by T. J. Kline
Tango sighed again but climbed off the bed, ready to follow her into the living room. Julia opened the door and stopped short as a massive, dark chest blocked her path. She yelped and her gaze locked on pectorals that would make a fitness model jealous and caused her mouth to water. She could see the dark shadows playing over the ridges of his abs and wanted to let her fingers follow her gaze. Instead, she lifted her chin, slowly, enjoying every second, every inch, as she looked him over.
“Julia, did I wake you?”
It was as if her mind had conjured his presence. The sleepy rasp of his voice did her in. She couldn’t stop herself if she had wanted to, which she had absolutely no inclination to do. Her hands slid over his shoulders, and she wound her fingers over the back of his head, dragging him down to her. She molded her lips against his. It wasn’t the sweet, seductive caresses they had shared up to this point. This kiss was filled with need, hunger, and a desire restrained too long. Dylan’s arms circled her waist, lifting her from the floor and carrying her back into her room.
Julia pushed the door shut with her foot just as Roscoe scooted into the room. She let Dylan move her backward toward the bed. It was exactly what she intended, and she was grateful he could read her mind without needing to speak a word. He set her on the bed and reached for her, his massive hands cupped her cheeks gently, and he took a step away from her. She gasped for breath as he withdrew, her fingers clinging to his muscular forearms.
“Dylan?”
He shook his head and avoided looking at her. “This wasn’t what I intended, Julia. I was just checking on you.”
She gave him a wicked smile. “You might want to keep checking then.”
He groaned under his breath and slid his hands to her upper arms, putting her a few inches farther from him. “You’re killing me.” He stared at the floor.
“Dylan, look at me.”
All jokes were forgotten when he glanced up at her through his thick, dark lashes. His gaze wasn’t his usual tender caress, rich and warm. It was hot, hungry, and erotically aroused. A jolt of desire shot to her core, heating her with electric need. She wanted this man, and she wanted him to want her.
Not love. She knew she wasn’t ready for that any more than he was. They were both too broken for love. But the need—to touch, to taste, to be filled with something besides the lonely emptiness. She needed to know someone understood.
“I need to go.” Dylan let go of her arms and turned to leave the room.
“Dylan.” She grasped his wrist. She had no idea what she’d been about to say, but it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that the sudden loneliness she saw in his eyes faded. When he turned back to her, it was replaced by yearning. “Don’t go,” she whispered.
“If I don’t—” She could hear the agonized restraint in his voice.
“I know.” She moved between him and the door. Her hand slid over his chest to his neck. “I want you to stay.”
“I can’t stay.” She could hear the tortured anguish and felt rejection rip into her.
DEAR GOD, DID she realize what she was doing to him? Every inch of his body seemed engulfed in flames. He clenched his fists at his sides, even as she held his wrist lightly in her fingers. It was taking every bit of self-restraint he had not to throw her onto the bed and ravish her. He’d been fantasizing about this moment since they’d driven up to see her waiting on the porch. But that had been purely physical.
Since then, Julia had reached into his chest and taken hold of his heart. He wanted to protect her, to make her smile, to be the one to show her how a real man loved and not just physically. But, if he let himself open up to her, she was bound to be hurt. He couldn’t hold himself together. His episodes would return, and he was bound to fail her the way he had his brothers in Afghanistan. He’d promised her that he wouldn’t hurt her, and he meant to keep that promise.
“I can’t stay,” he repeated, this time with more resolve behind the words. He wanted to kiss her again but knew if he did, he was lost. “I made you a promise, and the only way for me to keep it is to leave. Now.” He headed for the door. He had to get out as quickly as he could.
He wasn’t sure what had even possessed him to go to her door. He’d been lying in bed, unable to sleep because the thoughts of her down the hall had kept him tossing and turning. When he convinced himself he’d heard a noise, he used it as an excuse to walk by her room, listening for any sound to indicate she was awake inside. He’d been about to return to his room when she’d opened the door and run into him.
