In Your Arms: A Small Town Love Story (Safe Haven Book 1) (10 page)

“They found her charred remains in the bedroom. She had come to visit, to surprise me because she’d received good news that day and couldn’t wait to let me know.

“The problem was I’d kept the work I was doing a secret from her. That was how the job went. She never realized she could have been in danger. If I’d told her, she wouldn’t have turned up unless I’d said it was okay. But I failed to protect her—Emma and, as it turned out, our unborn baby.” His lips were pressed so tight they were almost white.

“I’m so sorry. God, that’s terrible. I have no idea what to say.”

“It’s okay. I don’t expect you to say anything. But if you could ease up on the grip on my hand.”

“Oh, hell, sorry.”

“And stop saying sorry.” In the dim light, he could still make out her eyes watching, flicking. “I’m not looking for pity. I simply want you to know what my baggage looks like.”

His heart was pounding in his chest and suddenly he needed her contact, her softness, as if touching her would make that pain pulse vanish. He took the hand he held and lay it where his heart continued its urgent thud. When he released her hand she left it there, tracing faint circles. With his fingers lightly beneath her chin, he tipped her face toward him. “Do you know how totally and utterly kissable that mouth of yours is?”

“No,” she whispered.

“Can I show you?”

Marlo nodded.

Slowly and tenderly, he laid his mouth over hers. When he traced her lips with his tongue, she trembled in his arms. “Easy now, I won’t hurt you.” He spoke against her lips and pleasure surged through him when they opened, tentative, her tongue gradually seeking his. She felt frail and breakable, ready to take flight at the first wrong move. The turmoil stole his breath. With gentle insistence he laid her back among the cushions and she gave in and softened. Instinct told him to give her space when he stretched out alongside her. He continued his slow kissing, relishing her own increasingly heated response, all the while tracing the contours of her face, running his fingers along her temple and down her jaw. Lifting his head, his breath ragged he asked if she was okay. “You say the word and we’ll stop.”

“I don’t know.” Her eyes squeezed shut for a moment and a small crease appeared on her brow as if she was hemming frayed thoughts.

“Do you need to take a moment, maybe talk for a bit?” Because to be honest, he didn’t know, either. They were rushing. Something in him wanted to tumble right into her and that scared him.

“Yeah, I’d like to talk.” She leaned away turning her focus to the night sky. “I don’t know what you expect from this…from me. I’m not that experienced. You’ll probably be disappointed.”

Disappointed? Where the hell did that come from?
“You couldn’t disappoint me. This has nothing to do with experience and skill and whether you’re good enough at this…whatever the hell that means. There’s no right or wrong. It’s about the way we respond to each other, like the way someone responds to music or a movie. You can love or loathe a song and that’s your
unique response. It really doesn’t say much about whether the song is good or bad, or if your friends are going to feel the same way.”

He reached over and stroked the top of her arm. The skin was smooth and cool and she gave a delightful shiver as he ran his fingers from her shoulder to her elbow.

“You like that, huh?”

“Yes.” She shivered again.

“When you respond to my touch that way, it’s pretty freakin’ hot,” leaning in he brushed his mouth along her jaw, “and never, never disappointing.”

He moved back on one arm and with the other hand traced from her temple to her chin, down her neck, and then circled her breast with his finger. Her cry was sharp as her nipple tightened and rose into his hand, wanting more. He undid the first two buttons on her dress and slipped his warm hand inside. “So, what shall we talk about?”

“What?” She smiled up at him and the passion in her eyes immobilized him. No fear, only simple, untainted pleasure.

He drew a slow, settling breath. He had never concentrated so hard with a woman in his life. Now he wanted to heat her up, draw out the lust she kept locked away so that she could respond without thinking. Without recalling whatever the hell it was that made her so flighty. But, he knew that one wrong move and it would be over. He continued to trace her nipple. “Do you like this?” He nuzzled her ear, his question like an extension of his caress.

“Yes.”

“How do you like it? Harder, softer?”

“Just like that.” Her voice had gone all husky, and he hardened.

“Faster, slower?” Christ, he had to call on his entire will to control himself.

“That thing you’re doing… that’s working for me.”

Pushing the top of her bra down, he bared a soft, rosy nipple that darkened and puckered as he teased it with his finger. He bent and placed his mouth over it, flicking it with his tongue, before drawing it hungrily against the roof of his mouth. Her hand slid around the back of his head, holding him to her breast. She moved against him, one leg slipping between his to grip him as he pressed his thigh harder to her. He drew another little cry from her as he pulled on the nipple and grazed it with his teeth.

“Adam…Jesus.”

