In Your Arms: A Small Town Love Story (Safe Haven Book 1) (18 page)

21


T
alk about kicking
me when I’m down.” Marlo sat in her office fingering the soft leather collar custom-made for Justice. His name was engraved on the brass plate, along with the symbol for justice—a blindfolded lady holding aloft a pair of balanced scales and a double-edged sword. She brushed her thumb over the etching before dropping the collar on her desk beside where Adam sat. “The irony almost kills me.”

“I’m sorry, hon. There are no shortcuts on this one…we have to let it follow its course.”

He’s right. This was out of our control
.
“You know, I promise every dog coming through these gates that I’ll be with them until rehabilitation is complete. Sometimes completion is simply retirement to a place of permanent sanctuary for the poor devils that are so spiritually and emotionally battered that a real-world situation for them is impossible to endure.

“Others go on to live amazing lives as companions or service dogs. Every dog is equally precious, but there’s one particular scenario that gets to me more than the others.” She took hold of the collar again, rubbing her thumb over the symbol on the brass plate as if it would release a genie. She could feel Adam willing her to continue, but she was struggling now.

“Sometimes our volunteers are damaged people. Like attracts like, I guess. Many arrive completely shut down with all kinds of trauma, PTSD, ferocious anger…often they’re from the services and have been deployed. I’ve not had one through here who hasn’t connected with a damaged dog. Not one. And you should see the difference it makes to them. Their troubled souls unite and the healing begins. Both the dog and the person.”

She tapped her forefinger on the collar tag, as if by concentrating on that small, rhythmic movement, she could beat away the tightening in her chest. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever witnessed, watching a dog and person mend each other without the need or intervention from ‘experts.’ Often, every form of therapy available to these people has failed them. In the process, their marriages have fallen apart, and they’ve sabotaged many relationships with their family and friends…” She paused for a couple of beats, “and the damaged dog, which has invariably been failed by people, helps them.” More irony.

“Is that what Fala is to you?”

Marlo’s eyes brimmed with tears. She looked up at Adam as they spilled down her cheeks. “No, that’s what Justice is to Fala and me. It took a while for the right one to come along.” Dog and man. Some of us need two saviors.

Wiping her eyes, she continued. “We need Justice. I had no idea how much my hyper-vigilance controlled my life. I was on edge all the time, as if permanently under physical threat, and I’ve been able to relinquish to Justice, that constant state of being on guard. I never understood how stressful my life was until he turned up to take care of it.”

Adam nodded. “Yes, you need Justice. I understand that.”

“When can I see him?”

“I’m not sure, hon.”

She reached for the collar and raised it to her face. “It smells of him.”

He held out his hand. “May I see it?”

She passed it over and watched as he fingered it, examined the stitching and traced his finger around the brass nameplate, just as she had.

“It’s beautiful.”

She nodded.

“Where did you get it?”

“Vince made it. He was one of those broken people who came through the gate and he left with Calliope, to help him repair and reform. When he arrived to do volunteer work, Vince wouldn’t talk. To be honest, he frightened me. He had this air of barely contained aggression about him, but I noticed that when he was about to erupt, he’d remove himself from the group and go off alone. Well, the first day at least. After that, Calliope, who had only recently come to us—and she was a mess, too—would sense his tension and be at his side in a flash.

“The first time she followed him, I watched Vince try to send her back. In the end, he shouted and flung his arms at her to shoo her away, but instead she lay down and showed him her belly. He’d frightened her. He kept shouting at her to get up and go back, but she refused. She wouldn’t give up on him. I was about to intervene when suddenly he dropped to the ground and lay alongside her and cried like a baby. What an unimaginable scene…this great big Marine, lying in the dirt with his arms around a skinny, scab-covered dog.

“From that day, they’d disappear at lunch time for a couple of hours. After a week, I noticed Calliope wore the most stunning collar. Vince had made it for her. He’d picked up the skill from his father who had been a saddle maker. Now he makes a collar for each dog that comes through here and completes rehabilitation. He sees it as a binding symbol of devotion in the partnership between a dog and that person the dog goes to live with. He learns the traits and personality of the dog and creates something representative.

