by JM Stewart
Tyler stood in front of the coffeemaker, the top already open. He pulled out the brew basket and darted a glance over his shoulder, brows raised in expectation. “Coffee?”
“No. Thank you.” Her nerves didn’t need the jolt right now. She was shaking enough on her own.
He had the nerve to laugh, as if the tension moments ago had been in her imagination. “I don’t think I ever remember you turning down caffeine before.”
Her stomach tightened. Was he doing this on purpose? Evading the subject in an effort to keep her off balance?
She drew a deep breath, once again drawing her determination around her. “I owe you an explanation.”
Hell, who was she kidding? She owed him more than that. If she going to be honest, she might as well go all out.
Her shoulders slumped, dejection weighing on her. “And an apology, I suppose.”
His body stiffened. He darted a glance at her, eyes narrowed and nostrils once again flaring as he pulled the old filter from the basket and tossed it into the trash can beneath the sink beside him. “I told you. I don’t want the goddamn details. What you do is your business.”
A statement that completely contradicted the man who’d stormed her apartment and told her he aimed to win her back. As he moved about the small space, putting in a new coffee filter and scooping in grounds, his movements became harsher, more forceful than they should have been.
She’d hurt him. It hadn’t occurred to until right then that she might have actually hurt him with her lies, and the knowledge wounded her.
“You’re not actually jealous, are you?” Desperate to ease the tension between them, she said the words with an air of jest, hoping he’d remember the way she used to tease him for his possessiveness.
Tyler didn’t laugh. Rather, he froze, so still even his breathing seemed to halt. Several seconds of tense silence ticked out before he did an about face and closed the small space between them in two long strides. He backed her against the nearest wall and set his hands on either side of her head. “You may have thought I was dead for three years, but nothing’s changed for me. Every cell in my body still says you’re mine.”
She couldn’t stop the heady tremor that ran through her. Intensity came off him in waves. His jaw set tight, his gaze pinning her to her spot. He stood so close if she but leaned up on her toes she could kiss him. The knowledge did nothing for the need burning in her belly.
Or the dry state of her panties.
Cassie sagged back against the wall. God, he was so damn sexy when he got possessive. No man besides him had ever thought of her as his. It was sad, really. Here she was, nearing thirty, and only one man out of the dozens she’d dated had ever thought her worth more than a good lay.
Tyler didn’t do anything halfway, either. Even out in public, he’d made sure any man who even dared look her way knew in no uncertain terms that she was taken. It was in the subtle press of his hand on her lower back as he’d guide her around a room. Or the way he’d pulled her tight against his side and kiss her neck.
Now it made her ache in the most primal of ways. Made her want to climb his body and wrap herself around him.
She shook her head, two desperate little seconds from kissing the hell out of him. “It wasn’t what you think.”
His direct gaze didn’t waver, and her nerves began to tremble in earnest now.
She swallowed hard. “Not what I led you to believe.”
“And?”
The hard tone of his voice told her he wouldn’t give her an inch, and Cassie caved. Heat crept into her cheeks as shame washed over her. She’d hurt him and for what? Because she was scared?
She glanced off to her left, staring at but not really seeing the still-empty coffeepot. “I didn’t have a date with a man last night. It was a girls’ night out.”
Tyler’s gaze burned into her. Finally, he shoved back from the wall and did an about-face. “Why the hell would you do that?”
She heaved a sigh and glanced at him. He paced the length of the kitchen like a caged tiger. Desperate to explain, she shook her head, trying to find the right words. “You can’t just march back into my life and demand things be the same. Three years have passed. I—”
As quickly as he’d turned away from her, he faced her again, and the words died in her throat. Tension radiated off of him, his shoulders stiff as he glared at her. He jabbed a pointed finger in her direction.
“I swear, if you tell me one more time how much you’ve moved on I’m going to…” He let out a low, frustrated growl and spun away from her, dragging his hands over his head and fisting the short hairs on top.
