Читать книгу Little Secrets - Maureen Child - Страница 16
ОглавлениеJack shouted himself awake, jolted upright in bed and struggled to breathe. The dream—nightmare—still held him in a tightfisted grip and he had to force himself to look around the moonlit room to orient himself. He was home, yet his heart still raced and his mouth and throat were dry. A black duvet pooled in his lap, his bare chest was covered in sweat and his gaze was wild. He scrubbed one hand across his face, rubbing his eyes as if he could wipe away the fear raised by the images still stamped in his mind.
“Jack? Jack, are you okay?” Rita hurried into the room.
“I’m fine,” he muttered thickly, jumping out of bed. Perfect. Just perfect. He’d woken her up and now she’d stare at him with either pity or fear and he didn’t think he could take either.
He wore loosely tied cotton pants that dipped low on his hips and he was grateful he’d decided not to sleep naked since she’d moved in. Damn it. Jack needed a little time to get a grip. To shove those memories back into the dark corner of his mind where they were usually locked away. He needed to be clearheaded when he talked to Rita. Jack just didn’t see that happening anytime soon.
He pushed one hand through his hair and looked at her as if she were a mirage. Jack had pulled himself out of a hot, dusty dream where the sound of explosions and gunfire still echoed in the stillness around him. Seeing her here, in the dark moon-washed confines of his bedroom, a world away from the scene that still haunted him, was almost too much to compute. “Sorry I woke you. Just...go back to sleep.”
He turned his back on her, hoping to hell she’d leave, and walked out onto the terrace, welcoming the brisk slap of wind. Sea spray scented the air that he dragged into his lungs, to replace the dry dustiness that felt as though it was coating him in more than memories.
“Jack?”
Damn.
She’d followed him onto the terrace and the touch of her hand against his bare back had him flinching. Every nerve in his body was firing, on alert.
“What is it?” She stood right behind him, her voice soft, low, soothing. “Talk to me.”
He whipped his head around to glare at her. “I don’t want to talk. That should be clear. Just leave me alone, Rita. You don’t want to be with me right now.”
“Yeah,” she insisted and didn’t look the least bit cowed. “I do. Or I wouldn’t be here.”
Gritting his teeth, Jack ground out tightly, “I’m on the ragged edge here, Rita. I need some space.”
“No, you don’t.”
He choked out a harsh laugh. “Is that right? And you’re an expert on me, is that it?”
“Enough to know that you’ve had enough space,” she countered, stepping in closer. “Too much, maybe. Everyone backs off when you tell them to, but I won’t. I’m here, Jack, and I’m not going anywhere. You can’t use a nasty tone and a miserable attitude to shake me off. Talk to me.”
His skin was buzzing, his mind racing and his heartbeat was still at a fast gallop. Jack had come out of that damn dream ready to fight, but there was no enemy to face. He needed to move. To fight. To do something, to expel the ghosts gathered around him, shrieking for his attention.
“Damn it, Jack,” Rita said, tugging at his forearm until he turned to face her again. Her whiskey eyes were hot, burning with passion and fury and he wasn’t sure which had top billing.
“I’m not deaf or blind,” she said. “I heard you shouting. I stepped into your room in time to see you bolt up in bed as if the hounds of hell were after you.”
She’d hit that one on the head. Scraping one hand over his face, he muttered, “They were.”
“Then tell me.” She held on to him, the heat of her touch sliding into his arm, moving through his bloodstream. “Let me in, damn it. What does it cost you to open the door just a crack?”
He speared her with a hard look. There was no pity, no fear in her eyes. Only concern and curiosity and maybe that was worse in some ways.
“You think it’s me I’m worried about?” He grabbed her shoulders, giving her a little shake for emphasis. “It’s you I’m thinking about here. I’m trying to save you, don’t you get it?”
“Save me? From what?”
“God, you won’t let this go,” he muttered thickly.
“Not a chance.”
He stared into her eyes. “Fine. I’m trying to save you from me. Okay? I don’t even trust myself around you right now.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
There was a response he hadn’t expected.
“You’re not trying to injure me in some way, Jack,” she pointed out, her voice a little louder, her eyes a little more fiery. “You’ve done your best to simply avoid me at all costs.”
“There’s a reason—”
“Did I ask you to save me?” she interrupted, breaking free of his grip. The cold ocean air lifted her hair into a cloud of dark curls around her head and with the flash in her eyes, she looked like a pagan goddess. Even the nightgown she wore that was hot-pink with the image of a cupcake on it and the words SWEET THING scrawled across the top couldn’t diminish her. No, not a goddess, he corrected. Instead, she looked like a short, Italian Valkyrie. She was furious and her eyes were shot with sparks.
