Opening the door, he padded out into the highly polished oak hall and spotted the bathroom. Dakota heard the pleasant clink of dishes and running water out in the kitchen. The sounds were familiar and soothing to him, reminding him of his happy childhood. It sent a pang through him, reminding him of how much he’d lost. Scowling, he sauntered into the bathroom and shut the door. He had to get the hell out of here.
CHAPTER SEVEN
DAKOTA CAME OUT OF THE bathroom in bare feet, a pair of gray socks dangling between his fingers. He rubbed his recently shaved jaw. Something was different, but he couldn’t name what it was as he ambled up toward the kitchen to find Shelby. Was it the long, hot shower washing off three days of crud? Getting rid of the high-fever sweat? Or was it her? As he’d lathered up with the pine-scented soap, he felt his heart opening. It was the damnedest sensation, one he’d never felt before. The soap bubbles and rivulets of hot water mixed with steam had cleansed him. His old strength flowed quietly back into him.
His focus, his being, centered on Shelby. She didn’t have to take him in. Dakota sensed there was a reason behind her doing so. And he had to know. Now. Shelby stood at the sink, hands on the counter, gazing out the window. She didn’t hear him coming. He’d been taught how to walk quietly during SEAL training, and that skill was with him to this day.
Shelby was lost in a morass of emotions, mostly grief and guilt, when she realized Dakota was standing a few feet away from her. Looking up, she saw his hair was mussed and damp. His eyes, clear and intense, unsettled her. The dark green T-shirt stretched across his broad shoulders and powerful chest. There was nothing weak about this man. Nothing. He was standing in a pair of Levi’s, his feet bare. A number of white scars ran across both feet.
“Look at me,” Dakota ordered softly, placing his finger beneath her stubborn chin.
A wild tingle fled through her over his unexpected touch. Lifting her lashes, she met and fearlessly held his gaze. Her breath hitched as his finger moved, slowly tracing the line of her jaw.
“There’s something you haven’t told me, Shel... Why would a woman let a stranger, someone she didn’t know, into her house?”
He called her Shel. The endearment came out tender and coaxing from between his lips. His roughened finger lingered at her neck. Heat radiated off his athletic body, male heat. Her entire lower body went soft and hot. He’d barely touched her and she was melting inwardly, starving for his touch. Shelby started to speak, but grief unexpectedly flooded her.
Shifting his hand, he cupped her cheek with his roughened palm. “Shel?”
The callused palm against her cheek shattered a door she’d kept locked for almost nine months. Shelby swore she wouldn’t go there. Would never... Oh God, she was crying! Hot tears winded down her cheeks. Dakota’s gaze held hers. This wasn’t a stare-down. Somehow, he’d sensed her grief. Her loss. And when tears slipped from her eyes, his face went tender with concern.
She whispered brokenly, “I—I lost my older brother, Jason, less than a year ago.” She closed her eyes, the shame too much to bear. “H-he was an Army Ranger. He’d come home on leave after his third tour in Afghanistan.” Sniffing, Shelby felt her heart being torn in two with all the grief she’d managed to wall up and hide from. She blinked, everything blurring because the tears continued to fall.
“Tell me,” he urged, moving closer, their bodies inches from each other. Her pain was driving him crazy. Whatever it was, Shelby was devastated, her mouth contorted, the tears falling faster and faster. Sliding his long fingers around the slender nape of her neck, burying them in the softness of her hair, he angled her chin just enough to catch her tearful gaze. “You helped me. Now let me help you.”
A fist of pain and gutting grief raced up through her. She could barely breathe the words. “Oh God, I’m so ashamed, so ashamed, Dakota. Jason committed suicide once he left us and went back to Afghanistan.” There, it was out. Unwilling sobs rolled out of her. Blindly, Shelby sought refuge from it and took a step forward—into Dakota’s arms.
His gray socks dropped to the tile floor. A groan issued from deep within Dakota as she fearlessly came to him. Her knees began to buckle, and he swept her up hard against him, holding her as she sobbed. The sounds were wild, harsh, and her grief nearly overwhelmed him. Nestling his jaw against her hair, the strands tickling his cheek, he held and gently rocked her. Her brother had been in the army. His mind whirled with the implications and information. Worst of all, he’d killed himself. Without thinking, simply responding, Dakota caressed her mussed hair with his lips. He kissed her fragrant skin where the hairline met near her ear.