“He gave Calliope her name. She’s still his muse.”

A
dam handed back the collar
. “It’s stunning work.” It bothered him that she had this whole other part to her life, a nurturing and healing part that benefitted others, but not herself.

She stood and glanced around the room. “Damn! I keep looking for him.”

“Are you okay?”

“I was until you asked. I’ve never so royally fucked things up for a dog before. And I’m not apologizing for my language.”

“No apology expected.”

“I think I’ll phone Animal Control and ask how Justice is getting on. Maybe let them know how he needs to be handled.”

Adam quickly blocked the phone from her, because that call could really stuff things up
.
“Not a good idea. They’ll be giving me a report this afternoon, but until then we don’t want to go stirring things up.”

“Is Justice safe there?”

“Yes, hon, of course he is. So what are you doing now?”

“I need to talk to the staff, especially Lulah. Somehow I have to explain what’s been going on, and you know what? I’m stuck. I have no idea which bits to tell them and which to leave out. If I don’t tell them enough, and they get more information from somewhere else, it’ll look as though I don’t trust them.”

“Would you like me to come and help? I could tell them, in a sort of police capacity.”

“Thanks, but I should do it.”

“Let me help you.”

“I’ll be okay.”

He took her warm, soft hand, and played with her fingertips. She didn’t pull away. He turned her hand over, traced down the backs of her fingers. “Marlo, when you constantly reject someone’s help, you’re rejecting them as a person, too.” He tightened his grip as she tensed and tried to take her hand from his grasp.

“I don’t mean…”

He put a finger up to her lips. “Think about it, okay?”

A
fter talking with the staff
, they walked back to the office together.

“That went quite well. Apart from Lulah, but I’ll talk to her later. She can see the gaps in the story. Thankfully she’s smart enough to not raise her concerns in front of the others.”

Adam put his hand to the nape of her neck, working at the tightness as they walked. “You’re lucky to have her.”

“Yeah, I know…and Adam, thanks for doing that with me. You’re right, having you there did make it easier.”

“Good, because now I’m going to make things difficult for you again.”

Marlo stopped. “Really?”

“Yup. You and I are going into town, and we’re going to talk with Butch about last night.”

Marlo raised her hands in front of her shoulders and started backing away. “No, not going in there, Adam.”

“Yes, we are. Otherwise they’ll send a patrol car out for you.”

Not a patrol car. Surely they wouldn’t. She dragged her gaze up to meet Adam’s. She could see his concern in the furrow of his brow, but it did little to stop the tremor that quaked her insides.

“I’ll be with you.”

She shook her head. “Can’t…”

“Can, and going to.”

She let him reach for her, take her hand. “Come on. Together. Let me help.”

They continued slowly along the path and once inside the office, Marlo sat against the edge of her desk. Breathe in for three, hold for three, out for three. She could feel Adam watching as she tried to calm herself. Gradually the pounding in her chest eased, and the sounds of the outside world drifted back. Adam was speaking to her.

“What do you need?”

“Justice.”

“Yes. Anything else?”

“Water.”

B
y the time
they parked at the back of the sheriff’s department it was late afternoon. Adam hopped out of the car and went around to open Marlo’s door. He held out his hand to her. “Come on, you’ll be fine. Butch only wants to chat.”

“I think I’m going to be sick.”

“You won’t be sick, hon. If it’s Barrett you’re worried about, forget him. He won’t be here—Justice saw to that. Anyway, he’s stood down for the moment.”

“Will you stay with me?”

Asking for help. Breakthrough
.
“That’s up to Butch.”

Inside, Adam led her along the corridor to an office at the rear. He knocked on the door, and Butch called them in. He seated Marlo and asked Adam to leave.

“Can’t he stay?” Marlo asked.

Butch shook his head.

Adam held his arms wide. “Come on, Butch!”

