by T. J. Kline
His eyes were hot when they met hers. She saw the doubt in them but she also saw desire, and he didn’t try to hide it. “What is?”
“It’s just a kiss.” She was ignoring the fact that her heart was still racing, pounding against her ribs as her pulse burned through her veins.
He laughed but there was nothing pleasant about it. The sound was hollow and sad. “Is it? Is it just a kiss?” He tipped her chin up so she was forced to meet his gaze. She felt scorched by the heat she saw there. She’d wanted him to open up, to allow her a glimpse of his vulnerability. Now that he did, it frightened her. “Because that wasn’t just some kiss.”
“I know.” She hadn’t meant to whisper the words, but they fell from her lips without her bidding. “But . . . ”
Dylan didn’t let her finish what she’d been about to say. His lips sought hers again, asking more of her without demanding, seeking what she wanted to give him freely.
Dylan leaned toward her, his hand at the base of her neck, his lips finding the hollow behind her ear, and she arched against him. He groaned deep in his chest, and she trembled in response, her body on fire from the simple touch. She’d never felt this way with any man before, but Dylan wasn’t like any man she’d ever known. Her fingers trailed over the side of his neck, and she felt his scar under her fingertips.
Dylan froze, every muscle in his torso tensed, as if ready to bolt. She could read his expression as if she were hearing the thoughts running through his head. “Dylan, don’t.”
He clenched his jaw under her hand. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t shut me out.” She heard the pleading note in her voice. “Please?”
“Julia,” he whispered, his voice strained almost to the point of being hoarse. “I’m broken.”
She wasn’t sure how deep his scars went beyond those he’d covered with the tattoos, or what other injuries he’d sustained, but it didn’t matter to her. She was beyond the point of thinking with her head. It might be another mistake, but Dylan made her want to trust herself again.
Julia let her fingertips trace the tattoo on his neck and to his collarbone where it disappeared beneath his shirt. “This doesn’t define you unless you let it.” She laid her open palm against his chest, over his heart. “This defines who you are, and this”—she ran her fingers over his head—“decides who you’ll become. We’re all broken, Dylan. Don’t let one bad experience outweigh the good ones.”
Before he could push her away, she leaned toward him. But instead of kissing him, she let her lips fall on the scarred flesh. She knew she didn’t see him the way he saw himself. His vision was skewed, the way hers had been after the attack that landed her in the hospital with 141 stitches and three broken bones. Dylan had covered the scars he could see, but he had never tended to the ones inside.
Dylan bent his head forward, his hand tipping her chin up so she looked into his eyes. “I’m not sure what miracle brought me here, but right now I’m not going to refuse the gift.”
He pressed a soft kiss to her lips, and she tucked her head into the curve of his neck, content to feel his breath warming her cheek, to feel his strong heartbeat under her hand. The muscles of his chest twitched, and he wound his arms around her, drawing her closer. Tingles of pleasure spiraled through her chest and centered in her belly, pooling in places that left her wanting more. Julia’s hand slid to his stomach and rested over the hard muscles beneath. She felt him sigh.
“Woman, are you trying to test my self-control?” The husky rasp of his voice was dangerous, but she could feel him smile against the top of her head.
She couldn’t help but feel intoxicated by the admission because she was barely holding back from throwing herself at him. It went against everything she believed, or at least what she’d thought she held true. She might not subscribe to fairy tales, but she couldn’t explain the connection between them or understand the way the air seemed to sizzle when he was in the room. It was the best way she could describe his presence—electrifying—and she found herself wanting to be shocked.
“I can’t imagine you ever losing control, Dylan,” she whispered against his skin and felt the goosebumps break out over his forearm.
He groaned quietly. “There’s a first time for everything.” He ran his hand down her arm, and she shivered against him. “I have a feeling this is something neither of us expected, so we should probably take it slow.”
She tipped her head back to look up at him. “Well, that’s not something you hear every day.”
