17
Someone was skulking around her house, a dark shadow that Sadie could see from her window but couldn’t completely make out. He was wearing a dark hoodie, pulled over his face. He’s back, she thought. Only, suddenly, she wasn’t at her house peering through the window at all—she was at the farm, gazing out at the fields, and she could smell smoke again. She was trying to scream, to warn Dawson to get out of the house, when she opened her eyes and, heart pumping, blinked at the semidarkness.
There was no smoke. Everything smelled like it usually did—a little musty, since the house was so old. Those sights, sounds and images were all a dream.
It felt late, yet the light was still on in the hallway, the TV blaring downstairs. She’d left it that way when she came up to lie down with Jayden because she’d been planning to go back and wait for Dawson to finish up outside. She’d wanted to feel secure in the fact that they were both in for the night before retiring but had fallen asleep as fast as Jayden had.
So where was Dawson? After she’d served him the leftover Stroganoff, he’d said he’d work for only another hour or two. Had he ever come in? Was he in his bed? If so, why’d he leave the TV and lights on?
Maybe he’d been too tired to bother with that sort of thing, she thought, but she knew, instinctively, that would be odd for him. He was a man who took care of things. He took care of people, too; she was an obvious example. He would’ve locked up and turned everything off before going to bed.
Still struggling to overcome the last vestiges of sleep—and the effects of that nightmare—she leaned up on one elbow and squinted to see the clock. It wasn’t as late as she’d thought—only eleven. Dawson could easily be watching the TV she heard.
Jayden was snuggled close to her. After kissing his forehead, she slid him over so she could get out of bed. She was wearing Dawson’s clothes again; she’d put her own sweats in the washer after working outside.
Although she was plenty warm, the hardwood floor proved cold enough that she wished for her slippers. It was so easy to take the little things for granted—until they were gone.
Thoughts of how she was going to recover from the fire threatened to commandeer her mind yet again. Before she’d gone to sleep, she’d decided that, with the way things were going, she had only one option: she had to save every dime she could and leave Silver Springs as soon as possible. Dawson was right. That Sly would set her house on fire was a warning sign, and she’d be stupid not to heed it. He’d finally gone too far, so far she felt justified in escaping any way she could, and in taking their son with her.
But she knew it would be some time before she had the money to leave, and she didn’t have many options in the meantime except to watch her back, so she pushed away those worries. Chief Thomas had called just before she put Jayden to bed to say that he had someone going through the house at that very moment, and he’d bring the items on her list—what they could salvage—tomorrow. The officer he’d sent said he couldn’t find the pictures of Jayden or her parents, which concerned her, but that didn’t mean they weren’t safe. The officer didn’t say they’d been destroyed, only that the plastic storage container she kept them in wasn’t in the bedroom closet where she’d told him to look, which was potentially good news. If the container wasn’t there, the pictures weren’t, either, so she must’ve moved them.
Hopefully, she’d put them in a safe spot. Which might’ve been the case. No spot could’ve been worse than the closet.
So, overall, she should be feeling grateful, not panicked, she told herself. Her situation might not be as bad as she’d first thought, on the recovery end of things, anyway. She was just overwhelmed by how hard it was going to be to escape and start over—and it didn’t help that she was disoriented and uneasy right now, especially when she passed Dawson’s room and found the door standing open and the bed made.
She checked the bathroom. He would’ve showered before bed. He was particular about his hygiene. But she couldn’t detect any recent moisture or anything else that might suggest a shower had recently taken place.
He had to be downstairs, she decided, must’ve fallen asleep on the couch. But when she reached the living room, it was empty. So were the kitchen and laundry room.
“Dawson?” Despite trying not to let herself be spooked so easily, she could hear a tremor in her voice.
After searching the ground floor again and peering out the windows, she returned to the foot of the stairs and gazed up at his parents’ room. Surely he wasn’t in there. But where else could he be? He had to be home. His truck was in the drive.
Her stomach cramped as she crept slowly back up the stairs and tried the knob.
