by Tee O'Fallon
He drew his brows together, his expression hardening. “What the hell does that mean?”
“Look, I’m sorry.” Needing space to clear her head, she stood and took a shuddering breath. “I don’t understand what this is all about. None of this makes any sense.”
“I know it doesn’t.” He held out his hand to her. “Sit with me so I can explain.”
“Explain what?” She swallowed hard, willing her heart to stop pounding in her chest and her hands to stop trembling.
“Why I left. Why I never called or reached out to you afterward.” His jaw clenched, making his face even more handsome.
With her heart threatening to burst from her chest, she put her hand in his and sat next to him.
Releasing her hand, he tugged a wallet from his back pocket and pulled out a photo, handing it to her. It was old and wrinkled, as if it had been in his wallet for ages and been looked at many, many times over.
As she studied the couple in the photo, the thumping in her chest slowed to a dull thud. This is the reason he left me. More specifically, she’s the reason he couldn’t bear the thought of seeing me again.
“She’s stunning,” Daisy said, unable to tear her gaze from the truth. The love in Dom’s eyes as he gazed down at the petite brunette was obvious, as was the complete adoration the woman had for him. It was in the way she was touching his chest, and the intimate way she leaned into him. As if they were one.
She handed the photo back to him. “Now I understand.”
He began slipping the photo back into his wallet but paused. “Understand what?”
“Why you left without a word. It’s obvious how much you love her.”
“I did.” He again looked at the photo.
Did? As in, no more?
“She died fifteen years ago.”
A lump the size of a golf ball lodged in Daisy’s throat. “How did she die?”
“Anika was killed.” His face tensed. “She was a doctor in Afghanistan where Gray and I were stationed. The hospital where she worked was targeted by missile fire. I heard the blast and was first on scene. She was dead before I even got there. She—” He shut his eyes, obviously struggling for control.
Daisy gasped. “Oh God. I’m sorry. I feel so stupid. I didn’t know.”
He took a deep, shuddering breath, his shirt tightening over his broad chest. When he opened his eyes his deep blue gaze was distant, and she guessed he was reliving that horrible, horrible moment.
“There was blood and body parts everywhere—all the children who were patients and most of Gray’s unit that was there giving blood. Everyone blown to bits. I found Anika—what was left of her—beneath a mountain of rubble and debris.” He absently rubbed his leg where she knew there was a long, jagged scar running up the outside of his thigh. “I collected her and buried her in the desert.”
Collected her? “Oh, Dom.” Instinctively, Daisy rested her hand atop his. The image of him forced to gather body parts of the woman he loved brought tears to her eyes. She could only imagine how deeply such a horrific event still haunted him. “I’m so sorry,” she said again.
He suddenly cleared his throat, then tucked the photo back into his wallet and tossed it on the table. He faced her and took her hands in his. “I’m not telling you this because I want your pity. Anika died a long time ago, and I’ve been using her death as an excuse to avoid getting close to a woman.”
The pain of loss in his eyes seared a hole straight through Daisy’s heart. She, too, understood the loss of loved ones. “I understand. You’ve never gotten over her. But as a man, you still needed sex from time to time.”
“No.” He shook his head, frowning. “That’s not the way it was with us. You”—he squeezed her hands—“scared me to death. It took me years to get to the point where I could make love to a woman without being drunk off my ass. When I finally did, I never stayed the night at a woman’s place. I never wanted to. Ever.”
And you didn’t stay the night at my place, either.
“That one night with you, I wanted to stay. For the first time in fifteen years I wanted to fall asleep next to a woman and wake up in the morning and have her face be the first thing I saw. Your face. You, Daisy.” He brought her hands to his mouth for a soft kiss.
“Then why didn’t you stay?” she whispered.
“Mainly because I was chickenshit.” He let out a bitter laugh. “I knew staying the night could have been the beginning of something real. So I left.”
“Mainly?” she asked, wondering if there was another reason. He hesitated before answering, confirming her suspicion that there was.
“There were other things going on that stopped me from getting involved,” he said finally.
