by J. S. Scott
I’m not going to ask him about the other reasons.
I won’t.
If he starts talking dirty to me again, I’m toast.
“Turn on my show,” I demanded, trying to reach over him to snatch the remote.
As I leaned, my arm brushed against his crotch, and I shivered as I felt the raging hard-on against my limb. I froze, then pulled back.
“I warned you,” he said in an evil tone. “It’s always going to be that way for me when I’m with you.”
“I can handle that,” I said weakly, my voice belying my words.
I had all I could do not to liberate his cock and straddle him.
“I wish you would handle it,” he replied jokingly.
He switched on the TV, and the loud beginning of my TV program prevented me from speaking, even if I could figure out what the hell to say.
I gave in and let my body sink into his with a sigh. Being close to him was torture, one big ache of unfulfilled need. But not touching him was even more difficult, so I settled for what I could get, knowing that for now, it would have to be enough.
CHAPTER 11
XANDER
I woke up that night to the sound of Samantha’s bloodcurdling scream.
I bolted upright as the next strangled cry got louder and more terrified than the one before it.
“Holy fuck!” I cursed, then vaulted out of bed to sprint to her room next door, not caring that I was as naked as the day I was born.
I slammed my hand against the light switch, flooding the room with illumination. “Sam,” I bellowed, afraid of what might be happening to her.
She wasn’t the type of woman to panic over nothing.
I’d kill whoever it was that was hurting her.
Stopping short of the bed, I realized nobody was touching her, and there wasn’t anyone or anything out of place in the room. Her scantily clad body was thrashing in the bed, her blonde hair tangled across her face as she seemed to be fighting some kind of war in her nightmare.
“No, please. Don’t,” she whimpered.
My heart fucking slammed against my chest wall as I realized she was caught in a nightmare she obviously couldn’t escape.
Christ! I knew that fear, the horror of being in the grips of something terrible happening in my dreams.
I sat on the bed and gently shook her shoulder. “Sam! Wake up! You’re having a bad dream.”
Pushing the hair back that was covering her face, I waited for her eyes to open. When she didn’t respond, I said louder, more desperate, “Sam! Goddamnit! Wake the fuck up!”
I hated the idea of her suffering a moment longer.
It tore at my guts to see the woman who had become the only light in my darkness tormented like this. But whatever was torturing her didn’t seem to want to give her up.
“Sam!” I bellowed her name so loud that everybody in the damn hotel could probably hear it, but I didn’t give a shit.
Suddenly, she sat up in the bed, her eyes open, and let out a final spine-tingling screech.
For a moment, she was completely still, her vacant, horrified expression finally crumpling as her body started shaking and a sob escaped her lips. “Dream. It was only a dream.”
“You’re okay, Sam,” I said quietly from my place beside her.
“Xander?” She turned her head to look at me, appearing confused.
“You were having a nightmare,” I explained. “I heard you.”
She raked a hand through her hair. “Oh, God. It was so horrible this time,” she said breathlessly. “I’m sorry I woke you.”
Another heart-wrenching sob escaped her trembling body, and I quickly wrapped my arms around her, wanting to protect her from anything that would cause the haunted look on her face. “You’re okay, Sam. Everything is fine. It was all a bad dream.”
She let loose as she wrapped her arms around my neck, clinging to me like I was her only safety in a dark place. I had no idea what kind of dream would break a woman as strong as Samantha, but I just held her tightly as she cried against my shoulder, every tear that she shed like a knife to my chest.
Sam gave so selflessly, and she never lost her compassion, even though she should have fucking lost any for me the first day she’d come to my house. I’d done nothing but take from her. Hell, I’d even used her body. Yet she never blamed me for a goddamn thing.
I was convinced she was my angel.
And angels should never weep.
My grip tightened on her body, trying to make her feel safe. “It will be okay, Sam. I promise.”
Somehow, I’d find a way to make her anguish go away.
Her flood of tears and painful cries had quieted, and all I could feel was the heat of her heavy breath on my neck.
“I’m sorry,” she said weakly. “I haven’t had a nightmare for a long time.”
“What was it?” I couldn’t figure out what the hell would affect her this way. I’d always suspected that Samantha might not have had it easy in the past. I’d wondered if she’d somehow understood my fucked-up mind because she’d had her own struggles.
I swung my body onto the bed and pulled her into my lap, cradling her against me as I leaned back against the headboard. I tried not to notice that all she was wearing was a short, lightweight red nightshirt.
Now wasn’t the time for all my horny fantasies about Samantha to spring to life.
“Something that happened in the past,” she suddenly answered in a breathless, husky voice.
“What?” I wanted to know what in the hell was haunting her so I could kill it.
She seemed to be struggling for some kind of composure before she spoke. “Ten years ago, I lost my entire family, Xander: my parents and my three younger siblings. You have enough heavy things to deal with, and I didn’t want to tell you. But I hadn’t planned on having my nightmares come back. It’s been years since it’s happened.”
The hushed pain in her voice told me everything I needed to know. Jesus! “How?” I questioned incredulously.
