by Christa Wick
If she only knew that I would have preferred her staying in my bedroom, with me snuggled up next to her, she would have been out the door and gone before I finished hanging the jeans.
"Or I can continue sleeping on the fold out," I amended after a few more seconds passed and she still hadn't responded.
A shake of her head, the dark red hair bouncing around her shoulders, gave me a moment's hope that she would at least allow me to give her a space of her own within my home. Then she answered, exposing my mistake.
"I'll sleep on the couch," she said as she finished folding the small assortment of tops and undergarments that she had allowed me to buy and placed them in a cheap canvas backpack.
I frowned at the bag. I had wanted to buy her a lot of things at the store, far more than she agreed to, but not the backpack. She only allowed me to get her two pairs of jeans, a pair of tennis shoes, some socks and panties and two bras, four long-sleeved shirts -- and only that many because they were on sale at two-for-one -- a canvas wallet at the dollar store, and a jacket that would see her through the rest of winter. All of it would fit into that damn bag, a fact that drew my chest tight every time I thought about it.
"And you don't need to yield any of your closet, either." Crossing in front of me, she took the jeans I had just hung and rolled them tight before they vanished into the bag.
"Just give me one more night in my bed--" I shut my mouth for a second and busied my hands with returning all the used clothes from my past girlfriends into the black trash bag. "What I mean is that I'd like you to sleep on the idea one more night, especially since I'm on call. If there's a fire in the middle of the night and I have to leave, I don't want to wake you up. You almost died yesterday and you deserve at least one good night of sleep in a comfortable bed before you sweep aside my suggestion."
Hearing how my request was fast turning to begging, I stopped talking and turned to look at Eden. Her bottom lip quivered and her eyes had a sparkle that could only mean she was holding back tears. Forgetting that we were more or less strangers after all these years, I drew her into my arms and stroked the side of her head.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to remind you about the fire."
Feeling Eden relax against me, I tightened my grip and pressed my lips against her temple. "Baby, you've forgotten how to let someone take care of you. Please just let me help."
She shook her head, struggled for a second to free herself from my arms then surrendered once more. Words, muffled by my chest and wet with her tears, tumbled past her lips. "I don't know when I'll be able to pay you back for what you've already done..."
Anger built inside me. I wasn't mad at Eden. I was mad at the world, furious with everyone she had come into contact with since Michael's death -- including myself. Several long seconds passed before I could trust myself to speak without yelling.
"Friends don't pay friends back, they take turns helping one another," I explained softly. I fought the urge to tilt her chin upward, exposing her mouth to mine. The thoughts and feelings zipping around inside me exceeded the capacity of mere words. I wanted to communicate with touch, with a kiss, a caress, my flesh moving over hers, relaxing the tension I could feel vibrating in her body.
She tried to move away again. I couldn't get my arms to cooperate with her intent. I shushed her, even though she wasn't speaking, and tried to explain further.
"I know I was a shitty friend in the past," I started. She shook her head, the motion violent. Her hands came up to my chest, the palms flat against my muscles and I knew I had less than a second before the tried to pull back again. My fingers knotting in her hair, I forced her to look up at me.
The quiver playing along her lips earlier had magnified. Even her eyes seemed to tremble with how much hurt she held inside, refusing to let it out in front of me.
"I am so sorry for what she did," Eden started. "I didn't know--"
Unthreading one hand from her hair, I brushed my fingers across her lips. "I read your emails, tried to respond to them but I was too late."
She kept attempting to turn away, to escape, the motions subtle but clear.
"You never have to apologize to me for what Helen did," I continued. My hands moved to her shoulders and I opened a little space between our bodies. I didn't want her to feel trapped, but I also didn't want her to walk away. Her little backpack was full and I was certain that she was halfway out the door even though I still controlled her flesh.