Locked. Thank the Lord. Except that did nothing to explain where he might be. It was pitch-black outside. He couldn’t be working...
You have to stay on your guard. We both do. Those words came back to her as she tried his cell phone. He’d been talking about Sly.
She listened to see if she could hear his phone buzzing or ringing in the house but heard nothing.
“Answer, damn it,” she muttered, but he didn’t pick up. And when she tried again, his voice mail came on for the second time.
This is Dawson Reed. Leave a message.
Had he caught a ride into town? Was he sitting in The Blue Suede Shoe? He’d gone there last night, hadn’t he? And it was a weekend. Maybe he came in from work, realized she was sleeping and left.
But she felt certain, because of Sly, he’d leave a note or something in case she woke up.
She was afraid her ex-husband had driven out, waited for it to get dark and ambushed Dawson while he was coming in from the fields...
She covered her mouth as a vision of what that might look like flashed before her mind’s eye. That told her what she really thought when it came to what Sly was capable of, didn’t it?
“Shit. Shit, shit, shit.” She hurried back downstairs and began rummaging through the “junk” drawer she’d reorganized in the kitchen. She’d seen a flashlight in there...
Fortunately, it wasn’t hard to find—and it worked. The beam wasn’t as strong as she would’ve liked, but she also had her phone. Although hesitant to leave Jayden after what’d happened last night, she was only going out on the farm. Everything seemed fine at the house, except that Dawson wasn’t in it. She’d lock up and keep an eye out while she checked the fields. She couldn’t leave Dawson out in the dark alone; he could need help.
“You better not have done anything,” she told Sly, even though he wasn’t around. Had he come out here and caused trouble just as they’d anticipated? What else could’ve happened?
She remembered how quickly Sly had reached for his gun while her house was burning, and that was right in the street! If Chief Thomas hadn’t shown up when he did, her ex might’ve drawn his weapon—and used it.
The weather was cold enough that she pulled on the coat she found hanging on one of the hooks in the mudroom—the one Dawson had loaned her before.
Please be okay... After the fire and how belligerent Sly had behaved at the house, not to mention her nightmare and what had happened at this farm a year ago, she was having a difficult time not imagining the worst. What if she found Dawson lying in a pool of his own blood?
Or worse... What if she couldn’t find him at all? What if Sly had killed him and dragged him off to some remote burial site where his body would never even be recovered?
Sly wouldn’t do that, she told herself. But she’d seen crazier things happen in the true crime shows she watched.
The door, when she closed and locked it behind her, sounded overly loud. She feared Sly would jump out of the darkness at any moment and choke her, or kill her in some other way. If he got away with it, he’d have full custody of Jayden without even having to fight for it. Then he could make sure Jayden was no longer “babied,” that he was brought up to be a “man” according to Sly’s definition. Sly wouldn’t even have to worry about how he’d raise Jayden on his own, since his mother would do most of the work for him.
The hair on the back of Sadie’s neck stood on end as she swung the beam of the flashlight across the yard. What she saw in that white circle seemed innocuous, but it was what she didn’t see that scared her. What was moving around outside it?
She dearly hoped it wasn’t her ex-husband.
Drawing a deep breath for courage, she left the back porch and headed to where she’d been with Dawson earlier. He might’ve stopped working there to fix the watering system or repair the barn, which meant he could be almost anywhere. But he hadn’t planned to stay out very much longer. Given that, she guessed he wouldn’t have taken on a new project, that he’d try to finish what he’d been working on and then quit.
Once she got out there, however, she saw no sign of him—just his shovel cast off to one side as if he’d tossed it away or dropped it.
Her heart began to race; she could feel it bumping against her chest. “Oh God,” she whispered. “No, please.”
Directing her flashlight at the freshly turned earth, she began searching for blood or any other sign of foul play. If Sly had harmed Dawson, he wasn’t going to get away with it. She’d see to it that he was punished, no matter what she had to do. But the thought that Dawson might be hurt was almost more than she could take in the first place. She’d feel bad if anyone were hurt, but especially him. Maybe she hadn’t known him long, but she’d begun to care about him.
