Chapter Fourteen
Cole walked with Adam down by the pond. The sun was setting, and Cole loved watching all the paddleboats on the lake coming back in.
It had been a really amazing day. He was beginning to build a bond with his son. He only had about a week left in town. Once the tournament was over, he had to get back to the office. Sienna was lining up more work, and Adam expected the exposure of this job to bring in more. But he was rethinking his priorities, considering ways to balance his work with seeing Cole.
Adam spotted the last boat coming in against the setting sun. “There’s another one, Cole.” He pointed at the blue paddleboat.
“Boat,” Cole said, bouncing in excitement.
He heard his son, but he also caught the sound of someone approaching the shore from the carnival area set up behind them.
“You’re not the first guy who thought he was the kid’s father.”
Adam stiffened, recognizing the voice. He turned slowly to face Lawrence Hamilton. Beyond him, he saw the temporary lights set up to keep the carnival area of the barbecue going into the night. But he focused on Megan’s mentor. What was his game?
Cole twisted in his arms, trying to see the boats. Then he wiggled and squirmed. “Down.”
Adam set him on the ground and caught hold of the sleeve of the boy’s T-shirt. He turned his attention back to Megan’s mentor. “That so?”
Lawrence stood his ground with his legs spread and arms crossed. “For a while, she had me convinced I was the kid’s dad. I gave her money…” He trailed off, looking out over the pond. “I cared for her and she made a fool out of me.”
For a second, one tiny instant, Adam wondered if it was true. Was Megan playing him too? Had he been a fool to believe her? Then he looked down at Cole. It was like looking at himself or Brady, except with Meg’s eyes. Anger heated his veins. “That’s my son’s mother you’re talking about. Take my advice, Hamilton, and walk away now.”
The man nodded once and strode toward the lights.
Adam picked up Cole. “Let’s go see how Mommy’s doing in the dunk tank.”
Cole frowned. “Boats.”
“It’s getting too dark to see them. We’ll come back another day.”
Cole twisted, obviously hoping to watch the boats in spite of the looming darkness as Adam walked up the trail to the dunk tank. He saw Megan sitting on the bench, dripping. Her hair was stuck to her head. She wore the black one-piece bathing suit and shorts that her mom had brought for her.
His amusement died when he saw her shiver, and her smile looked strained. Damn. He strode up to the man, Butch, running the game. “Call a break. Meg’s cold. I’ll switch with her.”
Butch nodded.
Adam went to the back of the tank, set Cole down, and unlatched the door. Megan twisted around, surprise widening her face.
“Time’s up. Swing your legs around.”
Relief softened her features. She pivoted on her bottom and draped her long legs over the ladder. He reached up, catching her around the waist and lifting her. He felt her chilled skin. Putting her feet on the ground, he caught a towel off the stack, shook it out, and swung it around her shoulders. He pulled her into his arms. “Better?”
She shivered, burrowing deeper.
He wrapped his arms tighter around her. “Jesus, Megan, you’re freezing.” He felt like an ass signing her up this late in the day. It had been fine when he was in there, since the sun had warmed him right up. He reached beneath the towel to rub his hands over her arms and back, trying to get some heat into her. Feeling her body against his, her scent rising as she warmed…
He was the one getting warmed and heading to hot.
“Come on, let’s get you into dry clothes, then I’ll go into the tank.” He let go of her, closing the towel tightly to keep the slight breeze off her damp skin.
“Where’s Cole?”
“He’s right here.” He looked down at the trampled grass. Around the dunking booth. Off to the changing rooms behind them. His heart tripped. Cole wasn’t there.
“Adam?” Megan asked sharply.
“Shit! He was right here. I just put him down to get you out of the tank.”
“Cole?” Megan called out, swinging around in a circle. “Cole!”
Logan walked up. “What’s going on?”
“Cole’s missing!” Megan said, her eyes wide and her face ghost-white.
People began pushing in.
“He was right here. Standing by me. We just came back from…oh God.” Adam looked at Megan. “The boats.” Horror exploded in his brain, paralyzing him.
She dropped the towel and ran toward the pond.
