by Maya Banks
“So what’ll it be? The world taken over by aliens or the world engulfed by a giant tsunami?”
“Definitely the aliens. Can’t kill a tsunami. The alien movie will have lots of gratuitous violence.”
“Excellent choice. Aliens it is.”
He leaned back, putting his arm over her head and then down around her shoulders. He pulled her close, and she was happy to snuggle into his side. The popcorn was sitting on his lap within easy reach, and she munched idly as the movie began.
“You realize how unrealistic this is,” P.J. said, an hour into the movie.
“I would have never guessed,” Cole said dryly.
“Well come on. Put KGI up against the aliens. We’d take them out in two seconds flat. These aren’t even scary aliens. Why do they keep fighting them hand to hand? Just throw a fucking grenade and take out the lot of them.”
Cole laughed. “You have a point, but then there’d be no action and no conflict, thus no movie.”
“Speaking of like dudsville for an alien movie, remember that Mel Gibson movie with the aliens and there’s all this tension and hoopla over the alien invasion and he and his kids survive the night and then they hear on the radio the next day that some tribe in Africa discovered a way to kill them all and boom it was over? Talk about total letdown.”
“Well, if I remember right, the aliens weren’t really the point of that movie,” Cole said.
“Yeah, well, they should have been. It was more interesting than the hokey come-to-Jesus moment the guy supposedly had.”
Cole laughed and shook his head.
“I don’t want to have to think during a movie,” P.J. said. “I just want brainless violence and lots of cheesy action.”
“Are you trying to tell me your IQ isn’t setting the world on fire?”
She elbowed him in the gut and he let out a yelp. He wrapped both arms around her, trapping hers against her body, and then he grinned triumphantly at her.
“If I didn’t have an injury, I’d totally kick your ass right now, Coletrane.”
“Yeah, yeah, all bark and no bite.”
His mouth hovered precariously close to hers, so close she could feel the warmth of his breath over her lips. She glanced up, meeting his gaze, wondering if he was thinking the same thing she was thinking.
“I’m going to kiss you, P.J.”
Evidently he was.
“I was hoping you would,” she whispered.
His mouth covered hers, warm and sweet. He relaxed his grip on her arms and slid one hand up to her face to cup her cheek as he deepened his kiss.
His tongue delved over hers, salty from the popcorn, with a hint of butter and the sweetness of the cola. His fingers dug into her hair, around to the back of her head and then down to her nape.
“Make love to me, Cole.”
He pulled back in surprise, his eyes narrowing with concern.
“I don’t want to push you into anything, P.J. It’s probably better if we wait until you’re ready.”
“I’m ready,” she said, plunging ahead recklessly. “I want this. I want you.”
He stared at her a long moment as if he couldn’t make up his mind. She pulled him down into another long kiss, this time making sure she was the aggressor.
When he broke away this time, his breaths came in ragged bursts. His chest heaved and it was clear he was battling his urge to give in.
“I distinctly remember you saying you were going to take me home and make me feel all better,” she said.
“Christ, P.J. Are you sure? This is too important. I don’t want to fuck this up.”
She stroked her hand over his jaw. “Please.”
It was the please that seemed to do it. He pushed himself up from the couch and then reached down, sliding his arms underneath her, and plucked her from the cushions.
He strode toward his bedroom and shouldered the door open.
“Get the light,” he directed.
She swiped her hand along the wall until she found the switch and then flipped it up, flooding the room with light. He carried her to the bed and gently set her down.
“We have to be careful,” he said. “I don’t want to hurt your leg. Let me take off your pants first.”
Her leg was the last thing she was thinking of. She wanted him close. Wanted to replace the memory of Nelson and Brumley with Cole. Just Cole. He’d chase away her demons. She was sure of that.
He carefully slid her sweats down over her hips and down her legs, taking care not to bump her wound. His fingers grazed her skin, setting fire to her senses. A thousand chill bumps danced across her thighs and midriff when he let his hands glide back up her bare legs and then under her T-shirt.