She poked her index finger into the center of his chest. “I’m a big girl. I save myself when I need it. I don’t need a knight in shining armor, Jack.” She shoved her hair out of her eyes impatiently. “What I need is for my husband to tell me what’s tearing at him.”
“You would have made a great warrior, Rita,” he said softly, gaze raking her up and down, from her bare toes with their purple-polished nails up to the eyes that were so incensed he was surprised she wasn’t actually shooting flames from them. “You are a Fury, aren’t you? Not afraid of anything.”
“Not afraid of you, anyway,” she said, whipping her head back to shake her hair free of her eyes.
How the hell was a man supposed to win an argument with a woman like this? How was he supposed to ignore her, ignore what she made him feel?
“Maybe you should be,” he said, pulling her in close with one quick move. “And if I were a better man, I’d tell you to leave. Now. But I’m not—so if you want to run, now’s your chance.”
She reached up, cupped his face in her palms and demanded, “Does it look like I’m going anywhere?”
“No. Thank God.” He bent his head, and took her mouth in a kiss that was filled with the hunger and desperation he’d felt since she reentered his life.
With the dregs of the nightmare still clinging to him, Jack held her tighter, his hands running up and down her back and down to her bottom. He pulled her against his rock-hard body and she wriggled closer in appreciation. Expectation. His blood ran hot and fast, his heartbeat raced and his mind was fogged by the want choking him. Need was alive and shouting inside him.
The cold ocean wind wrapped itself around them, but he didn’t feel it. Nothing could vanquish the internal heat. One hand cupped the back of her head and held her still so he could completely claim her mouth. His tongue tangled with hers and her eager response fed the flames licking at his soul.
There was no time for romance, seduction. He needed to be with her. In her. Over her. Tearing his mouth from hers, he looked down into her now-glassy eyes and fought to breathe.
“What’re you doing?” she managed to ask breathlessly. “Why are you stopping?”
“Not stopping. Changing location.” He bent down, scooped her up and carried her back through the French doors and into his bedroom. Moonlight followed them, the wind rushed in behind them and none of that mattered. He laid her down on the mattress and, in one deft move, stripped her nightgown off, leaving her naked—just as he wanted her. She scooted back farther on the mattress and reached for him. Jack didn’t keep her waiting. He yanked off the sleep pants he was wearing and joined her on the bed an instant later. His hands moved over her, exploring every curve. Every line.
He remembered this so well. Had tormented himself over the last few months, by recalling the feel of her skin, the lush fullness of her breasts and the taut, dark nipples that he loved to suckle.
And now, because of the baby, she was so much more than she had been. She was ripe, delectable and more alluring than ever. Even as he thought it, though, both of her hands went to the mound of her belly as if to hide it from him. He drew her hands away and said, “Don’t. You’re beautiful.”
She laughed. “I’m huge.”
He shook his head. “No. Curvy. Delicious. Amazing.”
She sighed a little. “Wow. When you try, you really know the right things to say.”
He grinned, bent his head and indulged himself in what he’d wanted to do for weeks now. He took one nipple into his mouth and savored the taste of her. Her scent invaded him, the soft sighs and moans sliding from her throat enflamed him. He ran his tongue and teeth across the tip of her nipple and then suckled, drawing her very essence into himself.
She planted her feet on the mattress and lifted her hips. “Touch me, Jack. Touch me.”
He did. Sweeping one hand down the length of her body, he cupped her center and used his thumb to brush across her most sensitive spot. She jerked beneath him and he smiled against her breast, relishing her reaction. He suckled harder, and then lifted his head to switch to her other breast and she went crazy in his arms. As if the need that had been building between them for weeks had finally reached a breaking point for both of them, she rocked her hips into his hand.
He pushed two fingers into her heat and groaned himself at the slick, tight feel of her. It had been too long. His body was ready to explode and so was hers. He couldn’t wait another minute to be inside her, to feel her body surrounding his.
Lifting his head, he looked down at her then kissed her briefly. “At least we don’t need a condom now.”
“Points for us,” she said, swallowing hard, breath coming in short, hard gasps. “Damn it, Jack, don’t drag this out. I need you inside me.”
“Just what I need, too,” he said, and shifted position to kneel between her thighs. He spread her legs wide and looked down at her. She was wanton, wild and everything he’d ever wanted in a woman. And for this one moment at least, she was his again—as she was always meant to be.