The sight of Megan running barefoot like the hounds of hell were chasing her pierced his paralysis. “Organize a search. Now.” He directed the order toward his men, then launched after Megan, easily passing her. When he reached the shore of the pond, it was full dark. The lights from the carnival games shone behind him, but they didn’t reach to the shore. “Cole!”
He heard splashing.
Hot bitter fear pumped through him, making his ears pound. But he knew he heard it. Adam sucked in a breath.
This was like any other mission.
He tore off his shoes and shirt, emptied his pockets, and went utterly still. Silent.
He hated water missions, but swimming was nearly as natural to him as breathing. It only took a few seconds before he was in the zone. Blocking everything out but what he needed to do, as calm descended.
He heard Megan’s pounding feet behind him. “Cole! Oh God, Cole!” she cried out.
He heard others thrashing around, people shouting, piercing his concentration. “Quiet!” he ordered. Then he walked into the water. Heard splashing and choking.
Refusing to allow the old memory to interfere, he followed the noise. He was no longer that kid with all the raw talent but not enough skill. Instead, he allowed his training to take over, and he moved through the water as cleanly as possible. He needed to feel the ripples…
There.
Adam dove, hit the bottom of the pond, and held himself utterly still.
Again, he felt the disturbance undulate through the water. He shot off, arrowing toward it. When he sensed he was close enough, he felt around with his hands. It was taking every single ounce of his self-control not to fucking lose his shit. If he did, Cole would die.
Just like Brady had.
He kept going, doing a grid search as efficiently as possible.
Air. He needed air.
No time. The boy only had a minute or two. Adam pushed a little further and his hand hit something. It was hair. He caught hold, dragged Cole to him, and shot up. Broke the surface. Kicking with precise control, he got Cole’s head above the water. The boy choked, coughed, and began to cry.
Thank God.
“I’ve got him,” he called out. Cole was sobbing now, trying to call for his mom. Adam got Cole to the shore.
Megan took him, collapsing to the ground, her body heaving with sobs. She was shaking. Someone produced a blanket, wrapping up both mother and son.
Adam looked down at them, bathed in the glow of flashlights and surrounded by townsfolk.
He’d almost let his son drown.
He melted away deep into the foliage and threw up.
…
Adam walked into the house and stopped in surprise at the flickering light from the TV. Megan was curled upon the couch, asleep with her head on a cushion. Ellie lifted her head off Meg’s thighs, her ears flat against her head.
Max walked out from the hallway, nudged Adam’s hand for a quick pet, then went back to Cole’s room.
Adam stood next to the couch, looking down. She was dressed in her sleep tank and shorts, her hair fanned out over her shoulders. He looked down her long legs past Ellie and frowned when he saw her feet. They were scratched and cut from running barefoot through the park and down to the shore of the pond. He hunkered down and examined the cuts. They all looked clean and shiny from some ointment. Megan wasn’t a fool—of course she had taken care of the cuts.
Meeting Ellie’s dark, sad eyes, he reached out and pet her. Usually Megan didn’t let the dogs on the couch, but she had tonight. The sounds of her sobs from earlier echoed in his head. He closed his eyes, wishing he could block it out. He couldn’t. It was there forever, another permanent mark staining his soul, haunting his every breath.
He’d almost let their son die. She would never forgive him.
He’d never forgive himself.
He reached over to the remote and turned the TV off. He leaned down and scooped Megan into his arms.
“Adam? I’ve been waiting for you.”
“Hush. You’re exhausted. Go back to sleep.” He carried her down the hallway.
“Are you okay?”
He glanced in Cole’s room. The nightlight showed the boy on his back, arms flung out, sleeping fine. Max lay at the bottom of the bed.
He went into Megan’s room. “Don’t worry about me.” She had a queen-sized bed, and the emerald green comforter had been pulled back to reveal snowy white sheets. He settled her in the bed, covered her with the sheet, and reached to switch off the lamp.
Her hand caught his forearm. She rose up on her elbow. “Thank you.”
He forced himself to meet her eyes. “For what?”
“He would have drowned, Adam.” Tears welled up in her eyes. “After you rescued Cole, you just vanished. I didn’t get to thank you. I don’t know how you found him in the dark water. But thank you.” Tears tracked down her face.