He pulled upward, baring more of her, and she lifted her arms over her head, a signal that it was okay for him to take the shirt too.
Now left in only her bra and panties, she trembled as shadows lurked in her mind. She forced her attention to Cole, refusing to allow anything to ruin this moment. But even so, a chill settled over her.
Her scars were there for him to see, and they were still raw looking. Ugly. Marks put there by other men.
“Tell me what you want, P.J. You’re calling the shots here. Tell me how to please you.”
“I’m cold,” she whispered. “Make me warm, Cole. Please take away the cold.”
He stripped out of his clothing and carefully lowered his body to hers. He stroked her hair away from her face and kissed her, long and leisurely.
He broke from her mouth and pressed a tender line from her lips down her jawline and to the sensitive flesh beneath her ear. More goose bumps broke out, but this time she didn’t feel the same chill she had before.
His warmth bled into her, soothing away her fears and giving her soul deep comfort.
Holding her tightly to him, he rolled so they were resting on their sides. His hand smoothed down her arm all the way to her fingertips and then on to her hip before slowly gliding upward again, this time going underneath her arm, over the curve of her waist and to her breast.
His pace was slow and lazy, as if he had all the time in the world. He seemed determined not to rush her, and she realized for the first time how hard her rape had to have been for him as well.
Even now, despite the slow pace he’d set, his jaw was tight, and she could tell it was difficult for him to go this slow and be this patient. In that moment, she fell even harder for a man she was already well on her way to completely falling for.
“Kiss me,” she whispered. “Make love to me.”
He groaned softly as his lips melted over hers. Their tongues met and tangled. Hot and wet. Breathless and needy.
His hand moved downward, between her legs, sliding through her wetness, teasing and caressing in gentle strokes.
“We have all night, baby,” he murmured. “Let’s not rush. I want to make sure you’re with me every step of the way.”
She sighed and snuggled closer to him, wanting and needing that flesh-to-flesh contact. Her leg protested fiercely when she slid it over his, but she didn’t care. Nothing was going to ruin this moment for her.
He made his goal to touch every inch of her skin. No part of her body went untouched. He licked and kissed his way from her toes all the way to her eyelids. He gave extra attention to her breasts, teasing and toying with the nipples until they were straining upward, begging for more.
But it was when he traced the lines of each one of her scars and then followed his fingers with his mouth, sweetly kissing every puckered inch of the wounds, that her heart squeezed and she found it hard to breathe.
He was telling her without words that her scars meant nothing to him. He didn’t shy away from them. Didn’t recoil over their ugliness. He made certain there was no doubt in her mind that he accepted every single part of her.
God, but she wanted to cry. She wanted to let go of the grief that had plagued her for so long. She felt safe with Cole. Her harbor. Her shelter. The one person she could turn to and he’d never think her
weak.
His palms glided warmly over her body. His fingers stroked and his mouth made love to her all on its own.
She was senseless with need, and pleasure was molten lava in her veins. More potent than the strongest drug.
She was in a haze, her surroundings blurred. She felt her legs being parted, felt the twinge of pain as her injured leg protested the movement. Then a hard body covered hers and panic splintered through her consciousness, bringing an abrupt halt to every pleasurable sensation she’d been fully immersed in.
She reacted blindly, desperate to defend herself. She’d never allow anyone to hurt her that way again. A sob escaped, loud, like thunder in her ears. She fought desperately, pain lancing up her leg until she cried out.
She rolled, trying to get away, and she fell onto the floor, the blanket from the bed tangled around her feet. She nearly blacked out from the pain after landing on her injured leg. Or maybe she had.
It was as if she were two completely different people. One who embraced the idea of making love to Cole as if nothing had ever happened to her—one rooted solidly in denial—and the other? Still trapped on that couch in Vienna, powerless against the effects of the drug while two men raped her body and mind.