He lifted his head. “Still not disappointing me, Marlo.”

S
he had never realized
there was some sort of anatomical wiring that ran from her nipples to that hot little spot between her legs, but there it was, setting everything alight in a way she’d never experienced before.

Both her breasts were free, his mouth on one, tongue and teeth teasing her nipple, while at the same time, he rolled the other between his finger and thumb. She arched into him and then withdrew from the intensity so that he released her nipple, firmly massaging her breast, and broadening the sensation away from the pinpoint focus. Adam trailed his hand down her side, through the scoop of her waist to her hip, where her dress had ridden up. He clasped her, the firm cup of his palm covering her hipbone, his fingers digging into her buttock. As he pulled her against him, against the hardness in his trousers, he groaned into her breast, the vibration sending another wave of electricity to her groin.

The quick downward strum of his fingertips took his hand to the back of her knee and he slowly traced his finger up, up until he reached her panties.

And she froze.

Panic hit her like a great rush of sound as she recognized his pure strength for what is was. Something she would be incapable of escaping from unless he allowed her to.

He lifted his head from her breast. “I won’t hurt you.” His voice was broken with desire. His hand moved from her thigh and in the dim light, she saw it reach quickly to her head. She recoiled.

He pulled away. “Marlo, shit, what did you think I was going to do?”

She scooted back on the cushions, tugging up her bra and fumbling with the buttons on her dress. “It’s me. I’m sorry, I’m no good at this.”

“Believe me, you couldn’t be more wrong. You are
so
totally good at this.”

She shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. She had to get away from him and prove that she was in control of this situation before the fear overwhelmed her. As if sensing her next move, she heard Adam tell her to stay. Such a simple request, delivered in an unfaltering manner. How odd that it made her feel safe.

“I’m not going to touch you, but I want you to stay right there. Is that okay? Can you stay there for me?”

She nodded. She would do that, because every inch of her had to believe he wanted to help her.

A
dam exhaled slowly
. Hell, that was close. “Stay a moment, okay?” He went to the barbecue area and retrieved a couple of outdoor lanterns he’d seen earlier. He set them on the small table beside the daybed and lit them. Their flickering light released a soft, comforting illumination. He touched the side of the teapot. Still warm. Taking Marlo’s cup, he ditched her cold tea onto the grass, poured her a fresh cup and added some sugar.

“I don’t take sugar.”

“Tonight you do. It’s good for shock. Here, drink.” He watched her trembling hand reach for the tea. “And don’t break the mug.” He smiled.

Her attempt to smile was an exhausted failure. She took a sip of the tea and grimaced.

“Lukewarm and sickly sweet, eh?”

She nodded.

“That’s what the doctor ordered.”

“I hate medicine.”

“Medicine’s not meant to taste good. If it did, we would take it all the time so we’d become dependent instead of getting better.”

She was watching him and everything about her said caution. God, those eyes. He wanted to reach right into them and take the hurt away.

Now he had to think quickly. She might feel finishing her tea would be a logical conclusion to the evening. He wanted her to feel in control, but not that much control. He took himself back to an earlier conversation with Mae.

Observe how Marlo works with the dogs.

When he and Marlo had watched the Justice DVD, she’d told him to look out for the moment when Justice had become uncomfortable. From there, she’d backed up to a place where the dog was okay—where he was at ease with her touch. She would then take the dog back to that place before finishing the session.

He reached and took the tea mug from her. Peering inside, he could see she’d drunk half. “I think you’re done with that,” he said, placing the mug on the table. He settled back onto the daybed, this time a little closer to her. She had her knees tucked up to her chest, her dress pulled firmly down to cover them, one hand clutching at the hem by her ankles. He took a moment to follow the shape and line of her ankles. Exercise restraint.

“I’m going to put my arm around you now, and I want you to shift up against me.” When he reached around her she tensed. “Come on,” he encouraged, beckoning with an open arm. “Here, to me.”

She edged up against him and he kept still until a subtle give in her shoulders, the lowering by a mere inch from where she’d held them taut, suggested she was starting to relax.

“Good, that’s the way,” he murmured. He started to stroke her upper arm and she relaxed more. He willed his breathing to stay low and calm as she began to nestle against him. Slowly he let his fingers stray up toward her neck, waiting for the first sign of alarm, but she remained motionless. He traced his fingertips lightly along the smooth skin of her jaw line and listened to her breath quicken. Any earlier arousal had flattened, and all he could see was the tightly coiled way she held herself.

“Take control of your breathing. Slow it down.”

“I can’t,” she whispered.