Adam stared down at her. “You’re still in shock. Get some sleep.” And tomorrow, she’d realize the truth. He’d taken his eyes off Cole. The boy had left his side and Adam hadn’t even realized it. Yeah, once she rested and thought it through…
He turned off the light. And went to his room alone.
…
His lungs burned, but he kept diving, kept trying to find him. The muscles in his body were shaking from fatigue.
He felt something!
Hope flared, giving him enough energy. He frantically felt around, got a grip on wet hair.
Broke the surface, into the bright California sunshine and discovered he was holding a corpse. Blood poured out…
“Adam, wake up.”
He jackknifed to a sitting position. Sweat coated his body, and bile burned in his gut and throat. He sucked in air. All the dead…
So many. Brady, Trace, other men he’d served with.
“Adam?”
Meg stood there, her eyes too big in her face.
“Go back to bed. I’m awake now.” Had he screamed? Probably. Thankfully, Cole was a heavy sleeper.
“Talk to me, Adam. Tell me what’s happening. Your nightmares, what are they about?”
He tossed back the covers, swinging his legs out. Stood and looked at her. He thought about it for one moment. Thought about spilling his guts, just laying it out there for her to know the truth.
He opened his mouth.
His throat closed up. Just locked. He was trapped in the very silence he hated. Instead, he just shook his head and crossed the hall to the bathroom. Closed the door. He turned on the shower, stripped off his boxers, and stepped under the spray.
The hot water hit him like a million pinpricks of needles. He leaned his head down, braced a hand against the wall, and let the water cascade over his scalp and down his back. Tried to wash it away—the constant horror living in his head. The guilt. The remorse. The regret that he couldn’t change anything.
He heard the door open. Shock sliced through him. He saw her shadow through the curtain. “Don’t, Meg. Don’t do it.”
She pulled back the shower curtain. “Do what, Adam?” She caught the hem of her tank and tugged it over her head. Her breasts bounced free, then her hair fell down around her. “Care about you? Try to help you?” She caught the waistband of her shorts and stripped them down her endless legs along with her panties. “You can’t talk to me. Then I’ll touch you and ease you that way.” Stepping into the shower, she reached out and ran her hands down his chest.
All the dark need clawing through him swelled into desire. Lust. Need.
Relief.
To be buried deep inside Megan as her scent and caring surrounded him. That was a drug to him. She was a drug to him. But didn’t she understand what he was? How could she not?
He caught her wrists. “How can you touch me? I almost…” he couldn’t even say it. The dark agony, the silence of his sins, were locked in his chest. Burned. “You don’t know what I am.”
“Shh, you don’t have to tell me. I won’t ask anymore.” She leaned in, kissing his jaw. Her warm lips, wet from the shower, tracked across his skin into the hollow of his neck, to that sensitive spot right over his clavicle.
Her touch inflamed him, heating his blood, arousing him to burning desire. Releasing her wrists, he sank a hand into her hair and turned her face up. And what he saw in her eyes, even in the soft light, ripped away the last of his control.
Desire and acceptance.
She was giving him this gift. Not forever, not even tomorrow, but this single moment in time. His with no questions.
His thoughts shattered, and he took her mouth. The sounds of spraying water filled the shower stall. The steam cut them off from the rest of the world. Her skin was warm and wet, her mouth hot. Her hands caressed him, explored, going down his back to his butt. She moaned, sucking his lower lip as she drew her hands around his hips and took hold of his cock.
He surged in her hand, at her mercy. He dragged his mouth from hers, along her cheek to lick her shell-like ear. “I need you.” The confession was ripped from him.
She squeezed her fingers around him, her thumb brushing the sensitive tip. Wicked pleasure streaked through him. Nothing felt as good as Megan in his arms. But that thought melted away as she slipped from his hold, trailing kisses over his chest, down to his stomach.
His muscles contracted. Bracing both hands on the walls, he watched as she opened her mouth over his hipbone, her tongue sliding, wet and hot, across it. “Christ,” he cried out. She was destroying him.
She glided her cheek along his arousal.
His breath locked in his chest. He stared. Couldn’t have looked away if the devil himself burst through the floor. Meg, his sweet Meg, turned her face, and then while holding him in her fist, she covered him with her lips.
