Chapter Eleven
Still rattled over learning her uncle was coming for a visit, Amy hopped out of Nakos’s truck and waited for him to unlock the front door to his cabin. Ever since she’d gotten the text from her brother, her stomach had been a twisted, nauseous mess. Memories she’d worked hard to overcome kept shoving to the surface.
The smell of cigar breath and Old Spice.
Rough hands leaving punishing bruises.
Her screams muted by a palm over her mouth.
The pain. The tears. The shame.
She had to get herself under control before Nakos figured out something was wrong. She strode ahead of him and into the house, making a beeline for the stairs. She got over it once, she’d do it again. If she had to remind herself a million times she wasn’t a weak, scared little girl anymore, then that’s what she’d do. She was stronger than anything life had to dish out, proven by the fact she was still standing.
Dang, but she felt like crumbling.
“Ames.” Nakos’s feet shuffled behind her and she paused on the bottom step. “I miss you.”
Her fingers tightened on the railing, and she slammed her eyes shut, unable to deal with him tonight. At the tavern, he’d watched her like a hawk in that measured way of his that always made it seem like he could read her mind.
Thank God, he couldn’t. There were layers of shadows and refuse and hurt and humiliation he’d have to wade through to even get to the innocent person he’d first met that long ago summer day. What she wouldn’t give to do it all again, to erase what she’d become in order to be worthy of the affection she often saw in his eyes.
But that was impossible and none of this was his fault. His needs came before hers, and if what he was seeking was her, an end to this rift, then that’s what she’d give him.
Swallowing hard, she turned and offered her profile. “I haven’t gone anywhere. I’m right here.”
“No, you’re not.” He stepped forward until his boots met the step and they were eye level. “You checked out three months ago and have only offered brief intermittent appearances since. This week?” He pressed a hand to his chest. “This week killed me, anim. I miss you.”
She closed her eyes a second time and fought the prickling in her sinuses. Tears would upset him more. “I’m sorry,” she whispered brokenly. Her putting a stop to whatever had been brewing between them had erected a larger cataclysm instead. The reasons were valid and she wouldn’t change her mind, but she would fix their friendship. Somehow. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Talk to me.” His midnight gaze searched hers. “Tell me whatever dark, horrible things he did so you can get past it and I can get my Ames back.”
At first, she thought he had read her mind and was talking about her uncle, then realized he’d meant her ex. God. Chris wasn’t the problem. At one point, she’d assumed he would be the solution, but she hadn’t even been able to make that sham work.
“He didn’t do anything to me.” Except render her more insignificant, proved she was undeserving of the simplest things. Acknowledgment. Eye contact. Touch. Fidelity. Love. “You know what happened. I’m over it.”
Nakos was right, though. This had started with the assault. Because that was the day she’d discovered no amount of backbone or regression or modification would alter reality. Every punch to her face and kick to her ribs and vile thing yelled at her had punctuated the truth.
She was a no one.
“You’re not over it.” He cupped her shoulders, his thumbs stroking her neck. “If not me, then talk to Nate. He knows about post traumatic stress. Perhaps he can help.”
The issue wasn’t PTSD, either. She shook her head to relay that to him, unsure what else to say. And he obviously wasn’t going to leave it alone.
With a sigh, she wove around him and headed for the kitchen. Any longer under his gentle caress or tender gaze and she’d lose it. “Since you’re feeling chatty, I need ice cream.”
He muttered a sound of exasperation and followed her. “Since when do you need fortification to have a conversation with me?”
Since he’d started digging instead of observing, that’s when. She pulled her emergency pint of mint chip from the freezer, a spoon from the drawer, and went out the kitchen door.
Plopping on the top step of his back deck, she pried the lid off her pint and stared at the horizon. The Laramie Mountains were black shadows against a navy sky littered with stars. The southern pasture stretched ahead, long grass swaying and crackling in a soft breeze. The scent of pine and ozone from the mountains clashed with soil, and she breathed deep.
Until the door behind her closed and the thunk of Nakos’s boots drew closer. She dug into her mint chip and kept her eyes forward while he sat next to her. Avoidance, her best friend.