“Adam!” The man scowled.

He touched Marlo lightly on the top of her arm. “I’m right outside the door.” She looked pale, frightened and tiny. This is what they’d done to her
.
He left the office, closing the door with a soft click. Moving a few paces along the corridor, he leaned his shoulder against the wall and waited. He was like a schoolboy summoned by the headmaster. Marlo was safe with Butch. Nothing would happen to her. He wouldn’t frighten her.

He turned to the sound of footsteps in the corridor, and saw Margaret carrying a tray with coffee and cookies. He opened the door for her and heard the soft voices inside stop, pleased that there was no evidence of a meltdown taking place.

Margaret came back out. “Can I get you something, Kiwi?”

“Thanks, but I’m fine.”

A
t the sound of laughter
, he looked at his watch. Forty-five minutes had passed. He started to wish he’d accepted that coffee from Margaret after all. He thought about going to his desk, but he’d told Marlo he’d be outside the door, so that was where he was going to stay. He’d done enough recently to derail the merest glimpse of trust she might have had in him. The last thing that was going to happen was for her to come out of that office to an empty corridor.

Once they got out of here, he’d go over to the deli and pick up something special for dinner. Cook for her…feed her, like that night at the restaurant.

“Kiwi!”

At last
.
He pushed off the wall and entered the office.

“Butch?”

“It’s all good. I got enough information from Marlo, although we may need to talk to her again further down the track. But for now, take her home. Relax. Take care of her.”

A
dam had insisted
she sit at the table and talk to him while he fixed dinner. He was accomplished and quick, and she fell ever-so-slightly, just-one-step-further
in like
with the guy in her kitchen.

They talked about some of the dogs that had been through Dog Haven. He told her about the farm dogs he’d had: Black-and-tan huntaways with a big, deep bark and a little eye-dog called Sprite who was quick as a flash and nipped around the cows like a dervish. She used to disappear once the cows had come into the milking shed and reappear minutes before they were to be returned to the paddock. It took months before he discovered Sprite was, in fact, making a dash to the farmhouse and spending a couple of hours asleep on his favorite chair by the fire in the kitchen while Emma prepared dinner.

“Do you miss your dogs?”

“Oh, yeah, but they probably don’t miss me. Ultimately, they’re the farm dogs with a drive to work the cows, so they continue to do their job whether I’m there or not. My brother, Clive, and the sharemilkers care for and work them. In the past few years, I’ve filled in for holidays, stuff like that. I’ve not really been part of the day-to-day scene for quite some time.”

“I like to hear about Emma, too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It makes you so superbly normal.” In her life, ‘normal’ had been rare and she found it unbearably attractive.

He crossed the room, kissed her on the top of her head. “Do you have any idea how good for me it is to hear that? To not have to hide Emma, keep her buried and pretend she didn’t exist? Pretend that I’m over her because talking about her makes everyone uncomfortable?”

“I understand what it’s like to have stuff to say that makes people uncomfortable. You don’t have to do that with me.”

His arms encircled her, pulled her hard against him. In his strong grip, she found his own desperation and fears.

“Thank you for being so special,” he whispered.

“What a broken pair we are.”

“Not broken, just a bit cracked.”

“And we’re not carrying life sentences. You’ve shown me that, Adam.” She looked up at him and saw in a brief flash of pain, the sentence he still carried.

He pulled away. “Come on, let’s eat outside. You grab the plates, and I’ll bring the food.” She’d never had a man cook for her, but if this meal was anything to go by, she would be quite happy for Adam to cook any time he wanted.

After dinner she let him lead her to the patio daybed. “Lie face down. I want to try something with you.”

22

S
he hesitated
as her instinct kicked in to check for an escape route, before she lowered herself to the cushions. He noticed, and she felt his hand press between her shoulders as he bent and whispered in her ear. “Stay right there.”

The low resonance of his voice rumbled through her and settled somewhere in the pit of her stomach, remaining as a quiet force. “Was that an order or a threat?”