“Yes, you can. Do it for me. Breathe in deep through your nose, hold for a count of two, then out through your mouth. Concentrate on slow, deep breaths.” He waited as her breathing gradually adjusted to his own rhythm. “There you go. You’re good at this, honey.” Her eyes had closed. He stilled his hand and they flew open. “That’s it, eyes open. Stay with me here.”

She nodded.

“Where’s your stress on the ten scale? Ten being about to shatter into a million pieces, one being close to sleep.”

“Seven.” She paused. “It’s six.”

“Thank you for reconsidering. Let’s see if we can get a four or five. Stay with the slow breathing.” The fact she reconsidered told him she wanted to beat this as much as he did. He slipped his fingers down so that they rested on her neck, thumb on one side, two fingers on the other. She stiffened, her pulse rapid. “Deep breath now and relax.” As she exhaled, her chin fell so that it rested on the back of his hand, cushioned in the curve between his thumb and forefinger.

With his hand at her neck she would have felt vulnerable, yet the way she had dropped into it suggested a sliver of trust had built between them. He concentrated on his own breathing, keeping it slow, keeping her quiet. “When you’re ready, give me another number?”

“Four,” she whispered.

“Better.” He moved his other hand to her forehead and slowly stroked it down until he covered her eyes. He held it there feeling the flutter of her eyelashes tickling his palm before she settled and kept them closed. After a moment he continued the slide of his hand down her face. His fingers cupped one cheek as his thumb brushed across her lips. “Tell me about the person who hurt you.”

D
on’t
, please, don’t ask me that.

The question pulled her out of her reverie when she wanted to stay in this zoned-out state he’d put her in. She wanted to lie there and let him stroke her face for a bit before pretending that caress was happening to somebody else.

Carl Hanson hurt me.
Len Barrett hurt me. They were cops. Shall I go on?

She shook her head.
No
. No, she wouldn’t tell him anything.

“Have you told anyone?”

She nodded.

“Does Mae know?”

“Yes,” she managed.

“Have you had any counseling?”

“A little. It didn’t go so well.” He’d taken his hand from her neck and rested it on her upper arm, his index finger making small circles. Her chest tightened and her breathing once again became quick and shallow.

“Marlo?”

“Adam, I’m afraid.”

“I’m right here with you. You’re safe. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” She was grounded again
.

“As I make this circle on your arm I want you to take a breath in through a complete cycle and exhale on the next. Yes?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Keep doing that.”

She concentrated on his finger circling his arm and noticed it slowed with the completion of each circuit. The simple technique drew the tension up from her chest and out of her mouth. “Five,” she whispered to him, unbidden.

“Thank you.” He changed his circling to a grip on her arm and pulled her closer. “I don’t want to push you, Marlo. But I will anyway, because that’s how I operate. What I see here is that your entire life is focused on fixing the dogs and it’s taking every ounce of your energy. Every ounce of you. You immerse yourself in releasing the dogs’ demons because it takes the heat off you having to deal with your own. But you are missing so much in your life. What happens when a guy comes along? Do you simply back him off?”

“I guess…”

“And how’s that working for you?”

Why couldn’t he get pissed with her like guys usually did? Why hadn’t he stormed out of the house, called her a nutcase, or a cock-tease? Then she could hate him and move on. What started as a rock in her chest was threatening to dissolve into tears. How was that working for Her? Really fine until he turned up.

“Marlo?”

“It works. You’re not around for long, so you don’t get the right to come here and mess with my head.”

“That’s true. I am only here for a short bit. I can't promise you anything, any future, but I’m not trying to mess with your head. I’d really like to help you, to be your gateway person. I'd never be flippant with your emotions, but maybe if you’d open up to me, together we can make things better for you.”

Deep within, she clung to the rumble of his voice that rolled and soothed her anxious soul, but she’d strapped down her shame a long time ago. Any attempt to release those bindings would cause her to lose her balance. “I’m quite happy with the way things are.”

“And who did you think you were going to fool with that brave statement?” He was smiling at her and she let him slip a strand of hair behind her ear. Without flinching.

“Is that what you tell yourself each day? That you’re happy? I watched Lulah at dinner the other night. She keeps her eye on you, but I bet you’ve never shared anything with her.”

“I don’t want to burden anyone.”

“I understand that. Moreover, it’s very considerate of you, but sometimes friends are burdened by what you keep locked away rather than what you share. Caught within Lulah’s bubbly, happy exterior is a person who wants to help you. Talk to her.”

