Christmas at Twilight

by Lori Wilde

  “I never said that.” He growled, and with his forehead still pressed to hers, pushed her all the way back onto the bed.

  She stared up at him, one leg hanging off the bed, the other wrapped around his waist as he straddled her, a knee dug into the mattress on either side of her. His rock-hard erection pressed against her crotch, his inscrutable eyes drilling into her.

  For one terrified moment Meredith panicked. She rammed the heel of her palm into his chest and shoved him off.

  CHAPTER 15

  Hutch staggered back. After what she’d told him about her ex, he’d been afraid of this. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one in the house with PTSD flashbacks.

  “It’s okay,” he said before she ever spoke. “I get it.”

  She sat up shaking her head and wrapping her arms around herself. “I don’t know why I did that. I want you. I want to be with you.”

  “We don’t have to do this tonight. There’s no rush.”

  “But I want to do it.”

  “We can’t force this. You’re ready when you’re ready.”

  “Why not? It took the trauma of seeing Dotty Mae about to crash into the snow fort with Ben in it to force you to speak.”

  “That’s different.”

  “Is it?”

  “I don’t want to make love to a woman who is just gritting her teeth to get it over with.” Truthfully, as badly as he wanted her, part of him was still trying to process the fact that he had gotten his voice back. He was happy about that, yes, but was he using sex with Meredith to bury his feelings?

  Hutch ran a palm along his jaw. He sure as hell wasn’t ready to think about that, much less dissect it in a lengthy conversation.

  “I want to try,” she insisted.

  “How about we just lie here side by side.”

  “I don’t think that’s enough for me.”

  “There’s no rush, babe,” he soothed. He wanted to touch her again, but was afraid he’d trigger something dark from her past again. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  She swallowed and scooted across the mattress.

  He sank down beside her.

  Simultaneously, they lay back on their pillows and stared up at the ceiling.

  “I hate him,” she said with so much fury that Hutch startled. “He took everything from me. Even this.”

  “No. He did not take this. He’s not getting this,” Hutch reassured her. “He’s not getting us.”

  “I’m broken.”

  “No more so than me. It’s fixable. We’re fixable.”

  “I wish I could believe that.”

  “This morning I didn’t think I was fixable and look at me now. For almost four months I couldn’t speak a word and here I am suddenly chatty as a teenage girl.”

  She gave a soft laugh that thawed the doubt inside him. “You make me believe anything’s possible.”

  “Where we’re concerned, it is.”

  “You sound so certain.”

  “Only because of you.”

  “He’s relentless,” she warned. “Like a shark. He’ll never let me go.”

  “I’ll kill him.”

  “And go to prison for the rest of your life over a scumbag like Sloane? No.”

  “Babe, I’m Delta Force. He would disappear without a trace.”

  “Seriously, you could do that?” she asked, her voice infused with awe.

  “If anyone ever tried to hurt you or Ben, I would.”

  “Killing isn’t a good thing.”

  “No, it’s not,” he agreed. “But sometimes you have to defend yourself.”

  “I used to think every human life had worth. Until I met Sloane.”

  They lapsed into silence.

  After a long time, she whispered, “He said I was a terrible lover.”

  “To hell with that bastard. You know he’s a sociopath. Why are you letting him get inside your brain?”

  “Because he’s an expert at it.”

  “What about before you met him? What about the other men you were with?”

  She hitched in a deep breath, cutting it into two clear, distinctive parts, inhaling first deep in her belly, and then hitching in more air to fully fill her lungs. “That’s just it. I was never with anyone else. I was a virgin when I got married.”

  Aww, damn, babe, no. “So you’ve only had bad sex.”

  “Cruel sex,” she clarified. “I don’t know any other way.”

  “He forced you to do things. Hurt you.”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Thank you for sharing that with me,” he said quietly, giving her no hint of the rage in his heart for the sadist who’d treated such an exquisite woman so horribly. Castration was too good for the bastard.

  Hutch stretched out his arm between them, palm up, and waited to see if she would take his hand. She didn’t hesitate. Her palm landed on top of his and he interlaced their fingers, chaining them together.

  After a while she said, “Maybe we should take off our jeans. Get comfortable.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “You don’t have to keep asking me that.”

  “Yes I do.”

  “All right then, yes, I’m sure.”

  She let go of his hand—leaving him lonely—stood up with her back to him, and shyly eased off her jeans.

  He probably shouldn’t have been ogling, but he couldn’t help himself. The soft gray light coming through the window cast her in a dusty glow. He watched her slip her pants down over her legs, and he sucked in his breath at the sight of her pink bikini panties. Not just because she was full-on the sexiest thing he’d ever seen, but because he was beginning to fear he could not live without her. He would find a way to convince her that she and Ben were safe here with him, that they were cherished and loved. That he would protect her with his dying breath.

  She turned back to him. “Now this isn’t fair. I’m half naked and you’re still wearing your pants.”

  He didn’t bother standing up, just arched his back and reached a hand to the snap of his jeans. He flicked it open with his thumb, slid down the zipper.

  Her gaze tracked his movements as she moistened her lips.

