Dusk Til Dawn (6 page)

Keys jingled in his hands as he sorted through them, finally placing one between his fingers. He glanced at her over his shoulder as if ensuring she hadn’t disappeared on him then unlocked the door, swinging it open. Glare from the street illuminated a wedge of hardwood floor, casting the rest of the room in shadows. She stepped inside, blinking when Dylan flicked a switch, instantly bathing the area in a wash of bright light.

The doorway entered into an open room accentuated by a small scattering of furniture. The usual fare dominated the space, though the leather couch looked as if it’d hardly been used. A large screen television hung on the far wall, a layer of dust coating the sleek black surface. She toed off her boots then turned as he closed the door, raising a brow in question.

He frowned, glancing around the place. “I know. Probably not what you were expecting considering my family has money.”

“It’s not that. I’ve always preferred simplicity over extravagance. It’s quite nice. I was just wondering if you really lived here, or if it was some sort of getaway place.”

“What makes you think I don’t live here?”

She flashed him a knowing grin. “It’s tidy.” She wrinkled her brow as she waved her hand at the room. “Disturbingly tidy.”

“Maybe I have a maid.”

“Or maybe you don’t spend much time here. Like hardly any.”

He studied her for a moment then closed the small amount of distance between them as he backed her against a wall. His chest knocked into hers as he palmed his hands on either side of her head, his gaze never leaving hers. “Is your spidey sense telling you I’m not the ‘disturbingly tidy’ sort of guy?”

She suspected he’d intended the comment to come across as sarcastic, but the raspy tones only made her nipples bead into tight peaks beneath his jacket as a warm wet feeling spread along her cleft. The spicy scent of his cologne tickled her senses, dimming her vision slightly at the edges. Her sister hadn’t been joking when she’d labeled him an alpha male. He was that and more.

Annie managed a shallow breath, praying he didn’t feel the effect he had on her as her chest brushed his again. “If you were that
kind
of guy, there wouldn’t be a fine layer of dust on everything. That pretty much kills the maid theory, too.”

His focus dropped to her mouth, and she couldn’t stop the slow swipe of her tongue across her lips. His pupils dilated, hiding the stunning blue behind large black disks as he drew a deep breath, clenching his jaw as if her scent affected him. God, when had a man ever looked at her like that?

Something akin to a growl vibrated through his chest, sending tiny tendrils of arousal straight to the tight knot coiling low in her belly. He leaned in closer, a rough exhalation of breath washing across her neck.

“Are you always this annoyingly correct?” His voice curled around her, adding to the heat already suffusing her body.

Shit, she could climax from that sound alone. Annie pursed her lips together, gathering back her composure. “What did you call it before? Occupational hazard?”

He smiled, a brilliant flash of white amidst his pink lips. “You’re dangerous, honey.” He eased away, but not before brushing his mouth along the edge of her jaw. “I’m thinking you’d like to shower before we discuss what happened tonight?”

She felt his departure as a physical blow to her body. An empty feeling settled in her chest, and she fought the urge to grab his shirt and pull him back against her. “While some may find the overwhelming stench of kerosene alluring, I’d be happy just to smell normal.”

“I think that can be arranged.” He gave her body one last long glance then headed down a hallway, motioning her to follow him.

He took a set of stairs then turned left and continued to the room at the end of another corridor. He didn’t glance back as he opened the door and walked inside, disappearing off to the left. Annie paused at the threshold and peered inside. A large wooden bed dominated the space, centered along the back wall. A set of drawers had been positioned beneath a window on her right, and a shag-type throw rug covered most of the hardwood.

She took a tentative step inside. She’d assumed he’d take her to a guest room, or at the least a main bathroom, and wasn’t quite prepared at being led to the master suite. Though she had to admit, it suited him. Dark colors and strong patterns reflected his larger-than-life persona and the gray tint to the walls fitted with his alpha tendencies.

