Awaken to Danger (18 page)

her pebbled peak. Slowly she guided his hand along her skin, her impossibly tight nipple tightening

further. He swallowed hard.

Her mouth tipped in a slight smile. She couldn't miss the sway she held over him and damned if he cared

about his surrender so long as she continued to lead his touch, growing bolder as her pupils widened with

unmistakable pleasure.

He throbbed harder against the sweet press of her bottom.

Her other hand, underwater over his, twitched, tangling his fingers in short dark curls, dipping into moist

heat and rubbing slow circles with his fingers against the hidden bud beading as tight and hard as her

nipple minutes before.

Much more of this and he would explode. He started to pull his hand away and she held him firm, her

breathing faster, her heart hammering so hard he could feel it through her back against his chest.. .until her

spine bowed forward in time with her gasp, another, then a low moaning exhale as she sagged against

him again, a limp, soft weight.

He soothed her through the aftershocks with steady pressure, whispering in her ear, "Definitely an image

to carry with me. You're one helluva woman, Nikki Price."

Her head lolling, she nuzzled his shoulder. "While I can take care of myself, I've found it's all the better

with you along."

Tomorrow, he would take her up on that. For now, he held her while the water chilled around them,

reminding him of the cold reality.

He was fast losing control of his feelings for this complicated woman.

So much for believing she could keep things uncomplicated with Carson.

Stretching her leg to toe on the faucet to reheat the bath, she couldn't decide whether to be totally

mortified by what they'd just done or simply languish in the afterglow and warming water. Sheesh, when

she decided to let down her boundaries, she really went all the way. "You were totally right about a bath

relaxing me."

His light laugh ruffled her hair, uneasiness seeping from her toes.

Carson's arms tightened, their hands linked over her stomach. "Thank you for trusting me to be your

first."

"You're welcome." Definitely not simple anymore. From the minute she'd met him, she'd wanted him to

be her first.

Her last?

"Do you mind if I ask why you waited so long?" He stretched his foot to turn off the water.

He'd shared so much about himself and his growing-up years, it seemed selfish to hold back, especially

when her past was so much less traumatic than his. "My parents had to get married when my mom was

only eighteen. Mom was already pregnant with me. It's not something we discussed, but I always

wondered if they fought because of me."

"You know better now, right?"

Sort of. "Chris told me he brought up my 'premature' birth once and Dad almost decked him."

"Since your father's one of the least violent men I've ever met, that says a lot for how much he must love

your mom."

"Yeah." The silent tension had grown so thick over the years, she couldn't wait to leave for college. "Still,

Chris and I weren't surprised when they drew up divorce papers. They had a tough start, followed by a

rocky couple of decades before everything came together for them."

Saying it out loud resurrected memories of childhood nights crying in her bed while her parents fought

downstairs. Crying harder when they stopped talking altogether. "So why did I wait? I just wanted to be

really, really sure before I committed even a part of myself to a guy."

Would he freak out now? Or would she beat him to the punch?

Nerves pattered in her stomach as she realized how close she was to giving more than a part of herself to

Carson, a man who didn't cry for himself, but teared up over Bronco's little girl possibly losing her daddy.

Jeez, how selfish of her to have forgotten what brought him to her in the first place tonight. "Are you okay

after everything that happened this afternoon?"

"I'm leveled out now. Thank you for letting me spill my guts like that back in the truck." Before she could

answer, he flicked the drain on the tub, water sucking out. "We should dry off before we turn into a

couple of prunes."

Vulnerability might be long suppressed, but she'd seen his sensitive side now and couldn't forget. She

hauled herself from the tub and grabbed a coral towel, reaching for another for Carson from the wicker

basket, wishing they could simply dry each other off and go to sleep. Instead, she kept thinking about

what demons must be rumbling around inside of him after a day like today. Leveled out wasn't the same

as okay. She knew that well from watching her parents interact after her father's capture in the Middle

East.

Carson's capture, as well.

Nikki tugged the towel into a knot between her breasts. "What happened today must have brought back

some awful memories of your own time overseas."

He grunted, toweling his legs dry.

Carson never just grunted. He might dodge direct answers but he was always, always polite. She thought

about backing off and letting him have his space...but then she remembered how that tactic had nearly

destroyed her parents.

Holy cow, was she thinking about being a couple? Well, she wasn't
not
thinking about it. She couldn't lie

to herself. She had feelings for this man that deserved exploring, which meant no half-measure crushes

where they never looked below the surface.

Towel drying her hair, she stared at his steamy reflection as he stood behind her tying his towel around

his lean hips. "I heard my dad's version of what happened to your crew overseas." The towel slid from

her shaking hands. Kneeling, she scooped it into the hamper. "It took him a while to talk about it, but

after he and Mom started marriage counseling, they decided Chris and I should know what happened

when he was shot down and captured by those warlords. We're adults after all. They both decided

they'd sheltered us too much from things growing up."

"Do you agree?" He draped his dog tags around his neck.

Tugging the comb through her gnarled hair, Nikki wished her life could be as easily untangled. "Certainly

Chris and I knew something was going on between Mom and Dad. It was tough growing up with him

gone so much, and Mom pretending everything was fine."

She turned to lean against the vanity, taking in his golden gorgeous face marred only by a tiny scar along

his jaw. A scar that somehow made him all the more handsome for the human imperfection.

A scar he'd gotten during his time in the Middle East.