“Another woman?” She held her breath.
“No.” He shook his head. “Just, other things.”
She wanted to pry into what other things he was talking about, but when he began stroking her cheek so tenderly she forgot all about it.
“From the moment I laid eyes on you I wanted you, but I never counted on it being anything more.”
“What are you saying?” She waited for his answer, silently praying it was the one she so desperately wanted to hear.
The look in his eyes was both fierce and tender at the same time. “I’m saying I want another chance with you. I’m asking you to let me spend the night and wake up in the morning beside you, even if all you let me do is hold you.”
Daisy could only stare, wide-eyed. It hadn’t exactly been a declaration of love, but the intensity of his words and the emotion with which he’d related his lover’s death resonated so passionately with her that she believed him.
He cupped her face and gently brushed at her tears with the pads of his thumbs. “I sure hope those are happy tears.”
Without waiting for an answer, he kissed her. His lips were soft, the kiss tentative, a stark contrast to the fiery, demanding kisses she’d become accustomed to with him. This time there was no urgent insistence. This time he was asking her permission. Whatever did or didn’t happen between them next was entirely her decision to make.
He pulled back enough to look into her eyes, and the stark emotion, the raw and hungry longing she glimpsed in his gaze, had her shaking all over. Her heart skipped beat after beat, as if it were somersaulting down a steep ravine, not knowing where the emotional fall would take her. Only one thing was certain.
I want to find out.
She drank in the hard lines of his chiseled face, the roughened, hardened beauty of the powerful man humbling himself before her. She sifted her fingers through his thick hair. He closed his eyes and made a low groan in the back of his throat. She touched her lips to his. When she laid her other hand on his chest his body trembled, and it occurred to her that he really was leaving the next move up to her.
Deepening the kiss, she lay back on the sofa, pulling him down on top of her. His body was heavy as he settled between her legs, his erection long and hard against her thighs. She slipped her hands under his shirt, reveling in the thick, hard muscles rippling beneath his taut skin. And all the while, their kisses deepened, unleashing a torrent of passion that could no longer be restrained.
“I never forgot this.” His voice was husky as his lips trailed a heated, sensual path along her neck to her collarbone, pausing at the deep V of her sweater above her breasts. “How beautiful you smell. How sweet you taste.”
When he nuzzled her breasts through her sweater, she ached with need. Too many clothes. If she didn’t feel his hands and mouth on her bare skin soon, she would surely die.
As if reading her thoughts, he lifted his head and swallowed, breathing hard, a questioning look in his darkened gaze. “Daisy—?”
“Shh.” She covered his lips with her fingers. “Make love to me.”
He crushed his mouth to hers in a searing kiss that made her heart feel as if it would pump right out of her chest, then he scooped her up gently in his arms as if she were no heavier than a delicate piece of
lace.
Once in her bedroom, he released her slowly, letting her body slide against his as her feet met the plush carpet. He tugged her sweater over her head, dropping it to the floor. His nostrils flared as he stared down at her satin- and lace-covered breasts.
His eyes roved her body with an intensity that made her shiver. Making love with this man had been soul-rocking the first time. Then, they’d barely known each other. Now there was an even deeper connection.
Her nipples tightened almost painfully, and when he cupped her breasts, rubbing them with the pads of his thumbs, she couldn’t stop the throaty moan that escaped her lips. She covered his hands with hers, urging him to caress her breasts harder. He did, then slid his hands to her back and unfastened her bra. His fingertips made a fiery trail on her skin as he slid the bra down her arms and let it fall to the floor. Locking his gaze with hers, he began a slow, erotic massage of her body, his hands roaming her back, her buttocks, up her rib cage to her breasts again.
Frenzied need bloomed deep inside her, like spring flowers getting their first glimpse of sunlight after a long, cold winter. She yanked his shirt over his head, then dragged her fingernails across the taut skin of his back, digging them into his thick muscles. He responded with a deep, masculine groan.