Because of how much pain she’d been carrying, she must have seen her brother, Jason, in him. Dakota reined in his sexual hunger for her. God knew, he was aching and he wanted her, but this wasn’t the right time or place. Instead, he focused on caring for Shelby the way she’d already cared for him. He moved his hand downward, rubbing her back as he tried to ease her pain. Shelby’s weeping grew deeper. Hold her. Just hold her, he told himself.
Dakota didn’t know how long they stood melded together in the kitchen. Slowly, Shelby’s sobs lessened and finally ceased. Her fingers were pressed against his chest and he felt her warmth, her woman’s strength even though the storm had passed. Lifting his chin, he leaned down, his lips brushing her ear. “Tears are never wasted, Shel....”
Shelby felt his moist breath, his tenderness. The strength of his arms gave her a sense of safety. As wounded as Dakota was, somehow he had the heart, the soul, to give back to her when she needed it the most. With the slow thud of his heart where her cheek rested against his chest, Shelby felt the backlog of pain dissolving.
Dakota continued to hold her. Right now she felt like a newborn, completely incapable of doing anything on her own. Shelby had never felt weak or unable to do anything she set her mind to. The grief and shame of Jason’s suicide had wrecked her in ways she was unprepared for. And Dakota was here, holding her safe, absorbing her pain, her loss. Somewhere in the haze of her sorrow, she could see just how mentally tough Dakota really was. He was a deeply wounded warrior, and yet, in her hour of need, he rose to help her.
Shelby slid her arm beneath his, her fingers moving against his narrow waist. “I—don’t know what happened. I didn’t mean—”
“Shh,” he rasped against her ear, content to feel her smooth, soft skin against his cheek. “No I’m-sorrys. Okay? You loved your brother. I know what it’s like to lose...”
She felt him hesitate and then clear his throat. His arms tightened around her for a moment.
“You’ve been sitting on a lot of grief for a long, long time,” Dakota told her. “I think my being here brought it all up. He was a Ranger and he did work similar to what the SEALs do. That’s a lot of stress on a man, Shelby. Constant, sometimes nonstop stress for a solid year. It’s hell on everyone.”
Barely opening her eyes, she hiccuped. “I—I should have known he was in trouble, Dakota. I should have...”
“Why? You aren’t trained to see pain a man wants to hide from you. Hell, I fooled a ton of shrinks for years so I could go back and be deployed with my platoon.” My family.
She felt and heard his dark chuckle. The vibration riffled through her, soothed her torn emotional state. “There was never a sign...never. My poor parents, they’re still devastated by it. We’re all hurting so much....”
“I know, Shel, it’s not easy to get over.” Hell, he still hadn’t gotten over the loss of his sister, Ellie, but now was not the time to bring that up. Dakota wanted to focus on Shelby’s needs. Her warm, soft body molded against his. Her breasts were full, and he swore he could feel the nipples through that orange T-shirt she wore. Her breathing was softening, becoming normal now. The hiccups disappeared. Lifting his hand, he moved his fingers against her flushed cheek, removing the last of her tears.
“Things like this have their own time and way with us. I’m sure your brother, Jason, was pretty burned out from constant danger, consta
nt threat of dying. He probably lost some of his best friends over there. It all accumulates over time, Shel. It takes a toll on us. Some guys know how to defuse the grief. Some don’t. Those are the ones who drown in it. Some turn to drugs. Some to drinking. And—” he lowered his tone “—some kill themselves because the pain is just too much for them to bear.”
He gently brushed his fingers against Shelby’s skin. How incredibly tender he was compared to his warrior self, moved through her thoughts. Her flesh tingled and Shelby found herself never wanting him to let go of her. “My dad was in the Marine Corps, a military policeman. Jason and I were military brats. Jason so badly wanted Dad to be proud of him.”
