01 Only Fear Page 19

  “Finally, after a lot of discussion, she was going to change from outpatient therapy to inpatient care at a state facility. I’d talked her into doing it so they could monitor her medication for a while and find something that worked better. She agreed to be admitted, as long as it was under her terms. One of those terms was she wanted one more session with me ‘on the outside,’ as she called it. She told me to rest easy, because she was ready for this change, especially if I would be there for her.”

  Rest easy. Like the card had said today. No wonder it brought back bad memories.

  “Except something changed her mind,” Maggie continued. “The next week, when she appeared for her session, she saw Brad as he was leaving. He’d stopped by to tell me about his engagement.”

  Her lips trembled as she tried to smile. “We were laughing. He kissed my cheek, and I guess she thought, in her skewed thinking, that I was betraying her.” She looked at Ethan then, and his heart broke at the pain and betrayal sparkling in her eyes. “I found out later she’d decided she was in love with me. When she saw me with Brad, she thought my attempts to send her to the state hospital were a way of getting rid of her to be with him. She shot Brad.”

  “She shot Brad,” she said again, her tone one of bewilderment. “One second he was standing beside me, deliriously happy. In the next…” She paused to take in a breath and pressed a hand to her breastbone, where her panic was no doubt beginning to build.

  Ethan wanted to stop her and pull her into his arms, to tell her it was okay and she didn’t have to relive it. But after he’d told her his story earlier, he understood how important it was to get the words out of your head. Like debriding a wound. Excise the bad tissue and clean it all out so it can heal.

  “She brought a gun with her that day?”

  Maggie nodded but her mind was clearly in another time. Another place. “She said later that she’d been carrying it around with her for weeks. For protection, she said. She’d been hearing voices on occasion, and sometimes thought it was actually another person. She’d never indicated to me that she was dangerous in any way. But she was.

  “Poor Brad. One moment he was so happy. In the next moment, he was lying on the floor and she was coming after me, tackling me to the ground. She’d dropped her gun somewhere, but then she had a knife in one hand.” She squeezed her eyes shut.

  “I didn’t feel the pain right away. I was too worried about Brad, even though I could see the blood pooling under him. He was dead, but I had to get to him. But I couldn’t. By then, she was on top of me, the knife slashing. She called me ‘Red’ and laughed, thinking it was a joke. That the blood was the reason for the nickname.”

  Ethan squeezed her hands in his. “She cut you? With a knife?” She nodded and he swallowed another curse. Anger wouldn’t help her now. Hell if he knew what would, though.

  “But I was lucky.” Lucky? “Help arrived before she could kill me.”

  “Do you think she would have?”

  “Without a doubt, in the state she was in that day. Every day, I see or feel those scars and remember.”

  Moving from his kneeling position to sit on the bed next to her, he pulled her against him. His heart tore in two for her. He didn’t give a damn about physical scars, but she obviously did. Or maybe they were just constant reminders of her emotional scars. In that moment, he thanked Fearmonger for ridding the earth of such threats as Deborah Frame.

  But Fearmonger was next. Ethan would make sure of it.

  “We all have scars, honey,” he whispered against her hair. “I just showed you mine.” She was quiet, but Ethan could sense she was listening. He prayed for the right words. “There are all kinds of scars—physical, emotional. And mine didn’t repulse you. You’re beautiful.” His hands moved to her waist, and she didn’t push him away as they lifted the edge of her shirt again. He shifted so he could see her eyes. A tear spilled over and ran down her cheek, splashing against his hand. “Let me see you, Maggie. Let me love you.”

  She stopped his hands. “Promise…” She swallowed, and started again. “Promise to be honest. After you see them, if you don’t want to…” Her breath hitched. “If you don’t want to continue, tell me.” Her eyes pinned him as she waited for his vow.

  No way in hell would he ever let her push him away. But he had to convince her of that first. He nodded, then resumed removing her shirt as she waited, frozen.

