A Love Worth Living (17 page)

Her body shivered. “This is a deterrent?” Her words were breathy, consumed by thoughts of their last bout of earth-shattering sex. “Why not hard and fast?”

The muscles in his arms tightened. Carrie could see how David restrained himself, and she wanted to push his control. But she wanted his answer first.

He dropped to his knees and pulled her to the edge of the bed. “Because I want to spend the whole day savoring your body and making love to you.”

Her heart jumped at his words and the tender intensity of his voice.

It’s just sex
, she thought, but not even she believed it after last night’s intimacy and today’s emotional confusion.

For the sake of self-preservation, she couldn’t let him close, but damned if she knew how to stop herself.

David shucked her jeans and panties to leave her naked, except for the bra. He reached for it, stretching over her until she saw nothing but him. The stubborn set of his chin, the nose that had never been broken like hers had—twice—and eyes that shone with such passion.

It called to her own and stoked the small flame that always burned for him. She had ignored it for so long, but now it roared to the forefront. She needed him, desperately.

When he unhooked her bra and threw it aside, she raised her hands to cup her breasts and lift them in an offering. His head ducked and he enveloped one tender peak in his mouth, warm and wet. Carrie squirmed under his ministrations as the ache between her legs grew more acute with every touch of flesh against flesh.

His hands found her waist and gripped her as if she was his hold on control.

“Take me.” She needed him, now. He could drive away all the doubts and recriminations for a little while.

His lips moved to her other breast, but he said nothing. Her growl of frustration rolled through the room. David chuckled against her and the vibrations zinged through her nipple.

She could feel her own slick arousal as she waited for him to fill her.

He stood to put distance between them. His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. “I’ll make a deal with you.”

She nodded. She’d agree to anything so long as he didn’t stop.

“You answer three questions, and you can have me any way you want.” His cock twitched, and Carrie’s mouth watered.

“Deal.” Talk about a no-brainer.

“That’s not all.” He slunk closer, like a lion stalking its prey. “You get your quickie, but you spend the night here. In my bed, in my arms, not arguing about how slowly I torture you to orgasm.”

A shudder racked her body. She should have turned him down—he would ask her questions she really didn’t want to answer—but her arousal reared its eager head and demanded immediate satisfaction.

Inches from touching her, David stopped and waited for her answer.

“Yes.”

Before the word had completely left her lips, David was there, stealing her breath, muddling her mind. “Ridiculous,” he muttered. “Need you.”

His lips fell upon hers. His hand dipped between her legs to brush over her clit—
too gentle
—before he sank one finger into her.

She arched up from the bed, her body on fire. One finger, then another, but it wasn’t enough. “More, all of you.”

“Damn it, Carrie. You make me lose control.” He groaned and shifted to position himself at her entrance and then finally, finally he was inside her, hot and thick. Her every nerve was at his mercy.

She cried out in pleasure, and he froze deep within her. “Move, please!”

His iron control lined his face. “First question.” His words were strained. His cock throbbed inside her, and she gasped, dizzy from need.

“Hurry.” She contracted around him, pressing her G-spot harder against his erection, but just for a moment.

“Tease.” His voice sounded like gravel. “Have you ever been in love?”

Thoughtless with arousal, she let the words pour from her. “Once, I thought. A long time ago. But he couldn’t take it—” She clamped her mouth shut. Those thoughts had no place here.

David swiveled his hips to stroke inside her once, twice, until she cried out beneath him. He paused once more. Carrie’s eyelids fluttered closed, her control on the brink of shattering.

“Finish the sentence.”

She shook her head. Fine tremors vibrated her muscles, as fear and lust and confusion overtook her control. His head dipped to take a hard nipple into his mouth.

Like it had a direct line south, every pull on her nipple caused an accompanying throb in her clit. She squirmed under him, but no move she made brought relief.

He bit down on her breast and pain sizzled through her body. “Answer.”

A nod of refusal, and his hand wended between their bodies to unerringly thumb her clit, feather light, and taunt her with orgasm. His other hand grasped her hip until she knew he’d leave little fingertip bruises, and all she wanted was more—anything to forget the past. But he wouldn’t let her.

“Carrie, sweetheart, tell me.”

When she didn’t speak, he sank his teeth into her flesh once more, and the pleasure-pain circuit overloaded her better sense, until her lips started moving out of self-preservation.

“I changed when I lost my father and couldn’t be the girl my boyfriend wanted anymore. My focus shifted, and he couldn’t roll with it.”

Not the whole story, but all she could manage. Just enough to appease David’s curiosity before the dam burst and tears rolled from her eyes. It was stupid, aching about her high school boyfriend after this long, even though she knew her tears weren’t really for him.

David muttered a curse and kissed her deep and long.

He moved against her and the pleasure cleansed years of repressed anger. His thrusts increased, deeper and harder, and she clung to him, knowing she’d be lost without him.

“Tell me the rest, baby. I can feel you holding back.”

She shook her head.

One hand hitched her leg up around his back to change the angle of his thrusts. He brushed against her clit now and every grind stole her breath.

“I’m right here. I’ll hold you.”

And she believed him.

“He was one of the meth dealers taken down in the sting after my father’s death.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” He buried his face in her neck and paused before trailing his lips upward to kiss away the tears that tracked down her face. She writhed beneath him, begging him to move, even if it meant ripping open her past. She’d never find a better place for confession.

“Second question. What happened at the park earlier?”

“No, not that. Please.” She wanted to both escape him and take him deeper. She wouldn’t get away from this one though.