She traced the faded white line cutting through his five o'clock shadow and wondered about the scars he

carried inside from his childhood, as well. "Hearing the truth might have reassured us since sometimes

reality isn't as bad as what you're fearing."

He enfolded her hand and pressed a kiss to her wrist, right on her racing pulse. "You're talking about

something else now."

"And you're a perceptive man."

Carson dropped her hand and strode from the bathroom. "If you're thinking about my parents, the reality

is at least as harsh as whatever you would imagine."

The tile chilled under her feet as she stood in the doorway. "They hurt you?"

His back to her, he snagged his flight suit off the rocking chair in the corner. "Coked-up people don't

know their own strength and lose a lot of inhibitions."

She wanted to wrap her arms around his waist, press her cheek to his shoulder, but she also didn't want

to risk stopping his flow of words. She sank to rest at the foot of her bed in the middle of tangled sheets

and the scent of them together. His handkerchief rested folded on top of her laundry and she still didn't

know what that middle initial stood for.

Had anyone ever cared enough for this man to know everything—even the darker things—about him?

"I'm so sorry."

"Don't get me wrong. I could handle getting slapped around, and I could defend myself when one of

Mom's stoned friends came barging through my bedroom door."

A gasp slipped free. Her fears hadn't even come close to the reality.

He glanced over his shoulder, face harder than she could ever remember seeing it. "I was fine, Nikki, but

when I caught some high bastard on top of my sister..." Turning away again, he yanked the uniform

zipper up his body. "I went to one of my teachers for help. Other teachers and even the cops had blown

us off in the past—or my folks bought them off. Who knows? But this teacher, Mrs. Godeck, she was

different. Stronger. She told my parents she was going to make their lives hell if they didn't send us both

to boarding school. Somehow, she stood them down."

Thank God for Mrs. Godeck.

He dropped into the rocker and laced his black combat boots, left, right, done. "Are you ready to go

back to your folks' place? I need to report in early today and take care of all the fallout from the

barracks bombing."

She was sitting in her towel, for heaven's sake, and it was—she glanced at the clock—four in the

morning. Unease prickled. He couldn't be walking on her again because she'd gotten too close....

"I'm not walking out," he echoed her thoughts so perfectly it spooked her. "I truly do head into work at

five or six on a normal day."

"And this isn't a normal day."

Taking her hands, he knelt in front of her. "Not by a long shot."

His explanation made sense, but still, something wasn't right. "I understand about commitment to your

job."

He squeezed her hands. "I want you to be careful when you go back to work."

"Of course I will."

He could take his distance and shove it. She kissed the faded scar. "I'm also checking in this week with

Reis about some thoughts I've had."

And to find out more about those creepy calls to her parents' house. She wanted more facts before she

told Carson so he wouldn't freak needlessly and lock her whole family in some hotel until her father

returned.

Carson tapped her forehead. "Memories?"

"Ideas."

"Good ones?"

"Crummy ones, actually, but I hate feeling helpless."

His throat moved with a long swallow. "Helpless sucks."

For a second the connection between them shimmered to life again, a thin, fragile thread she needed to

handle with a feather-light touch.

From his thigh pocket, his cell phone chimed—at four in the morning? The thread snapped.

He growled. "I'm starting to hate that damn thing." Rising, he dropped a quick kiss on her lips as he

whipped his cell phone from his pocket. He glanced at the LCD, his face blanking. "Sorry. I have to take

this."

Carson stepped out onto the balcony to talk in private, his voice low. Even with his reassuring kiss and

words, she couldn't shake the feeling there was something more he was keeping from her. She thought

about those two men she'd seen him with the night of Gary's death, and how Carson had neatly avoided

saying anything about them when she shared the memory.

Staring at the broad plank of his shoulders as he stood outside taking his mystery call, she told herself

they were still early in this relationship thing. Be patient. Build trust.

Except she couldn't help but think of how long her mother had told herself the very same thing.

Sliding the balcony door closed behind him as he stood outside in the chilly night, Carson tucked the

phone to his ear, his head still pounding from the discussion with Nikki. He was trying, but he couldn't

miss the searching in her eyes, the need for something more he wasn't sure he had in him to give after his

screwed-up childhood.

However at the moment, the person on the other end of the phone needed him. That loyalty had to be a

top priority. Without the support system, none of them would be worth a damn to anyone. "Hello?"

"Carson? Will, here. Sorry to call so late." They used first names in the program, even when they knew

the surname.

"How's everything going?" All right, he hoped, because as much as he tried to channel his thoughts into

being supportive, he couldn't stop thinking about Nikki, being with her—and the mind-blowing discovery

that they hadn't been together months ago before he'd passed out.

He'd always been a heavy social drinker. That sense of family in a gathering had sucked him right in and

he would stay until the bell rang for last round. He'd tried a few times to cut back, but with no lasting luck

—until he'd bottomed out that night with Nikki and realized he needed to join A.A. He still had a long

road ahead, but his sea legs were back under him and he owed a debt for that.

Free time was in short supply, but he volunteered every spare second to a local support group that

served as a catch-all for relatives of people with a variety of addictions. "Hey, Will? You still there?"

"Yeah," the older man cleared his throat, voice raspy from years of smoking to fill the empty hours

without a beer at the racetrack, "Vic called."

Not Will's problem tonight, but rather the guy Will was sponsoring. Will had been sponsoring Owens, as

well, since Will belonged to both AA and Gambler's Anonymous. "At four in the morning? Must be bad,