by Brandi Evans
A soft knock sounded against the bathroom door. "Kat? You doing okay?"
"Yeah." But her voice wavered, betraying her.
She smoothed a hand over her messy hair and readied herself. She'd left the hospital with the locks wet and pulled into a bun. The result was a frizzy mess, which reminded her she'd need to add hair stuff to her mounting shopping list she couldn't pay for.
She pulled the door open—and froze.
Whoa.
Maddox had traded in what she'd always considered his "cop clothes" and changed into a pair of black pajama bottoms slung low down his hips. He'd paired the pants with a white tank that showed long, lean arms accented with tight, hard muscles.
A heat she hadn't felt in far too long speared her core and expanded outward in waves. She'd had fantasies about him in her darkest moments, a way to keep the pain and the fear from destroying her, but this was different. She'd gone from zero to Mach ten in less than a heartbeat, and her knees went weak.
She slapped her hands out and grabbed the doorjamb for support. Needs and wants she'd begun to wonder if she'd ever feel again flooded through her like a dam's floodgates opening.
"Kat?" Maddox closed the distance between them and placed his hands on her upper arms, gripping her as if he feared she'd collapse. "What's wrong? Your cheeks are red."
And if he kept touching her, her cheeks would turn redder still.
"I'm okay." She tried to move from his grip, but she might as well be trying to free herself from dried cement. "I just… I'm okay, Maddox. I really am. It's just been a long day." Which wasn't technically a lie. It had been a long day.
"Okay." But the tambour in the word told her he wasn't entirely convinced. "Let's go sit down."
She nodded.
Maddox wrapped an arm around her waist as if she were something precious and fragile to him, and god, she wanted to believe she was. If something was valuable, then it held a place of significance, and she wanted to be significant to him.
Once he settled her on the couch, he sat on the square ottoman that pulled his living room together and cupped her cheeks between his palms. He examined her with the steel-blue eyes she loved. His gaze lingered over every inch of her before coming to rest on her mouth, which absolutely had to be her imagination. She'd willed the lingering gaze into existence, seeing things that weren't there. Yes, that was it.
"Can I get some water?" she asked, needing a moment without his examining gaze on her.
"Sure. Just let me grab it. I'm, uh, also gonna get one of the sleeping pills the doctor prescribed."
"Yeah, I should probably get that, too." She wanted desperately just to sleep tonight, no nightmares.
He offered her a sweet smile. "Sit tight. I'll be right back."
"You don't have to trouble yourself, Maddox. I'll—"
"No, I don't have to get it, Kat, but I want to."
Those words again. This was the second time he'd used them tonight. Did he know just how much she'd needed to hear them? By emphasizing those two words, he'd assuaged guilt she hadn't been fully aware of.
With her gaze, she followed him until he disappeared into the kitchen. She used the moment to take in her surroundings. His space. She liked his apartment. It was compact but not cramped. The walls and ceiling were a soft white, save for the far wall where the TV stand sat in the corner. That single wall was a beautiful aquamarine that matched the ottoman and the sleek sectional that cradled it.
A painting with hints of the same aquamarine hung on the wall over the longest part of the sofa. Along the opposite wall was a set of sliding glass doors that led to a third-floor balcony. Not being on the ground floor, she had to admit, made her feel that much safer, as did the security system he'd showed her how to arm and disarm.
When Maddox returned, he resumed his seat on the ottoman. In one hand, he held a glass, and in the other, a white, elliptical pill. Xanax, Katlyn knew, an anti-anxiety med with a sedative effect. The emergency doctor had given it grudgingly because it was highly addictive. The meds were a stopgap. She'd need to find a therapist and deal with the root cause of her nightmares and PTSD, but until then, medication would be her friend.
She took the proffered glass. "Thank you."
"Not a problem."