  “You gonna watch?”

  “You watched me.”

  He laughed. “So I did.”

  “Here, I’ll even help.” She went to the foot of the bed, grabbed hold of the cuffs of his pants, yanked them off, and tossed them casually over her shoulder. “That’s better,” she said. “You comfortable?”

  “As comfortable as a guy can be with a massive hard-on.”

  Her gaze flicked to his erection, but she quickly looked away. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize. I was merely stating a fact. I don’t expect you to do anything about it.”

  “Oh.” She sounded disappointed, and eased back down on the bed beside him.

  This time, she was the one who extended her arm between them, palm up.

  He didn’t leave her hanging.

  Kiss her. The words lit up his brain in neon red, but special ops training had honed his discipline to a razor-sharp edge. No matter how hot she was, he would not push things. Her pace was her pace and he would respect that. If he had to wait twenty years for her to be ready, then, by God, he’d wait twenty years.

  “Thank you,” she whispered. “For being so patient with me.”

  “Thank you for trusting me enough to be here with me,” he said. “For not running away.”

  “I can’t promise I’ll stay. If Sloane comes for me, I’ll have to go. I will not put you and Kimmie in jeopardy.”

  He started to argue, but her fear of her ex-husband was palpable. He wasn’t going to convince her that he could protect her simply by saying so. Actions spoke louder than words. Trite, yes, but losing his voice had shown him the power of that cliché.

  Hutch turned on his side and pulled her into his arms, snuggling her against his body. He stroked her hair and told her the story of how he’d repaired and built on to the house with his own hands,
imagining that one day he’d have a family of his own to fill it.

  She told him about hot air ballooning. What it was like to rise into the sky at dawn, the air crisp and thin, the heated flames from the burners lifting the brightly colored balloons higher and higher until they caught the right current and floated in the vast silence of sky. Her voice took on a dreamy quality, as if she entered another land.

  They talked for hours about things they’d been unable to say to each other before. Her voice filled with love when she spoke of Ben and how becoming a mother had changed everything. He told her about being there the day Kimmie was born. They discussed movies, books, gardening, health care, politics, religion, and travel. The only subjects they veered away from were Meredith’s life with her ex, Hutch’s experiences in The Unit, and Ashley’s whereabouts; neither one of them wanted to sour their growing intimacy with dark discussions. Those were topics for another time.

  To Hutch’s happy surprise, they had a lot more in common than he imagined. They both loved sushi and crème brûlée, although not necessarily at the same meal. They agreed that Sunday afternoon was the saddest time of the week and that there was nothing more soothing than sitting on his deck at twilight watching the Brazos River rolling by. They confessed to talking to themselves out loud when working through a problem. They discovered they’d both had imaginary playmates when they were four. His had been a Native American boy with the unlikely name of Horatio. Hers had been a kangaroo called Bouncy. They were both frugal, although she admitted with a laugh that her frugality was born of necessity.

  Even their dislikes dovetailed. He hated waiting in line. She loved it, because it gave her a chance to read a few paragraphs of a book on her smart phone. She hated doing laundry, he found the mindless task Zen-like. He loved to paint houses, but disliked the prep work. She loved the prep, but grew bored with painting. She liked dark meat chicken. He liked breasts.

  “Of course you do.” She laughed.

  He hugged her tighter, so glad to have found her. The loneliness of the kid who’d grown up without a father and a mentally unstable mother, the pain he hid behind a ready smile and his Igloo cool, stopped hurting.

  Meredith. He rolled her name around in his head, a litany of all good things. Meredith.

  “Hutch?” she whispered.

  “Uh-huh?”

  “Would you please kiss me again?”

  “All right,” he said, knowing it was going to kill him to simply kiss her and go no farther, but also knowing she needed time and space before taking their relationship deeper. “But just kissing, nothing else.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “That’s my line.” He kissed the nape of her neck.

  “See how annoying it is.”

  “You make a good point.”

  She turned over, looked at him. “Please.”

  “I’ve got to warn you, if you start getting too charged up, I’m leaving your bed.”

  “I’ll be good,” she vowed.

  Yeah, but would she kept her promise? He pulled her into his arms and they kissed until their lips chapped; unhurried, dreamy kisses, intended to soothe, not kindle. But despite his restraint, the smooth, butterscotch flavor of her and the wet, sexy sound their lips made charged him up.

  Need, desperate as a Hail Mary pass, coiled his body tight. He held his breath against the yearning building in his groin. Desire blasted from his pores in a sweat that smelled of testosterone. Her sweet taste lolled on his tongue, indolent and taunting. C’mon, dontcha want more?

  Of course he did. He wanted all of her.

  Meredith passed the line of scrimmage, trailing her fingers down his chest to his waist.

  He manacled her wrist. “Hold on there, beautiful. You’re out of bounds.”

  “Who says I’m playing by the rules?”

  “Oh, that’s funny.” He chuckled, and imitating a female voice, he said in a prissy tone, “Rule #4. You don’t touch me. I don’t touch you. Ever.”

  She sat up, and laughing, gave his shoulder a slight shove. “I do not sound like that.”