His mind whispered that this was temporary. That this marriage wasn’t real and he was nobody’s idea of husband material anyway. But he shut that nagging voice down and surrendered to the mating call trumpeting through his body.
He ran his hands over her hot, slick center, watching her twist and writhe in her own desperate need.
Her response pushed his own desires beyond what he could bear. Body throbbing, heart galloping, he leaned over her and pushed himself inside her. That first, glorious slide filled him with the kind of ease he hadn’t known in months. This was what had been missing in his life. This sense of rightness that claimed him when their bodies were joined.
She hooked her legs at his hips and pulled him in tighter, deeper. Tipping her head back into the mattress, she bit her lip and moved with him. Their bodies meshed, linked in the most intimate way possible, he felt the pounding of her heart. Saw the flash in her eyes, heard her gasping breaths and experienced her body quaking, quivering as he pushed her higher, faster than they’d ever gone before.
Her nails scored his back as he rocked in and out of her body, setting a rhythm she raced to meet. “Jack! Jack!”
“Come on, Rita,” He urged, barely able to frame the words as his breath sawed in and out of his lungs. “Go over. Go over so I can follow.”
She clung to him and shouted his name when the first tremors took her. He felt her body tighten around his in spasms of delight and when she’d reached her peak, Jack let go and found the peace that had been denied him for months.
* * *
Rita took some deep breaths and tried to ease the frantic beat of her heart at the same time. It had been six long months since he’d touched her like that. Time in which she’d almost convinced herself that her memory was making what they shared much better than it actually had been. Well, she told herself, that theory was just shot out of the sky.
Her whole body was so alight with sensation she thought she should glow in the dark. And even while she tried to regain control, she was thinking about doing it all again. She turned her head to look at Jack, lying beside her. One arm flung across his eyes, his chest heaved with every breath and she smiled, knowing that he was just as shaken as she. Had she finally broken through the wall he’d built around himself? Was her Jack finally back?
“You owe me twenty bucks,” he said softly.
She blinked at him, then laughed. “Seriously? You want a tip?”
He lowered his arm and turned his gaze on her. “Nope. A bet we made. Not only did you marry me when you said you wouldn’t, you just—”
She held up one hand. “I know what I just—” then she slapped both hands to her hips as if checking for a wallet “—I don’t seem to have any pockets at the moment so I’ll have to owe you.”
One corner of his mouth quirked. “I suppose I can live with that.”
Rolling to one side, he propped himself up on one elbow and looked down at her. “Rita—”
She stopped him by laying her fingers on his mouth. Disappointment welled in her chest. Looking into his eyes, she could see that her Jack was still buried behind a shutter of ice. Maybe there were a few cracks in that cold stillness, but it was a seductive stranger staring at her through Jack’s eyes. Her heart hurt for it, but she wouldn’t give up. Now more than ever, it was important to find a way to completely reach him.
“Don’t you dare apologize for this,” she said firmly. “Or tell me that it’ll never happen again—”
He tried to speak, but she hurried on. “We both wanted this, Jack. And I want it again right now.”
“Want isn’t the point,” he ground out as he laid one arm across her middle.
“Then what is?” She reached up and smoothed his hair back from his forehead, just because she wanted her fingers in that thick, wavy mass. Rita needed to touch him, to ground herself and hopefully him. To remind them both that the threads binding them were still there. They hadn’t been broken, only strained. She had to believe they could strengthen them again.
“Talk to me,” she said, locking her gaze on his so that he could see how much she wanted this. That when he told his story, whatever it was, he would still be safe with her. “Tell me what you were dreaming. Why were you shouting? What made you grab hold of me and hang on like I was a lifeboat in a tsunami?”
He scowled, but she was so used to that expression now, it didn’t even affect her. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Just dream about it then?” she countered, refusing to give up on him. Them. “Don’t you see that if you do tell me, maybe it will make the dreams fade?”
“Nothing can.”
Then the baby kicked and his features went blank with surprise. He glanced down to where his arm rested across her belly and then he sucked in a gulp of air when the baby kicked again, as if reminding its parents that they weren’t alone. His astonished gaze snapped to hers. “That was—”
“A good kick,” she finished for him. She knew what he was feeling, because she’d felt exactly the same the first time the baby’d moved. It was magic, she knew. Staggering. That tiny life making itself known. Taking his hand, she held it tightly to the mound of their child.
On cue, another kick came and Jack’s eyes went wide even as an unexpected grin lit his face. “Strong baby.”
That wide smile of his tugged at her heart. “Like its father.”
Just like that, his smile faded into memory. Pulling away from her grasp, he asked, “What is it? The baby, I mean. Do you know?”