She studied him as she swallowed the pill. Shadows played under his eyes, which she understood. He had to be exhausted from the trip to Montana, staying up most of the night in her hospital room, and then the return trip, but aside from the fatigue, he seemed content here in his space. Then again, Raven's amazing steak dinner could have played a part in that. It could have made Grumpy weep with tears of joy. Katlyn had eaten until she'd felt bloated and miserable. It had been fantastic!
She cradled the glass between her palms. "So, uh, Raven seems pretty great."
A smile tugged at his lips and lit his entire face. "Raven's a force of nature. She's kinda hard not to like."
"I noticed." She rotated the glass. "I do have a question, though. Why does Carter call her Genny? Or why do you call her Raven? I was confused but didn't feel like it was my place to ask."
He was quiet a long moment as if choosing his next words carefully. "Raven had a tough childhood. Dad was out of the picture. Mom was into drugs and prostitution, and as a result, she spent most of Raven's childhood in and out of jail. Carter was the first person she ever let close to her. She showed him "Genny" and not Raven, the persona she'd erected for the rest of the world. That's why he gets to call her Genny."
"I'd never have guessed she'd been through so much. She seemed so full of life and zest. I guess there's hope for me yet, huh?"
He cocked his head and looked at her. No, he studied her, but before he could say anything, she pressed on.
"Were you and Raven friends before she and Carter hooked up?"
He nodded. "She and I share common interests."
She wanted to ask what kind of common interests, but instead, she looked into her water as if it held all the answers to every mystery humanity had ever had. She didn't want to intrude on their friendship. Still, she found it reassuring they were such close friends and that Carter didn't seem to mind. At least, he'd not indicated any differently. Jeff hadn't allowed her female friends, let alone guy friends.
Then, because she knew he'd understand, she said, "It's been a long time since I've had friends. Jeff did his best to keep me isolated. He poisoned my relationship with my parents and my best friend from college. My parents are both gone now, and I have no idea where my friend is."
With his thumb, he cleared away a tear she hadn't realized had slipped free. "If you want, I can help you find your friend."
"I'd like that." Another tear slipped free. "Just let me get my bearings first. I don't want her to see me like this."
"Just say the word, and I'll start looking."
"Thank you. It would be nice to have a friend again."
He grinned and cocked his head to the side in a way that made him look like an adorable puppy. "I hate to break this to you, Kat, but you already have new friends."
The punch of his words brought on the waterworks full force. "Stupid tears." She backhanded them away, but they were coming too fast. "I'm sorry about all the crying. Everything's hitting me all of a sudden. I'm free from Jeff. I have friends. Apparently, I'm not handling things well. I feel like an idiot."
"Don't apologize for being happy or for feeling any damn way you feel, okay? You've been through more shit than anyone deserves to go through. I'm honestly not sure I could have survived what you did. I'm in awe of you."
She had to place her cup on the table beside her, her tears coming too fast. Did he realize how kind he was, or did he just radiate kindness like the sun radiated warmth?
Her belly tightened, her breathing hitched, and tears turned to full-on sobs.
Without a word, Maddox sat beside her, drew her into his arms, and let her cry.
Long after her tears quieted, she and Maddox sat cuddled together. The scent of sugar cookies fro
m the electric wax warmer in the corner mixed with the beginning effects of the Xanax, and sleep beckoned her. If she kept her eyes closed, she'd drift away to unconsciousness, safe and content in Maddox's arms.
"Kat?"
"Hmm."
"Let's go to bed."
Let's?
Bed?
Okay, that got her moving.
She lifted her head and looked at him with sleepy eyes.
"The mattress in the guest bedroom is pure crap, so I'm gonna set you up in my room tonight. We'll figure out tomorrow, tomorrow, okay?" He flashed a sleepy smile and then yawned. "I just want to sleep right now."
She shook her head. "I-I can't let you give up y-your bed. Anything will be more comfortable than—"
"Kat."
She stopped stammering.
"I'm too tired to argue. I'm giving you my bed, okay? I want to."
That word again: want.
She offered no further protest when he gathered her up and walked her to his bedroom.