"You're tired." I smoothed my palms down her arms in a futile attempt to calm her. "This isn't a conversation we need to have tonight -- or this week or anytime before you're ready to have it. You need to rest, to sleep. Please let me take the couch at least one more night."
Eden nodded, her eyes closed, her expression shut off.
"Okay?" I asked, seeking a more solid confirmation that she wouldn't disappear before morning.
"Okay," she answered, still not looking at me. "I'll sleep in here tonight."
I pulled my hands to my sides. My body ached from the restraint I exercised while every muscle I possessed wanted to draw her closer to me, to stroke and kiss her until our past was erased and only our future remained.
"Thank you," I whispered and then, before I had to spend another second seeing her avoid my gaze, I escaped into the living room and pullout bed.
********************
A little after midnight I woke to the weight of Eden's hand on my shoulder.
"Dare?"
I inhaled deeply to clear my head. In my dream, she'd had her lips wrapped around my cock, her mouth too full to speak. "What is it, Eden?"
"I can't sleep. I close my eyes and try, but it's like a gorilla sitting on my chest."
I needed to tell her to go back to bed and put the clock radio on, assuring her that the constant flicker of sound would keep the memories of the hotel fire at bay. The last thing I needed, my body aroused by her presence and the echoes of my dream, was to have her under the bedding with me. I had pushed too hard earlier. Another push and she would leave.
Instead of being sensible, I slid across the mattress and pulled the sheet and blanket back. "You can sleep in here. Will that help?"
"Yes," she answered, her voice anything but convinced. She slipped in next to me and surprised me by burrowing against my side.
I covered our bodies with the covers and wrapped my arms around her, my chin resting against the crown of her head. It felt good holding her, knowing that despite her earlier retreat, I could help ease the tremble running through her. I stroked her arm, kissed the top of her head, listened to her breathe.
After a few minutes, the rhythm created by the rise and fall of her chest against my side and the puffs of warm air that kissed my neck changed.
Breathing is such a simple thing, really, but it is also complicated as hell. I am highly attuned to its variations. As a firefighter and team leader, lives depended on it. I had learned to tell when the sounds coming over my earpiece were from a fatigue bordering on collapse or because one of my men was starting to panic like a rookie at his first fire.
Listening to the change in how Eden breathed brought with it a slow realization. She was aroused -- turned on. Fear no longer fueled her shaking. She squirmed, pressed closer to me. Her hand cupped my shoulder and she rubbed her thumb across my collarbone.
"Eden, baby?"
A sleepy mumble issued from her but I knew it was a sham. She wasn't falling asleep, not with the way she was breathing. She relaxed further into me, her leg slipping over mine.
"Eden, honey, you can't do this."
Her whole body tensed -- her hand, the flex of her thigh, her chest as she stopped mid-breath.
"I understand. Really, I do." I took a hard swallow. Finding the right thing to say wasn't going to be easy, especially with the way my body was reacting. "You almost died last night. You want to feel safe and I make you feel safe...at least I hope I do."
Her words softly slipped in as I paused, stumbling for a better explanation.
"You walked through fire for me, Dare."
Her whisper landed like hot wax on my chest. My grip on her tightened. "I've walked through fire for a lot of people, little girl."
A sharp exhalation -- the truth didn't please her. Curling her arms around my neck, she pressed her lips to my throat.
Fuck, what she was doing was exactly what I had wanted, practically all I had thought about since realizing who she was after the rescue. But I knew the worst thing I could possibly do at that juncture was succumb to temptation. I had been fighting my desire every step of the way because acting on it would ultimately drive Eden out of my home.
"It's a rescue crush." Knotting my fingers through her hair, I pulled her from me. "You'll come to your senses in a few days and I don't want you to feel embarrassed and leave when you do."
"That's not it."
"Yes, it is." I pushed her onto her back, pinned her there so she couldn't move against me and tempt me with the soft bump of her hips against my cock or the press of her breasts against my chest. My tongue and dick already ached hard for her.
"You think I'm some sort of fireman groupie. Is that it?"
