A heavy weight settled on the center of his chest. Bacon kneaded her paws against him, purring even as she rubbed her furry face beneath his chin. His skin itched, but he didn’t make a move to shift her off.
For once, he appreciated her company.
It was going to be a long night.
If he didn’t need to stay sharp in order to protect Quinn, he might have caved and pulled out the bottle of scotch sitting in his liquor cabinet. But since that wasn’t an option, he’d put the time to good use coming up with a solution to Quinn’s problem.
The soldier in him wanted to call in a tactical team, devise a plan of action and move in to take the man out. With his bare hands, if necessary.
The rest of him realized that wasn’t viable, though it frustrated him that his hands were tied.
So all he was really left with was keeping her safe. Even if that meant protecting her from herself. Although, perhaps Quinn was finally willing to admit she was in real danger. It was obvious that having Warren barge into her home had upset her and left her more than a little shaken.
Good, she needed to take the threat seriously.
He had another week of leave already scheduled. If push came to shove he could ask for more. But she couldn’t live under the constant strain. He knew Quinn well enough to realize she wouldn’t live under the constant strain.
The woman was fierce and determined. She didn’t let anything faze her, something he admired quite a lot. She insisted on standing on her own two feet, to the point of frustration when someone wanted to help. She bent over backward to take care of those in need, blatantly disregarding the cost to her own safety and sanity.
She was admirable, although that didn’t stop him from fighting the desire to take her away from it all so she never had to see or experience anything difficult again.
Quinn Keller deserved the easy life. But she didn’t really want it.
His need for her went far beyond the physical, although there was no denying he wanted her. And the longer they were together, the harder it was to suppress the basic, animalistic urge to claim her as his own.
Kissing her hadn’t helped. That one taste...never enough. And earlier. The way her skin had flushed with pique and her eyes had spit venom at him...she’d been amazing and all he’d wanted to do was give her a more pleasurable outlet for the churning emotions tormenting her.
He’d realized immediately that she wasn’t really angry with him—well, she was, but that wasn’t where her temper had come from. He’d seen enough responses to stressful situations to realize it was a delayed reaction.
He’d thought briefly about offering his body for her to use instead—if only as a punching bag—but had decided that was just taking things too close to the line he couldn’t cross.
Even now, hours later, his body was still responding to her, alive and pulsing with the urge to stand up, walk down that hallway and claim what he’d wanted for so long.
Jace clenched every muscle, drawing tight before forcing the tension back out again. And he stayed right where he was, feet hanging off the end of a couch that, while large, was never designed to accommodate a guy his size.
He must have finally dozed, because one moment he was forcing his mind away from Quinn, warm and languid in his bed, and the next he was bolting upright. Off balance, he crashed to the floor with a clatter loud enough to wake the downstairs neighbors.
He was disoriented, but the gun he’d placed on the coffee table was in his hand before his brain had a chance to catch up and assess.
A whimper slipped down the hallway, making his heart clench. It was a wounded animal sound, choked tears and a strangled cry.
Could Warren have found them?
No damn way.
They were on the fourth floor and the only way into the apartment was past him. Even if he had been asleep, he would have woken up if someone had broken in.
Dashing down the hallway, Jace had a brief flashback to yesterday morning and his headlong charge out of the house in nothing but a towel. At least tonight he was wearing boxers. But maybe he should check things out before assuming the worst.
The door to his room was open a few inches. Leading with the barrel of his gun, he eased it open the rest of the way.
The sight that greeted him had panic surging through him, but not because Quinn was in any real danger.
Through the darkness, he watched her body thrash beneath the covers. Her limbs were tangled in the quilt, her right leg and left arm out while the rest of her wrestled as though she was being smothered.
She moved, flashing him the inside of her thigh, her skin gleaming in the faint light from the hallway, and he realized she was sleeping in nothing but a loose T-shirt and panties.
Need shot through him, held back for too long to be easily contained, mixing with the adrenaline pumping into his blood. Jace stumbled, grabbing the edge of the dresser to keep himself upright.
Her eyes were shut tight, her face screwed into a mask of terror and grief. For the first time he noticed the glitter of tears tracking down her cheeks.
She made another sound, her entire body bowing up off the bed as if the tortured howl had been torn straight from her soul.
He tossed his gun to the dresser, and it made a loud clatter as he leaped across the room. Jace freed her from the covers, tearing them off her and throwing them to the end of the bed. Collapsing beside her, he gathered her into his arms and tucked her body close.
She shuddered.
“Shh, you’re safe. I’ve got you,” he whispered directly into her ear. One hand rubbed rhythmically up and down her back as the other smoothed damp strands of hair away from her face.
She sucked a heavy breath in through open lips, held it for several seconds and then let it go in a long, steady stream that seemed to drain the tension away.
Her eyelids fluttered, as if her body was reluctant to throw off the last dregs of whatever nightmare had pulled her under. After a few moments, though, she won, her eyes finding his.