  He lifted the shirt up and over her head and arms. Her lacy white bra had him sucking in his breath before he looked further, his gaze moving to her abdomen. She stared at the wall behind him, probably thinking she’d see the revulsion clear in his eyes. But he wasn’t repulsed.

  He was fucking angry.

  Vicious pink ridges of scars rose up where the monster had carved an X across Maggie’s abdomen, marring the otherwise creamy white skin. Not deep enough to kill her, thank God, but enough to make her suffer—while she’d already been in shock from Brad’s death.

  Becca’s warning flashed in his head. Maggie’s been hurt before. Yeah, she didn’t know the half of it.

  He gritted his teeth against his anger, managing to bring it under control before he leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on her belly. Followed by another, and another. When he pulled back, she looked down at him, hope shimmering in her eyes. He took her hands and kissed her fingertips.

  Sorry, Becca, he silently apologized, not really sorry at all.

  He didn’t want to hurt Maggie. God, that was the last thing in the world he wanted. But if he moved away now—if he stopped—she would see it as the ultimate rejection. And that would hurt her more. He had to show her how special, how unique she was. How much he wanted her, despite her scars—or maybe because of them. After all, they were a part of her.

  And she was something special.

  “You’re beautiful,” he told her with all the sincerity and honesty of an eternal vow. “I know you’ve been hurt in the past, but I’m your present.” And your future. The thought came at him like a lightning bolt, and it wasn’t at all unpleasant. It filled him with energy and hope. “I’m your here and now.”

  On a sob, Maggie leaned forward to kiss him, pulling him against her as she wrapped her arms around him. He nudged her back on the bed, a palm spread over the obscene markings on her otherwise perfect body. It was still perfect to him.

  It was Maggie.

  His hand moved up to her heart, feeling it pound beneath his palm. He traced the flow of blood up to the pulse in her throat, then moved to place kisses there. His fingers brushed her breast, and she arched up to meet him, showing him what she wanted. Their mouths met in natural alignment, their tongues learning each other eagerly. But as his hand dipped lower again, over her belly, she stiffened.

  He quickly moved his hand up to her face again, stroking her cheek. “It’s okay. I’m not pressuring you too much, am I?”

  “No, it’s not you. It’s me. I thought I was ready.” She bit her bottom lip, stopping its trembling. “I want to be ready.”

  She turned over on her side, her back to Ethan. He curved his body around hers and draped an arm over her waist, pulling her snugly against him. With one hand, he lifted the hair off her neck and nuzzled her, inhaling deeply of the scent that had become so familiar to him.

  “It’s okay,” he whispered. “We’re both exhausted, emotionally and physically.”

  She was silent for several moments as they watched the darkness outside his bedroom window, lost in their own thoughts.

  “I want to,” she said in a hushed voice. “So much.”

  “I know.” His breath tickled the nape of her neck and she shivered in his arms. He leaned up on an elbow and looked down at her profile on the pillow. “I’ll wait, Maggie. You’re worth it.”

  She turned enough to meet his gaze. “I hope so.”

  “You hope I’ll wait, or you hope you’re worth it?”

  “Both,” she murmured, turning away from him again.

  “You don’t have to prove anyt
hing,” he said. “We don’t have to do anything.”

  Maggie felt a rush of feeling and struggled to identify it.

  Anger? Maybe a bit. She was tired of Deborah’s actions having such power over her.

  Frustration? Yes, definitely a healthy dose of that. After all, she had the ideal man snuggled against her, desiring her, and she was too scared to let him make love to her.

  She was tired of feeling incapable of taking what she wanted. And now her fears had changed the tone between them. He was being noble again. She didn’t want noble. She wanted to heal. She wanted to live—fully, no-holds-barred.

  She rolled over in his arms, her chest tingling as it brushed his through the lace of her bra and the open V of his unbuttoned shirt.