“The Rangers, like the SEALs, demand a certain kind of mental toughness that damn few men will ever have,” Dakota told her in a gruff tone, drying her cheek. Shelby’s eyes were closed, a few small beads of tears clinging to her blond lashes. Fragile. She was fragile. Desperately, Dakota searched for the right damn words. But what were they? Hell, he was no philosopher. Not a poet. He was a SEAL in his heart and soul. “Shel, you can’t blame yourself for what Jason did. You can’t control anyone but yourself.” Somehow Dakota wanted to ease her pain. But how?
Sighing heavily, Shelby nodded ever so slightly. She soaked up his male warmth, the strength he was feeding her. “I just don’t know how to get over it. Neither do my parents. Every time I see them, there’s this sorrow in their eyes. They’re hurting so much. I want to help them, but I don’t know how.”
“Time will heal all of you, Shel.” Dakota said the words but didn’t believe them himself. Ellie’s murder was like a hard lump of coal burning out his heart, slowly destroying his soul. His rage toward her rapists and killers was never far away from his memory. If he could get his hands on those two slimy sexual predators who had stolen her life, he’d kill them without remorse.
Slowly, Shelby eased away from Dakota. She didn’t want to, but she knew she must—or else. Fully aware of his arousal, she understood he was there to somehow, in his own way, help her. Heal her. Yes, Dakota’s touch was many things: healing, sexual, sensual and oh, how badly she ached to take him into her bed and lie with him. Looking up, she saw a golden glitter in the depths of his eyes, that of a man wanting his woman. The grief had subsided and seemed to have dissolved.
Surprised and relieved, Shelby knew she was an emotional mess right now. He released her from his embrace. He wanted her as much as she wanted him, but now was the wrong time.
Shelby leaned her hips against the kitchen counter, moving her fingers through her mussed hair, trying to tame the damp strands that had soaked up some of her tears. As she looked over at Dakota, she saw the dark blotches on his T-shirt where she’d cried so hard. Where she’d sobbed out her pain. Lifting her hand, her long fingers grazed the damp material. “I owe you another T-shirt.”
Dakota caught her hand, brought it up to his lips and brushed a kiss on the back of it. The scent of her as a woman intoxicated him, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled her as deeply as he could into his aching body. “You were there for me. Remember?” He managed a lopsided smile as he released her hand. “I still don’t know how the hell you got me off that floor and into your cruiser.”
Tucking her hands in front of her, Shelby whispered, “Because I couldn’t stand to see you die...and I knew you were dying.”
“I was another Jason?”
Compressing her lips, she hung her head. “Y-yes, I guess you were.”
“Only, I wasn’t committing suicide, Shel.”
Lifting her head, she managed a weak shrug. “No...no, you weren’t. But inside me...” She touched her heart with her fingers. “I didn’t want you to die. Jason took his life out in the bush. He had no one, Dakota. And neither did you.” Her heart stirred with anguish. “Jason talked to no one about how he felt. The guys in his platoon never knew why he’d taken his life. They were just as shocked by it as we were.”
“Your brother was a hero, Shel. I don’t care what anyone tells you or what you think you know.” He saw her eyes go dark with agony and he stepped up to her, slid his hand beneath her jaw and held her gaze. “Jason was a warrior. And you need to honor him for that, not how his life was taken. He’s a hero in my eyes. So many times out there, you see too much. And some guys can’t handle the amount of emotional hits they take over time, they can’t process it....”
“Jason never talked about the missions. They were top secret. I—I tried to draw him out, because I could see how much he was suffering.” Shelby closed her eyes, wanting his closeness. He gently moved his hand across her hair and allowed it to come to rest on her slumped shoulder. “I failed.”
“No,” Dakota rasped, his voice stronger. “You did not fail him. You felt he was in trouble, but you’re no mind reader, Shel. None of us are.”
She absorbed the warmth of his roughened hand on her shoulder. Did Dakota realize he was steadying her? “Then how did you realize I was hurting?”
His mouth pulled into a pained line. “At first, I didn’t. But then, as I showered, it all fell into place. I saw I’d somehow upset you in the bedroom.”
“I was just thinking about you in that bed...knowing you’d almost died, but we were able to get you to the hospital in time....” Shelby admitted.
He heard the weariness in her voice, the ache of loss. “And no one was able to reach Jason in time?”
Nodding, Shelby lifted her hand and rubbed her face. “Right.”