And the one currently winning the battle for self-preservation was that terrified, brutalized victim that she’d tried so hard to forget existed for the last six months.
When some of the overwhelming panic dissipated and she became aware of her surroundings once more, she was sitting on the floor, her arms wrapped protectively around her body as she rocked back and forth. Tears were streaming down her face and she was helpless to stop them.
Oh God. What had she done?
A blanket fell over her shoulders and was pulled tightly around her until she was covered. Eventually some of the awful shaking ceased and warmth began to bleed back into her body.
She was lifted, cradled against a hard chest and then set on the edge of the bed, that blanket still securely wrapped around her.
“P.J. P.J., baby, it’s all right. You’re safe. Nobody can hurt you here. It’s me, Cole. Okay? Open your eyes. Look at me, honey. Look at me so I know you’re all right.”
She blinked and then tried to focus on his face. He was kneeling in front of her, and she could barely make out his features for the tears clouding her vision.
“I’m sorry,” she croaked out.
“Oh God. Don’t apologize, baby. Never that.”
He moved to sit beside her on the bed and pulled her into his arms. She burrowed tightly against him, seeking more of his warmth. She pressed her face into his neck and closed her eyes. She wanted to die. She was horrified by what had happened. She wasn’t even sure what had happened. One minute she’d been wrapped up in the beauty of their lovemaking and the next she’d been so filled with panic that she’d completely freaked out.
She clung to him, humiliated by the tears that wouldn’t end. She was shaking from head to toe, and the memory of that night was so vibrant in her mind that no amount of wishing would make it go away. She could still smell her own blood, remembered how it felt, slick and sticky against her. She started to gag, and Cole gripped her tighter.
“Deep breaths, P.J. In and out. Real slow. Come on. Breathe with me.”
He pulled her away so she was forced to look at him, and he stared intently, mimicking the inhaling and exhaling he wanted her to do.
“Tell me if you’re going to be sick. I’ll take you into the bathroom.”
She shook her head blindly, determined not to let herself lose more control than she already had.
Gradually her pulse slowed and her breathing steadied. The shaking stopped and the panic eased. The images faded into the shadows and the smell of blood left her.
But the tears kept coming, slipping over her cheeks as she stared numbly at Cole.
“I’m sorry,” she said again. Because what else was there for her to say? What guy wanted to have sex interrupted by a major meltdown and then have to ask the woman if she needed to be sick?
And God, she’d been the one who’d pushed! He’d wanted to wait. He hadn’t thought she was ready. He’d wanted to take things slow. She’d been so sure. But it was just more of her refusal to accept what had been done to her. If she didn’t think about it, then it didn’t exist. Only now, the past had come back to bite her on the ass in a major way.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry for ruining everything.”
He looked furious, and he shook his head emphatically. “You aren’t apologizing for this. It’s me who should be apologizing. I knew you weren’t ready for this and I should have put a stop to it. I’m a complete asshole for even contemplating making love to you so soon after what happened.”
She shook her head just as emphatically. “No. I thought I was ready. I mean, I was. I don’t know what happened. I wanted it, Cole. I wasn’t scared. I was right there with you and then bam, out of nowhere, panic. Oh my God, the panic was paralyzing and all I could see was them and I even smelled my blood. I felt it. Sticky and wet on my skin. How it felt when he smeared it over me with his own body.”
She shuddered and physically recoiled from the images she described.
Cole’s eyes were murderous and his jaw was so tight it bulged.
Her first instinct was to flee, and she fought it with everything she had. She made herself sit there and face Cole. She had to do this. She had to face it. It wasn’t going away no matter how hard she wished it.
“Don’t let me run from this,” she blurted. “It’s what I do. I run when things get tough. I ran from my old team and the situation there. I ran from the reality of what happened to me in Vienna. I ran from you and my team because I couldn’t deal with what happened. Don’t let me run from this,” she begged.
