Somebody's Angel (#5 in a Military Romance / BDSM Romance series) (Rescue Me) (50 page)

“There’s a double standard for men and women, Marc, and it was even worse back then.”

He nodded. “I guess so.”

They stared at each other in silence for a while before she broke into his thoughts. “Have you told her how you feel yet?”

He glanced away, and the motion of his fingers on her collarbone stopped. She reached up and stroked his forehead, letting her fingertip trail over his temple and cheek. “I think she can help heal that wounded little boy inside you better than anyone else.”

He grabbed her hand again as his gaze zeroed in on her, ferocity in his green eyes. “I’m a grown man. The past can’t be changed. I have to accept what happened and move on.”

“How’s that worked for you so far?”

“Touché.”
He glanced away. “I’ll admit, I have no clue what to say to her.”

“Saying that you understand might be a good start. That you forgive her for not being honest with you.”

“But I
don’t
understand. Far from it.”

He didn’t say whether he could forgive Mama, but Angelina didn’t think he’d gotten there yet. Maybe she could help him process the feelings a little bit.

“Okay, you say you accept that she’s your mother, because you’ve known no other your entire life. I think she needs to hear that from you.”

He sighed and cupped her cheek with his warm hand. She fought the urge to turn her face toward his palm and kiss him. Every ounce of her being wanted to nurture and cuddle him, but he didn’t need coddling. He needed prodding.

Once more, his gaze became shuttered. “Let’s get some sleep. I’ll check in with Cassie in the morning and see how Luke is doing.”

He’d slammed the door shut, but for a few moments beforehand, he’d left it open just enough to shine some light on his thoughts and insecurities.

“Good night, Marc.”

She pushed his shoulder, guiding him onto his back and placing her head on his right pec. Marc wrapped his arm around her and stroked her hair.

Her eyelids grew heavy.

Home.

* * *

Angelina’s head grew heavier and he knew she’d fallen into a deep sleep. The dark circles under her eyes and the weight loss were testament to how hard she’d had it these past couple months. Conversely, he’d gained weight during her absence by eating out too much. He’d missed her fabulous, healthy meals.

How would she feel about living with him again, especially if it wasn’t in the Denver house with a kitchen that was any chef’s wet dream?

Don’t think about wet dreams right now.

Still, she loved that kitchen. It was her favorite room in the house, unless they were playing somewhere else in the house. They’d practically lived either in the kitchen or the bedroom when they were together with occasional visits to the playroom. But he’d never needed a well-equipped playroom to play.

He still needed to ask Adam and Karla what their final decision was on buying the house from him. He’d planned to check with Adam earlier this evening, but then all hell had broken loose with Luke’s accident.

Living in Denver once fed that place in his soul that had been disconnected when he’d returned from Iraq. Adam once encouraged him to find some cause that made him feel needed, and he’d latched onto search-and-rescue work. Not to mention the Masters at Arms Club, but it was more the connection with his Marine friends that fed his soul. But Damián and Adam had new families now.

Had he ruined any chance of having Angelina in his life again? He’d tried to share some of himself with her a few minutes ago, but how much would be enough to satisfy her? Even if she agreed to be with him again, he didn’t want to be cooped up in the city.

Angelina moaned and wrapped her arm across his abdomen. Memories of the first night he’d spent in this bed holding Angelina in his arms seeped into his consciousness. The first time in this bed he thought he would have only the one night with her. He’d wasted much of the night and following week trying to figure out how he could get her interested in Luke instead. He’d known no woman would be satisfied with the little he had to offer.

Mine.

He held her tighter. The thought of anyone else touching his girl made him ill. He cherished the months she’d been with him. His outlook on women had changed drastically since they’d met. Before, he’d trusted no woman and had kept even his male friends at arm’s length emotionally. He’d lowered the walls a little bit since Angelina entered his life but had never totally opened himself up. A year ago, he wouldn’t have been able to imagine trusting a woman as much as he did this one.

What made her different? She was Italian. He didn’t understand his aversion to Italian women, one he’d had long before Melissa had come into his life during college. Allowing himself to become vulnerable to Angelina had shaken him to the core. The time she’d topped him had been nothing compared to coming to her at Rico’s place tonight with his heart on his sleeve. She could have crushed him, told him to take a hike.

Instead, she opened her home to him once more.

Angelina wouldn’t take any guff off of anyone. Her father and older brothers had helped prepare her well for the assholes of the world—including him.

Angelina moaned again, and he reached up to stroke the creases from her forehead.

“You’re safe,
amore
. Sleep now.”

Soon she relaxed against him again. Feeling the weight of her head on his chest gave him a sense of peace he hadn’t felt in a long time. He wished they could return to the time before New Year’s. Everything had been going so well then.

Or had it? Perhaps that had been yet another illusion. His inability to fully trust Angelina would have become an issue at some point. Here he thought he was trying to win her trust when all along he was the trust-deficient one.

He glanced around her bedroom. He’d grown up in a resort condo unit—a glorified hotel suite, really. Before Angelina had made the Denver house feel more like a home, he hadn’t paid attention to the difference between his home with Angelina and the one he’d grown up in back in Aspen. In those few months, she had made a number of changes, but Angelina’s house here in Aspen Corners reminded him of the one he remembered from his childhood in Italy. Cozy. Intimate. Perfect for a couple or a family starting out.