“You’re going to what?” She needed him to finish that sentence like she needed coffee in the morning. Tyler had changed. He’d always been emotional, open about his feelings for her, but since his return, he held back. She could see it in the way his eyes would dart over her face, searching. Now he seemed bursting at the seams.
He dropped his hands to his sides and turned at the waist, eyes narrowed and staring her down. “Fuck you against the nearest wall. Just to prove you’re still mine.”
He marched back to her and crowded her, stood towering over her. Cassie couldn’t do much more than blink and breathe. Damn he was sexy when he was pissed.
“While the whole fucking world went on about its business, life stopped for me. Time just stopped. How I feel about you didn’t change. So, you can’t ask me to let you go because you’re scared. I scare the hell out of you, because I’m the first man to demand something of you beyond sex.”
She shook her head in confusion. “And fucking me is going to prove that?”
“Yes. Because ironically, it’s the only time you are honest with me.” His voice lowered, and he reached up as if touch her, but his hands hovered over her cheeks, never making contact. “You always were.”
With a heavy sigh, he dropped his hands and turned away from her again. For a long moment he stood, fists clenched at his sides.
That wasn’t the first time he’d hesitated to touch her. She watched him go for a moment, the question hovering in her mind. Finally, she decided she had to know. “Why do you do that? You hesitate to touch me.”
He stood staring at the window on the far end of the small space. Long moments passed in aching silence before the tension drained out of his shoulders, his fists unfurling. “Because I dream about you.”
Now she was confused. His voice came so low, so quiet, she couldn’t be sure she’d heard him right, but the dejection and pain hanging on him told her he didn’t mean sex.
She took a step in his direction but forced herself not to touch him. Instinct told her that her touch wouldn’t be welcome. “What does that have to do with touching me? Dream about me how?”
He gave a slow shake of his head. “I watched them die, Cassie. They made sure we watched and televised the executions. Every single member they captured that day had a family. Johnson and Parker had kids who’ll now have to grow up never knowing their fathers’ faces. Williams had a fiancée who will never get to see his wedding day. I was next, but I managed to escape. How the hell I did it…”
He dragged his hands over the top of his head again. Cassie waited, heart hammering, not sure she wanted to hear the rest but needing the words all the same. He was sharing something clearly painful. The hurt shrouded him, as if it weighed him down, rounding his shoulders.
A conversation she’d had with Nick once flooded her mind. They’d been seated on the back deck of their father’s house in Medina, on Lake Washington, watching the sun set and talking. He’d come home from his second tour in Iraq, where he’d lost friends. Men and women he’d worked and lived with had died when insurgents attacked a supply convoy.
Remembering what Nick had told her that night, it occurred to her where Tyler was right then. He had survivor’s guilt. He was the only man to get out alive and no doubt blamed himself.
“I must have had an angel sitting on my shoulder that day, because I took a shot
in hell and fought back. We must have tried a dozen times before and it never worked. Hell, maybe it was adrenaline. Maybe it was fear or maybe they were lazy that day. It sure as hell wasn’t because I was strong. They made damn sure of that.”
Listening to Tyler’s quiet words, the images filled her mind. A vivid picture of what he’d been through these last three years. His tall form blurred behind a veil of tears. She wanted to ask how all of that had led to him dreaming about her, but she couldn’t get the words past the lump in her throat. She’d seen the newscasts, about the way military personnel were tortured over there. She didn’t think she could bear knowing they’d treated him that way.
Needing to touch him, she took another step forward and laid her hand against his back. He flinched, his body stiffening, and she jerked her hand back, hesitated, then slid both around his rib cage and up his chest. She pressed her face into his back and held on tight. It made her damn vulnerable. Some part of her brain insisted she’d lose her heart again, reminded her he had plans to go back.
But right then, all that mattered was him. His heart hammered beneath her ear, and he was trembling like a frightened animal. His shoulders began to shake, and just as suddenly as he’d stilled, he turned in her arms. She caught the tears in his eyes seconds before his arms banded around her back, crushing her to him, and he buried his face in her neck. So she tightened her hold on him and hugged him every bit as hard.
