’t mean to.”
“Then do something about it. Stop pretending like you don’t hurt and grieve and wish things were different.”
“I’m not.”
“You are. You punish yourself. You scare everyone around you. You avoid your family like you avoid feeling. You love to ride, but you never do. You used to work with your brothers but you won’t even go down to the stables or ride with them out in the pastures to feed the cattle. You pretend you can’t do anything instead of testing your limits and figuring out what you can do.”
“I’ve tried to get you to talk about all of this, Drake,” Dr. Porter chimed in, agreeing with Adria’s brutal honesty.
“I don’t want to do any of that stuff anymore.”
“You don’t want to live.”
Adria’s blunt words hit so close to home he stopped breathing.
“When we talked about Chappie, didn’t it make you feel better to share how much you miss him, how hard you tried to save him, the pain that consumes you because you couldn’t? Didn’t it feel better to have someone listen and understand and acknowledge that what you went through sucked? It was terrible, Drake. The worst thing that can happen. I’m sorry. You’re sorry. No one could ask more than that from you.”
He didn’t know what to say or do, so he fought back. “I lost nearly my whole damn team.”
She put her hand on his chest and gave him sympathy instead of the anger and hate he deserved. “Friends. Brothers. They were your family over there. You would have done anything for them. You’d have traded places with them.”
“In a heartbeat.”
“Would they have done the same for you?”
“No doubt.”
“Then find a way to dig past all the guilt and regret and do them the honor of being grateful for their sacrifice and the second chance at life you’ve been given.”
“I am grateful.”
“Then act like it,” she snapped. “Do something to get better. Talk to your doctor. Do your physical therapy. Go riding with your brothers. Do the things you love to do and enjoy them.”
“It’s not that easy. Look what I did to you.” He held up the ruined nightgown.
She barely glanced at it. “You weren’t in your right mind. Your PTSD made you lose control. Luckily, I knew how to remain calm and not push you over the edge.” She pointed to the tattered garment. “You weren’t angry at me. That wasn’t about the war but something else. So confess. Why did you tear up my clothes?”
“I flashed back to being overrun by insurgents and the firefight with my team and Chappie.”
She shook her head. “No. You didn’t flash back to that until I came into the room. Why were you tearing up my stuff? Your fiancée—”
“She’s not my fiancée anymore.” His jaw clenched so hard it ached.
“Why not? What happened?”
“None of your fucking business.”
“Really?” She snatched the satin and lace shreds from his hand. “You made it my business when you did this. What was it? Trinity thinks Melanie couldn’t deal with your bad attitude and you pushing her away all the time and that you couldn’t let go of the hope that you could go back to the Army.”
“She got her wish. They won’t take me back.”
“So if she got to have you home with her where she wanted you, why aren’t you planning a wedding?”
“Why do you care?”
She held up the torn outfit again. “I put this on and it takes me back to my nightmare. You look at it and you need to destroy it. Why?”
“Leave it alone.”
“No. I think this”—she shook the dangling shreds—“has more to do with what is really messing with your mind than what happened overseas.”
“Really?” She didn’t know anything, but his heart jackhammered because he didn’t want his secret exposed. He didn’t want her to know.
She didn’t relent and taunted him again. “It’s pretty. I bet Melanie would look great in it.”
He looked away, unable to meet her eyes and reveal what he really thought.
Her head tilted to the side, her golden hair falling over one shoulder. “Or maybe you pictured me in it. You’d just seen me in the driveway before you came up here.”
The damn woman didn’t know when to stop reading his mind and shut up.
“You were pissed at her, but took it out on me.”
Frustrated, he grunted. “I was mad at me.”
“Trinity said Melanie could barely look at you when you came home. You went to her house one night and came back and it was all over. You got worse after that.”
“We broke up.”
“Why?”
“You said it. She couldn’t look at me.” He didn’t mean to, but his hand went to the scars on his face before he dropped it to his leg and rubbed his aching muscles.
Her gaze followed his every move and studied his every tell. “You went there to make things right. You wanted to show her that you still loved her.”
He looked away.
“She didn’t want to sleep with you. Because of the way you look?” Shock filled her words but all he heard was her pity.
He rolled up, nearly toppling her off his leg and the sofa. He’d barely realized she was still pressed against him. He walked around the couch and paced the too-small space between the kitchen and living room.
He wanted Adria to let it go and shut up. But she didn’t.
“We saw each other in the driveway. I smiled at you. I wanted to meet you. You stared at me. You didn’t want your brother to touch me even in a friendly way.” Her eyes went wide. “You want me.”