He pinched her chin between his thumb and finger, his eyes growing somber. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t, Dylan,” she assured him. It wasn’t in him. He might not see it, but he was a good man, ready to shoulder responsibilities, even those that weren’t his to own. He was too filled with self-deprecation to see his true worth, and words, no matter how honest, wouldn’t change his view. But maybe, she could help him see who he really was again.
JULIA WOKE ON the couch with a throw blanket wrapped around her. She stretched her stiff muscles to work out the kinks from sleeping in an odd position, and tried to remember why she was on the sofa. She saw Tango lying between the living room and the kitchen, listening to the sound of pots and pans clanging in the kitchen, his head cocked to the side. Memories of last night flooded back—the touch of Dylan’s hands on her skin, the yearning that flooded her veins, the way she fell into a deep sleep against his chest, safe and content with his arms wrapped around her and his heart beating in her ear.
She rose and made her way to the kitchen, seeing him searching the pantry. “Looking for something?”
He stood and her mouth went dry as she stared at his broad, bare chest. She tried to swallow, but it caught in her throat. The man was an Adonis. Hell, he’d make Adonis wish he was Dylan. Muscles rippled as the light filtering in through the windows highlighted every taut crevice and hollow of his body. Her eyes fell to the tattoo that she could now see swirled over one pectoral and the ribs below. He stalked toward her like a panther that’d spotted its prey, but a grin curved his lips.
“Good morning, sleepyhead.” His hand found her chin, and he tipped her face up to drop a quick kiss on her nose.
It was not where she wanted him to kiss her, but she couldn’t find her voice to say so. She was barely able to breathe.
“I’m trying to fix pancakes, but I ended up with batter on my T-shirt and now I can’t find the syrup.” He turned to move back to the pantry.
Julia reached out her hand, grasping his, and pulled him back toward her. She hit the wall of his chest and wound her hands around his neck. Standing on tiptoe, not giving him a chance to escape, she pressed her lips against his. His skin was hot against her, burning through her T-shirt and scorching her. When he slid his tongue against hers, she wanted to melt into a pool of molten desire at his feet.
She wasn’t supposed to feel this way, had thought she would remain the single “dog lady” forever, and then he’d waltzed in and sent her entire world into a chaotic tailspin. It excited her; it scared her. But, even if she’d wanted to run, his hands buried into her hair, cupping the back of her head, wouldn’t let her. She ran her hands over his shoulders and down his chest to rest at his waist, needing to touch him, to feel his skin under her fingers. His hands slid down her spine to her lower back, slipping under her T-shirt to send electric pleasure over every nerve ending.
Dylan pulled her body closer even as his lips released hers and he fought to catch his breath. She laid her head against his chest, pressing soft kisses to his skin. “So much for taking it slow,” he murmured against her hair. “You’re dangerous.”
She smiled against him. He had no idea the fantasies that were wreaking havoc in her mind. How she wanted to tear her shirt off, to find out what sort of fun they could have with the syrup—things she had never imagined before, she wanted to try with Dylan. That made him far more dangerous to her well-being. She wanted to lose herself in him, and she’d made that m
istake with only one other man.
But Evan had never made her feel the way Dylan did. With him, there had been danger—but because he exuded unpredictability. She’d once thought his spontaneity charming, until he turned on her. And Misty.
Dylan must have felt the shift in her thoughts, and he ran a hand over her back. “You okay?”
“I’m sorry.” She tried to extract herself from his embrace, but he wouldn’t let her. “I don’t know what came over me.”
Dylan looked at her, his eyes dark with longing but tinged with worry. “Don’t be sorry. I’m not.”
“I’m not usually like this.”
“I know, Julia.”
“I mean, I don’t usually throw myself . . . ” She didn’t finish her sentence. She didn’t want to voice the words he must be thinking.
“I know you don’t,” he interrupted.
She managed to move away from him and retrieved the syrup from the pantry. “How would you know? I could be the world’s biggest slut. We only just met a few days ago.”
“Sure.” Dylan let his brows shift skyward. “And I could be a criminal mastermind. Or a superhero. Or—”
“A psycho who’s going to turn on me when it’s time to leave,” she blurted.
“What?”