How long they stayed that way, she didn’t know, but wetness seeped over her shoulder and into the neck of her blouse. He held her so tightly she could barely breathe, but after a while, his shaking stopped. When he lifted his head again, his cheeks were wet, his eyes red. He stared down at her, gaze searching for long, aching moments. She didn’t know what to say to him. What the hell could she say? I’m sorry wasn’t enough.
Some invisible thread apparently holding him back seemed to fray and let go. Cassie drew a shaky breath, desperate to drum up something, when his mouth came down hard on hers. Demanding and unrelenting, his kiss fit the moment. God help her, she lifted onto her toes, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him back.
Because he needed her to. And because she needed his kiss like oxygen.
When she gasped into the connection, he dove in, his tongue thrusting into her mouth, restless and searching. When she reached out her own, giving him back everything he gave her, he groaned, an agonized, needy sound that made her shiver and made her chest ache.
His hands slid over her hips to her ass, and he lifted her off her feet, turned them, and set her down on the kitchen counter. He reattached his mouth to hers, another hard, demanding kiss, and let go of her long enough to shove his sweats down his thighs. Then his hands were on her thighs, sliding up and around to her ass. He pulled her to him, her skirt sliding up her legs, effectively freeing her. She reached between them and pulled her panties aside, and he pushed forward, driving into her in one long, slick thrust.
He began a pummeling rhythm, hard and fast and unrelenting. She didn’t have it in her to deny she needed him. Her body wrapped itself around him, bowing into him as she thrust against him in return.
Their lovemaking took on a frantic, desperate note. The sounds filled the kitchen. The slick push of his cock deep inside of her. His quiet grunts and the soft moans she couldn’t contain. She didn’t have time to think, let alone remember to breathe. He hammered into her over and over. No doubt he staked his claim, proving he owned her, because he didn’t slow down, didn’t try to be gentle, but drove deep and hard. Each luscious stroke pushed her beyond her boundaries, bordering on the point between pleasure and pain, but her body responded all the same.
Each thrust hit the exact right spot deep inside. His pelvis hit her clit as surely as if he’d stroked her with his fingers or his tongue. In a matter of what could only be minutes, her orgasm slammed into her. She dropped her head to his shoulder, moaning as wave after wave of intense pleasure tore her apart at the seams. Her fingers curled into his back with the force of it. She had to be hurting him, but she couldn’t think enough to make her fingers release.
Tyler didn’t complain. He let out another deep groan and thrust into her one last time, his whole body shaking as he found his own release, emptying himself deep inside her.
Long minutes passed in silence. He clung to her, buried his face in her neck, his harsh breathing hot against her skin. She couldn’t let him go if she tried.
When he finally lifted his head from her throat, he pressed a kiss to her lips, so gentle her heart clenched and tears pricked at her eyes. He leaned his forehead against hers and furrowed his brow. “You still owe me a date.”
Heart stuck in her throat for a moment, she could only nod. She didn’t have it in her to deny him anymore. It would probably break her heart in the end, but the girls were right. She needed this time with him. “Saturday okay? I’m attending a jewelry show this week, showing off some of my new pieces. Between that and the shop, by the time I get home at night, I’m going to be beat.”
The corners of his mouth twitched, his eyes glittering with triumph. “I should have just pounced on you the first time I saw you. Would have saved me a whole lot of trouble. A good fucking and you roll over like a contented cat after a bowl full of cream.”
She rolled her eyes and smacked his shoulder but couldn’t hold back her grin. “Yeah, pat yourself on the back, soldier boy. You always were so damn sure of yourself.”
He nipped at her bottom lip. “That was awesome, and you know it.” As suddenly as he’d teased, though, the playful light left his eyes, replaced once again by the tender heat that melted her everything. “Saturday works great for me.”
Chapter Six
Cassie knocked on the door, then pivoted and paced to the end of the dock. She stood staring out over the water, but the beautiful surroundings failed to calm the tremor in her stomach. Gray lived on a houseboat on Lake Union in a beautiful little neighborhood. Houses like his, in various sizes and shapes, connected by a series of docks that served as walkways, all facing the lake. Any other day, the view alone could soothe a rotten mood. Gray and Maddie had something special here.