“I’ve always loved your fingernails, all pretty and pink.” The look in his eyes was pure sex as he gazed down at her. “But I also love these. Your breasts are so damn perfect.” Dipping his head, he captured her nipple in his mouth, rolling it around with his tongue before nipping it gently with his teeth.
She gasped and clasped his head tighter to her breast. He shifted to her other breast, suckling and nipping like she was an ice cream cone. Lightning bolts of pleasure shot to her core, and she hissed in a breath. He kissed his way down her belly to the waistband of her jeans. With a flick of his finger, he undid the button and zipper, then tugged her pants and panties down her legs, his fingertips caressing every inch of her thighs and calves along the way.
When she stepped out of her pants, he looked up at her, his blue eyes dark and laden with lust. He slid his hands up the insides of her thighs, and she stepped wider while his thumbs grazed her wet folds. Again she moaned, resting her hands on his shoulders for balance while his thumbs slid back and forth, delving deeper with every path, teasing, torturing her sweet spot until she whimpered.
“Sit on the bed.” When she did, he placed his hand on her belly and pushed gently. “Lie back. The chocolate mousse cake was great, but I’m in the mood for something else.”
Her body trembled with need and expectation as she lay backward. Dom draped her legs over his shoulders, holding the tops of her thighs. Using his fingers, he spread her slickened folds, then flicked his tongue at the tender, sensitized bud. She shivered and bucked in his grasp. Instinct took over, and she surged her hips forward, pressing against his mouth. His tongue pushed inside her, sucking her folds into his mouth. He sucked gently at first, then went deeper, licking faster, hotter.
She clawed her fingers through his hair and circled her hips, grinding against his mouth. The sensation of his long, wet tongue laving her most sensitive parts was almost too much to bear.
The first wave of her orgasm built in the pit of her belly, spiraling outward until she spasmed and cried out.
He held her thighs down firmly, flicking his tongue faster at her clitoris before nipping it gently with his teeth. A second wave of orgasm gained momentum, building and building until it washed over her, and she cried out again, louder this time, her hips bucking wildly.
She closed her eyes, sucking in deep breaths as her heart pounded. “Oh. My. Gosh,” she managed to say between breaths.
The mattress shifted, and she opened her eyes to see Dom shucking his jeans and tight boxers, setting his phone on the bedside table. At the sight of him standing beside the bed, naked and golden and magnificent, she propped herself up on her elbows, her mouth watering. She noted the jagged scar on the side of his left thigh and wondered if it had anything to do with his limp. But the scar looked old, as if it had been there for quite some time, and she had only a vague recollection of it from when they’d made love a year ago.
His erection jutted out proudly between two of the longest, most muscular legs she’d ever seen, and she licked her lips, imagining how he would taste as she ran her tongue along every ripped muscle of his powerful, sexy body. Just looking at him was enough to give her another orgasm. In response, her body jerked as a tiny jolt of awareness flared between her thighs.
As he pulled a condom from his wallet, the muscles in his arms rippled and danced. Her heart rate had finally begun to slow, but then he rolled the condom onto his enormous erection, and her pulse fluttered out of control all over again. Though they’d made love once before, that had been a year ago, and she hadn’t been with anyone since.
She swallowed, her breathing coming faster now as he rested one hand beside her, slipping his other hand beneath her ass and easily repositioning her onto the center of the bed.
His biceps and forearms corded as he held himself over her. She looked up into his eyes and skimmed her hands down his back, raking her nails gently over his skin. His firm, muscular ass was taut beneath her seeking fingers. Licking her lips again, she closed one of her hands over his stiff erection.
He threw back his head and groaned deep in his throat. “Daisy.” His body shuddered as she began stroking him through the condom. He was warm and hard, pulsing and vibrating in her hand. “Keep touching me like that and I’ll come before I ever get inside you.”
“Then we’d better hurry.” She pulled him down and guided him to her entrance, lifting her hips as the head of his erection nudged her wet, swollen folds.
He clasped the sides of her face and kissed her deeply, with slow, languid swipes of his tongue, as if he were savoring her very essence.