She could see she’d shocked him, and now that she’d opened Pandora’s box, she was going to have to tell him the entire story. She didn’t want to talk about it. What in the world had ever possessed her to say anything?
Fear.
The one word rang through her mind. She was so afraid of falling in love and being wrong again that she would rather sabotage any chance of a relationship before it happened. She was so afraid that pain would follow, she would rather avoid it at all costs.
Dylan wasn’t Evan. Rationally, she knew that. But her fear wouldn’t retract its claws. As he took a step toward her, she backed up.
“Julia, come here.” He reached for her hand, and this time she let him take it, feeling that now-familiar heat settle in her stomach. Dylan pulled out a chair and took the one across from her. Tango came to her side and laid his head into her lap.
“I’m not going to ask you what happened, but I’ll listen if you ever want to talk about it.” He shook his head and looked down at their hands, running his thumb over the back of hers. “I told you last night, I don’t want to hurt you. I will do anything to avoid that.” He looked up, his dark eyes showing the agony she could hear in his voice. “Even if that means leaving now.” Julia felt her heart stop and plummet.
“I don’t know what this is or where it’s going, but I know this isn’t . . . ” He paused, searching for the best way to convey what he felt. “Julia, I’ve never felt like this, not this quickly. It’s like there is something that bonds us. But, I don’t know how much I have to offer you.”
His vulnerability surprised her. She hadn’t expected him to open up, to be as honest as he was. She understood his confusion. She felt as if she’d known him for years instead of days. The thought of him leaving now, without exploring whatever this was between them, made her ache, and that ache was more painful than the fear. She laid her hand against his cheek, the morning beard growth scraping her palm as the scent of him, all male and musky, filled her nostrils. She leaned forward and kissed him gently, barely brushing her lips over his. Tango protested his head being stuck between them and pulled backward.
She smiled. “We should do something fun today for your training.”
He smiled against her lips. “From the looks of your refrigerator and pantry, you need to do some grocery shopping.”
She frowned. “I hate shopping,” she complained.
“That settles it, shopping it is.”
He wasn’t wrong, and she needed to get it done. Maybe they could take Roscoe and work on his training at the store. It was something he and Dylan would need to learn to do together. She wasn’t sure either of them was quite ready for it but didn’t know how well that warning would go over. “Dylan, are you sure you’re ready to take Roscoe out?”
“Julia, for the first time in a very long time, I feel normal. Better than normal.” He rose from the chair and warmed up several pancakes in the microwave. “And it’s all thanks to you and Roscoe.”
She felt warmth flood her cheeks as she blushed. “But you might be taking on too much too fast.”
He winked at her. “I’ll have Roscoe by my side, and so far, he’s been incredible at helping control my episodes. And you’ll be with us. I don’t think it can get any better than that.”
“ARE YOU SURE you want to do this?” Julia cast a sideways glance at him from the other side of the truck. “You realize this is going to be new to him, right? Working with you in this environment?”
“It will be fine. We’re going to get groceries. If it gets to be too much for either of us, we’ll just come back and wait in the truck.”
He didn’t want her to see how nervous he was about being in a crowded store. Unfortunately, he wasn’t hiding it from her well enough. Just because he and Roscoe were doing fine at Julia’s, where there weren’t distractions, didn’t mean things would go well here. He knew she was worried about something triggering an episode, but he hadn’t had one since he’d arrived. In fact, he hadn’t felt this good, this productive, since before he’d been shot. Even in Afghanistan, he’d always been on high alert, waiting for an attack at any moment. Here, he’d been able to shut off the hypervigilance enough to get a full night’s sleep for a second night in a row. He’d even forgotten to take his sleeping pills last night.
“I’ll make you a deal,” he offered, wanting to see the worry disappear from her eyes. “If all goes well here, I’ll take you out to dinner tomorrow.”
She pulled into the parking lot of the local Sak ’N Save and turned off her truck. Roscoe sat up between them, and she gave Dylan a half smile. “Are you asking me out on a real date?”
He opened the door and clipped Roscoe’s leash on his collar. “You better believe it.”