  “Hey, it was your rule.”

  “And I said we could renegotiate at any time.”

  “Is that what we’re doing?” He lowered his eyelids. “Renegotiating?”

  “It is.”

  “So what are the new rules?”

  “Touching is now allowed.”

  “That’s too vague. I need specifics.” He propped himself on his elbow and studied her. “I’m a detail-oriented kind of guy.”

  She drew her knees to her chest and slipped a palm under each socked foot. She wore a red and green plaid button-down flannel shirt, red socks with Santa’s face printed on them, and her pink cotton bikini panties. She looked cute as hell.

  “Can I touch here?” He reached up a finger to trace her collarbone.

  She gulped. Nodded.

  He tracked his hand down to the top of her cleavage. “Here?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “I see.” He slid his hand over to a nipple that was beaded so hard he could see it through the material of her bra and shirt. “How about here?”

  “Uh-huh.” She whimpered.

  His fingertips fanned out as he dragged them down her chest to her belly. “Is this okay?”

  Goose bumps flared over her skin and she shivered.

  “Are you cold?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “You’re trembling.”

  “Am I?”

  “If you’re not cold, you must be scared. If you’re scared, we’re not going any farther.”

  “Not scared.” Her gaze caressed his face. “Excited.”

  “I’m trembling too,” he confessed.

  “You? You’re unshakable. Everyone says so.”

  “Propaganda.” He held up his hand for her to see. It quivered in the air.

  “If you’re scared,” she mimicked him, “we’re not going any farther.”

  “Not scared,” he said. “Terrified.”

  “Are you? What about?”

  “That you’ll decide I’m not really the guy you want to be with.”

  “Hmm.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I imagined Delta Force operators would be much cockier than this.”

  “I used to be,” he admitted. “Before.”

  “Before whatever happened to you in the Middle East?”

  “No.” He paused and leveled her an intense stare. “Before I found you.”

  Meredith did not glance away. In fact, she locked eyes with him. Her radiance shimmered like heat waves off the desert floor, so real it was almost touchable, and he caught a glimpse of heaven in her eyes. For a long moment they just stared into each other, barely breathing, not moving.

  “With you,” she said, “I feel normal for the first time.”

  “That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

  “I lied,” she said. “I am scared.”

  “I know. It worries me that you’re afraid of me.”

  “I’m not scared about you.” She paused. “Or about us.”

  “It’s him,” Hutch said coldly, flatly. “What he did to you.”

  “Not just that.” She covered her head with her hands.

  He stroked her hair. “Talk to me, Meredith.”

  She pressed her chin to her drawn knees, turned her face away from him. “Sex comes easily to some women.”

  “It can come easily to you if you let it. Most natural thing in the world.”

  “My body knows that. My mind? Other story entirely.”

  “What are you so afraid of?”

  “That I’ll disappoint you.” She said it so softly that he could barely hear her.

  “Look at me,” he commanded.

  Reluctantly, she drew her head up.

  “Meredith, you could never disappoint me.”

  “You say that now . . .”

  “Oh, babe. I want you. If our first time isn’t so hot, we keep trying
until we’re perfect.”

  “What if . . . what if it can never be any good between us no matter how much we practice?”

  “You’re overanalyzing. Relax. Just let go and let it happen. Or not. Remember, we don’t have to take this step. No pressure at all.”

  “I want to take this step. I want you to make love to me.”

  “But?”

  She covered her head with her hands and mumbled. “I equate sex with pain.”

  The hot taste of anger filled his mouth, and his hatred for the monster who had treated her so terribly jerked his stomach up into his throat.

  “I’m afraid he ruined me forever.” She lifted her head. A tear slid down her cheek.

  “Babe, oh babe.” All anger fled and the only thing he felt was deep sorrow and sympathy for her. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

  He drew her into his arms and rocked her as tenderly as if she were Kimmie. She rested her head against his chest and cried silently, her shoulders moving up and down, her tears soaking his shirt.

  Finally, she pulled away and swiped at her face with the back of her sleeve. “This isn’t going very well, is it?”

  “It’s going fine.”

  “How many girls have cried on your shoulder before you made love to them?”

  “You’re my first,” he admitted. “But hey, that makes you special. Usually they cry after.”

  “With relief that it’s over?” she teased, smiling past the tears.

  “With joyous rapture.”

  “Hmm, I’d like to try that sometime.”

  “We’ll get there.”

  “I want to do something special for you. How about we redeem that gift card for your free backrub now?”

  He was going to tell her he didn’t give a damn about a backrub, but maybe giving him one would give her a sense of control.

  “Sure.” His voice went up slightly for no good reason.

  “Still rusty?” she asked.

  “As a door hinge.” That was the thing. He hadn’t had time to process the return of his voice. He was glad, and it was a monumental boulder scaled on his trail to recovery, but that meant it was time to start his pilgrimage to see the families of the teammates. That was not going to be easy. A lot of dark stuff was going to pop to the surface like a bobber on a pole after a hooked fish got away, and it meant leaving Meredith and Ben and Kimmie behind.