Chapter 18

 

Rebecca awoke with a start, Patrick tossing and turning beside her, the sheets twisted around him. He mumbled something in his sleep, thrashing around as a strong breeze blew in through the open bedroom window.

She sat up, glancing at the clock on the nightstand. 3:04 a.m.

“Patrick,” she said quietly, clutching his thick forearm as he rustled again.

“No,” he grit out in his sleep. “Look out!”

“Patrick!” she said more insistently. “Wake up!”

Patrick was sitting up in an instant, his eyes quickly scanning the darkened room as he held an arm out protectively in front of her. She clutched onto his muscled arm, feeling the tendons bulging from beneath his skin. He was pounds of solid muscle beneath tanned, toned flesh, the type of man who could intimidate anyone without a single word, but in the dark at this moment, he’d been the one frightened.

“What is it?” he asked, his voice gruff. “What’s wrong?”

“You were having a nightmare,” she whispered.

A clap of thunder sounded, causing her to jump, followed by the sound of heavy rain pounding down. It felt soothing, somehow, listening to the cleansing sound of the rain hitting the ground from inside their bedroom. Like they were safe in their own little cocoon while the outside world went on without them.

Literally sheltered from the storm.

“Hell,” he said, scrubbing a hand across his face. He took a deep breath.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine,” he muttered. “Are you? You just jumped a foot in the air after that thunder.”

“I’m fine. I’m just worried about you. That’s the second time you’ve woken up this week.”

“No need to be worried,” he ground out. “Just a bad dream.”

The bed shifted as he stood up, the moonlight coming in from the window illuminating his solid, six-foot-three-inch frame. The light went on in their bathroom a moment later, and she heard water running from the sink.

Rebecca stood, suddenly feeling chilled in her strappy camisole and sleep shorts, and crossed the room to close the bedroom window before the rain got in. Ironically, she used to be the one with nightmares—originally after her first husband had been killed in an accident on the bridge from Virginia Beach to Norfolk. That long span of bridge and tunnels to get to Virginia Beach still gave her chills—but at least she no longer woke up with nightmares from it.

When she’d met Patrick, all those bad dreams had subsided. He’d swept into her life and unintentionally swept her right off her feet.

Even after the incident with her stalker. The hang-ups at her office. The car sitting on their street. The man Abby had spotted watching them in their front yard.

Her blood had run cold at the idea of someone harming her or her daughter.

But Patrick had been there for her.

Protected her and her daughter.

Caught the man intent on causing them harm.

And now?

She almost didn’t know what to do with him being the one up at night.

It had been gut-wrenching when the CO had called to let her know about Patrick’s injury. The world had gone in slow motion until she’d gotten word he was awake. That he’d be okay.

She blew out a breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding, then padded into the bathroom to find Patrick splashing cold water on his face. The lightweight cotton pajama bottoms he had on hung low from his trim waist, and the tanned, toned flesh of his upper torso was bare.

Hours of PT left him chiseled and sculpted, the envy of any man. But his jaw was clenched, his eyes filled with concern.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked softly. “You’ve been having nightmares ever since the accident.”

“I know,” he said, his voice gruff. “And I’m fine. It’s just part of the job.”

“Nightmares are part of the job?”

“Hell, sweetheart, I jump out of airplanes for a living. Shoot up the bad guys. It’s not like I’m going to dream of cotton candy and sunshine.”

Rebecca smiled despite herself, recalling their day at the beach a week ago with their two kids. Salty water, sand, the scorching hot sun—and plenty of cotton candy for the kids.

She walked up behind Patrick and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her cheek against his back. He was so tall, her head was right between his shoulder blades. She could feel the tension and stress rippling off of him—the tightness in his muscles. The stiffness of his posture.

He was a man that never showed any signs of weakness. Never flinched.

And he’d never admit if something was bothering him either.

She kissed him softly, her lips brushing against the warm skin on his back, and ran her hands over his shoulders and bulging biceps. She enjoyed the feeling of his skin over all those hardened muscles. Loved the feeling of his strength and warmth surrounding her.