He took off his Stetson and slid the brim through his long, callused fingers, then set it aside. “I’m worried about you.” He turned his head and looked at her as his low tone washed over her skin. “I care about you too goddamn much and I’m worried about you.”
And...total deflation. He did it to her every time. “I’m all right.” She stabbed at the contents of her pint. “I don’t have nightmares and I’m not afraid of touch or anything. I’m just trying to get my feet back under me. That’s all. I’m okay.”
“Forgive me, but I don’t believe you.” He studied the land, his wide jaw tense and ticking to the beat of her pulse. Such a beautiful, masculine face.
She spooned a healthy serving and held it out for him. “Want a bite?”
He eyed the spoon, then her. “I don’t like ice cream.”
That’s right. She’d forgotten. “I knew you had a flaw somewhere.”
Rigidly, he glanced heavenward and then at her as if utterly confounded. “What does that even mean? I’m not perfect.”
“No, not at all.” She rolled her eyes. The stupid man. Sarcasm dripping, she held up her fingers as she ticked off points. “Your heart’s not bigger than the universe. You wouldn’t give up everything for someone you care about. You’re not the most loyal person ever born. You’re afraid to show your emotions. You don’t work harder than everyone else.” She ran out of fingers and started over since the other hand was occupied holding her melting ice cream. “Your eyes aren’t the most perceptive or piercing things known to man, not to mention those thick lashes. Don’t even get me started there. Your voice isn’t low and coarse and tremble-inducing. The way you walk and carry yourself isn’t confident or prey-like in hotness. And your bronzed Trojan body rippled with muscle doesn’t scream sex-on-a-stick.”
Darn it. She needed to take a page from his playbook and shut up. She jabbed her spoon into her pint repeatedly and stared down, avoiding him. “Totally correct, Nakos. You’re not perfect. What was I thinking?”
Silence stretched. Crickets chirped.
He stared holes in her profile like he was burrowing in for the winter and planned to stay in her head indefinitely. She’d tell him not to bother because her mind was a trap of nightmares, but he wouldn’t listen anyway.
After a heinous pause, he rubbed his jaw. The scratching of his short whiskers against his palm raked the space between them. “If that’s truly how you view me, then why did you push me away when things started evolving?”
Evolving? Yeah, they were progressing right into the Stone Age. “We already discussed this.”
“No. You talked circles around me and ran away.”
She sighed in frustrated exhaustion. Despite their history, she might consider adapting to his version of evolution if not for two things—how he felt about Olivia and what Amy knew about herself. Olivia had some good theories about the first, but Amy was far from ready to climb aboard that sinking ship. And there was no getting around the second issue. Duct tape and superglue couldn’t repair that crap.
Stupid hope threatened to strangle her, though. Time to cap it off. “Do you remember what color dress Olivia wore to prom?”
Amy needed the reminder she was never the one he wanted. If he answered correctly, and she had no doubt he would, she’d stop torturing herself with what-ifs. She’d shove friendship down their throats and ignore the chemistry until he moved on.
He glared at her like he couldn’t fathom why she’d ask such a random question, then dug his fingertips into his eyes. “Blue. Dark blue and knee-length. Why?”
Bingo. However, verification only made her belly clench. She should be used to disappointment.
“Here.” She passed him the ice cream and stood. “It’ll only go straight to my ass.” Turning, she forced one foot in front of the other.
“Your dress was green.”
The quiet, determined timbre of his tone froze her in place. Facing the door, her back to him, she tried to catch her breath. The fine hairs on her arms rose.
Clothing rustled. His boots vibrated the planks and stopped behind her. “I don’t know what name you females call it, but it was green. The color of grass. The material went down to your ankles. Every time you bent over, one of the thin straps fell off your shoulder and you spent half the night tugging it in place. Your shoes were black, your hair was up, and you wore a necklace with a yellow stone in the pendant.”
Shit. Oh God, shit. He remembered. And in great detail. Which sent reason number one not to succumb straight out the window.
Trembling, her gaze remained locked onto the mesh screen of the door. Heat coursed through her system and her lungs were one declaration away from collapsing. His presence loomed, sent off its own gravitational pull, and it took everything she had not to turn around.
“Is this about Olivia? My feelings for her?” His feet shifted. “I couldn’t help those back then any more than I can the ones for you now. It doesn’t mean you were invisible, Ames.”