“You are hurting me, Dylan. Can’t you see that?” He froze midstep, unable to face her. He heard the catch in her voice and knew if he saw the emotion in her face, he’d be finished. He couldn’t tell her no again. He needed her too much. “Every time you pull me close then push me away again hurts. I can’t keep doing this. I’m broken enough; I don’t need you to crush the shards that are left.”
The torment he heard pricked his conscience. He wanted to be the honorable man he used to be, he wanted to be the impenetrable man he’d once been, but her words sliced into him, cutting him to the core. She was like a drug: from that first kiss, he was addicted. He couldn’t get enough of her, and there was no way to work her out of his system.
Dylan turned, burying his hand into her hair, and his lips found hers. “You’re not broken. You’re perfect and beautiful and flawless.” He thrust his tongue into her mouth, tasting, dancing, teasing, and torturing. She mewled in her throat, clutching at his shoulders, her fingers kneading into the sinewy muscles of his arms.
She tore her mouth from his and reached for the hem of her shirt, but his hands beat her to it, pulling it over her head, her hair falling back over his face like silk as his lips found the curve of her neck. Whether right or wrong, there was no way he could stop himself now, not even if he wanted to. Not from kissing her, not from running his hands over the bared skin of her back, and not from marveling at the way making love to her would feel like summer, and sunshine, and all things good he’d long forgotten. This is what heaven would be like.
Her breasts were crushed against his chest, and her pulse raced against his lips at her throat when his thumb came around to caress the soft curve of one. She sighed at his touch and dropped her head backward, giving him access to every glorious inch of skin.
Walking her toward the bed, Dylan stopped just short of it. “Off,” he commanded Tango. The dog simply stared at him, as if daring him to repeat the command. Dylan looked down at Julia and gave her a lopsided grin. “I have to draw the line at making love to you while the dog watches. At least Roscoe stays on the floor.” He saw Roscoe lift his head at hearing his name before settling again. “A little help?”
“You need to let him know you’re in charge. Do it again, but this time make him see you mean business.”
How was he supposed to focus on training the dog when his hands were full with her luscious curves, which had tempted him for what felt like forever? “Get off the bed,” he ordered, his voice conveying every bit of the frustration he felt.
Tango slid off the bed, and Julia smirked at Dylan as he flipped the blanket over the end of the bed. “See? I told you.” She took a step closer to him, closing the distance between them again, and slid her hands around his waist, peering up at him through her lashes innocently. “Where were we?”
Dylan slid his hands up her ribs, barely skimming the curve of her breasts. “I was just admiring.”
His fingertips moved over her collarbone, and he could feel the electric jolt of pleasure shoot through him like white-hot lightning. Her breath caught and came in short puffs against his bare skin, her eyes melting into pools of desire. He dipped his head, his lips nipping at her jaw, the hollow below her ear, the curve of her neck as she arched and whispered his name. His thumb brushed over the taut peak of her breast, and she cried out softly at the pleasurable pain. He felt it with her, and it shocked his senses.
Laying her back on the bed, he leaned over her, staring down into
her innocent face. She was so beautiful, so tender, he couldn’t imagine a woman like her would ever want a man as ruined, physically and emotionally, as he was. He lay down beside her, content to look at her body, to trace the curves with his fingers. His hands cupped her breasts, and her eyes fell closed as her body arched into his hands. Dylan reveled in the knowledge that she longed for his touch as much as he wanted hers.
His fingers trailed over the flat plane of her belly to her hip and the waistband of her bottoms. His eyes flitted back up to hers. “Are you sure this is what you want?” He prayed she’d say yes, because trying to stop now might kill him.
She traced his jaw with her finger and raised herself up to kiss him. “Yes, Dylan. I want you.” He heard the tentative tremor in her voice belying the bold statement.
Dylan rose and slid her pants from her legs, taking the soft cotton underwear with them. He hovered over her, tracing his finger over the curve of her belly to the seam of her hip and pelvis, pressing a kiss at her waist and making her jump in anticipation. He wound his arms around her waist, drawing her to him, and inhaled the sweet scent of her, sliding up her body, feeling her shiver against him as the scruff on his jaw scraped her skin.