Feeling surly, he lashed out. “Conceited much?”
“Oh, I think I’m right on the money. You wanted me and came up here and destroyed my stuff because you didn’t think I’d want you because of a few scars and a bad temper.”
He raked his fingers over his head. “That’s not it.”
“Yes, it is. Melanie didn’t want you, so you think no one will.”
He tried to hold it together, but his anger flashed. “She tried. I tried. But I couldn’t. I can’t. Not anymore. So what good was I to her? I’m no use to any woman now.”
Adria shook her he
ad. “You’re kidding, right?”
He held his hands out wide. “Does it look like I’m kidding?”
She braced her hands on the back of the sofa, leaned in, locked eyes with him, and said the unexpected again. “There is nothing, and I mean nothing, wrong with you.”
“How the hell would you know?”
“Because I’m the one you held wrapped in your arms with your thick, rigid, I-want-to-fuck-her dick pressed against my ass for nearly an hour.”
He went still. “You’re lying.”
“Why would I lie about something like that?”
Dr. Porter chimed in again. “Maybe one of you should explain what really happened.”
Adria ignored the doctor, just like he did. She got up from the couch and walked around it to face him.
He stared down at her, everything inside him wanting her to be right, for it to be true.
Hope rose up inside him.
“I don’t know what happened between you and Melanie. Maybe the way she looked at you, or didn’t look at you with a longing and need to be with you, turned you off.”
He started thinking out loud. “I thought because she loved me, she wouldn’t care about the scars and that I couldn’t move the way I used to. We’d figure it out.”
“But she hesitated. The moment felt like you needed to show her that you could be the man she remembered. But overwhelmed by what happened to you and trying to fix something in your life and make it work, you couldn’t. Too much pressure. Too much riding on it. Her not showing you the compassion and patience you needed to quiet the nightmares and fall into her. She couldn’t see past the damage to the man she loved. You took her rejection and turned it into every woman rejecting you. You convinced yourself you couldn’t be with any woman, that every woman would only ever see the bad, the damage. You let your insecurity, guilt, and anger win.”
“I don’t know why you need me,” Dr. Porter interjected, startling both of them as they stared at each other. “Sounds like she’s got you pegged. Listen to her, Drake.”
“Just because it worked once doesn’t mean it will work again.”
“You’ll never know unless you try,” she challenged.
His mind went blank for a second. She didn’t mean with her. She meant for him to give it a go by himself. Well, he’d tried. And failed. And gotten more pissed and despondent about it, because without sex, what the fuck was the point of surviving all he had if he couldn’t be with a woman, make a life and have a family with her?
That’s what he’d always wanted. But right now, he’d take a willing woman who’d give him a chance to see if he could get it up again.
“Juliana once said that my sisters and I carry around our baggage like an apology we owe the world. I’ve been thinking about that lately. I was with a couple of guys, but I could never really get past my own inhibitions and remembering what happened to me.
“My mother is a prostitute. She loves sex and doesn’t care who knows it. I’d like to stop thinking men will believe I’m like her if I just have fun and enjoy it.”
“Uh . . .” He really didn’t know what to say to that, except, “Shouldn’t everyone enjoy sex?”
“Exactly. But I get hung up on her past, my past, and get it all in my head that I’m doing something wrong because that despicable man made me do things that made me feel icky. I knew it was wrong and I did it anyway because I needed to protect my sister.” She rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “We have that in common—trying to protect everyone around us and scarring ourselves in the process. So if you’re willing to try, so am I.”
His fucked-up brain did not compute. “What are you saying?”
“Maybe we can face down our demons together. No strings attached. No expectations. Judgment-free sex. I’ll show you you’re not impotent, and maybe you can help me let go and enjoy myself.”
The idea appealed a lot, but they didn’t know each other well, and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her feelings or disappoint her. “You’re serious?”
“How long do you want to go without knowing if you really can or can’t have sex? How long will you deny yourself that pleasure? How many women will you let get away because you think you can’t be with them?”
He tried to find a rational reason why this was a bad idea when everything inside him wanted to try. But he didn’t want to use her like that. “You’re my sister’s friend and business partner.”
“You guys, this might not be such a good idea.” They’d completely forgotten about Dr. Porter.
Drake wished he’d shut up because the more Drake thought about it, the more he wanted to do it. Or at least try. And he had to admit, he felt a stirring inside him he hadn’t felt in a long time.