Now it did nothing for the churning in her stomach. It was Tuesday evening. A little after 6:00 p.m. and the sun had begun to sink below the horizon. Since leaving his mother’s house Sunday night, she couldn’t stop thinking about Tyler. He’d left her at the door with a kiss that melted her panties clean off and told her simply, “I’ll see you Saturday.”
She hadn’t spoken to him since, and the thought of their date had her coming out of her skin. So when today’s jewelry show ended, she couldn’t resist coming to see Gray. She needed a big dose of his calm wisdom.
The dead bolt chinked open behind her, and she turned. Gray leaned around the doorway, his searching gaze stopping when he spotted her. She returned to him on legs that wobbled more than the dock beneath her.
Right hand on the frame, Gray smiled. “Hey.”
One look at his gentle smile and the words pounding around inside of her burst from her lips. “I slept with him.”
“Oh my God!”
Maddie’s excited squeal sounded two seconds before the door whipped open. She appeared beside Gray, reached out, and grabbed Cassie by the wrist, tugging her inside. Gray closed the door behind her, and Maddie turned, fiery brows rising, her baby blues lit with excitement. “So, you did it. You told him the truth.”
Cassie nodded. “We…talked.”
Gray moved around her, heading for the kitchen. “We were just making dinner. You hungry?”
Heat flooded her face again. Cassie glanced down at her feet. “God, I feel like such a child. I’m interrupting. I’m sorry. I’m coming out of my skin, and I needed a big dose of your sanity.”
Maddie wrapped her in a hug. “You’re always welcome here, sweetie. Stay for dinner.”
Cassie shook her head. “I don’t want to intrude.”
“You’re not.” Gray moved to the stove and lifted a lid on a
simmering pot, a thick puff of steam wafting upward. “You got here right on time. Dinner’s done and there’s plenty to go around. We can talk while we eat.”
Temporarily distracted by the warmth and friendship pervading the room, Cassie turned her head, whispering to Maddie. “What’s he making?”
Because she knew him. Gray was a health nut. He worked out five days a week. His diet consisted of what he called clean eating. He didn’t eat anything processed or refined, preferred his food in its purest form, which meant he ate a lot of fresh fruits and vegetables. Gray had been tall and thin in high school, the epitome of the geek, minus the Coke-bottle glasses. Since graduating, he’d worked hard to get himself in better shape. Cassie had always wondered if he’d done it in part to move beyond the awful things his birth father had done to him, but she had to admit he looked damn good. Her and vegetables, though, weren’t exactly on speaking terms.
Gray shot a frown over his shoulder. “You and Maddie, I swear. Vegetables are good for you, you know.”
Maddie giggled. “He’s making spaghetti. Whole wheat pasta, of course, freshly made.”
“And garlic bread,” Gray added.
Cassie shook her head. “Only you make your own pasta, Gray. Please tell me you made your meatballs.”
“Lots of people make their own pasta. It’s better fresh. And yes. You know me. Can’t eat spaghetti without meatballs.”
A habit, he’d told her once, he’d picked up from his adoptive father, Arthur. The man apparently loved to cook and had taught Gray. Gray had gotten his meatball recipe from Arthur. Cassie had to hand it to him. They were divine.
Gray nodded in the direction of the center island behind him. “Grab a glass of wine and have a seat. Tell me what’s on your mind.”
Maddie took her hand and pulled Cassie into the kitchen. There, she moved to the center island separating the kitchen from the dining room, reached into a cabinet, and pulled out another wineglass.
Cassie moved to the table and eased into a wicker chair. Given he lived on a boat, the house was fairly large, but his décor fit the man. Simple and rustic, but charming all the same. Wicker chairs, everything done in earth tones. The dining room contained a light oak table and dark wicker chairs topped with white cushions. Simple but beautiful.