Her eyes fluttered closed, and she couldn’t take it. He was killing her with kindness. How many times over how many years had she prayed, hoped, or begged for just those words to escape his mouth? For him to see her as a woman? There had been safety in that, though. Dreams never to be fulfilled, so she didn’t have to worry about regret or guilt.
And he’d spoken about his attraction to Olivia like it was past tense. No more.
“Ames, I—”
Whirling, she grabbed the pint from him and strode inside.
He cursed and followed. “What did you mean by the ice cream would go to your...ass? What’s wrong with it the way it is?”
As if she’d discuss her weight problem. He of the abs and gluts and biceps wouldn’t understand. Mortification knew no bounds.
Keeping herself busy, she rinsed the spoon and set it in the sink, then capped the mint chip and put it in the freezer. Hands on his hips, he watched her every move.
The sanctity of her bedroom in mind, she walked out of the kitchen on shaking legs and was determined to get to the stairs before he leveled her again. The footsteps trailing her said he wasn’t near done with this discussion.
“You were right, anim.”
Damn it, damn it, damn it.
Again, she halted on the bottom stair. Sighed. Struggled for guidance. She settled for turning to face him.
“This shift between us is physical. My body wants yours, and the magnetism is only getting stronger the longer we pretend it doesn’t exist.” Slowly, like he did everything else, he walked closer until he’d eaten half the distance with his long legs. “Accidentally walking in on you after your shower knocked me from in lust with those curves of yours to in love. The need is fierce. Is that what you want to hear?”
Her damp panties said yes. Her conscience yelled no. Wisely, her mouth kept mum.
“You’re forgetting our friendship, though.” He eyed her, jaw set. “My head and heart are a factor. We wouldn’t be standing here otherwise. So no, this isn’t just physical. And I don’t get intimate without some kind of connection. I’m not wired that way.”
At a loss, she bit her lip and looked at him. Really looked. It seemed he was taking some kind of stand, and the fact she was it rendered her mute.
All her life, she’d wanted this very thing. Acceptance. Notice. Someone to fight for her. She’d never gotten it. Not from her parents, who wanted a son and birthed a daughter instead. Had she been a boy, Kyle wouldn’t have been conceived. They’d spent her entire childhood and teen years pointing out her faults, tossing bible verses at her, and skimming over her with contempt. She got the impression Kyle had stuck with her out of duty. None of her lovers, nor her ex-husband, had bothered to try. After all, she was disposable. A one-time use cluster of tissue and bones.
Aunt Mae, Olivia, and Nakos had been the exception. Yet, even with them, she often felt the odd one out. Like perhaps her remaining in their world stemmed from habit more than desire.
She’d learned to put up a great front and pretend she didn’t need a warrior, that she could slay her own monsters, but the truth was in her failures. She was a walking, talking, breathing lie contrived of desperation and loneliness. And if Nakos kept this up, he’d be dragged into her pain vault with no hope of escape. That was her gift.
His dark eyes bore into hers, pleading, seeking, framed by long lashes that tended to flutter when emotional. The hard set of his jaw and thin lips bespoke his aggravation. Yet his stance remained open, relaxed, like he was simply waiting for her to come around. Change her mind and leap into his arms. Forget all the why-nots and press up against him.
Finally, his brow furrowed as if he’d reached a conclusion or snapped a piece into place. “You always make me nervous.” The slight tilt of his head and unsure tone indicated he was trying the sentence on for size.
She reared. Blinked. “What? We’ve known each other since—”
“We were nine. Yeah, I know.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Still, you do. You make me nervous. I felt it the first time I saw you on that tire swing as a kid. It got stronger in our teens and it’s constant now.” He let out a quick exhale. “There’s this...flutter in my gut whenever you walk into a room or I catch you out of the corner of my eye in passing or even if someone mentions your name.”
He stepped forward two paces and stopped. “There’s almost no one I’m more comfortable around than you. Especially considering our open dialog. But there you have it. All these years between us and you can still make me nervous.” His hand raised to adjust his hat in a common gesture, but he must’ve realized he’d taken it off and ran his fingers through the ponytail at his nape instead. “Hihcebe,” he muttered. “It’s been there all along.”