He stroked her hair with his hand and gently kissed the top of her head. “If you run, I’ll just go after you and haul you right back to me.”
She let out another quiet sob, nearly choking on it in an effort to prevent it escaping.
“Why do you even want to be involved with me?” she asked. “I’m a complete mess. I don’t have my head on straight. I’m a master at fucking up everything that’s good in my life.”
“But you’re my mess,” Cole said quietly. “I don’t need you to be perfect. I just need you to be you because that’s who I care about.”
She reached for him, hugging him tightly to her. He hugged her just as tightly, his arms like steel around her body.
“It’s going to be okay, P.J.,” he whispered next to her ear. “I’m not going anywhere and we’ll get through this. Together.”
She closed her eyes, savoring the promise. It was the only tangible thing to hold on to when so much else was steeped in murkiness. She couldn’t trust herself. Couldn’t trust her state of mind. But she could trust Cole. He wouldn’t let her go.
CHAPTER 30
COLE paced the kitchen floor, wondering for the hundredth time if he’d made a huge mistake. He wasn’t sure how P.J. would take it. It had been presumptuous of him to barge ahead and follow through with his idea, and now he was having serious doubts. The last thing he wanted was to piss P.J. off and have her cut and run like she said she often did.
He blew out a huge breath and ran a hand through his short-cut hair. Damn it but he’d blown it big last night. He damn well knew that he shouldn’t be making a move that soon after her rape.
And the very fact that she seemed to be handling it so well should have been a big-ass warning sign. She’d been in denial ever since the night those bastards had hurt her. She’d shoved everything back, refusing to face it because that’s what she had to do in order to cope. She’d focused all her energy on revenge.
He felt like a total bastard. She’d fallen completely apart. He’d ended up holding her until she’d drifted off to sleep, and he’d made damn sure he got up before her so she wouldn’t feel any awkwardness when she woke up.
It pissed him off that she’d actually thou
ght she had to apologize to him. Apologize, for Christ’s sake. He was so disgusted with himself.
To take his mind off the phone call he’d placed just moments earlier, he busied himself making breakfast. He was going to bring her breakfast in bed and make damn sure that there was no awkwardness between them or that, God forbid, she’d try to apologize again.
He plated the pancakes, took the pan of bacon off the burner and then put the pieces on a saucer. After grabbing the bottle of syrup from the pantry, he arranged everything on a breakfast tray and started for the bedroom.
She was still fast asleep when he entered the room. The satisfaction of seeing her asleep in his bed, her head on his pillow, was overwhelming.
She looked like she belonged there. Belonged to him.
There were deep shadows under her eyes as if she hadn’t rested well the night before. They made her look much more fragile than he knew her to be. Or maybe he’d made a mistake by assuming she was a lot stronger than she was.
He lowered himself to the edge of the bed, tray across his lap, and he quietly called her name. “P.J. Wake up, baby. I have breakfast for you.”
She stirred and mumbled something in her sleep.
“P.J., wake up,” he said again.
Her eyelids fluttered, revealing cloudy green eyes. She looked confused, as if she were trying to gather her thoughts. He knew the moment she remembered everything that had happened. Her lips turned down into a frown and shame darkened her eyes.
“Hey, I brought you breakfast,” he said, determined not to allow her to feel even a moment’s awkwardness.
She carefully pushed herself upward, grimacing when she flexed her leg. She grabbed one of the pillows and put it behind her back so she was propped up, and then he placed the tray over her lap, pulling out the legs so it was steady.
“It smells wonderful,” she said with a wan smile.
“Dig in. I already ate, but I’m happy to keep you company while you enjoy.”
She glanced nervously at him then retreated, focusing on the food in front of her.
He cursed under his breath and wondered again if he’d made a huge mistake. He may as well lay it all out, and if she got mad, deal with it then. He could always call Sam back and cancel the whole thing.