“I was already living in New York with roommates, but I grew up in New Jersey. I was the oldest, and I had three younger siblings. My oldest brother, Joel, was eighteen at the time, two years younger than I was. He was schizophrenic and got delusional sometimes, then he became addicted to drugs and alcohol. My mom and dad tried to keep him in treatment, but the drugs and alcohol got out of control. One night, he came home and killed my entire family. I was the only one spared because I was out of the house and living in New York.”
“Is the bastard in jail?” I asked her, my entire body shaking with fury.
“He’s dead,” she answered flatly. “He killed them all, then killed himself. I was the only one in my immediate family who lived.”
I was shocked into silence for a moment, broadsided by her confession. Christ! How did anybody come back from that kind of loss? Finally, I buried my face in her hair, unsure of what to say. Hell, I couldn’t bring them back, but I sure as fuck wanted to. “I’m so fucking sorry, Sam.”
I pictured a very young Samantha trying to cope with the loss of her entire family, and I didn’t like the images. She’d been so young, way too young to be all alone in the world. She had to have felt inconsolable, because how in the hell did a person deal with that all alone?
“I got through it,” she told me in a shaky voice. “But every once in a while, I still have a bad dream. I thought they were finally gone. It’s been a few years since I had one.”
“What were you dreaming about?”
She sighed shakily. “I wasn’t there when it happened, but I seem to visualize in my dreams what might have occurred. I know quite a bit about the sequence of events from the police investigation. My brother killed our younger sister and brother first. My parents’ bodies were found in the hallway, so the police assumed that they were coming to try to save my brother and sister, and encountered Joel with his guns before they could reach the other rooms. He shot them both dead right there, then put a gun to his own head onc
e they were all gone. I see it in my nightmares, Xander. I’m there watching it all happen.”
“Fuck!” My arms locked around her like steel, wanting to protect her from the horror of what had happened. “Why? Why in the hell did he want his whole family dead?”
“He was crazy, and strung out on drugs,” she answered softly. “But I still went through the pain and survivor’s guilt, wondering why it happened when I wasn’t living there, and how I escaped when all the rest of my family didn’t. I understand how it feels to think I’m somehow responsible, or that I should have died with all of them.”
“No wonder you know so much about how to deal with my situation. You went through it yourself,” I said, no longer ignorant to the reason why Samantha had so much empathy. She’d been in a similar dark place at one time. The difference was that she obviously hadn’t tried to escape like a coward, the way I had.
“It’s not exactly the same. I’m not sure how I’d feel if I’d had to witness it happening. But yeah, I understand a whole lot about survivor’s guilt, depression, and drug abuse. I watched Joel combat mental illness most of his life, and substance abuse for a couple of years before I moved to New York. I went through every stage of trauma recovery that you’ve experienced. I get it, Xander, because I’ve been there. The circumstances might be somewhat different, but the pain is the same.”
“But you didn’t turn to drugs and alcohol yourself?” I already knew the answer. She hadn’t, because she’d had the courage to deal with it herself.
Sam shook her head in verification of what I already knew was true. “It wasn’t the same, Xander. I wasn’t injured and put on opioids. I didn’t nearly die myself. And I wasn’t there to witness what happened. The pain of losing my family was suffocating and painful, but there’s a lot of things about your situation that I can’t imagine.”
“Don’t!” I exploded, then lowered Samantha gently to the bed so I could see her face. “I don’t want to hear you make it sound like your situation was any less painful than mine. It was worse, Sam. You fucking lost everything. Your whole entire family wiped out in moments. You were young and fucking alone. Did you even have any other family left?”
She slowly shook her head as a tear trickled down her cheek. “Nobody close. I had friends, but there’s only so long that they want to deal with somebody who has survivor’s guilt so bad that she can’t think about anything else. You’re right. I was alone, and so lonely that I occasionally wished I’d died with my family.”
“Don’t say that,” I demanded. I couldn’t imagine a world without Samantha in it. The fact that she would be dead if she hadn’t already been out of her parents’ home would haunt me forever.
“I’m being honest with you,” she whispered. “You shared with me.”
“I’m glad you’re telling me, but I can’t help wishing it had been different for you.”
She looked up from her position beneath me, shaking her head to move the hair out of her face before I realized that I was holding both of her wrists over her head. “You’ve always felt alone, too,” she retorted. “Your brothers didn’t die, but you closed yourself off from all of them.”
Her comment hit home. I had lost my whole family for several years. But the difference was that I now had a chance to find them again. They were still alive. Samantha was completely alone.
I had another chance.
Samantha didn’t. Losing her entire family was fucking final.
“You’re right,” I admitted. “But I’ll find my way back to them.” My vow was fierce and sincere. I was realizing how damn lucky I was to have brothers who still gave a damn about what happened to me.
“I wish you would.” Her gaze was compassionate as she spoke the words.
“Jesus, Sam! How do you do it? How do you come out as sane and optimistic as you are after going through something like that?” To be honest, I was fucking humbled by the way she’d come through her own ordeal.