His gaze flicked to hers and held. Midnight torment and dark passion. “It’s been there all along,” he firmly repeated. “Maybe I wasn’t ready to acknowledge the sensation or perhaps, deep down, I knew this was significant. My bet is it took me this long because you tend to steamroll me with your witty comebacks and I can’t ever think clearly.”
He straightened suddenly and huffed. “But you’re not speaking now, are you? You’ve been uncharacteristically quiet.”
What the heck was she supposed to say? If she was reading him correctly, he’d just claimed an attraction had been present forever. Which couldn’t be true.
Irrational happiness shuffled her synapses around and tried to take root. But she stomped that crap dead. Even if she trusted the emotion, it didn’t matter. She would never—could never—be with him. She loved him too much, for too many years, to ever assume the day would come she deserved him.
“Say something, anim.”
Angel. How she wished he’d stop calling her that. It only made the guilt churn harder and her hope refuse to go quietly into the good night where it belonged. Out of reach.
She rubbed her forehead. “I think I should’ve cut you off after the first beer.”
Up went his brows. He huffed a rough laugh. “I only had one and didn’t finish it. Try again.”
To think, she’d gotten turned on by Alpha Nakos not two weeks ago. He was very dangerous when this side came out to play.
Fine. Abort, then. She turned on her heel and...made it nowhere. Fast.
One-hundred and ninety pounds of hot, hard male pressed against every inch of her from behind. He wrapped a solid arm around her waist, another banding her chest, and held her to him. His lips caressed the shell of her ear, his breath warm, and a full-body tremble tore through her. That amazing scent of outdoors and denim and earth she associated with him enveloped her at the same moment a strange sense of safety nailed her midsection.
She whimpered. Sweet baby Jesus in the manger. She used to chastise women who thought with their girly bits, letting lust rule over common sense. Having never experienced it herself, she’d assumed she was incapable and better off for it. But this carnal heat and sweet ache was addicting. Ten seconds, and she was already in need of rehab.
Turning her around, he backed her to the entry hall, palms planted beside her shoulders. He took a leisurely, drawn-out perusal of her face and nodded. “That’s what I thought.”
And, God save her. He aligned their bodies again by leaning in, this time from the front, and two toned biceps straining against the seams of his t-shirt caged her face. The cut muscle of his torso held her in place and her head thunked the wall.
“Your heart is pounding against my chest, your breathing is labored, and your mermaid eyes are dialed to gone, baby, gone. You want me, and I’m going mad with wanting you.” He brushed his nose to hers and dipped his chin. His lips grazed her throat, and she trembled. Again. Or still. “I don’t know what’s going on in that gorgeous head of yours or what excuses you’ve compiled, but I’m done tiptoeing around. If it takes me until we’re eighty and in side-by-side rocking chairs, I’m going to wear you down.”
While her pulse went spastic, he looked at her, his lips hovering millimeters from hers. Watching her, he grabbed her thigh and brought her leg around his waist, then thrust into her. She gasped as his hard length ground against her core, and even through their jeans, it was better than any contact she’d had with anyone else.
He groaned, long and loud. “That’s what you do to me. At night while I try to sleep, during work, driving my truck, riding the horses, or making a damn sandwich in my kitchen. One thought of you, one whiff of your lingering perfume, and that’s all it takes, anim.”
His heavy gaze darted between her eyes, and the only thing keeping her upright was being trapped between the wall and a...hard place. Her brain cells went poof. Her breasts ached. Her core wept. Her organs puddled to goo. And he just stared, calm and controlled on the surface, but he pulsed as if the animal inside needed escape.
Another groan, and his mouth crashed against hers. He pried her lips apart with his and his tongue drove inside. Stroking. Swirling. Coaxing. Dominating. The patient side of his personality eked through with the unhurried caress and exploration, but his body was another matter. A contradiction. Shallow grinding and rigid muscles and ragged inhalations through his nose.
Putty. He’d turned her into putty.
Nipping her lower lip, he lifted his head, his sleepy gaze settling on hers once more. Ten distinct fingertips gripped her backside, dug in, and retracted, only to have his palms cup her in their place. “Oh yeah. Prepare yourself. Tomorrow, it’s on.”