“And that’s when you started feeling the grief you’ve been sitting on. I watched you close down.”
“Yes, I was thinking about Jason. It wasn’t your fault,” she said, searching his hooded gaze. “Please, believe me. It wasn’t you, Dakota. I guess these past couple of days have torn off the scab I was keeping over all the emotions I was running from since Jason died.”
Moving his fingers in a gentle motion, he followed the line of her shoulder, slid his fingers up across her neck until he cupped her jaw. Moving forward until he could feel the female heat coming off her body, he leaned down. His mouth hovered inches from her own. “Sometimes,” he whispered, “when two people are in pain, the best thing they can do is help each other. Shel, I want to kiss you, but I won’t unless you tell me it’s all right.”
Her lashes moved upward and he drowned in the blue of her gaze. Her pupils were huge, black and shining with life once again. In that second, Dakota knew he’d helped Shelby, even if just a little bit. Their breaths quickened, mingled moisture flowing against each other’s faces.
His mouth hovered above hers. His body screamed for release, wanting her in every way possible. Her eyes held a touch of fearlessness, black against that gleaming background of turquoise.
He felt the rush of her breath against his mouth, saw her lashes shutter against her flushed cheeks. He heard her whisper the word, “Yes.” In moments, he curved his mouth against hers, and Dakota knew his life was about to change forever.
CHAPTER EIGHT
A SMALL MOAN ROSE IN Shelby as Dakota took her mouth, his arms wrapping around her, drawing her close, into himself. She moved her arms upward, sliding around his broad shoulders, which felt like granite beneath her fingertips. Oh God, this was exactly what she needed! In some distant part of her barely functioning brain, she could feel his mouth cherishing hers, his arms holding her as if she were fragile and might break at a moment’s notice. His breath was short, sharp as he slowly tasted her mouth for the first time. Reveling in the sense of safety and protection he automatically gave her, Shelby returned his deep, searching kiss. Nothing had ever felt so right. Nothing...
Her cell phone rang.
At first, it startled Shelby. She clung to his male mouth, tasting him, absorbing him as a man, as a warrior. Yet she felt him tense when the phone went off, too. Sadness mixed with the raging need buried deep in her belly. She wanted Dakota. All of him. In every way imaginable.
The phone continued to ring.
“Damn phone,” Shelby muttered against his
mouth. “I’ve got to get it, Dakota... I’m sorry.” She reluctantly pulled out of his arms.
Throbbing heat soared through Dakota as he released Shelby so she could walk quickly to the table where her cell was. His mouth tingled wildly. He could taste her on his lips. Her scent teased his nostrils. She was flushed, her eyes drowsy, filled with arousal—for him. Having felt so beaten down by the past year, Dakota felt strong and good once again. Shelby’s lips had been sweet, woman-strong, and she was meeting him without reserve. God, how he wanted her in his bed, beneath his hands, wanting to take her...
Grabbing the cell, Shelby opened it. This was the sheriff’s cell phone and she knew it would be about business. “Shelby.”
“Cade here.”
Closing her eyes for a moment, she turned and stared longingly toward Dakota. His face was hard, eyes intent upon her. He wanted her. She wanted him. Damn the phone call. “What’s going on?”
Dakota stood relaxed near the kitchen counter listening closely to Shelby’s breathy voice. The flush in her cheeks slowly left. His gaze locked on her mouth. He could feel her kissing him eagerly, with abandon, once again. Knowing he could have healed some of her raw pain and loss, he wondered if there would ever be another time. Seeing her brow wrinkle, her voice suddenly go low, he sensed something very bad had just occurred.
Leaning down, he picked up the socks, ambled over to the table, pulled out a chair and sat down. He tugged them on each of his feet, and listened to the conversation. Their moment together was gone. He grieved over the loss. Shelby straightened, her body going tense, her voice strained. What the hell was happening? Did Cade Garner call her at home like this often? She was supposed to be on her off day. Disgruntled, Dakota felt his state of arousal ebb away. Whatever the conversation, it was deeply affecting Shelby. The soft, drowsy look he’d seen as he kissed her was replaced with sudden intensity coupled with anxiety. And if he read her right, it was fear.
The Loner Page 7