“You choose.”

A small laugh escaped. The piped edge of the cushion pressed to her cheek and his hand remained firm at the top of her spine.

“I was teasing…you do this thing where you hesitate and sum things up before doing anything outside of your sphere of control.”

She lifted her head.

“You’re moving.”

The cushions sank as he sat alongside her. Two strong hands gripped her shoulders, working on her tight muscles.

“Good, good, good. We’re starting exactly as I thought. You’re wound like a spring and reacting as if having your shoulders massaged is something akin to having ice dropped down your shirt.”

“Yeah, well…”

“Yeah, well, nothing at all. This is an exercise in desensitization. I’ve been reading about it. It’s impossible to feel anxiety and relaxation at the same time, so I’m going to massage you. As you start to relax, you’ll lose some of your anxiety about being touched. You haven’t been touched well, so you startle too quickly. I think we should try to break down some of that flight response so that you move towards a touch rather than jerk away.”

Her breath caught and that little burn of emotion started up in the back of her throat. He’d been reading up about it to help her? Nobody had done anything like that for her…ever
.
She felt his hands working her shoulders, pushing deeper as they warmed up her muscles. “Ow!”

“That one got in, huh?”

“Yeah, that hurt.”

“It won’t hurt so much if you relax, Marlo. Still that busy mind. I can practically hear the cogs whirring inside your head.”

She lifted her head and immediately his hand firmly guided it back to the pillow.

“Stay there.”

“Okay.”

His thumbs dug in a little deeper, and she groaned. “You are so overdue for this, Marlo. Your shoulders have more knots than a macramé plant hanger.”

“Macramé! Is that a kiwi thing?”

“More a seventies thing.”

“I’ve never heard of it…what is it?”

“It’s a method of textile making that uses knots rather than weaving or knitting. It’s an ancient craft but the hippies embraced it and made it popular. Think lots of twine tied in knots, add fringes and beads, and you’ve got yourself a decorative wall hanging, or a poncho, or a plant hanger. Mum used to teach macramé at the CWI—that’s the Country Women’s Institute. About the only piece that made it through our childhood was the plant hanger Mum made. Clive, my brother, and I used to take great pleasure in deconstructing it. We’d spend ages undoing the knots and messing about with the twine. Poor Mum would have to spend her evenings knotting away, recreating it.”

“Should we be bringing your mother and brother into this?”

Adam laughed. “Probably not. Now, empty your mind. Completely. The only thing allowed in your head is white space—or you can make it a color, but no patterns, okay? No stripy wallpaper or murals, just a painted empty room. No background music. It’s a void in there, understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And I forbid you to speak.”

“You—”

“Hush. No thinking now. Let yourself feel my hands.” His fingers roamed her neck and shoulders, deepening and pushing before easing off when her retraction from his touch indicated she was at her pressure limit. He shifted and straddled her right at the junction of her thighs, and she couldn’t prevent that instinctive freeze.

“Oops, easy there. Okay with this?”

Very okay
.
“Yes, sorry, I’m good.”

“Right, off with this, it’s getting in the way.” He pushed the shirt up her back, deftly unhooking her bra, letting the back strap fall to her sides. “Arms up,” he ordered. As she obeyed, he flipped the T-shirt over her head. With that, she was topless. Still laying on her stomach, but topless. That was a rehearsed move
.
Immediately he returned to work on the muscles in her shoulders and slowly make his way down her spine. As he progressed, her breath quickened, and no amount of controlled and calculated breathing was going to calm that storm.

He slid himself from her thighs down to her calves, the movement followed quickly by the slight scratch of the slider running down the zipper of her skirt.

“Let’s lose the skirt,” he said, tugging at the sides and working it down her legs. “What the heck, these cute little knickers—oh. Oh, that tiny bit of lace and the bow works for me, but the knickers have to go sometime, so they might as well join the skirt and leave now.”

