Carrie has a unique scent that is all her. I’m not a man who knows these things, but she reminds me of the morning air after a thunderstorm. I could get drunk on that smell. Every time I breathe it in, even when I am at my most angry, I feel this surge of rightness come over me. I’ve pushed and pushed her away but she keeps coming back and if she stopped…I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have to worry about finding the courage to end it all. No, without the hope she gives me, I’d already be dead.

I’m sore all over. When I made the decision to drive off the dam into the lake, I accepted that it was over. I wanted it to be over. The problem was that I hadn’t picked a big enough dam to drive off of. The car hit the water with a splat. Nothing happened like I thought it would. No air bags released, no bright lights shown through the dark pointing the way to a better place. I got none of the things my brain had envisioned. Most of all, there was no instant relief for me. Instead, the car began filling with water. I was groggy, dazed even. I think my head hit the side of the door. I can’t really recall. I just remember feeling the water rising on my legs and silence so thick I could almost taste it.

Then, I felt hands on me, pulling. I couldn’t get awake enough to fight them off. The next thing I knew, I was on the side of the bank, coughing up lake water with the sound of an ambulance’s siren in the background.

Which brings me to the here and now and the fact that Carrie has her head on my stomach. I open my eyes slowly to see her gorgeous red hair fanned out over me. I love the color of her hair. It’s always been like a beacon to me. So bright and deep in color with these long twists and curls that I instantly need to bury my hands in it.

Hell, I could have made a living from making Carrie off limits. Her small hand is clutching mine. It’s warm—so damned warm it feels like her touch has invaded my bloodstream. I angle my head to look at her soft face. She’s sleeping. She still looks the same in sleep, but somehow even more innocent. Worse, Carrie looks so damn young. I feel ancient next to her. My large hand has signs of age that hers don’t. The sane thing to do is to keep pushing her away, to feed the anger that has festered inside of me. I should continue to blame her for it all….at least on the outside. Doing so will mean she is far away from me and that’s better for her. I’m on the edge of doing it. It’s not that I’m a selfless man. It’s just that Carrie deserves more than some dirty, bastard ex-con in her life. She always has. She is made for a white picket fence, for a three bedroom home in the suburbs, with children running around at her feet. That’s the kind of life she is made for and deserves to have. I am not that man. I wasn’t that man before my stint in jail, before the demons lodged themselves inside of me. Now? I am definitely not that man. I should leave her to a world, far away from me.

My decision is almost made when Bull opens the door. He looks at Carrie first. I can see a small shudder in his body. I know he cares for her, so I know what that tell-tale movement means. I’m a bastard. I fully admit it, but that makes up my mind.

I am not giving Carrie to a brother, a man I have to see constantly. I cannot handle the thought of Carrie falling in love with Bull and sharing her life with him. That shit is not happening.

I flex my hand in Carrie’s. Not that much, to be honest even if I wanted to I couldn’t. My body feels heavy and thick. Those beautiful green eyes open up, looking at me in confusion. I watch her blink a few times before she focuses on my face. That familiar kick in my stomach hits me.

God, she really is beautiful. She licks her pale pink lips and I’m mesmerized by her tongue sliding along the flesh. I want to taste them. It’s a move as old as time. Something women have used to tempt and lure men for years. Thing is, I know that with Carrie it is completely innocent and that makes it even sexier. I see trepidation flash in her eyes and I hate the wariness on her face. It’s what I’ve conditioned in her. She expects me to lash out at her now.

“Hey, Princess,” my voice breaks and sounds hoarse and wrong. She jerks. Her eyes go large. She tries to pull up and let go of my hand. I don’t let her, instead I tighten my grip. She looks at our joined hands and then back at me.

“Sorry, Jacob. I’ll just…”

“Kiss me.”

“I didn’t mean…what did you say?” She asks, the shock echoing in her voice and I have to grin. This is going to be more fun than I imagined.

“You said you wanted me, so kiss me.”

“Kiss you?” She asks.

“Care Bear, this isn’t going to work if you repeat everything I say. Now bring those lips down here and kiss me.”

Damn it hurts to talk that much. Part of my throat feels like it has been cut by glass. Still, the minute I use her childhood nickname, I can feel some of the tension in her body slowly evaporates. Delicious.

“Jacob, I…are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine as soon as I get your lips, Princess.”

Sadness flashes in her eyes. It seems odd how I can read every emotion she feels. I think I always have.

“I’ll call a nurse and get her to…”

“I don’t need a nurse. I need you.”

“Jacob…”

I pull her hand and bring her lips closer to me, her eyes never leave mine, until she’s so close that you can’t put a piece of paper between us. Her eyes flutter close, her long eyelashes fan out. They are even more beautiful close up. Her lips briefly touch mine. It’s a peck, not a kiss and I might let her get away with that, except for one thing. Bull is standing at the door watching us. I mentioned I’m a bastard. So I wrap my good hand, the one without the IV, into her hair and grip it hard. She gasps at the small bite of pain and I push my tongue in.

It’s not a deep kiss, it’s not long, hard and devouring like I’m longing to give her. I’m not able right now, plus my mouth and throat don’t feel like my own. Still it’s a good kiss. It’s a kiss that delivers a message—two actually. One, it lets Carrie know that I’m through pushing her away. Second, Bull can see up close and personal that I own this woman and she’s mine. Whenever and wherever I say, Carrie is mine. Maybe that’s what drives me to hold her close after our lips break apart. Carrie thinks I’m hugging her, and I am. She thinks I did it so I could talk in her ear. I didn’t. My lips are close to her ear because I like the idea of my breath fanning her exposed neck. Still, that’s not the reason for this embrace. I’m a bastard.

“No more running. I’m going to take that pussy you offered me earlier, and this time I’m not stopping with just touching it.”

Can she tell I’m not bothering to whisper? Can she hear the extra crack in my voice, as I actually speak louder than I should?

“We…Jacob, we should talk,” she says pulling back slightly so she can look at me. I worry she’s had enough and that I have burned too many bridges with her.

“Do you still want me? Care Bear, do you love me?”

She looks at me like she is trying to unravel a mystery. Good luck with that baby, I can’t even fucking figure out my own self.

“Yes, Jacob…but…”

“Then we’ll work it out baby. Together.”

Silence for a few beats and I beat down the fear. I need her to help me survive.

“Together,” she whispers and I smile. I smile because as I pull her close again to hug her and place a small kiss on her shoulder? My eyes lock with Bull’s and I grin at the way the words obviously hurt him.

That’s right fucker, I win.