  “You’re wrong.” She held his gaze. It was important that he knew she’d made a decision she wouldn’t regret. “Not only do I have to do this, I want to.” She stretched her body against the long, hard length of his like a cat waking from a nap. Still, he kept his hands at his sides. “I want you.” She nipped his bottom lip between her teeth.

  “You’re sure?” The huskiness of his voice indicated he wasn’t the unaffected male he was trying to project. His green eyes were intent on her, watching for any sign of hesitance or doubt.

  Slowly, her smile widened. “Very,” she said against his lips. “Touch me. You can’t break me.”

  On a groan, his arms came around her and crushed her to him. His lips, tasting faintly of the beer he’d had earlier, teased her own and she opened to him, reveling in the pleasure he could arouse with just his mouth.

  His hands skimmed the sides of her breast as they stroked across her ribs. Unwilling—or unable—to relinquish the kiss for even a few moments, they explored each other with hot mouths and frantic hands. She shoved his shirt from his shoulders and he shrugged out of it, the movement rubbing his bare chest against her hardened nipples and making her gasp. She weaved her fingers through the thick dark hair at the nape of his neck, glorying in the silky feel of it as it slid through them. But her greedy hands weren’t content to stay in one place. Once given permission to touch, they ran over the sculpted planes of his chest, the flat hardness of his abdomen. His breath hissed against her lips as he laughed.

  “It’s been a while,” he said on a groan, moving one of his hands to keep hers against him, guiding it back up his chest before he nipped at her fingertips.

  “Good. That makes two of us.” She reached for his mouth. But he dodged her and pulled away, examining her face for traces of uncertainty. She met his gaze levelly. “I mean it, Ethan. I want this. I want this with you. Now.” Seeing the movement of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed, she leaned forward to place a kiss there.

  “Okay. Okay. But we take it slow. If you want to stop,” he swallowed again, and she knew he was holding on to his restraint. She loved him for it. “If you want to stop, tell me. Promise me you’ll tell me.”

  “Yes. I will.” She tried to pull his head down to hers but he ducked away again, this time with a grin that made her heart skip a beat.

  “I said we’ll take it slowly.” He scooted downward, his lips trailing down her neck to the place where the edge of her bra met skin. His wicked tongue trailed into the valley that led between her breasts. She twisted to the side, wanting the same contact on her nipples. On her stomach. God help her, she wanted to hold his head against her and never let go.

  He chuckled, the huff of breath tickling the damp spot where he’d kissed her and heightening her arousal. “Anticipation never killed anyone. I think,” he added.

  “There’s a first time for everything.” Her words ended on a gasp as he finally kissed her nipple through the lace at her breast. Pleasure shot through her to her core as she arched, her body begging him for more.

  It had been a long time since her last sexual encounter. In fact, her boyfriend from med school had become a distant memory. And the man she’d been dating when Deborah attacked had run for the hills without a look back. She’d never felt like this with either of them. Their fumbling getting-to-know-each-other times had never filled her with such a sense of rightness. Of womanly power.

  “You’re so warm and sweet,” he breathed as he unclasped her bra with one hand and nuzzled against the exposed skin of one breast. “So responsive.”

  Part of her recognized his words as his attempt to build her confidence, and she loved him for it. She shut the analytical part of her brain away and simply luxuriated in how he made her feel.

  As he distracted her with the attention he laved upon her breasts, a hand slipped lower, until it was pressed against her belly, under her slacks. The tips of his fingers slipped under the waistband of her lace-trimmed panties, and she sucked in a breath at the warm pleasure.

  He lifted his face to see hers, silently questioning if she was okay to continue, and she nodded. She hadn’t even thought about his hand brushing the scars Deborah had left behind. She was Ethan’s now. Entirely his, heart and soul and body, scars and all.

  She sifted a hand through his hair in gentle encouragement and felt his smile against her breast. His head dipped lower, to her abdomen, and he kissed her there. She stiffened a moment, then relaxed into the pleasant sensation, focusing on the tension coiling inside her, making her toes curl into the mattress.