“Jace?” she asked, her voice shaky and raw.
“Yeah.”
“What are you doing here?”
“You were having a nightmare.”
She dragged in another unsteady breath. “Oh.”
He expected her to pull away, consciousness stealing the comfort he wanted desperately to give. Instead, she seemed to melt into him. Warmth spread through him, accompanied by an edge of fire that he ignored. Or tried to.
Reaching up, she rubbed her hands across her face. Her words were muffled, but he heard them clearly enough. “I haven’t had that nightmare in a long time.”
That nightmare. Not a nightmare, but one that she’d dealt with before.
“Tell me about it.”
His body was already stiff from trying to sleep on a torture device parading as a sofa, but it didn’t matter. He leaned against the headboard, not caring that it was hard on his back.
Shifting Quinn, he lifted her legs so she was draped across his lap. Her hands settled over his shoulders and her face found the crook of his neck. He could feel the soft brush of her breath against his skin.
The tiny hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.
“It’s the crash that killed my parents.”
He knew they’d been killed and that she’d been in the car, as well, but he’d never gotten any real details. Asking had seemed like the wrong thing to do, requesting information he didn’t have the right to possess.
Now...now she needed to talk through the nightmare.
“I remember everything about that night. We’d been out all day, at one of those Renaissance festivals a few towns over. I’d had a great time, but too much fair food had made my stomach hurt. I was laid out on the backseat trying not to get sick everywhere. Halfway home, out of nowhere, i
t started to rain. Hard. In minutes I couldn’t see anything outside the window, but I was too young to realize that meant my dad—and any other drivers on the road—couldn’t see, either.”
Her eyes, normally so bright with life, had taken on a far-off expression that had his stomach churning. Sadness weighed on her, as heavy as the blanket piled into a heap at their feet. He wanted to wash it away for her.
“I guess he didn’t see the car coming until it was too late.” She shrugged. “God, I hope that’s true. Even a few moments of knowing would be too much. Witnesses said the car that hit us hydroplaned, spinning out of control and slamming into us.”
Another shudder wracked her body. Jace felt helpless. Useless. He opened his mouth to tell her to stop, that if reliving the night hurt her that much she should just stop. But she didn’t give him a chance to actually voice the words.
“Without my seatbelt, I was thrown to the floor. They tell me that’s what saved my life. The front of the car crumpled in. Somehow, the other car went airborne, crashing across the roof of ours before tumbling off again to rest behind us. I just remember the god-awful sound. Screeching metal. My mother screaming by name and then...silence. Rain pinging off the windows. My legs wet.
“Somehow I crawled out. I was standing on the side of the road, just staring at the wreckage when the rescue teams arrived. I had a few cuts and bruises, a concussion. My parents were so battered we couldn’t have open caskets. And the other driver...”
She swallowed, her eyes screwing shut for several moments.
“The horn on that damn SUV wouldn’t shut up. It just kept going, but it didn’t sound right. Broken, but refusing to stop.”
Just like Quinn.
She’d been battered over and over again. Losing her parents. Losing Michael. Her job kept her knee-deep in the worst humanity had to offer. But she just kept going.
Jace envied her. In that moment, he realized just how mired down he was. How stuck in the past and driven by what he couldn’t prevent.
“I was so angry for so long.” She laughed, the sound tinged with a hint of bitterness. “My poor grandmother came pretty close to disowning me. I lashed out. Refused to listen to anyone. Got into trouble. Until I was forced into a counseling program at my school. It was either that or get expelled.”
“What the heck did you do?”
Her large, lush mouth curved up at the edges. “What didn’t I do? Short of calling in a bomb threat, you name it, I did it. I was too young to realize my actions were a cry for help, my anger and pain twisting me up inside with no outlet. But I worked hard over the years to control my temper, to try to channel it into something productive. Although I don’t always succeed. And so far, over the past couple of days, I’m pretty much batting zero.”
He couldn’t keep his fingers from smoothing down the slope of her shoulder. Across her soft skin. Offering the only form of comfort he could. Because nothing could change what had happened to her parents.
“Michael never told me,” he finally whispered.
“Why would he? I never told him.”
Jace’s arms tightened around her. “Why not?”
She snorted, the sound so perfectly wrong. “Really? We both know Michael was perfect. I honestly don’t think the man ever suffered from self-doubt.”
“He would have understood.”
“He would have tried. But it’s the difference between sympathy and empathy. I’m not ashamed of my mistakes. They made me the person I am and most days I’m pretty happy with me. But...” She shook her head.
A single question burned through him. He tried to keep it quiet, convincing himself the answer wasn’t important. But something deep inside wouldn’t let him. Words tumbled from his mouth, “Why did you tell me?”
Shifting in his lap, she brought them face-to-face. He could feel the delicate tickle of her breath across his lips. They responded, opening instinctively in preparation to accept whatever she wanted to give him.