If she told him, would he leave her? They both might be better off for it.

He grabbed her jaw and held her in place, his kind eyes breaking through her resistance. “Nothing you say can change us, Care. I swear it.” His hips twitched in slow, shallow thrusts that muted the pain of her admission.

“Grace would be a teenager now.”

Instead of asking the obvious question, he dipped his head to take her nipple in his mouth. The bite of pain urged her on.

“She was my daughter,” she whispered, because saying it any louder would have ripped at her vocal cords. Like the levy had burst, the rest flooded the bedroom. “I lost her the same time as my dad. Same accident. My fault!”

Once she’d admitted it, the crushing weight of her old sorrow eased enough to give her hope that someday she might be able to breathe without feeling it on her chest.

David never stopped moving, flooding her body with wonderful endorphins, even as his own tears dropped from his face to mingle with hers. “Carrie, sweet Carrie.” His voice was as ragged as her heart. He slowed his thrusts, and her breath caught in her chest. She needed this release.

His teeth found her earlobe and nibbled. His mouth trailed down to her neck and bit the juncture of her shoulder and neck.

“David, more.” She needed this, needed him.

He slammed into her as if physically banishing her pain, and she welcomed it, feeling the muscles of his back tense with effort.

“Last question. Why did you leave me that night?” His whispered question dug into her open wounds.

She shook her head no, not wanting to go there, not when she was so close. Hadn’t she told him enough?

His thrusts grew shallow and her orgasm cooled under the frigid reality.

Desperate to keep him moving, choked with the need for release, she blurted out, “I was afraid. No one gets me like you.”

He groaned and muttered something she didn’t quite catch, but he took her, harder and deeper, and nothing else mattered.

His lips ravaged hers, and she was warm and safe and loved and she shattered in his arms, crying out in a never-ending release. His rhythm broke, and he called out her name before his body shuddered and came inside her.

She didn’t want to be alone. She expected him to fall asleep or leave—she itched to do the same, even as she ached for his arms around her.

When David rolled off her, she felt exposed, raw, until she realized he wasn’t going anywhere.

She buried her face against his chest, already missing the blissful orgasm-induced silence of her mind. With her defenses shredded, her past bubbled from her chest and up her throat to choke her with a decade of unshed tears and unacknowledged terrors.

Her mental barriers lay in rubble around her, but it was hard to panic with David’s arms securely around her.

She snuggled closer to thread her leg between his, until she didn’t know where she ended and he began. Stillness settled over her and eased her fears. She synced with David’s slow, calm breathing, and the knot in her throat dislodged. She still wasn’t sure where to go from here, but she’d figure it out. With David, she could do anything.

Chapter Eighteen

David lay in bed with Carrie in his arms. She fit him perfectly, her head nestling into the crook of his arm, her long, red hair spreading across the pillow. At work, she always wore it off her face, so he was fascinated to see it loose.

In sleep, her face was relaxed, and he got a glimpse of the girl she had been before her life regularly tangled with death. Forensic anthropology could be soul-sucking work. He’d seen more than one employee hit emotional breakdown and leave the field before their student loans were even paid off.

Now her desperate drive to be better, quicker, more coldly logical, made sense. If her stepfather had not only helped solve the homicide, but helped her mother heal, of course she’d want to follow in his footsteps and offer the same solace to other victims.

He’d never seen her fully focus on anything but work—not until their first night together. And tonight.

Passion, side by side with such intense pain. It was buried, toxic pain, but talking about her losses would help her heal. She wasn’t beyond saving. He’d caught the warning signs in time.

He drifted off to sleep, reassured and twined around her sweet body.

A scream rent the air, and his eyes shot open. Carrie thrashed in his arms as tears dampened her cheeks. Heart racing, he wrapped his arms gently around her as he crooned her name and laid kisses on her lips.

At last, her cries ceased.

Her eyes fluttered open, midnight blue and far-seeing with the vestiges of her nightmare. She glanced at the clock then back at him. “Why are you still awake?”

Another kiss to her cheek, wet with tears. “You had a nightmare.”

Her body tensed and twitched away, but he held her tight. The placid mask that slipped over her face was a dagger to his heart.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

His laugh was harsh in the quiet room. “That’s your worry? Baby, what the hell is lurking in your mind?”

Frown lines creased her forehead. “It’s nothing.” She tried once again to turn from him, instead pressing her head into his shoulder when she failed. “Let go, please.”

The pain in her words lashed him. He loosened his grip, and she shifted to face away. David prayed she’d be more willing to talk like this. He tucked one arm under her neck. The other arm snaked around her waist to settle over her heart, which fluttered beneath his hand like a frightened bird.

His lips found her neck and kissed the tan skin. He moved to her shoulder, paler, and down to the tee-shirt tan line that any other woman would have shuddered at. It didn’t matter to his Carrie, and he loved her all the more for it.

He continued to caress her skin, calming the skittish woman in his arms.

Once her breathing slowed, he tried again. “Tell me.” Soft, gentle, but leaving no room for refusal.

She cleared her throat and spoke in raw tones. “Rwanda. I dream—”

She shuddered and cleared her throat once more. He found her outstretched hand with his. “The children. So many of them, killed. Beyond identification. Mutilated, scarred, begging me to bring them home to their mothers.”

David’s heart wrenched. This was the burden she had to bear, and it grew heavier with every case. He’d work to convince her to seek professional help with someone who would be unbiased. Some of the finest counselors in the country owed him favors, and he’d call in every single one for her. They’d see every therapist in the world if that’s what it took to find one she could tolerate.