She walked inside his room, noticing the row of pictures along the top of the dresser and the folded flag lying in a box in the corner of the room. A set of fatigues had been stacked next to it, the same design as his tattoo stitched on the front. Water splashed behind a doorway on her left as she ambled over to the dresser, studying the black and white prints. A group of men huddled together, their mud-splattered faces radiant despite the exhaustion mirrored in their eyes. She smiled as she traced Dylan’s form with the pad of one finger. He looked slightly younger and leaner but carried the same haunting expression.

“That’s my old unit.”

She jumped at the sound of his voice and turned, her hand fisted against her chest. He leaned against the doorframe to what she suspected was a washroom, his broad shoulders taking up most of the space. His hands were shoved into his pockets as he watched her from below a line of thick lashes.

Annie glanced back at the photo, not sure whether to be embarrassed or relieved she’d been caught. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have been snooping.”

He shrugged, pushing off the wooden frame as he joined her by the dresser. He picked up the photo, seemingly warring with himself, before handing it to her. “I’m guessing you’ve already found me in there.”

She studied him, noting the tight press of his mouth and the fine lines around his eyes. His voice was laced with pain, and she wondered if he’d ever shown the image to anyone.

Her gaze dropped to the picture. “On the edge, just like I thought.” She caught herself a moment too late, immediately cursing her honesty.

Dylan’s body stiffened then relaxed. “Right. On the edge. Part of the group but…distant.”

She grimaced. “Dylan. I didn’t mean to—”

He silenced her with a shake of his head. “No. You’re right. That was taken just before I asked to be discharged. A couple of months after my buddy Colin was killed. The unit just wasn’t the same for me. I tried to push through it, but…”

Her gaze dropped to the flag in the corner.

He glanced at it, a hollow chuckle rumbling free. “Colin didn’t have any family. His parents had died in a car accident when he was twelve. He’d grown up in the system and joined the military straight out of high school. They gave me the flag…guess I haven’t figured out what to do with it yet.”

Annie watched him shuffle his feet. This was far more than she’d ever expected him to reveal, and she didn’t know whether to punch him in the arm as a show of affection or beg him to make love to her. The thought caught her off guard, and she wrapped her arms around herself, unnerved by the way he seemed to get under her skin and sink his claws into her heart.

She met his gaze. “I had a client—Rolland—ex-Army Ranger. He left me his baseball card collection after committing suicide last year. I’d thought he was healing…that we were dealing with the phobias, the nightmares…the hallucinations. Never saw it coming until I walked into my office and found him on my couch.” She released a heavy breath. “I don’t think I ever really understood how much damage a bullet wound did. How much blood there’d be.”

“Fuck. Annie.” His jaw flexed, and he reached for her before he seemed to come to his senses. His hands dropped to his side as he accepted the frame she returned to him.

She brushed her fingers over his before taking a step back. “Anyway, I thought you might find it comforting to know that the box is still sitting in my closet, exactly the way he’d wrapped it up for me. Sometimes, doing nothing means everything.” She nodded at the bathroom. “Is that shower for me?”

He nodded, tensing his body before moving to the doorway. “I put clean towels for you on the counter, and there should be everything you need to get rid of that lovely scent.” He grinned this time, the old facade returning. “Though you run the risk of smelling like me instead.”

“Pine trees and spice I can handle.”

“Then I’ll leave you to it. Oh, and I’ll make sure you have a clean shirt on the bed for after. I can loan you some track pants too, if you’d like.”

“That’d be great. Thanks.”

“My pleasure, doc.”

She shook her head as he walked out, pulling the door closed behind him. She sank down on the bed, groaning when the mattress gave beneath her weight. It was all too easy to picture Dylan poised beside her, his naked body gleaming in the flashes of lightning. She imagined his muscles flexing as he crawled toward her, pinning her to the bed while his mouth roved over her body, finding every sensuous spot she had before rising above her and thrusting between her legs—filling her in a way no man had ever done before.