Her eyes filled with tears, making it that much harder to see. As she moved her light in an ever-widening circle, she hoped to find something. But she didn’t. She was about to go in and call the police. Sly was part of the force, and most of the other cops were poisoned against Dawson, but what else could she do? Time could be of the essence, which meant she needed to act quickly. She could only hope that there was someone who would respond with a measure of integrity in the performance of his job.
Then she spotted something. There, under the tree.
Her breath caught in her throat as she lifted the flashlight higher to get a better look.
A second later, she realized what it was: Dawson’s boots.
* * *
Sadie’s hands were on his body, up under his shirt, feeling his chest. Dawson wished those hands would move lower. He hadn’t been touched intimately in eighteen months or more—other than the one cell mate who’d tried to grab his junk in the middle of the night and lost a tooth for the effort.
He felt his body react, felt himself grow hard before he realized they weren’t even in the house, let alone his bed.
What the hell? What were they doing outside? Was this another of his many fantasies?
“Dawson? Can you hear me?” she said.
He managed to lift his heavy eyelids so that he could take in the sight of her. She was bent over him, wearing a big coat—his coat, he realized—crying. A flashlight lay on the ground beside her, its beam shooting off across the field. “What’s wrong?” he mumbled.
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. What’d he do to you?”
He caught and held her hands before she could get him any more worked up. “What are you talking about?”
“Sly!”
“He was here?”
“That’s my guess. Did he hurt you?”
Dawson couldn’t remember seeing Sly tonight. He didn’t feel any pain, either. But he was so groggy—the result of all the sleep deprivation he’d suffered since being released from jail. And it was awfully strange to find himself outside. How did he get here?
Suddenly, the answer came to him. He’d been too exhausted to keep working but was too stubborn to quit. He’d promised himself he’d take fifteen minutes and rest under the closest tree before finishing the row he was on. At that point, he must’ve sacked out, fallen so deeply asleep that he would’ve spent the whole night out here if Sadie hadn’t awakened him. “Wait. Sadie, it’s okay. I’m okay. I fell asleep, that’s all.”
He expected her to pull away, but she didn’t. He could see the shine of the moon in her eyes as she stared down at him, her chest rising and falling rapidly from her fear and upset.
“You scared me,” she whispered.
“I’m sorry.” She was so upset he couldn’t help letting his own hands slip inside that heavy coat. He was seeking the soft feel of her skin, which he found at her waist, but he was also hoping to calm her, to let her know he was right there, all in one piece, and she had no reason to fear. “Nothing happened.”
“So...Sly hasn’t been out here?”
“No. Everything’s okay,” he replied, except that they were both touching each other and neither one seemed eager to let go.
“God, you feel good,” he said with a hoarse laugh, but he felt too guilty making a move on her to continue. She worked for him. And she hadn’t even escaped her last relationship yet. He didn’t want to give her the impression that she had to put out for him in order to retain his friendship or his support—or to have a place to stay or keep her job or whatever. “Sorry, I...I didn’t mean to get out of line.” He forced himself to let go of her, but she didn’t seem offended. On the contrary, she caught his hands—and moved them higher, to her breasts!
The testosterone that shot through him in that moment drew every muscle taut. “Sadie...”
She must’ve heard the desperation in his voice; he heard it himself. He was trying to warn her that it wouldn’t be difficult to push him past his own restraint. He hadn’t been living a normal life for the past year; that put him at a distinct disadvantage. But she still didn’t withdraw. She covered his hands with hers, holding them in place. “Don’t talk. I won’t listen. I can’t listen, not right now. I just... I want to touch and be touched. I want to experience something besides anger and remorse and fear.” She lowered her voice. “I want to make love to a man I actually desire. I can’t even imagine what that would feel like.”
“But you don’t realize how much this could complicate things,” he said, struggling to keep his head clear. “We don’t even know each other all that well, and we’re both in a mess. It’s too big of a risk.”