If he hadn’t pulled away from her, Rita would have thought that she was making more progress with him. He hadn’t once asked about the baby before, so normally, she would have celebrated internally that he was feeling...linked. But the look in his eyes was cool, not warm, and so she had to admit that nothing had changed.
“No,” she said sadly, sorry that he was withdrawing again. “I didn’t want to know ahead of time. I wanted to be surprised. There aren’t many real surprises left in the world.”
“You always surprised me,” he said. “Still do.” Just for a second, she saw another crack in the wall around him. Then it was gone and as if to prove it to her, he turned and pushed off the bed.
He walked naked to the open French doors and out onto the terrace. On the twenty-fifth floor, facing the ocean, there was no one to see them. No nosy neighbors.
He stood there in the cold wind, his hair lifted off his neck and Rita wanted to touch it, feel it against her skin again. Broad shoulders, narrow hips and long, muscular legs made her mouth water, but while her blood burned, her mind mourned because he was trying to pull away from her. Again.
But Rita wasn’t going to let him. Not this time. Scrambling off the bed, she went to him and pulled at his upper arm until he turned to face her. “I’m not going to quit trying to reach you, Jack.”
He shook his head. “Did you ever think that maybe there’s nothing to reach?”
“No.” She shook her head, too, just as fiercely determined to find him as he was to hide. “There’s you, Jack. And I’m not going to stop pestering, pushing you. I’m not going to stop asking you what happened, so you might as well give in now and tell me.”
“Damn, you’ve got a hard head,” he murmured, with the faintest of smiles.
“That’s been said before.” She looked at him ruefully. “By you, mostly. Jack, tell me. Tell me what’s haunting you.”
He grimaced. “Haunting is the right word for it.”
“Talk.”
A harsh laugh that held no humor scraped his throat and his gaze swung past her to lock on the dark, roiling ocean. But he looked more as though he was focusing on something only he could see. His ghosts. His past. And finally, Rita thought, he was going to bring her into the shadows with him. Maybe then, she’d be able to hold his hand and lead him back into the light.
“You want to know?” He blew out a breath. “Fine. Here it is. Two days after I left you, I was back with my unit.” He glanced at her briefly before turning his gaze to the sea. “I was actually writing you a letter when my squad was sent out to do some recon on a nearby village.”
Her heartbeat stuttered a little, knowing that he had been keeping his promise to write and a little fearful of what had kept him from completing that letter. Rita watched him, judging every tiny twist of his features, trying to guess at the turnings of his mind, at the nearness of his ghosts. Her gaze on his profile, she held her breath and waited.
His voice sounded far away as if he wasn’t really there with her at all, but instead, he was caught in his memories. He was somehow more a part of his past than he was a part of his life, here. She had to know why.
“We were told there was sniper activity so we were careful. Well, thought we were.” He shook his head, gritted his teeth and forced the words out. “I’m not going into details here, Rita. You don’t need to know them anyway. Short version. One of my guys was shot. We took cover, a couple of men breaking right while my best friend and I went left, dragging the wounded man with us.”
“Jack...” She put one hand on his forearm.
“There was an IED on the left.”
Tears drenched her eyes. She didn’t know what was coming next, but her heart ached just looking at his stony profile, the hard set of his jaw, his narrowed gaze.
“The wounded man was killed. My friend Kevin got hit hard. His legs.” He blew out a breath then dragged in another gulp of the cold, sea air. Shaking his head, he swallowed hard and continued, “Somehow, we got the sniper and then I could work on Kevin’s wounds. I got tourniquets on him but he fought me.” He paused, to steady himself, to distance himself from the pain? She couldn’t know. But he kept talking, so she stayed quiet.
“Kevin didn’t want to live without his legs—kept cursing at me to leave him be. I wouldn’t listen. Couldn’t let him die.”
“Of course not.” God, to have such scenes and more in your head. To see them in your sleep. His sister, Cass, was right. These guys weren’t sick. They were hurt. Right down to their souls. Rita wrapped her arms around him and held on whether he was aware of her or not.
“We called for medics and evac. One guy dead, two wounded and Kevin, half-conscious and still cursing me for saving him.” Jack scrubbed one hand across his mouth as if he could somehow wipe away the taste of his own words. Then he finally shifted his gaze to hers and when she looked into his eyes, Rita felt the sympathy he’d already said he didn’t want.
“I couldn’t write to you after that,” he said. “Couldn’t even think about you. I talked to my friend’s widow after they notified her and left her broken to pieces. She loved Mike so much that losing him shattered her completely. Then I went to see my best friend, Kevin, before they flew him out for surgery and he wouldn’t even talk to me.