She pressed her thighs into the mattress, trying to slow the strip. This morning, before dawn, in dimly-lit, semi-sleep, it had been different. Now the room was bright, and her mind was going nuts. She was back to feeling shy and uncertain. “Adam, I’m not sure.”

“Of course you’re not, hon. That’s what I’m here for. Let me convince you.”

“How come you still have your clothes on?”

“How come you’re asking questions when I asked you not to talk?” His hand was at the back of her head again, pressing firmly down. With his hot breath in her ear and the buttons of his shirt imprinting her spine, he pressed the weight of his chest against her back. She heard one word. “Stay.”

She nodded. Yes.

“Good girl.”

He resumed his massage, and she tried not to squirm when he reached her buttocks. A flush warmed her face, and she buried it deep in the pillow, only to have the same warmth spread over her—what was he saying?—her gorgeous round butt that he wants to kiss? And then he did and, for extra measure, finished the kiss with a quick nip before instructing her to roll over.

He raised himself to his knees to allow her to turn beneath him. When she did, her breath hooked. Her inner governor was throwing up hazard lights and warning alarms until Adam’s steady voice composed her. “I can hear those cogs whirring again. Empty your mind, Marlo.”

She completed the turn and lay on her back; he resumed his position across her.

He ran the backs of his knuckles across her stomach, never taking his eyes from her face. “Does it bother you that I’m still clothed while you’re lying there all glorious and naked?”

“Yes.”

“Because I could happily sit here all night and look at you.”

“Perhaps I’d like to look at you, too.”

His answering grin filled her with pleasure. He reached for her hands and took them up to the top button on his shirt, spreading his arms wide. “At your mercy.”

With deft fingers, she undid the buttons and pushed the shirt from his shoulders. He shrugged it to the floor. She kept her hands up on his chest, circling and stroking down his stomach, smiling as he gasped and sucked in when she reached the top button of his jeans. She looked up at his face, and they locked eyes.

“Oh, God, don’t look at me like that.”

She grinned before returning to the button fly of his jeans. Steadily she worked her way down, pausing to look at him before unfastening each one. He stayed her hand as she reached the last button. “I’ll have to stand to get these off.”

She watched as he removed his jeans and underwear. And oh, yeah, it looked like he wanted her. He calmly straddled her again, his gaze never leaving her face. She had tensed beneath him, which didn’t go unnoticed.

“What happened, Marlo?”

Questions? Was he going to put everything on hold and dig into her head again?
“Nothing, I’m good.”

He was smiling. “Hey, we’ve got to be honest with each other. Does being naked like this bother you?”

“Lying here, you on top of me, talking, no clothes…it is a bit weird for me.”

“So is that what troubled you?”

“Well, looking at you, sitting there with that great hard-on...”

“I’m glad you think it’s great. But you think I should cover up, is that it?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know!”

“You don’t think if I reach around here—” he let his forefinger tease along the junction of her tightly closed thighs, “—I won’t find that you’re a little bit damp, a little bit
hard-on
yourself?”

She tried to wriggle from beneath him, but he clamped his thighs around hers and held her in place. Her pulse climbed a notch. She bit into her bottom lip, trying to hide her arousal.

“So what is it now?”

Had he picked up on that little snag? “It’s all the scrutiny.”

“Tell me more?”

“You look at me like you want to devour me, and I don’t know how I should respond.”

He grinned, and she pushed at his chest. “I’m glad that message is getting through. Is there anything else?”

“Yeah, because, you see…I don’t know what to do,” she said.

“Oh, okay. That’s pretty normal when we don’t really know each other. Everyone feels like that.”

She nodded. Yes, he understands.

“I expect you have limits.”

“I don’t know. Limits? I’m not sure what you mean.” Her heart stepped up a gear, thudding in her chest. Just the one limit…no cops.

“Oops, there we go, that little tightening around your eyes.” He touched near her temple for emphasis. “You’re anxious. What was that limit we struck?”

Her teeth grabbed into her lip again.

H
e’d hit a rut
. Time to back up.