“I don’t care about the risk,” she said. “I’m tired of fighting everything in my life. I need a time-out, the chance to experience something breathtaking. As long as we both want this, what will it hurt? I mean...I may not be all that attractive to you, but sometimes the way you look at me makes me think—”
“Don’t say that,” he interrupted before she could even finish. “You’re wrong. I think you’re beautiful.”
“Then what’s one night? Why can’t we let ourselves have a few hours of mind-numbing pleasure before we go back to the battle that has become our regular lives? In the morning, we’ll pretend it never happened. We’ll be responsible and cautious again. Just...not right now.”
Dawson wasn’t sure they could ignore having crossed such a line. But he couldn’t bring himself to argue anymore, not when she came off so earnest. And once she straddled his hips, he knew he’d lost the ability to refuse. The pressure of her bottom against his erection set off an atom bomb of sexual energy that made him want to rip off her clothes.
“Okay. Sure. One night. We can forget about it tomorrow. Now let me taste you,” he said, and a moment later they were kissing deeply, frantically, and fumbling to reach bare skin.
* * *
It didn’t take long for Dawson to find the latch on the lacy bra he’d bought her earlier and snap it open. Sadie felt the tension give right before he peeled off the coat she was wearing as well as her shirt. She’d never had another man’s hands on her breasts. As Dawson’s fingers slid lightly over her nipples—seeking, exploring, enjoying—she gasped and heard a guttural sound come out of him in return.
“We’d better take it slow, or I’m afraid I’ll disappoint you,” he muttered. The pounding of his heart, which she could feel beneath his solid chest, indicated he wanted to take it anything except slow. But she wasn’t worried either way. She didn’t care how he “performed.” She just needed to feel close to someone—a man she could admire—for a few minutes. And, in that regard and many others, this was exactly what she craved, even if she never reached climax. In this moment, she was no longer isolated, no longer alone.
“All I need is to feel your body and let you feel mine,” she told him as she pulled off his shirt. “To get drunk on desire. To pretend as if I’m someone else, someone who hasn’t screwed up and missed all the good things in life.” She didn’t want him to feel any pressure. She preferred he let go and enjoy himself as she was doing—allowed himself to get carried away. He deserved a time-out as much as she did...
The earth felt cool and moist as he rolled her onto her back. She guessed they’d be filthy when they were through, but, as he stared down at what he’d revealed when he removed her coat, shirt and bra, she didn’t care. Although she couldn’t make out his expression, not with it being so dark and the moon creating a halo around his head, she didn’t need to. She could tell he liked what he saw and that he wanted to see more, because he stripped off the sweats he’d loaned her next and ran a finger over her new panties—where the thin fabric covered the most sensitive part of her.
She shivered at his touch.
“I knew you’d look beautiful in these,” he said. “I almost hate to take them off.”
“I hope you’re not going to let that stop you,” she said with a breathy laugh.
“Hell no,” he responded and slid them down over her hips so she could kick them off.
Sadie was literally throbbing with the desire to feel him inside her. Had she ever been this eager for Sly? If so, it’d been years ago. For the first time in ages, she was choosing who she wanted to touch her. That felt as liberating as it was intoxicating.
After he spread out his coat for her to lie on, she reached for the zipper of his pants, but he stopped her. “Not yet,” he murmured and bent his head to kiss her neck, her collarbone and then her breasts.
Sadie could hardly catch her breath for the excitement pouring through her. The smell of the earth around them, the cool night air wafting over her bare skin and the moon shimmering high above made the experience almost surreal.
Maybe she was dreaming, she told herself—except a dream had never felt this good.
“That’s out of this world,” she said as he took her nipple in his mouth. The warm wetness of his tongue sliding over her nearly melted her bones...
He moved to the other breast, but he didn’t only focus there. While one hand continued to stimulate the nipple he’d just left, the other traveled lower.
Sadie jerked when he touched her. She wasn’t sure she’d ever been so aroused. And he’d hardly done anything yet.
“You like that?” he murmured.
“I’ve never wanted anything more,” she said.
His teeth glinted in a smile as he lifted his head to watch her while he slipped a finger inside her.