The gentle determination in her voice as she argued was almost as good as a hand around my cock, stroking me, making me want to do wicked things to her sweet body -- things we would later regret.
"I think you're in no shape to decide--" My jaws snapped shut a second too late.
"That's pretty patronizing, don't you think?" Reversing our positions, she moved until she was on top of me, her legs straddling my sides as I wrapped my hands around her hips with the intent of lifting her off. She squeezed her legs together, her thighs gripping at my cock to tear a moan from my throat. "But you probably think all I do is make bad decisions, from getting into Anna McPherson's car to everything that led me to Pole Town."
She was angry, getting angrier by the second, and all I could think of was how badly I wanted to sink my cock in her. With a rough twist, I had her on her back and trapped beneath me.
"What I think," I started, my fingers tangling in her long hair. "Is that the last time I gave into my impulse to kiss you, I didn't see you for another three years."
She laughed, the sound soft but full of disdain. "You didn't kiss me gone, Dare."
"No," I agreed although it felt like I had. If I hadn't kissed her, I might have reacted differently to finding my dad finger-fucking Helen Burke. The kiss left me vulnerable and made me feel betrayed, not by Frank or Helen, the actual culprits, but by an innocent seventeen-year-old girl who had nothing to do with their affair.
I had to get her to see it my way, to understand how important it was that we get to know one another again before we took our relationship any further.
And I definitely wanted to take it further.
"It was selfish kissing you that night. You were bruised, you'd had alcohol shoved down your throat..."
She cringed beneath me. I immediately retreated from reminding her of all that had happened on that particular night. "And I was selfish again. When I went by your house the next morning, you were gone. So when your emails popped into my mailbox, I ignored them until it was too late -- you had already closed your account."
"I was getting death threats." She turned her head away, the strands of hair trapped between my fingers straining. Anguish slurred her words and there was just enough light from the street edging the curtains for me to see the way her eyes shined.
"Who?" I asked, a fresh fury tightening my chest.
Eden whimpered and I realized more than my chest had tensed. I was holding her hair too tightly. I let go then softly smoothed my thumb across her cheek.
"Too many people to list." Her body went limp beneath me. "Can I go back to the other bed?"
"Not alone," I answered.
Eden squirmed like she wanted to dig a hole through the mattress to escape. I pushed my face into the pillow beside her head and sighed. The only thing I had managed to do right was rescue her. Even bringing Eden home was probably a mistake.
"Baby..." My hands moved over her body, my brain incapable of supervision from all the mixed feelings running through me. I cupped her face, drew her mouth to mine and kissed her -- kissed her like I had that night so many years ago on the park bench.
She had one of those stupid novelty shirts on from the last girl I had fucked, one whose name I couldn't quite remember. My hand slid under the fabric to find her breasts. My cock jerked once against Eden's stomach, its need to be buried inside her insistent.
"I looked for you," I said, breaking the kiss. "More than once. Looked for your mom, too, but only as a means to finding you."
"She kicked me out," Eden confessed. Her fingers danced against my sides for a second and then her nails dugs at me as if I was the only thing keeping her from tumbling over the edge of a high cliff. "But please don't ask me to talk about it."
Talking was the last thing on my mind -- unless it would help her. I didn't think it would. I brushed my lips across hers once more then planted a gentle kiss on her cheek.
"I won't ask you anything until you tell me you're ready," I promised. "Just let me hold you and take care of you like I should have all those years ago."
I waited, not even breathing until I felt the faint nod she gave in answer. Rolling to my side, I cinched her close to me, made sure she had enough blanket tucked around her to keep warm and then I held her until we both fell asleep in an uneasy truce.
Chapter Twelve
Eden
On the pullout with Dare, I slept through until the sun was up, its light penetrating the living room from the curtains in the kitchen. Rolling from my left side to my right, I opened my eyes to find Dare sleeping on his back. His chest rose and fell with the same regularity of a second hand moving around a clock face with three counts up and three counts down, over and over.
