Dare You to Run (3 page)

“But…”

She might was well have saved her breath. When she caught sight of his face, she witnessed a blaze of determination that sent a twist of anticipation through her belly. Her clit was suddenly throbbing as he shucked his jeans and rolled her back onto the bed.

It was all done in a moment, the bed rocking beneath her back while she gasped and he settled himself half over her. She moaned softly, overwhelmed by the amount of contact between them and yet, still unsatisfied.

“More.” She wasn't sure that she decided to speak. Her brain was shutting down, impulses ruling her completely. That was what he was to her, freedom, in its purest form.

“Yes, ma'am,” he muttered as he nuzzled against her breasts. At the same time, he swept his hand across her belly until he found the curls crowning her cleft.

She shifted, too full of pulsing need to stay still. He moved with her, locking one of his knees over her leg as he lifted his head and watched her. He teased her curls before delving into her cleft. She let out a soft cry as he found her clit, stroking it with a delicate touch that made her feel like a bolt of fire had gone through her.

“I'm going to learn just how you like to be touched.”

There was a promise in his tone that she might have shivered at, except he returned to toying with her clit, making thought impossible. There was only the intense pleasure coming from that single point of contact, so searing she withered but it built something inside her. A need that was rooted deep inside her belly, where instinct rose up, taking control of her. She strained toward him, arching her back as she felt the pleasure building, twisting, intensifying, until it all burst like a huge firework that rained down fiery sparks.

“You never touched yourself princess?” Now there was a note of wonder in his voice. It drew her away from the stupor the explosion had left her wallowing in and she opened her eyes.

“No.”

She felt stripped in that moment. For the first time in her life, completely honest about who she was. Vitus considered her for a long moment before he slowly smiled. There was a look of achievement on his face that struck her as some sort of gift that she'd expectantly given him.

“Touch me some more, Vitus.”

His eyes narrowed, passion drawing his features tight. “Yes…,
ma'am
.”

He shifted, leaning down to kiss her. She reached for him, feeling like it was the most natural thing in life to do. They fit together in a way she'd never imagined two humans might. Both of them created to merge together in a moment of utter bliss. It far over shadowed the moment of pain when he pushed into her body for the first time. The ache lingered but she was too busy enjoying the building intensity that promised her another explosion of pleasure. She craved it with the need of an addict, craved him, and Vitus didn't disappoint her.

Not in the slightest.

*   *   *

Vitus didn't sleep.

Not yet anyway. His mind was turning a puzzle over and that meant there was going to be no rest for him until he came to a conclusion.

He'd had sex before.

Tonight had been something different. Vastly different. He lay there stunned by his need to listen to Damascus breathing. He needed the scent of her body in some strange way that he'd never encountered before either. Yet it was there now, making the idea of slipping out of her bed repugnant.

A memory shifted and rose up from his brain. It was the look on his father's face when he watched Vitus's mother. Something Vitus had seen often but never understood completely.

Until now.

He got it now.

Because he was likely looking at Damascus the same way. It was devotion mixed with an emotion Vitus had avoided ever using in relationship to himself. That single thing that made more SEAL's hang up their boots and settle down.

Love.

‘You've gone and done it now, sailor.'

He really didn't regret it, nope, he was too full of wonder and excitement. Of course, his brother was going to give him holy hell over it but that just seemed like a dash of spice on the whole thing too.

*   *   *

“Vitus.” Saxon was growing frustrated.

Vitus heard it in his brother's voice and looked up at his sibling.

“You've got to stay away from her.”

“I'm not putting pressure on her.”

Saxon grunted at him. “I sure as shit didn't think so. You can bet I would have gone through that door the first time I heard you kiss her if I thought you were a bastard.”

Vitus lifted his hands in surrender as far as the point went. “Okay, fine. I know how it goes.”

“So what are you doing bedding her?” Saxon demanded. “Jeb Ryland can make a whole world of trouble for you.”

“I love her.”

Saxon's eyebrows shot up. “What the fuck?” his brother demanded. “You've known her an entire two weeks.”

“I know,” Vitus cut back. “Don't ride my ass. It's just as hard for me to swallow as you, but it's real bro. I don't know how to prove it to you, but it's eating a hole in me and it's not the first time you've ever heard of it happening.”

Saxon muttered a word under his breath that made Vitus grin in victory, but his sibling pointed at him. “I'm not doubting you Vitus, but I am warning you, that little thing in there is a princess, and you know the ground rules are different for those. Brother to brother, I've got to tell you to walk away.”

“I know,” Vitus answered. “I can't.”

“You mean you won't,” Saxon argued.

Vitus shook his head. “No. I can't, Saxon. It doesn't make any sense, but I could cut my arm off easier.”

*   *   *

Damascus was wringing her hands.

She paced back and forth across the tiny bedroom as time crawled by. She felt like her insides were knotted, but she turned and walked back toward the bed, determined to get all the nervous energy out of her system before Vitus returned.

He would return.

She concentrated on that idea, refusing to allow any doubt to wiggle around it.

“Miss me?”

She jumped, earning a chuckle from Vitus.

“How do you sneak up on people like that?” she asked, too relieved to see him to be anything but joyous.

He offered her a lazy shrug of his huge shoulders, but there was a cocky grin on his lips that made her smile brighter. “It's a gift.”

He was pleased with himself. Damascus felt the tension dissipating. “And? What happened?”

He winked at her. “We got them.”

Damascus was moving toward him, but he held up a finger. She froze, losing the battle to keep doubt from filling her mind. Was he going to tell her he was moving on? Give her the “dear Jane” conversation? She watched his expression, seeking any clue to his intentions, but all she saw was a flicker of determination in his eyes.