Or a woman living alone. Angelina hadn’t said anything about wanting him to move in. He’d better not start making too many plans. He hadn’t won his girl back yet.

Marc rested his chin on her head and closed his eyes. So much of his life remained unsettled.

* * *

“No, Zietta Natalia!”

Angelina was jolted awake by a forceful arm pushing her away.

Marc screamed in Italian. “I don’t want to come out!”

She pushed herself up from Marc’s chest and gazed down at his contorted features in the early-morning light. It took a moment for her to remember where they were.

In her best Mistress A voice, she commanded, “Marc. Wake up.” He blinked awake instantly this time and stared at her in confusion. “You had a bad dream.” Again.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

She shook her head. “Want to talk about it?”

“Not particularly.”

“You called out in Italian to your mama—only you called her Auntie Natalia.”

He shoved her head off his chest and onto the pillow. “Drop it, Angelina. I said I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Marc, I hurt when you hurt. How can I help you?” Her thumb moved back up to stroke his bottom lip, hoping to coax them to open and speak.

“I don’t need you—your help.”

She yanked her hand back as if he’d bitten it.

He reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “
Cara
, you know I would do anything for you—”

She shook her head. “Then talk to me. I’m not asking you to do anything
for
me other than to stop shutting me out.”

“I know what you’re asking,
amore
, but it’s not something I can give.”

“Why can’t you open up to me the way you did earlier tonight?” His shuttered expression told her that wasn’t going to happen. “What is it you need from me, Marc?”

“I need nothing from you!”

She didn’t try to mask the pain those words caused her. She’d asked for honesty, hadn’t she? She saw the bitter truth in his response. For whatever reason, he was incapable of letting himself be vulnerable with her, probably with any woman.

Angelina got up from bed and pulled her robe on as if it were a suit of armor. “Let me tell you what you need, Marc.”

“What is that?” Was it fear she saw in his eyes?

Why couldn’t you trust me, Marc?

“You need to leave. I can’t be in a relationship with someone who doesn’t need me. Who doesn’t even trust me.”

He didn’t fight to save their relationship, if they’d ever really had one. He dressed and walked toward the door. Tears burned her eyes.

Please leave before you see me cry.

“I’m sorry I can’t give you what you need,
cara
.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

He shrugged.

“You unleashed the submissive in me, Marc, in this very room. If I am not permitted to serve your needs, I am left with nothing.”

Marc held onto the bedroom doorknob for a long moment. Could he hear what she tried to express? Would it make any difference?

He straightened his shoulders and opened the door. She watched him leave through a blur of tears knowing he wouldn’t come back again.

She’d gambled her heart—and lost.

Chapter Twenty-Three

“W
hen the
fuck
are you going to figure out why the hell you keep screwing things up with that girl?”

“I’m trying, Adam.”

“Sure could’ve fooled me.”

Marc scrubbed his hand over his face. He’d barely slept in days. Exhaustion made it impossible for him to think anymore. “I know. You’re right, but I’ve been trying to figure it out. I’m stuck. That’s why I came to you.”

“What do you think I can do?”

He hadn’t really come here for empathy, but thought Adam would understand. Hell, the man had driven his own girl away to Chicago, a helluva lot farther than where Angelina had run. But Adam had managed to win Karla back.

“You know me better than anyone.” Marc really had let very few people close enough for any kind of glimpse inside him. Adam had been there in the field hospital in Fallujah when he’d been doped up and at his weakest. He had been one of the few to even temporarily breach his defenses. Between the lack of sleep for more than a week trying to figure out how to get Angelina back and worrying about Luke the last couple of days, he’d reached the end of his rope.

“Losing Angelina the first time was like losing a part of my soul.” He cleared his throat. “Worse than the aftermath of what happened to us on that rooftop in Fallujah. Worse than losing Gino, because I’d lost him six months before he actually got killed.”

Marc’s eyes filled, and he looked away before Adam could pounce on that sign of weakness. He would not break down in front of Adam. He took a moment to regain control by drawing several deep breaths.

“I expected her to come back any day. We’re right in so many ways. The sex is fantastic, she enjoys the hell out of the kink, and I’ve given her the kitchen of her dreams. What more could I give her?”

Adam raised his eyebrows briefly, but remained silent. Okay, that hadn’t come out right, but Marc decided to keep going. “She said she wanted me to open up and let her in. I’ve never opened myself up more to any other woman. Never wanted to. Giving anyone that much control scares me shitless. But I guess I couldn’t give her what she needed.”

Silence. After a few awkward moments, Marc continued. “Anyway, she didn’t come running back, as I’d expected. Instead, she went to Luke’s for comfort and shelter.”

“Anything going on between them?”

Marc shook his head. “No. Other than one time last fall where the three of us got pretty intense, they’re practically brother and sister.”

“You’re sure she isn’t trolling for your replacement?”

“Hell, no! You saw how it was with us at daVinci’s bar. There’s still something between us.”