He pointed to the door kissed up against the master bedroom. "I'll be next door. If you need anything, just knock, okay?"
"Promise." She tried for a smile, but she wasn't quite sure she managed it. The meds were dragging her under and making everything fuzzy and blurry at the edges.
"Good night, Kat." He offered her his own sleepy smile before turning to go. He made it two steps before she called him back.
"Maddox?"
He stopped and turned back. "Yes?"
"We met at a steak place. Do you remember?"
He nodded. "Stockyard Steakhouse and Grille. You had a side salad and a glass of water. That asshole wouldn't even let you have the complimentary yeast rolls."
It pleased her he remembered the name of the place. It pleased her more he remembered details she'd forgotten. It made her feel as if he genuinely cared, but she said her mantra, nonetheless. You're just the job to him.
"I'm happy we had steak tonight," she said. "I'm even happier I got to eat it."
He chuckled, and god, he was so cute when he did.
"Me, too, Kat. Maybe, when this is all settled, I'll take you back there. We can have surf and turf. Oh, and the cheesecake. Theirs is to die for."
She placed a hand on her stomach, not because the food sounded good—it did sound good—but because of the butterflies he'd sent swarming.
"I'd like that very much," she murmured.
He flashed another of those crooked half-smiles and turned again. "Night, Kat."
This time, she let him go.
The door closed, she crawled beneath the Dallas PD-blue covers and snuggled against pillows that smelled like Maddox. She drew the scent into her lungs and held onto it as the meds pulled her under.
The mattress was worse than he remembered, so after twisting, turning, and kicking the bed to no avail, Maddox moved to the sofa. He was seventy degrees past exhausted but sleep still eluded him. He'd managed to drift off just fine earlier, while holding Kat, but that had been before he'd seen her leaning against his bedroom door while wearing his T-shirt.
He re-re-re-adjusted the hard-on that wouldn't go away. No matter what he did, he couldn't stop picturing the way the cotton neckline had fallen from one of Kat's slender shoulders or the way the shirt's hem barely came to mid-thigh and showed off a mile of leg. With her messy, unfixed hair, she looked as if she could have just rolled from his bed after an all-night sexathon.
He found it ironic that he'd been stressing to her all night the difference between want and need when what he wanted and what he needed stood in exact contrast to each other. He needed to be her protector, but he wanted to be in his bed beside her. He wanted to know what having her body beneath his felt like, supple and yielding. Wanted to know what having her lips against his would feel like or to feel the heat of her pussy around his cock as he drove deep into her. And what he wanted didn't stop there.
The Dom in him wanted to take her to Restrained Fantasies. He wanted to see her tied open to him, submitting to him the way she did in the fantasies he kept telling himself were inappropriate. The abuse she'd lived through would make a true Dom/sub relationship impossible, but god, he wanted that kind of relationship with her.
Kat's terrified scream ripped through the apartment. Maddox leaped off the couch and sprinted to the bedroom before he'd managed to suck in a single breath. His training had kicked in, and he'd managed to grab his Glock from where he'd stowed it in the living room side table. Kat, however, wasn't under attack from physical monsters.
Fuck.
Maddox stowed his sidearm in the dresser drawer closest to him and plotted the best way to wake Kat from her nightmare. He really didn't want to be kicked.
"Kat. Kat." He kept his voice gentle but loud enough to be heard over her scream. She'd managed to tangle the sheets around her, the dark blue material looking as if it wanted to swallow and strangle her. "Kat, it's a nightmare. You're dreaming. It's not real. Come back to me, sweetheart. Come back."
With a heart-stopping scream, she shot straight up in bed. The sheets had pinned one arm to her side, and sweat gleamed on her skin, her eyes unseeing and vacant. She gripped and released, gripped and released the mattress. She was a woman caught between the waking world and the dream world.
Before he could speak, to react, she called out for him. The sheer amount of terror she'd shoved into his name punched him straight in the heart.