“I can’t. Things might accidentally spill out.” That was more of an admission than she’d intended to make. She felt his stillness, but what really surprised her was that she had become so attuned to his breathing. He released his held breath as if he had arrived at a decision and in the next moment, took hold of her shoulder with one hand, and her opposite arm with the other. His knee nudged her upper hip and she rolled to her back as he lay on top of her. He smoothed her arms down her sides, placing her hands palm-down alongside her. She spread her fingers wide, ready to grip the coverlet and his hands covered hers, held them in place until she relaxed.

With his pelvis aligned to hers, he had enough height to rest his elbows above her shoulders. She could feel him now, the thick strength of his thighs pressed to hers, the buckle on his belt, his tight stomach, his hard chest against her breasts. She looked into the deep dark lake of his eyes, taking courage from the compassion she found there as she fought off the frisson of fear. When he nestled his pelvis into her, his hardness surprised her.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Anxious. I’m feeling a seven.” She didn’t even have to contemplate that reply because she could feel herself preparing to run.

“There’s no need to be anxious because this is all I’m going to do. I’m going to cover you and protect you.”

She tested a wriggle to see if she could move out from underneath him but he managed to somehow make himself heavier so that she stayed pinned. “But you…”

“What?”

“I can feel…you’re hard, you have an erection.”

He stroked the hair away from her forehead and smiled gently. “And you think that means that I’m going to take what I want and fuck you. Or that I’m going to coerce you into pleasing me. Is that right?”

The crudeness of his words after such a gentle touch shocked her. Her face heated and her throat tightened as the first burning pressure behind her eyes threatened tears. She nodded. He was right, that’s exactly what she thought.

The tender brush of his thumbs warmed her cheek. His eyes had darkened. “Is that how it’s always been?” His voice was remarkably soft.

I don’t want to cry, not in front of him. What’s happened to me? Why can’t I control this anymore?
When she tried to turn her head away she came up against the cradle of his hands.

“I thought so,” he continued. “Some men, Marlo, are despicable selfish assholes caring only about their own instant gratification. I’m so sorry you’ve met them. Most of us, thankfully, are completely capable of self-control even when aroused by a beautiful woman like you. You understand that, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she nodded. Of course she understood, but it didn’t change the way she responded. It didn’t remove the anger and ugliness held tight and bound inside. How many times did she have to tell herself she wasn’t to blame before she would believe it?

He rolled her again so that they were side-by-side. “Come on, let’s hold each other, as friends. I won’t ask for anything more.” His arms wrapped around her and she returned the embrace. The broadness of his back was like a protective barrier giving her courage. When his hand cupped the back of her head she let him tuck it into that space under his shoulder, against his heart.

“Trust me,” he told her, “I won’t let you fall.”

M
arlo sorted
through a load of dog blankets and towels for the washing machine. The laundry room at the kennels was one place you could guarantee privacy. They weren’t queuing at the door to get in. Some of this recent group of interns were not the sharpest sticks in the woodpile, and others had an overinflated sense of importance. Either way, basic chores were being missed.

The other night she had fallen asleep in Adam’s arms, waking when he’d picked her up to carry her through to her bed. Despite her protests about being carried, despite her insistence she needed to see to the dogs, he continued to her bedroom. He had placed her carefully on the bed and said he would take care of the dogs while she prepared for bed and that he would be back to say goodnight.

When he returned, he said that Fala and Justice were sharing a dog bed, again. That seemed to answer the question about Justice for her. The time had arrived for him to move to the house from the quarantine kennel.

Adam had sat on the edge of her bed and even now, she could feel how the covers had pulled and tightened beneath his weight as if he’d bound her to the mattress. He had suggested sweet dreams then touched his lips to her cheek and left.

She hauled a clean load of towels from the dryer and dumped it on the table for folding. The resounding clatter told her she’d managed to knock her phone to the floor. Again. She retrieved it and after a quick glance at the screen, pushed it into the back pocket of her pants. The message tally was growing.

With the last of the clean laundry folded, Marlo hoisted herself onto the table and started working through her messages. Jarrod, one of the interns, had left a message to say he wouldn’t be back—probably the daily mountain of washing had become the Everest he would never conquer. At least Lulah wouldn’t be sorry to hear that news. Jarrod, and his quirks, as she’d called them, took more of Lulah’s time than the rest of the interns combined.

There were four messages from Adam. Her stomach did a small flip. Four messages and one invitation—a bunch of them from the precinct were having a party the following day. Would she join them?
Them? Who are they?

Marlo’s instinct was to turn him down even though in one text he told her they were celebrating his birthday. She wasn’t that comfortable in a social situation where she would probably know only one member of the group. And, let’s face it, there would be way too many cops there for her liking. All that male ego wrapped up in uniform was bad enough, but when it came repackaged in civilian clothes and liberated for social occasions, it could be frightening.