“Hell, he wouldn’t look at me. All those curses he’d brought down on my head for saving him were still running through my head and probably his. It was like I was dead to him.”
“You never talked to him again?”
“No.” Jack took a breath and blew it out again. “He contacted me a couple of months ago, but I didn’t get back to him.”
“Why not?”
“What’s the point, Rita?” He shoved both hands through his hair. “You think I want to stand there, look at him in a chair and have him ream me all over again? No, thanks.”
She felt for him. He’d saved his friend, done his best for him and the man had fought him every step of the way. No wonder he was tortured by nightmares and didn’t want to talk about what he remembered. But things might have changed for his friend by now. Maybe he wanted to make amends with Jack and by not allowing it, Jack kept the pain close and fresh.
“You don’t know what he wanted,” she told him. “Maybe he wanted to say thank you.”
“I don’t need to be thanked, either,” he snapped. “I did what I had to do. That’s it.”
The emptiness in Jack’s eyes was so profound, Rita didn’t know how he could still be standing. He had to be the strongest man she’d ever known. And the most alone. Even with a family who loved him, a wife and a child on the way, he was so terribly alone.
Voice brisk, letting her know this little truth-telling session was now at an end, he said, “Anyway. After all that, I had nothing left for you, Rita.” Shaking his head, he said softly, “Still don’t. I’m not the guy you knew. Hell, I don’t even recognize that man anymore.”
“Well, I do,” she said, going up on her toes to kiss him. “I know him. I still see him when I look into your eyes. And I know you’re punishing yourself for something that wasn’t your fault.”
“My squad. My calls.”
“And you think I have a hard head.”
He glanced at her, surprise flickering in his eyes.
“Jack, you were ordered to check out that village. You all took cover. What happened, just...happened. You’re not in charge of who lives and dies. Jack, you did the best you could.”
“Wasn’t good enough,” he insisted.
“It was, because it was all you could do.” Now that she knew, she could almost understand him cutting himself off from her, from his family, from everything that was important to him.
He’d seen too much loss. And he didn’t want to risk more of it. So by shutting down his heart, he thought he was protecting himself. Instead, he’d welcomed a different kind of pain. Rita laid her head on his chest and listened to the wild thumping of his heart. He stiffened against her and for a second, she thought he was going to shove her aside, but instead, he grabbed her tight, pulled her closer. Buried his face in the curve of her neck.
“Damn it, Rita,” he murmured, “you should have left it alone.”
“I can’t do that, Jack. I can’t leave you alone.” She wondered if he heard the love in her voice. If he understood how much she was feeling for him or that it was so much bigger than what she’d felt for him when they first met.
She held him, rubbing her hands up and down his back, wishing she could reach past the shadows inside him, wishing she could convince him that he wasn’t at fault. But all she could do was show him. What she felt. What she saw when she looked at him.
Drawing his head up, she kissed him, pouring everything she had into the kiss and was rewarded when he groaned and took everything she offered. Her head was spinning when he fast-walked her back to the bed, when he stretched her out and claimed her in every way possible.
Rita’s mind blanked out and her body took over. Sensation flooded her. Tingles of awareness swarmed through her and curls of delicious tension settled in the pit of her stomach and spread like a wildfire. His hands, his mouth, moved over her, driving her wild, until the flames he lit enveloped them both.
She touched and stroked and kissed, wanting him to experience everything she was. Wanting him to know that he wasn’t alone. That she was here. With him. Wanted him to feel the love she couldn’t bring herself to say yet.
Oh, yes, she still loved him. Yes, she still wanted the happily-ever-after with him. But she knew instinctively that he wouldn’t want to hear that now. So she kept it tucked inside and told herself that they were a matched set. Each of them locking away a piece of themselves they wanted no one else to see.
Then he entered her, and all thought fled. She focused only on what he was doing to her, making her feel. His body moved within hers and the incredible friction left her breathless and she didn’t care. Breathing was overrated. She didn’t need air when she had Jack.
He took her higher than she’d gone before, pushing her to reach for the completion she knew was waiting. Rita kept her gaze locked on his. She couldn’t have looked away if it had meant her life. Those ice-blue eyes warmed and steamed and glowed with passion. Watching him and her own reflection in his eyes, she shattered, her body simply splintering into jagged pieces of pleasure that had her screaming his name and clutching his shoulders. And only a moment later, he surrendered to her, emptying himself into her and she held him while he fell.