His peaceful state seemed unjustified to me. I had a dozen or more thoughts running through my head upon waking, each one a fat anaconda coiling around all the others while he blithely slept on. I hadn't come into the living room the night before with the desire to fuck Dare. A panic attack interrupting my sleep, I had wanted peace from the fear and nothing else. When I recognized the desire brought on by his body heat, the subtle fragrances of his skin and the way his arm wrapped around my body like he'd been holding me like that forever, I fought to control it.
I was bleeding on the inside after his rejection. Part of me was furious, as well, anger bubbling inside because he expected me to believe that he really did want me but was being all noble and shit. And his reminding me of the McPhersons' assault was rubbing alcohol poured on an old, but always open, wound.
Ready to roll quietly onto my feet and grab my backpack, I lifted my head and softly braced one palm on the pullout's thin mattress.
"Good morning," Dare said.
My head swiveled in his direction. I could see the question hiding in his gaze -- hell, his whole damn face. Was I staying? Had I already decided to leave? How long before I left?
I didn't have an answer. Or I had too many answers because he was asking the wrong question. Did I want to leave? No, but I knew I couldn't stay. My faith in humanity, or maybe in myself, had been cracked all over, a million fragile lines covering my exterior shell. One more tap was all it would take and everything I was or could possibly be again would shatter. I had to go.
Did I think I would survive leaving? Probably not. Maybe if I had made it in that hotel until mid-spring, I could have headed south, sleeping outside, panhandling or finding odd jobs to keep my belly full. But it was a dangerous plan for anyone and practically suicide for a woman. Maybe if I got beat up just enough, but not too much, I could find a bed and a new start in a woman's shelter.
So very tired of dwelling in the dark thoughts that grew with Dare's attention locked on my face, I sat all the way up and swung my legs off the side of the mattress. One of his big hands captured my wrist and the other curled around my opposite hip.
&n
bsp; "We're still on for driving lessons today, right?"
My throat dry, I swallowed. I wanted to wiggle free from his touch, but I remained passively motionless. His grip tightened and then I felt his cheek pressed flat against my spine. He was hugging me, sort of. Hugging me and sighing once before he spoke again.
"We'll have breakfast first," he decided. Sitting up, he scooped my hair from one shoulder so that all of its length curled around my neck on the other side. His lips pressed against the bare skin just below the spot where my jaw met the bottom of my ear. He kissed me again at the lower curve of my neck.
Keeping one hand on me, he scooted so that his back was against the couch cushions. Then he captured both of my hips and pulled me to him, his arms wrapping around me and his lips brushing against my ear. "Or maybe just relax a little more right here while we finish waking up."
I remained a malleable lump even after his thumb began to stroke along the side of my breast.
"Baby, I'm sorry about how I handled last night."
His deep voice and all the heat emanating from his skin made me sleepy. Fingers and thumbs began to manipulate my flesh and the next kiss he gave me ended with a sucking bite along my throat. One hand moved up to pull at my hair, forcing me to extend my neck. The other hand tugged at a nipple and I groaned.
"You know I can't stay--" My voice broke at the idea of leaving Dare.
"You can try," he countered.
The hand at my breast slid down to cup my mound and squeeze. Just that one squeeze had me ready to explode. He began to knead mound and thighs, his lips chewing random spots along my jaw, neck and shoulder. His fingers dipped beneath the dainty elastic band of my panties to find the line between my labia.
"Try, baby," he repeated and then his fingers slid into me, my pussy wet and throbbing, its need in charge of my lower body so that my ass squirmed and pumped.
I exhaled, the breath heavy with moisture and a prelude to my panting cry for a deeper penetration. Turning in his arms, I climbed onto his lap, my knees pressing against his sides. He still had one hand tangled in my hair and he kept my head pulled back, my face pointed at the ceiling.