“You can go home now,” Vitus began. “Or—”

“Yes?” she interrupted, unable to stop herself from leaping for the bit of hope he'd tossed out.

“Will you marry me?”

Vitus would have looked ridiculous on his knee. Instead, the SEAL was hesitating in the doorway with the first uncertain expression she'd ever seen on his face. He'd pulled something from his pocket, a small circle of gold that had a diamond winking at her.

“Yes … yes … yes!” Damascus flew across the room and launched herself into his arms. He caught her easily, holding her against him while her feet dangled somewhere around his ankles. She realized she'd never been truly happy before, because the way she felt right then was tons more intense, like the sun was suddenly shinning right in the center of her chest.

Vitus let her down and captured her hand. He slid the ring onto her finger. “It's not much—”

“It's everything,” she insisted. Everything that she needed. “So, you going to take me to your place?”

He chuckled at her. “And chain you to my bed.”

Damascus winked at him. “I should be so lucky.”

*   *   *

Vitus's house was more homey than she'd expected. By the light of day, Damascus explored her new surroundings only to find her new fiancé watching her from the kitchen.

“I'm not disappointed,” she told him.

He didn't really believe her. Damascus watched his face and read his uncertainty. She moved closer, catching the scent of fresh coffee.

“I'm not,” she confirmed when she was close enough to lay her hands on his chest.

His expression remained set. “Enough to tell your father whose ring you're wearing?”

“Yes.” She took a moment to straighten her ring.

Now he smiled, his eyes filling with a warmth that stole her breath. He reached onto the counter behind him and picked up a coffee mug. Vitus drew off a long sip before speaking again.

“In that case, let's roll.”

“And if I'd said no?”

His expression turned wicked. “I would have taken you back to bed and given you more evidence to weigh”—Vitus cupped her bottom—“in my favor.”

“Well, in that case, I'm not…”

A little
woof
was all that got past her lips when he tossed her right over his shoulder. She giggled as he carried her back toward his bedroom.

Her father would just have to wait.

*   *   *

Damascus stared at her father. They had never been close, but today she realized just how snowed she had been. Jeb Ryland was furious. The outrage flickering in his eyes didn't frighten her. No, all it did was make her feel incredibly grateful for the eye-opening experience life had handed her.

“I'm sorry you're not happy for me.”

Jeb had settled behind his desk—a huge mahogany one—and she realized her father was trying to intimidate her.

Damascus straightened up. “But my mind is set.”

“Unset it,” Jeb snapped.

“I am not a teenager.” Damascus kept her voice steady, deciding to prove the point by not turning the conversation into an emotional tirade.

Her father's lips twisted in a judgmental frown. “Apparently not, since you have decided to start bedding the help.”

“Vitus rescued me.”

Jeb offered her a shrug. “He's a dog of war, that's his job.” He leaned forward. “Keeping his hands off you was also his job.”

“I wanted him to touch me.”

Her father slapped the desktop. “Slut,” he accused softly. “No daughter of mine is going to be bedding a dog.”

Outrage was moving through her, but Damascus maintained her composure. “I am sorry you feel this way. She gently fingered her engagement ring, the small token bringing her all the confidence she needed. “However, I am going to marry Vitus Hale.”

“Do it and you'll be a widow within a month.”

Her father's voice was cutting, but so certain that Damascus sank back down into the chair she'd started to get out of.

Jeb gave her a smug look. “That's right. He's active duty. I know plenty of admirals who will make sure he goes out in a flame of glory.”

“You”—her throat was tight—“monster.”

Her father slowly shook his head. “What I
am
is successful, Damascus. An idea you will learn to devote yourself to.”

“You can't—”

“I can,” Jeb informed her. “And I will.”

“I love him.” She'd lost the battle to keep emotions out of it. Her voice betrayed her, and her father's complexion darkened with outrage.

“If you do, you will make him think you want him gone, because if I ever see him again, I will pick up this phone”—he pointed to the one on his desk—“and send him permanently beyond your reach. Is that clear?”

It was. Like the pounding of a gavel in a courtroom. She was held in the grip of shock, but her eyes were wide, letting her see the determination in her father's eyes.

He meant it.

Nausea twisted her insides as she felt tears filling her eyes.

Damascus blinked them away. She wasn't a child anymore and it appeared that her new view of life included seeing her father for what he was.

Monster.

It was suddenly clear why she'd never been close to Jeb Ryland—he didn't have a heart.

“Your lover is waiting,” Jeb informed her coldly. “I will be watching.”

She was on her feet, without really thinking about what she was going to do.

There was only one thing she could do.

She felt that realization sink in and tear the bubble of joy around her heart to shreds. Vitus wasn't inside the house. No, her father had left him waiting in the driveway. She spied him through a window, leaning against his car with a hard expression.

He knew.

Knew the way the world worked. She'd been the one who'd made the mistake of thinking she had the freedom to choose her own life.

Well, you do.

She stiffened, realizing she had to be everything Vitus Hale was worthy of. Loving someone meant putting them above yourself, and she opened the door with that intention firmly in mind.

He read her body language before she'd made it down the front steps. She watched him stiffen before he moved toward her and took up a position in front of her that was military perfect.

“I will always be grateful for your service.” The last word got stuck in her throat and felt like it left a raw spot when she forced it out.

His eyes narrowed. “It was my duty.”

Clipped. Short. Cold words that cut her bone deep because he was going to just accept what she was dishing out to him. For a moment, she stared at him, trying to find her lover, but his expression was closed tight against her efforts.

She twisted the ring off her finger and offered it to him.

They stared at each other for a long moment. One of the worst in her life, because everything inside her wanted to leap toward him.

“Just like that?” Vitus asked her, his control slipping and giving her a hint as to how furious he really was beneath his stoic demeanor.