"I'm right here, Kat. Right here." He didn't take the time to ration out whether he should or shouldn't, but he crawled onto the bed beside her.
"Maddox!" She turned to him, burrowed into him, shaking and shivering as if the temp had dropped to absolute zero.
"I'm here, Kat. I've got you." With one arm always around her, he untangled the blankets, slipped in beside her, and pulled her back with him. "I've got you."
He said the last three words like a prayer. No, like a promise between lovers. He did have her, and he wasn't planning on letting her go or letting anyone else hurt her ever again.
"He was going to rape me." Her voice wobbled. "I was tied to the bed in our house. He'd just beaten me so badly that I couldn't stop crying. The pain was so bad. I was begging him to stop, but he wouldn't, Maddox. Oh, god, he wouldn't stop, and it hurt so bad. I can still feel the pain."
He recalled his own fantasy, his desire to have her tied open to him, and guilt was a razor blade slicing through his guts. "Feel me now, Kat, okay. Feel me. There's no pain here now between us, is there?"
"No. No pain with you."
He ran a hand up and down, up and down, up and down her back. He wanted his touch to be a physical presence that tethered her to the here and now.
"Feel me, Kat. I've got you. You're safe. I've got you. He's not here. It's just you and me, and I've got you." Before he could stop himself, he brushed his lips over the top of her head. "I've got you."
And she had him, too. By the goddamn heartstrings.
Chapter 6
Maddox woke with the morning sun streaming through the partially open blinds and Kat wrapped around him. Bliss and despair warred inside him—bliss because she was snuggled against him in his bed and despair because reality wouldn't let the moment last. He wanted what he couldn't have, and he wanted her.
He needed to untangle himself before she woke. Given the topic of her nightmares, it might scare her to wake in a man's arms, especially when said man was sporting a hard-on the size of Texas. But how the fuck did he slip from the bed when she was practically lying on top of him?
With the subtlety of a C-4 detonation, his cell phone rang. Even from where he'd left it charging in the other room, the sound ripped through the quiet, and Kat startled awake. She shot straight up beside him, gaze darting from one unknown spot to another before suddenly settling, as if she'd just remembered where she was. And much to his liking, she instantly softened and turned to him.
A smile lit her face. If waking in the same bed surprised her, she didn't show it. "Hey."
That single w
ord in her sleep-heavy drawl was almost enough to do him in. How he didn't pull her close and kiss the rest of the sleep from her voice he'd never know.
"Hey, yourself." It was the best response he could manage.
Leaving his phone to ring itself into silence, he tried to figure out what to say. He didn't want to ask about the nightmare. He didn't want to do anything to make that gorgeous smile fade. What he wanted was to stay in bed with her for the rest of the day, but he couldn't hold back the morning. He had things he needed to do—for her.
"How'd you sleep?" he asked.
"Better than usual. You have no idea how much."
"You had a nightmare."
A little wrinkle furrowed her brow, but she shrugged. "Yes, I had a nightmare, but it wasn't as bad as usual."
"That wasn't as bad? You scared the shit out of me, Kat."
"I'm sorry." She placed a palm on his cheek as if to comfort him from the memory. "The nightmare was bad, but I went back to sleep. I usually can't do that. I felt safe after you came in here. I haven't slept that good in a long time. Thank you."
There went guilt slashing through his guts again. He didn't deserve her thanks.
He wanted to tell her he'd be there any and every night she needed him, that his arms and his bed would always be open to her, but before he could fumble his way through something he couldn't take back, his cell rang again.
She dropped her hand from his cheek as if his skin abruptly burned. "You probably need to get that." She looked suddenly shy.
"Yeah. Be right back."
He stumbled from bed and took off for the living room. He was still feeling a bit off kilter when he grabbed his phone and, without looking at the display, clicked on. "Detective Westbrook."
"So, yeah, about being there by noon," Carter began without preamble," we're gonna be a little late."