The images rocked her to her core, and she pushed to her feet, practically sprinting to the shower, closing the door firmly behind her. God, what the hell had come over her? It was bad enough she lusted after a man she’d only met an hour ago, but there wasn’t any logical reason for why she’d confided in him. Hell, she hadn’t told Tempie half as much as she had Dylan, and her sister had always been her closest friend.

She glanced in the mirror, groaning at her reflection. Her hair looked as if she’d been through a wind tunnel, with strands stuck to the side of her face, and she had smudges of black smeared across her jaw.

“Great. Nothing says sexy like hundred-year-old dirt smeared across your face.”

Not that it mattered. Dylan was off limits. He was Avery’s brother for god’s sake. And even if there had been a hint of mutual attraction, she knew he’d never lower his walls long enough to be more than a memory she’d never be able to share.

The thought cooled the arousal coursing through her veins as she slipped off his jacket and removed her pants, laying them over the counter. Steam billowed up from inside the shower, making the air heavy around her. She glanced once more at the door to his bedroom, wondering how they’d spend the rest of the evening before bowing her head in defeat. Damn the man and his wounded soul, not that he’d allow her to heal it, but she sure as hell wanted to.

No—she needed to.

She cursed his irresistible smile as she hung one of the towels over the glass door, grabbing her cell out of her back jeans’ pocket. She swiped at the face then touched the music icon, sighing when her favorite song mixed with the soothing sound of water splashing on the tiles. Her voice joined in as she turned back to the shower and opened the door.

Chapter Four

Dylan leaned against the bedroom door, trying to calm the erratic pounding of his heart. His legs trembled, and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stay on his feet. He hadn’t spoken about Colin in years, and seeing the compassion and understanding in Annie’s eyes had damn near killed him. Knowing she blamed herself for her client’s death hadn’t made the situation any easier. He’d wanted to reach out—offer her some form of comfort—but he wasn’t sure he knew how anymore. He cocked his head toward the bedroom, listening to Annie pad across the floor. The bathroom door made an audible click as she closed it, easing the tight feeling constricting his chest.

He gulped in a much-needed breath, finally shoving off the door. This was insane. He was an ex-soldier…hell, and ex-Delta member. He’d parachuted into hostile territory. Had infiltrated enemy compounds and performed precision-sensitive maneuvers without batting an eye. Surely, he could be in the same room as a woman without wanting to tear off her clothes and toss her on his bed. Or more dangerously, let her into his heart.

Heart
.

The word felt awkward on his tongue, and he was thankful he didn’t have to say it out loud. He hadn’t considered the possibility he still had a heart, and just the thought Annie might resurrect the damn thing scared him more than any mission ever had. She was stubborn and strong, with a quick wit, not to mention reflexes. He’d known he was in trouble the moment her flashlight had illuminated her face and she’d kneed his groin in defense. He hadn’t planned on tackling her to the ground, but when her foot had caught in the blanket, he’d reacted on instinct, diving at her in an effort to cushion her impact.

But that’s where it’d all fallen apart.

Where he’d realized he liked the feel of her beneath him, her small fingers clenched around his shoulders, her warm skin moving against his. At first he’d thought it was mere sexual attraction—after all, the woman was beautiful, with full, pink lips and deep blue eyes. The way her hair fell in a cascade of brown silk around her shoulders or how her body had all the right curves. Then she’d looked beneath the surface, and he’d had to force himself not to bolt. If it hadn’t been for the threat of the ghost…

“Fuck!”

Insanity seemed the only viable explanation. He’d finally lost his mind—ten years, a dozen missions and one impossible situation had pushed him over the edge. That and Avery. Dylan growled. If he hadn’t planned the prank personally, he’d have thought for certain his brother had set him up. But he’d recognized the flash of surprise when Avery’s gaze had met his, and he knew this was completely his own doing.