While his tongue invaded her mouth, the head of his erection pressed inside her, an inch at a time, allowing her body to relax and adjust to his size. He lifted his head, breathing hard, nostrils flaring as he pushed deeper. Wet and slick though she was, the pressure against her inner walls made her tense.
He withdrew. “Am I hurting you?” His forehead creased, and the look of unmistakable concern in his eyes made her heart squeeze. He stroked her cheek, his voice thick with emotion. “Have you been with anyone else since the last time we were together?”
A frisson of embarrassment shot through her when she shook her head. She’d been tempted to lie but couldn’t.
“I’m glad.” He smiled, and her immediate reaction was that he was gloating, as if he’d made such a sexual impression on her she’d been spoiled for anyone else.
“You’ve been with other women, haven’t you?” When he closed his eyes she knew the answer. He’d all but admitted it when they’d nearly had sex several days ago.
He took a deep breath, then opened his eyes. “I’m not proud of it. And I never stopped thinking about you.”
“You’re kidding.” But the look on his face was dead serious. “Aren’t you?”
“No.” He touched his fingers to her cheek. “I would never kid or lie to you about something so important. I mean it. I never stopped thinking about you.”
She shook her head, uttering a disbelieving sound, but when their gazes reconnected his eyes held nothing but raw, blatant honesty. He continued to hold himself over her but made no attempt to reenter her, and she understood why. He was waiting. For her.
Searching his face, she stroked the hard planes of his jaw, trailing her fingers over his stubble before pulling his head to her for another deep kiss.
When he pushed against her folds, she spread her legs wider, welcoming him. He kissed her tenderly, and her vaginal walls relaxed until he was fully sheathed. She closed her eyes, joining him with every thrust, rocking her hips against his.
Wetness flowed inside her, lubricating her walls, easing the tightness until all she felt was the sensual slide of him in and out, deeper and fast
er. The force of his thrusts increased, and she locked her legs around the backs of his thighs, gripping his ass tighter.
The orgasm built until they were both gasping for air. The powerful shock wave hit her a split second before his, and she threw back her head and cried out. He pressed his lips to her neck and thrust once, twice, the third time holding himself inside her as he came.
His rough growl against her neck sent a spiraling vibration throughout her body, intensifying the final throes of her orgasm. For several long moments, they stayed that way, his powerful body pressed against hers, their chests heaving.
He turned onto his side, snuggling her to him. “Hey.” He nudged her chin up with his finger and grinned down at her. “Happy birthday.”
She smiled, realizing this man, the same man she’d once believed was the epitome of a womanizer, living for nothing more than personal and sexual gratification, was anything but that. Beneath that happy-go-lucky facade lay the most sensitive and deeply troubled man she’d ever known. And he’d given her the one thing no one else had in over twenty years.
A happy birthday.
Chapter Eighteen
Dom glanced at the digital clock on the bedside table. Ten o’clock. They’d been dozing for nearly an hour.
When he’d knocked on Daisy’s door, making love to her hadn’t been part of the plan. But he didn’t regret it for a second. In retrospect, they’d been moving toward this since they’d crossed paths again at Gray and Alex’s wedding. Despite his determination to maintain distance, deep down he’d known it had only been a matter of time.
Daisy shifted and snuggled tighter against him. Her head lay on his chest, her hair cascading down the smooth plane of her back. He stroked the thick, silky tresses, resting his hand on the soft curve of her buttocks. They’d all but exhausted themselves after what he hoped was only the first round of mind-blowing sex. But he was beyond wired, his mind buzzing over the consequences of what he’d just set in motion.
I’m in deep, deep shit here.
The last thing he should be doing right in the middle of the most dangerous op of his life was falling in love. But part of him knew he’d already fallen. Hard. Even now, he couldn’t quite wrap his brain around the concept. Every time he did he was assailed by visions of Anika’s bloody remains. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, willing the gut-wrenching images to leave his head and stop haunting him once and for all. He guessed it was a form of PTSD. The pain had followed him from Afghanistan and tormented him for fifteen fucking years. It was time to let the past go.