“It didn’t happen overnight,” she confessed. “I struggled, Xander, but I’ve had ten years to come to terms with it. As you now know, I still have an occasional nightmare. Some things you never get over. But when I think about what my family would have wanted, I know they would have wanted me to accomplish good things, and appreciate every single day. They’d want me to live the life they never had the chance to live.”
My parents had loved all three of us, and I knew they would have wanted the same damn thing. They’d want us to be close, share each other’s triumphs and difficulties. Most of all, they’d want us to carry on and be a family to each other. Take care of each other. “My mom and dad would have wanted that, too.”
“Then do it, Xander. Even if you have to crawl through the guilt, fear, and insecurities. The best thing you can do to honor their lives is to live your own.”
My anger faded, and as I looked at the face of my angel, all I felt was a fierce need to protect Sam, to cherish the fact that she’d somehow fallen into my life. I needed her, and somehow she’d pushed through some of my defenses. Knowing her made me start to believe that there was a chance I might be able to function as a normal human being again. “Help me, Sam,” I rasped. “Help me be a better man.”
She jerked at her wrists and I let them go. My eyes stayed locked with hers as she stroked her fingers along my jaw, my scars that I never wanted anyone to see. But while Samantha’s eyes were sympathetic, I also saw longing in their depths, the same need that was practically eating me alive.
“You’re already a good man,” she whispered. “You always have been. You just have to accept that there are some things you can’t change.”
Could I ever let go of my anger, my shame, and my guilt? Hell, I’d been living with those emotions for so long that they were practically embedded in my soul. But for her, I was willing to try. “I’ll work on it,” I grumbled.
Her tremulous smile was worth busting my ass to get my shit together. I wanted this woman with a feral possessiveness that baffled me, but I didn’t deserve her right now. She was the bravest woman I’d ever met, and I’d have to clean up my shit to be worthy of someone like her.
“Good,” she answered, her lips still smiling up at me.
Desperation clawed at my gut, and I couldn’t help but want to taste her contentment, swallow it like it belonged to me. I lowered my head to take her mouth, groaning as I claimed the sweetest pair of lips I’d ever kissed.
Sam tasted like sunshine, spearmint, and an elusive happiness that had evaded me for so damn long. I threaded my hands into her hair to keep her mouth steady while I explored, thrusting my tongue into the beckoning cavity that I wanted to fill.
Fuck! I needed her. And I tried to show her just how much as our tongues dueled together, forcing my desire to surge like a tidal wave.
“Xander,” she murmured in a whisper as I let go of her mouth and buried my head in her tangled locks while I nuzzled the sensitive skin of her neck.
“Let me do this right, Samantha. Let me make you come,” I insisted, tormented by the careless, selfish way I’d treated her when I’d been given the opportunity to pleasure her. I didn’t care if my cock didn’t impale her like it desperately wanted to do. I just wanted to see and hear this woman explode. I wanted her to see stars on a night that was filled with shadows. The urge was so powerful that I couldn’t control it.
I heaved a sigh of relief when she nodded, and I pulled her into a sitting position and jerked the flimsy nightshirt over her head.
I was going to get one chance to redeem myself for what I’d done to her right after she came to work for me. I’d used her body, leaving her unsatisfied because I’d had nothing to give.
As I picked her up and dropped her where I wanted her on the bed, I was damn sure it wasn’t ever going to happen again.
CHAPTER 12
SAMANTHA
For the first time since I’d met Xander, I felt completely vulnerable. It wasn’t a situation I’d ever wanted to experience, but I couldn’t avoid it. I’d go
tten too close, near enough to get burned, but the pull of my desire for him was too damn painful to ignore anymore.
Instinctively, I knew if he touched me, everything was going to be different. It would change our relationship. It wasn’t going to be like the first time. But I couldn’t bring myself to care enough about being at his mercy to give a damn.
My need was too strong.
My desire was too white-hot.
And my feelings for this broken man who was trying so damn hard to figure things out were too raw.
I knew him.
I understood him.
And for some strange reason, he was the one who made my loneliness easier to bear. Xander had penetrated a part of me that I allowed no one to enter, and now that he was there, I wanted more.
He’d dropped me on the center of the bed, my head resting on the pillows. His powerful arms had lifted me like I was no heavier than a rag doll, without even a small grimace on his face.
I turned my head to see him towering over me, even though he was on his knees. Xander was a big man, and his cock was standing at attention. But that wasn’t what I noticed the most.
With him completely nude, I could see every scar, and my heart wept as I looked at his ripped body covered in what had once been critical injuries that had nearly killed him.
I rolled onto my side and reached up to touch a large white line on his chest, then proceeded to stroke every stab wound I could see on his torso and defined abs. I felt his body tense, but he didn’t pull away.
“I told you that you didn’t want to see my body,” he rasped.
Oh, he was so very wrong. “I do want to see it. I also want to touch it. You’re strong, Xander. These wounds probably should have killed you, but you survived.”
“My body is a mess,” he said hesitantly.
“It’s amazing,” I corrected, my fingers finally tracing over the tattoo that he had on both biceps. “What’s this?”
“It’s a tat,” he answered in a husky voice.
I bit back a laugh. “I know that. What does it mean?”