The sensations of her mouth on him, her hands holding him to her as she kissed him intimately, made his spine arch. Then she moaned around him, the sound of her pleasure rushing hot rivers of lust through him. Yet he wanted more. Needed more.
He craved being face to face with Megan as he buried himself in her body. He needed to share this with her, feel the connection between them. Not just take his pleasure.
Ripping his hands from the slick walls, he touched the warm woman and felt something in him ease at the contact. He pulled away from her mouth, helped her stand, and slid his hands down the lines of her back, over the sweet curve of her ass, and lifted her.
She spread her thighs around him, balancing her arms on his shoulders.
He looked into her passion-glazed eyes and felt his world tilt. It didn’t matter if he had a condom or not. “This is the only place I’ve ever felt at home.” He surged inside her.
…
Megan dug her fingers into Adam’s shoulders as he pushed inside her. Filled her.
She rocked on him, the hot need coiling low and demanding in her belly. She’d intended to give to Adam, to ease him, but her body knew him. As he entered her, she softened and swelled around him, fusing them as one.
He leaned down and kissed her, their tongues mating as frantically as their bodies. His hand squeezed her hip as he pulled out and thrust back into her, driving deeper each time.
Megan lost herself. Wild with need, she rocked her hips, moaned and begged. He touched her most sensitive spots, driving her higher. Then he tilted her slightly, growling against her mouth, and drove into her.
She was helpless as her desire spiraled out of control. She rode the wave, clutching Adam, only him, until she crested in a starburst of raw, aching bliss. It crashed over her and consumed her.
Adam broke their kiss and rested his mouth on her ear. “My Megan,” he said, driving into her one last time and letting go.
She wrapped her arms around him as he pumped into her, just holding him tight.
The moment stretched from wild pleasure to sweet contentment. The shower water continued to run, holding the outside world at bay.
He lifted his head, looking into her eyes. He sighed heavily. “You deserve so much more, Meg. Don’t ever forget that.”
Her throat filled. She didn’t want more. She wanted him. And it was never going to change. She bit the inside of her mouth to keep from blurting out the truth.
She loved him. The charming, fun Adam. The hardworking Adam. The hero. And the tortured man who cried out in his sleep. She loved him.
Adam gently pulled out of her. He picked up the bottle of soap and began to wash her shoulders, torso… “Adam, you don’t have to—”
He took her face into his soapy hands. “I want to. I’m going to do this for you.” Then he did, touching her with a sweetness that was shredding her heart.
When he bent down to lift her leg, his hands froze. “Damn it, I forgot about your feet.” His fingers were gentle as he carefully washed the cuts.
She watched him kneel, water running over his powerful shoulders and arms while he examined her feet with tenderness. Pushing his wet, curling hair back from his face, she said, “I forgot, too. Didn’t feel them, only you.”
His expression was stark and tormented. He turned off the water and reached for a towel. He wrapped her in it, lifted her, and sat her on the vanity. He dried her hair, then her legs and her feet. Finally, he ran the same towel over his head, mopped up most of the water dripping off him, and tossed it over the shower rod.
He braced his hands on counter, caging her. His dark eyes locked on her. “Will you sleep with me? For a couple of hours?”
Her heart clenched. “Yes.”
He didn’t move.
She could see his shoulders bunching, his jaw bulging and the veins on his neck rising. Megan put her hands on his shoulders. “Adam, it’s okay. You don’t have to talk to me.”
His face darkened. “I…can’t. Once we moved here, I, we, didn’t speak of it. Not unless my parents were drunk. Then…” He trailed off.
Oh God, she felt his shoulders ripple beneath her palms. His agony was pouring off him in waves of heat. “I thought it was the war. The friends you lost,” she said softly. But this was something else. Something…she didn’t know. His eyes were utterly dry, not a trace of tears, yet his gaze screamed pain. “It doesn’t matter.” She pulled him close to her, holding him. Pressing a kiss to his shoulder, she whispered, “You don’t have to tell me anything. Ever.”
He scooped her up and took her to bed. “I can give you this,” he said as he came down over her, kissing her with more emotion than she’d ever known in her life.