Her warm palms rested against the line of his jaw, holding him in place.
“Because you understand. You’ve suffered. Not just losing your brother, but watching friends and fellow soldiers give their lives.” Her fingers slipped across the ink tattooed on his right arm, tracing the dark lines and burst of flames.
He’d gotten it to memorialize a buddy he’d lost in battle. The picture was as close as he could get to the memory of dragging that broken body away from danger as the world continued to explode around them.
He’d never told Quinn anything about it, but apparently he didn’t have to for her to know.
“You’ve seen devastation and poverty and repression. You’ve felt the twist of those things deep inside and fought them. You understand.”
He couldn’t breathe. His chest burned. But he couldn’t tear his gaze away from hers. From the connection creeping out to bridge the distance he’d purposely tried to put between them.
All he could give her was a nod, a single jerky movement. But that seemed to satisfy her.
She’d given him something special. Something she hadn’t shared with Michael.
What kind of asshole was he that it mattered...a lot?
7
IT HAD BEEN a long time since she’d had to relive the night her parents died. At first, the nightmares had plagued her constantly. The more time that passed—and the more she dealt with the guilt, anger and fear that followed—the less she dreamed. It had been years.
And she had no idea why the full extent of what she’d gone through had spilled out of her mouth to Jace. No, that wasn’t entirely right.
What she’d told him was the truth. Michael would have been sympathetic, but he wouldn’t have been able to truly grasp what she’d been through and how terribly scary that emotional tailspin had been. How scary it could still be when she didn’t quite succeed in clamping down on her responses.
Jace did. He’d lived through his own tailspin. And she knew he was still trying to pull out of it, no matter what he said.
She wanted to help him. Needed to help him. And not simply because it was what she’d been trained for.
She didn’t want to see him isolated, closing himself off from everything and everyone.
She could help him. But only if he let her. And so far, every attempt she’d made had been rebuffed....
Jace shifted. He moved her off his lap, putting space she didn’t want between them.
The ghost of her nightmare reared up, covering her skin in a clammy film.
He was going to leave her. She didn’t want to be alone. Not tonight.
“Wait.” A hand on his arm, she stilled him before he could push up and off the bed.
A single eyebrow quirked, he gazed down at her.
“Stay.”
His eyes went wide, disbelief and something akin to torment flashed across his face before he hid it.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Quinn.”
“I don’t want to be alone, Jace. I promise I’ll behave.” She flashed him a smile that hopefully looked innocent. “Trust me, I’m not likely to kiss you again.”
Not after the way he’d run from her like she was the devil incarnate. She had a one-humiliating-moment-a-week limit, and it had already been hit.
Dropping the teasing lilt, she let her true vulnerability shine through. “Please. With everything that’s been going on...I’m afraid if I’m alone the nightmare will come back.”
“And you think me being here will keep it away?”
She lifted her shoulders. “Maybe.” She really had no idea, but it sounded like a good enough excuse.
With a sigh that seemed to drag from the very depths of his body, Jace twisted back to the center of the bed. He slithered down the headboard and reached to the floor to gather up the pillows her flailing had k
nocked to the ground.
Placing one behind her, he waited until she settled back down before taking a pillow for himself and covering them both with the quilt.
There was a gulf of space between them, but that didn’t stop his heat from filling the emptiness around her. He wasn’t touching her, but she could still feel him. Hear his even breathing and pull the heavy weight of his scent deep into her lungs.
The last dregs of tension that had invaded her body slowly seeped away. Exhaustion claimed her, along with a clear, restful sleep that—considering everything going on—she hadn’t expected and was a true gift.
* * *
JACE WAS NORMALLY a light sleeper. Years of grabbing snatches here and there in the middle of chaos and danger had taught him the art of resting with one eye open. So it was a shock to awaken and realize he’d been dead to the world.
And that he wasn’t alone.
The tentative fingers of dawn crept across the room, invading the darkness that had wrapped around them last night. He couldn’t help but watch the gray, gold and pink as it suffused Quinn’s skin.
She was still asleep, which made staring at her okay. He was the only one who would ever know.
God, having her here, in his bed, was a fantasy turned reality turned torture, but he allowed himself the luxury of wallowing in it, if just for a few minutes.
His body hummed with the constant, low vibration that assaulted him whenever Quinn was close. He was so used to it, it was normally easy to ignore.
She was gorgeous, her skin flushed with sleep. Her face was relaxed and those lush, tempting lips open just enough to give him a hint of what he couldn’t have. The memory of kissing her hit him full force. Hell, he could even taste her.
His body reacted, going from revved to ready in the space of a single heartbeat. His cock throbbed relentlessly, a painful reminder of just how close he was skating to the edge of reason.
Time to get up.
Jace shifted, rolling onto his hip, but he didn’t get far. From behind him, Quinn’s leg dropped across his thighs. Her foot wiggled between his knees, tangling them together.
Testing the Limits Page 8