Anticipation. Need. Hunger. They all started to wake up inside him.
Adria walked back to the coffee table and held up the laptop and stared at Dr. Porter. “Talk therapy is good and all, but I think what we both need is a little sex therapy. And you’re not invited.” She closed the laptop lid on whatever Dr. Porter’s reply might have been.
Adria held Drake’s gaze. Mind made up, she didn’t back down. “How long should I go without knowing if I can let go, feel like a whole woman, and find satisfaction with a man? I deserve to feel wanted and needed and be okay with that, don’t I?”
He nodded because he’d always made sure the woman he was with enjoyed it as much as he did.
“Whatever and whoever we are outside this cabin makes no difference. In here, you and me, we’ll give each other what we’ve both been missing.”
Drake still hesitated. “Don’t get me wrong, I want to, but I’m not sure how this will go between us. We barely know each other.”
That seemed like it should have been her line.
“I don’t need you to love me, Drake. I just want you to want me. It seems like something about me appealed to you, enough that when you held me, your body responded.”
Everything about her appealed to him from her silky blond hair, intelligent and compassionate blue eyes, round breasts that were the way he liked them—just enough to fill his hands and mouth—slim hips, and toned legs that would wrap around him and hold him close. “You’re not the problem.”
Her gaze locked with his. “Nothing about you is a problem for me.”
He wanted to doubt that, but the fierce truth in her eyes and words made him believe her.
Why else would she make this deal with him?
He answered that for both of them: she needed to prove something to herself, just like he did.
But she hadn’t seen him naked and tallied up all the scars she couldn’t see that added up to an unappealing sight he could barely stand.
“You know I mean it. Maybe we met at the right time to give each other what the other needs.”
Maybe part of him couldn’t stand up to the challenge, but the rest of him was willing to do other things. His need to touch her soft skin intensified. What he wouldn’t give to have a woman in his arms again, to feel her move against him, to kiss and stroke her. God, that would be heaven.
He understood what she thought she could do for him, but he needed to know what she wanted from him. “What do you need?”
“I’d like to shut out the world and my past and just let go. I’d like to know what it feels like to lose control. I don’t think it’s the case, but if you can’t . . . perform, I bet you can still make a woman . . . feel good.” Her pretty blush endeared her to him.
“I prefer when it’s mutual, but yes, I can get you off. I will.” He wanted to watch her fall apart.
“And I will do whatever it takes to prove to you, you are not broken. And maybe I’ll convince myself that I’m not either.”
He saw it then. This meant more to her than proving a point. She really wanted to help him. And herself. “You just can’t help helping others.”
She looked him dead in the eye. “My other attempts failed miserably. I . . . hurt the guys because I wasn’t . . . right.”
/> “There’s nothing wrong with you,” he assured her and let his gaze roam down her body. That cute blush intensified and made him want her even more.
“They thought it was their fault. I think you know that if I can’t . . . well, we both need someone willing to try with no expectations that it will end the way we hope it will and no reproach if it doesn’t.”
He agreed with that and it eased his mind that this was a mutual exchange.
She sucked in a breath and looked him in the eye again. “When you were holding me, something deep inside you . . . I don’t know . . . wanted me, this, to happen. Even though I was scared, I still knew you wouldn’t hurt me. I know that right now, too. I hope you feel that way about me.”
Meaning if this didn’t work out, she wouldn’t hurt him by making him feel inadequate.
Drawn to her, he went with his gut, closed the distance between them because his body wanted hers pressed to his, and hooked his hand around her waist and slowly drew her close. He wrapped his other arm around her and increased his hold so she was tight against him. Her softness to his hard body felt right, though one part of him remained unwilling to commit to the images and desires running through his mind.
“I don’t remember what I did to you, but I bet having you in my arms like this made me remember how long it’s been since I had a beautiful woman in my arms. How much I craved touching her—you—until we were both lost in each other.” He brushed a kiss to her hair and spoke as openly and honestly as she’d done with him. “I want to feel like all I’ve done, all I’ve sacrificed and lost, everything that happened to me doesn’t matter because you just want me so damn bad. As bad as I want you.” He hadn’t wanted a woman this intensely in he didn’t know how long.
It took every ounce of patience and strength he had to wait for her response, because he might have made the first move, but the next one was up to her, because if they were going to do this, it had to be her choice.
So he held his breath and waited.
Chapter Eleven
For a split second, Adria wondered how she wound up in Drake’s strong arms. But his words melted her heart and touched her deeply. He meant it. He wanted her.
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