“What I mean is, if something doesn’t feel right for you or makes you uncomfortable, you tell me, okay? We can only trust each other if we’re totally honest. That’s the foundation that we can build on. Never be coerced, and don’t do anything that disturbs you because you think it’s what I want.” He winked at her. “Having said that, I may want to push those limits at some stage, because I’m a man, and my ego tells me I know what’s best for you. But that’s not what we’re about today.”

Her hot, soft eyes held his gaze.

“Keep doing that, and I’m going to fall right on in.”

“Keep doing what?” Her mouth quirked slightly, and she giggled.

Breakthrough! She giggled! Her happiness rippled right through him.

She cocked her head. “You shivered. Are you cold?”

“Never cold with you around.” He skimmed his hands up her body, bringing them to rest under her head, cradling her as he pressed his lips up to her ear. In their short time together, he’d noticed she really responded to the ear thing. He took her earlobe, dragged it between his tongue and teeth. She shuddered beneath him, and in that movement, she’d freed herself of anything holding her back.

He moved to her mouth. Nothing restrained her response now. Her tongue reached for his, and they entwined and plunged. Continuing down to her breasts as he pressed himself between her thighs, he felt like an overstimulated teenager. He cupped one breast, drawing the nipple into his mouth, and had to pull his hips away from hers. At this rate he was never going to hold it together.

Her hand reached down to rub across the head of his cock, teasing, sliding along, and this time his own rough groan drifted into the night. He lifted his head, grabbed her wrist. “Hell, Marlo, it’s going to be over in seconds if you keep that up.”

And she smiled—pure, wicked, fun. He released her hand and she gripped him again.

He seized one wrist. “For the record, you asked for this,” he growled at her as he reached for the other, capturing them both in one hand. In a swift move, he raised them above her head and looked down at her, holding, waiting for something to give. Their gazes met, and her eyes narrowed, her mouth ever-so-slightly parted. Out came the tip of her tongue. He shook his head as she traced it slowly around her lips. “Oh, game on, little tiger.”

Keeping her hands locked above her head, he dove back to her breasts, his mouth on one, his spare hand attending to the other. Her hips pushed into him.
Oh, here we go.
He lifted his head. “Marlo. Okay?”

“Don’t stop.”

“So not stopping, but I need that hand back, so you behave yourself.”

She giggled again. When did she become a giggler?

He released her wrists. “Arms stay right up there. Do not move.” His fingers stroked down the inside of her arm and across the smooth hollow of her armpit, making her twitch and shiver. “Ticklish?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“I’ve never really looked at armpits before.” He kept tracing his fingers from the inside of her elbow, down her arm, across her armpits, and over her ribs. “And yours look so unbelievably delicious.” He bent his head and kissed the trail he’d made with his fingers.

“Adam, please.”

He lifted his head. “Please, what?”

“Please, Adam.”

“Tell me what you want.”

“Stop teasing me.”

He looked at her fingers bunched into two tight fists, trying so hard to do as she was asked. He moved quickly down her body, reached beneath her knees and in one neat movement pressed her thighs open. He traced her with one finger. “So very wet. Is this what you want?”

“Yeah. More.”

“Greedy.” He teased her with his finger around her swollen lips, stroking, enjoying the increasingly urgent press of her hips as she tried to get his finger inside. Then she held still, and the fact that she remembered from the previous time made him smile, made his cock even harder than he thought possible
.
He slid one finger into her, where she was all hot and swollen and slippery, and felt her grind against his hand.

“More,” she rasped.

He parted her labia, and a second finger joined his first. He pushed slowly inside her, curving his fingertips as he drew back out and dragged with them a delicious moan from deep within her. The next time he did it, he added his thumb to her clit, and the new mix nearly threw her right over the edge.

Her fists unfurled, and she grabbed his shoulders, trying to pull him up and into her. Her panting and begging for release made him ache. He wanted to keep going with his hand, make her come, but that other brain—the one that kicked in when his cock got hard—was calling for something different.

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