“I should have shaved,” he murmured against her skin.
“Hmm, don’t you dare,” she argued, her voice barely a whisper of sound.
Dylan’s lips found the curve of her breast as his hand circled the other, fondling, teasing. When his mouth found the peak, she gasped, arching into him and biting her lower lip. It was almost his undoing. But when his hand moved lower, finding the center of her pleasure, stroking her, he was shocked at how she gave in to the ecstasy.
Her hands roamed his body, her lips kissing the scars under the covering of his tattoos and chipping at his heart. This woman drove him mad with desire, making him hungry for a life that should have been, that he could never offer her.
If only . . . He quickly halted that train of thought. There were no “if onlys” in life. He’d made choices, saved lives, and he wouldn’t change that. He hadn’t known Julia then—their paths would have never crossed—so there was no “if only” for them.
Dylan couldn’t wait any longer. Her touch was driving him wild with want, and he needed to make this special, something pleasurable, not a race to maintain self-control. He slid his sweats off, and she reached for him.
“Wait, Julia. Not quite yet.” He pressed soft kisses against her belly, moving back up her body. “If you touch me, I’m a goner,” he warned.
She smiled and he could see the pleasure in her eyes. He wanted her to know how she affected him, how much he yearned for her. He wanted her to realize how much she had come to mean to him, how special she was. He wanted her to know he loved her.
The realization surprised him at its intensity.
There was no logical, reasonable way for him to fall in love with her so quickly, but there was also no doubt in his mind. He loved Julia. Loved her gentle spirit, her tender heart, the way she opened up to him in spite of the pain she was feeling. He loved her smile that was so quick to surface, and the way she pushed him to gain control of his life again.
“But I want to touch you.” Her voice was a soft purr of seduction without her even trying, and his entire body throbbed in response.
“And you can. Later.” Dylan pressed a kiss against her lips, nipping at the corner of her mouth. “Do you have something?”
Her face fell and she bit her lower lip. “I . . . you don’t?”
Dylan dropped his forehead to her chest and groaned. He hadn’t planned on this and hadn’t been with a woman since he’d last been deployed. He’d assumed she would have some sort of protection in the house. He was certain Gage would have something, but he wouldn’t tarnish Julia’s reputation that way. “No.”
JULIA HEARD THE disappointment in his voice, felt her heart crash to her toes. This couldn’t be happening. Since Evan, she’d closed herself off, unwilling to trust herself to get close to anyone. She’d given up on finding anyone who could face the broken mess she was inside. And then Dylan showed up. Just as broken and messy as she was, but he needed her, allowed her to touch his wounded soul. They were able to give where the other was lacking.
This was the first time she’d wanted to give herself to a man since Evan’s attack, and to be stopped by something as stupid as not having protection seemed too far-fetched to be believable. She sighed in disappointment and ran her fingers over his back as he dropped his forehead against her chest. She knew Justin would have something in his wallet, but she didn’t dare sneak in to find out. His relationship with Dylan was tenuous at best right now.
She felt Dylan smile against her breast. “It’s okay. Just knowing you’re that disappointed . . . ” His lips circled her nipple, and fire seared through her again. “There are other ways.”
Dylan’s fingers ran over the side of her hip and feathered over her inner thigh. When his fingers found her again, wet and aching, she sucked in a shaky breath, unable to do anything but feel. His body pressed against hers, pinning her down, but without the fear she’d worried she would feel with a man after Evan. Dylan’s lips moved over her skin, ravishing her with the rasp of the stubble over his jaw as he headed lower. When his mouth touched her, she bucked against him, the onslaught of pleasure lifting her from the bed.
Dylan caressed her, tasted her, tormented her, and made love to her with his mouth. He explored her body with his hands and lips, as if trying to memorize every dip and arch. When she finally cried out in release, he rolled over, holding her close, as if he couldn’t bear to let her go.