He turned around, gazing down at her with those cool blue eyes as he let his hands rest on her waist.

“I’ll probably be deploying again soon.” He cocked his head slightly, assessing her. “The CO mentioned he’ll have significant updates for us on Monday morning.”

“I figured—nature of the job, right? I can’t say I’ll ever like having you gone, but I’m used to it by now. Sort of.”

Patrick smirked, his eyes warming as he looked down at her. He raised one large hand to her face, letting his fingertips caress her cheek as his thumb grazed over her lips.

Butterflies fluttered inside her—the same feeling she got whenever Patrick touched her. Kissed her. Caressed her. This touch was more comforting than sexual though. Loving. He let his hands fall to his sides.

“It’ll be good for me to get back to work after the accident—to get back into a routine and training. Sitting around the house isn’t helping me improve.”

“I know for a fact that all the physical therapy you were doing was hardly ‘sitting around,’” she said with a wry smile. “I was tired just hearing about all the grueling exercises you had.”

“Let’s not forget the extra work my sister dreamed up,” he said with a chuckle.

“She’s just doing her job—literally.”

“She’s tougher than some of those Navy docs. The timing of my going back is crappy though. We never even got to take a honeymoon,” Patrick said, his voice gruff. “I was hoping I wouldn’t be in recovery for so long.”

“Well, we weren’t exactly planning on a wedding this summer. Or a baby. In a way, your accident kind of hurried things along.”

“The baby was already on the way,” he said, looking rather proud of himself as his eyes glinted with amusement.

“That he or she was—I still think it’s a little girl.”

“Then she won’t be allowed to date until she’s thirty—at least. Abby either.”

Rebecca laughed. “I don’t think anyone will be brave enough to ever ask Abby out with you around. Thankfully we have years and years before we need to worry about that.”

“Thank God for small miracles. But I don’t want you to worry, because nothing’s going to happen to me. Nothing else,” he amended. “Hell, half the guys on the team have been injured before.”

“And out of commission for two months?”

“Evan was. And the other guys have had injuries, too. We’re the best at what we do. So yes, maybe my injury this summer sped up the timeline a bit.”

“You think?” she asked, pointedly looking at the wedding ring on his hand.

Patrick smirked. “I can’t complain. We could’ve waited if you wanted a big, fancy wedding.”

Rebecca looked up at him. “Our wedding was absolutely perfect—you, me, the kids, the beach. I never would’ve wanted anything else.”

“Me either. I love you,” he said, his voice gruff.

“I love you, too,” she whispered.

His large hand came to a rest on her belly, a look of male pride crossing his face. “I still can’t believe my child is growing inside you.”

“Believe it—I was throwing up for weeks and weeks.”

“I know—and I hated there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to fix it.”

“Spoken like a typical man.”

“Typical?” he asked, cocking a brow.

“Not so typical,” she rephrased, yawning despite herself. “But men always want to solve problems, right? Especially Navy SEALs intent on getting their own way.”

“I have been known to be rather persuasive,” he agreed. He glanced at the small clock on the bathroom counter. “Hell, it’s after three in the morning. Let’s get back to bed.”

“No more nightmares?”

“No more nightmares. Besides, I’ve got you to scare them off for me.”

Her cheeks warmed, thinking of how ridiculous that sounded. Like a big, tough Navy SEAL needed anyone to scare off anything for him. “I’ll do my best,” she said lightly.

“Maybe you could provide me a bit of a distraction,” he suggested, heat in his eyes.

Her eyes slid over his broad pectorals, wide shoulders, and muscular arms. Patrick ducked down, his lips meeting hers in a kiss, and then he was easily lifting her into his arms. Holding her against his solid, muscular chest. Carrying her to bed.

He placed her down gently in the darkness, the soft, silken sheets beneath her. She shivered in delight as Patrick’s lips met hers again, his arms caging her in. His thick erection nudged against her stomach, still beneath his pajama bottoms, and she felt arousal pooling at her center.

And after he’d removed their pajamas and the weight of his large frame settled over hers, soon everything else was forgotten.