  She thought she heard him murmur something. Mine? A flutter in her belly responded to the possessiveness.

  His. Yes, it felt right. And he was hers. And he would always be the man who set things right for her. She felt so safe. Protected. Cherished.

  She lost all coherent thought as his fingers found the most sensitive part of her, toying with her until she moaned his name. Wriggling away from the exquisite torture, she tugged at his shirt until he lifted enough to let her remove the article. Sensing her sudden urgency, her need to feel his skin against hers, he sat up and slid her pants off, following the brush of fabric with his lips. Her underwear came next. When she was naked, he pulled back to look down at her. His breath seemed to hitch, and she felt the warm rush of a different kind of pleasure.

  She felt beautiful. Proud of her body instead of ashamed.

  She held her arms open to him, but he shook his head with a smile and rose from the bed. He unbuttoned his pants and kicked off his shoes. She heard two thumps as they were forgotten in some dark corner of the room.

  When he came back down on the bed beside her, he rolled to his back, bringing her with him. Her eyes widened in surprise as her hips cradled his arousal. “I want you to be in charge. Do whatever you feel comfortable with. And stop if you need to.” His voice was husky, but the demand that she be true to herself was clear. Emotion tickled the back of her throat and pricked at her eyes.

  Stroking the side of his face, she smiled. “You are something, Agent Townsend.”

  “But I’m no saint, either,” he growled, pulling her down for a kiss that stoked their ardor again. She poured her heart into the kiss, taking possession of his mouth. She felt his arousal pulsing against her, and he pulled away enough to mutter, “Protection. Side drawer.”

  With a grin, she leaned over him, intentionally rubbing her breasts against him until he groaned. She reached into the tableside drawer and found a condom. He teased her nipples to hardness, her body preparing itself for him as she lifted herself and slid down his legs.

  He reached for the condom she’d ripped open but, grinning, she shook her head, slipping the protection over him and exploring his hard length. He hissed out a breath between clenched teeth. She slid back up to claim his mouth again.

  He clenched his fists in the sheets, and she realized he was trying not to touch her, trying not to push her toward something she might not want. But she was beyond her fears now. She wanted him—all of him—now. Taking his hands from the sheets, she placed them on her hips as she shifted to join them together fully. Slowly, she sank down on him, enjoying the heat of hunger and passion in his eyes. The flash of animal that wasn’t frightening. It was arousing.

/>   She was in control. She had the power over this strong, loving man.

  He arched into her as she shifted her hips, picking up the rhythm that seemed made just for the two of them. His hands gripped her hips as if she would float away. And she just might have, if he hadn’t been anchoring her to the earth. Her head felt light and her belly heavy.

  She increased the tempo. His hands slid up to her breasts, gently stroking until she felt herself shatter inside, shooting sparks of pleasure from her core outward. He cried out a moment later as he found his own release.

  Their bodies sated, she collapsed on top of him. His arms wrapped around her and held her close. Safe. Protected.

  She laughed as gratitude filled her. Ethan had helped her overcome her demons. And in the process, he’d opened a whole new world of pleasure and love to her. She turned her cheek enough to place a kiss on his shoulder. His arms tightened around her and she felt his warm lips at her forehead.

  “You okay?”

  “Never better,” she replied with another laugh. “I believe giddy sums it up. You?” she asked into his neck.

  “An ex-government agent is never ‘giddy.’” He chuckled. “But I think I’m about as close as a man can get.” He placed another kiss on the top of her head.

  Leaning up on an elbow, she looked down into his face. “Thank you.” Her smile widened at his look of surprise.

  “Thank me? For what?”

  “This is the first time I’ve felt alive in years.” She frowned. “Is that wrong, with everything that’s going on?”

  He ran a hand over her hair, smoothing it back from her face. “We’ll find Fearmonger. We’ll stop him from hurting you, or anyone else.”

  “I know.” She sighed and lay back down on his shoulder. She knew he would do everything he could to protect her. She only hoped it would be enough.