“Dylan?” she whispered against his smooth chest as her finger traced the whirls of his tattoo design. “I have an idea.”
He ran his hand over her hair and smiled down at her. “Yeah?”
“Hand me my phone?”
He arched a brow in question but reached for her cell on the nightstand. She quickly sent a text message to Bailey and smiled at the reply, handing the phone back. “Bailey to the rescue.”
“What?”
She didn’t bother to enlighten him but rose from the bed and moved to stand at the door. Tango lifted his head to watch her but laid it back down just as quickly when he realized she wasn’t leaving. The soft pad of feet sounded in the hallway, and she saw the slip of foil shoot under the door. Holding up her prize between her fingers, she smiled as she walked back toward Dylan still on the bed.
Dylan chuckled, sounding more lighthearted than she’d ever heard him. “Did you seriously text your cousin to bring you a condom?”
“Would you rather I texted my brother?”
She couldn’t help but feel slightly self-conscious as she made her way back to where he lay, propped up against one of her pillows and looking oddly delicious on her bed, wearing nothing but a hungry, slightly cocky grin as his eyes slid over every part of her, heating her insides to molten quicksilver.
He plucked the condom from her fingers and pulled her down on top of him. “You surprise me, Julia.”
Her fingers splayed over the massive wall of his chest. She wanted to come up with a witty retort to his comment, something to lighten the mood, but her brain was barely functioning at this point. With his body hard and heated against her, she couldn’t do anything but feel—the tingles that tripped down her spine as his hands curled around the cheeks of her butt, the shallow breaths that kept her balanced on the precipice of dizziness, and the exquisite ache between her thighs as she waited for him.
She slid her fingers over the planes of his stomach, over his thighs, and—reaching between them—let her hands find the one place she knew he ached as much as she did. Dylan growled as she touched him, but she wanted him to know the same agonizing pleasure she had. Her lips moved over his chest as she stroked him. He shifted, rolling over and pinning her beneath him. It was mere seconds before he brushed her hands away and tore open the package, sheathing himself and pressing against her.
“Julia?”
She could hear the hesitation in his voice, giving her one last chance to change her mind. And she loved him for it, even if she couldn’t admit it aloud. Dylan was again putting her needs above his own desires, her honor above his wants and thinking of her future instead of his own.
“After all we’ve gone through to get here, don’t you dare think of stopping now.” She slid one hand around the back of his head, drawing his mouth to hers and the other to his lower back. Dylan slid into her with painstaking slowness, and they groaned in unison as their bodies joined.
She felt him shake, his hands trembling as he withdrew and repeated the languid ravishment of her body. She clung to his strength as his confident strokes grew more urgent, taking her to the edge of bliss. She couldn’t deny herself any longer when he thrust into her, trying to hold back his own release. She cried out and he took her mouth hostage, their tongues dancing, their bodies one as the world shattered around them.
Dylan held his weight over her, balancing himself on an elbow at each side of her head, staring down at her, and he brushed her bangs away from her eyes. “I’ll say it again, Julia. You surprise me.”
She returned the smile as her body relaxed beneath him, still recovering from her orgasm. “And you far exceeded my hopes,” she teased. Dylan bent to kiss her lips gently, lingering on the touch. She felt her heart skip with abandon. Maybe their broken places could be meshed together to form one perfect whole.
Chapter Twelve
DYLAN TRIED TO stretch out his legs without waking fully, but there was something at his feet that prevented any movement. He pushed against it and chuckled, realizing Tango had climbed onto the bed while they slept with Dylan curled around Julia’s back. Not to be outdone, the dog had edged between them and lay sprawled on his back at the foot of the bed, sound asleep. He pushed against the dog slightly and Tango sighed, flapping his big lips and rolling over, curling into a ball closer to Julia’s feet.
“His sleeping act didn’t fool you, huh?” she whispered and rolled over, curling into his chest like a purring kitten.