Dylan didn’t miss the way her cheeks flushed with color. It was worth it to ignore the twist of guilt in his gut. He shouldn’t be flirting with her, shouldn’t even be attempting to pursue this. He wasn’t being honest with her, not completely. And until he was, it wasn’t right. But if that were the case, why didn’t it feel more wrong?
She tucked her keys into her pocket and slid her purse over her arm. “You ready?”
Dylan clicked the last snap on Roscoe’s vest proclaiming him as a service dog in training. “You sure the store manager won’t have a problem with this?”
“I’ve known Rick for years and bring all of my dogs in here for training. He won’t mind at all. You just need to decide what you want to eat for the next week.”
Together, the three of them walked into the grocery store, and Julia grabbed a cart from the rack. Roscoe didn’t even flinch at the metallic clang, instead staring up at Dylan, taking his direction.
“Be sure to talk to him,” she reminded Dylan.
They made their way to the produce, and Dylan watched as she moved through each aisle. It was the first time he’d been in a store to do more than walk in and right back out. He could feel the tension in his shoulders, tightening his spine, but he fought it, wanting to prove to Julia, and himself, that he could be normal again. He and Roscoe followed a few steps behind her as she plucked celery from the shelf and dropped it into the cart. She eyed him and he could see the worry creasing the space between her eyes. He forced a lopsided grin to his lips, but it felt more like a grimace of pain.
“Are you sticking with the rabbit-food theme this week? Or just trying to starve me?”
She gave him a quiet laugh, but he could tell she was reading far more of his tenuous emotional state than he wanted her to see. “We’ll get to the rest of it in good time.”
After selecting bell peppers, two onions, and several prepackaged bags of salad, she moved to the dairy aisle, grabbing eggs, butter, and cheese. “Omelets for breakfas
t tomorrow?”
He nodded, barely listening as he scanned the aisles, noting two people at the end and one mother with her child turning into the space behind them. Roscoe whimpered and looked up at him with his golden brown eyes. Dylan looked to Julia for instruction, but she stared at him, not the dog.
“Is Roscoe okay?”
“Are you?” she countered and he realized Roscoe was simply conveying his own reaction to the situation. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
I am in a grocery store. There is no threat here.
He’d been using the tactic whenever he left the house, trying to convince his body to accept what his brain was telling him. “I’m good,” he assured her, knowing he was lying but unwilling to admit it.
They turned down the next aisle, and he instantly realized it was a mistake. Two women, both with young children in the carts, stood at the end of the aisle, trying to select cereal for their kids. Both sides of the aisle were stacked several shelves high with boxes. Boxes he couldn’t see past. One of the kids began to wail, refusing his mother’s choice of cereal. It turned into a keening cry and a high-pitched scream. Dylan froze.
In an instant, he was transported back in time. He could feel the heat of the desert wind on his skin as the sand blasted his face. He no longer saw cereal but caves cut out of the mountains as he hid within them. The cries of the child were no longer those of a two-year-old having a temper tantrum but those of the women and children they’d been sent in to evacuate when insurgents attacked an unprotected village. He could hear the bullets as they whizzed by his head and off the rocks. The dull thud as they ricocheted and met flesh.
His hand felt wet, as it had when blood had trickled into it from a bullet that grazed his elbow. A sharp pain sliced down his thigh, and he reached for his leg, wondering if he’d been shot. And then he felt the scratch again. Looking down, he saw Roscoe. But that didn’t make sense, because he didn’t have Roscoe in the desert.
His brain, unable to rectify the presence of the dog in his flashback, snapped back to reality. He stood in the middle of the cereal aisle, bent over, grasping his thigh as Roscoe nosed his face, flipping Dylan in the chin, adamantly licking at him. His hands were shaking and his breathing was ragged. Every muscle in his body was weak, and he wanted to slide to the floor. His flashbacks always left him feeling as if he’d just finished a marathon. The doctor explained that his body released exorbitant amounts of adrenaline during them, in response to the threat it perceived. All he knew was the two women were hurrying out of the aisle.