Sadie gripped his wrist. She wasn’t sure why. What he was doing was just so...intimate. She felt the need to hang on to him, especially as the tension began to build in her body. She was going to climax quickly and easily, which hadn’t been the case in several years. Sly hadn’t been a terrible lover. He’d insisted she come every now and then. But those encounters had almost been worse than the ones where he simply took his pleasure and went on his way. She’d had to work so hard with him, and he got so angry if she couldn’t achieve what he wanted. The effort and energy required on both their parts often made him cross before they were through. Rarely did she feel any closer to him after.
But this...this was an entirely different experience, something fresh and new and beyond titillating. She liked the way Dawson handled her body. He was confident yet respectful. And although he seemed to be as caught up in her as she was him—as eager for his own release as any man would be—he made her believe that the more she enjoyed their lovemaking, the more he enjoyed it, as well.
Maybe that had been the problem with Sly. Even when they were having sex, she’d felt alone, or merely a means to an end. Occasionally, he’d gone so far as to show her a porn flick in order to teach her how to “really” turn him on, which made her feel as if she didn’t have the power to turn him on as she was, and that only made matters between them worse.
“I wish we were in the house so I could see you clearly,” Dawson breathed as her legs began to quiver. “I love watching this, love watching you.”
She didn’t need any encouragement. She’d had too many fantasies that involved him. But what he said certainly didn’t hurt. A moment later, the most spectacular climax rushed through her. With a groan, she let herself soar with it, let herself embrace the pleasure he was providing.
The release felt so welcome, so cathartic...
She closed her eyes, savoring the moment, and didn’t open them again until he pulled her earlobe into his mouth. “That was nice,” he murmured.
“That was the best thing I’ve felt in a long, long time,” she admitted.
“Good.” She could hear the satisfaction in his voice. “I’d like you to come again, when I’m inside you, but I shouldn’t make any promises. You’ve got me so excited I’m not sure I can hold out for long.”
He’d taken the safe route to guarantee she wouldn’t be disappointed. She recognized that—and found it endearing.
“Remember, you’re dealing with a guy who’s been in jail for a year,” he added.
“You don’t have anything to worry about,” she told him. “You’ve already surpassed all my expectations. I just wanted to be with someone and have it be free and easy and enjoyable for a change.” Although she made it sound as if almost any man would do, that wasn’t true. She’d felt an attraction to him from the first moment they’d met, and that attraction had only grown stronger as she’d come to know him. She just didn’t want him to think she was taking this too seriously when she’d promised otherwise. And, since she’d be leaving as soon as she could save enough money, she didn’t want to misconstrue what he could expect in the future.
“Should we go inside—to my room?” he asked. “You can’t be too comfortable out here.”
She considered the suggestion but shook her head. This was a moment out of time, and it needed to stay that way, needed to be separate from the lives they were living, or it could change everything, and she couldn’t afford to have it do that. She needed her job. She also needed a safe place to stay, until she could get out on her own.
“No. That’s where reality resides,” she said. “This is...something else, a dream, and I’m not ready to go back to reality quite yet.”
He seemed to understand, because he didn’t press her. “Okay.” He kissed her—slowly and gently at first but with more need and urgency as their tongues met and intertwined. After that there was no time for talking. Sadie didn’t want to talk, anyway. She was too busy removing his pants.
“What about birth control?” he asked.
She could tell he’d been putting off the question, that he hadn’t wanted to ruin what they were experiencing by forcing her to face the possibility of pregnancy.
“I don’t have anything,” he admitted.
She was still on the pill, because of what Sly had done, insisting she provide sex even though they were split up. She wasn’t about to allow her ex to get her pregnant. One child with him was enough. “I’ve got that covered.”
She was afraid Dawson would question her. If she and her husband had been split up for a year, and she hadn’t been with anyone else, why would she still be on birth control? Any guy would wonder. But Dawson was too caught up to think about the ramifications. In this moment, he wanted only one thing, and that one thing precluded critical thinking.
“Thank God,” he responded and pressed inside her.