One Christmas Wish (9 page)

She slapped his hand away from her face. “When would I have done that? Between all of the surgeries? Between trying to convince my parents and my brother that it wasn't their fault? You should've seen what the guilt did to them all, Isaac. It changed them.” She swiped angrily at the tears that trailed down her cheeks. “So no. Maybe I didn't grieve. Maybe I just wanted to move on. That's all I want. To move on.”

His knees ached but he didn't stand. He stayed there. On the floor. So he could be with her. “You can't move on until you face it. Until you acknowledge what you lost.” He knew that. He'd tried, too.

“You want to know what I lost?” Her jaw trembled. “Everything. Every dream I'd ever had for myself. Now I'm trying to find them again.
By myself
.” She eased her chair away from him and headed for the bathroom door. “I need to get ready for bed. Feel free to take one of the blankets for the couch.”

Then, she disappeared into the bathroom and slammed the door.

Q
uietly, Julia opened the bathroom door and peeked out into the living area. The lights were out, except for a small one above the kitchen sink. Breathing a sigh of relief, she pushed the door open all the way and wheeled herself over to the bed, hoping the creaks from her chair didn't wake Isaac.

How could she face him after all of that? She couldn't. So she'd taken her time getting ready for bed, knowing she was quickly losing the will to fight him on anything. Her heart belonged to him. It always had.

That was the problem. She couldn't forget how she'd felt when she'd finally regained consciousness twelve years ago. Every cell in her body hurt. Terror had pounded in the ragged beat of her heart. When she remembered where she was, what had happened, Isaac was the first person she'd thought about. His was the only face she wanted to see. When they told her Kacy and Megan hadn't made it, when they told her she'd likely never walk again. She'd wanted Isaac's strong arms around her.

The day Ben told her Isaac had left for good, a part of her heart went dark, and it had stayed that way. Cold and empty. Anger flared as she gazed at him asleep on the couch. It was too late. He couldn't show up now and change everything. She'd finally reimagined her life. She'd finally made something happen. She owed it to herself to move forward. She couldn't get entwined in the tangled threads of the past.

Arms bent with determination, she pushed herself to the bed and crawled in, pulling with her arms, shimmying until she was tucked in under the warm quilt.

The fire had dwindled, but still burned red hot beneath the logs, giving the room a subtle glow. She'd already stripped down to the undershirt she'd had on beneath her sweater. She'd taken her bra off, too, because who could actually get any sleep in a bra? Not knowing what she'd find when she came out of the bathroom, she'd left her jeans on. But since Isaac was safely asleep she could lose those, too.

Wriggling around, she eased the pants off her hips then off her legs. She folded them and set them on the opposite pillow with her bra and sweater. There. They'd be within reach if she needed them. No reason for Isaac to get a glimpse of her red thong. Neither one of them needed the encouragement. It was almost over. If she could hold on for a couple more hours, they'd be back in the truck, headed for home.

Trying to relax, she laid her head on the pillow and stared up at the faint patterns in the dry-walled ceiling. New life. She had to focus on her new life, the future that awaited her in Dallas.

Except she could hear Isaac's steady breathing. She could feel him in the room with her, and that made it too easy for her heart to somersault back into the past.

Though she didn't want them to, the memories of her life with Isaac spilled out into the present. She still saw him on the practice field, in his football pants, shirtless. The same rush that used to make her knees weak and her stomach wobble hit her hard. The reaction was always raw and visceral. Her heart started that traitorous thump…

“Julia?” Isaac's shout sat her up straight. “Open the door. Please.”

Open the door?
She squinted into the dimness. All she could see was the faint outline of his body laid out on the couch. He was still asleep. Dreaming.

“God, no. Please!” he shouted it this time, the terror in his voice echoing through her.

“Isaac,” she called, sadness scraping her throat. “Isaac, wake up. It's okay. I'm right here.”

He thrashed. A primal sound of fear shattered the calm.

Body trembling with a cold ache, Julia eased herself across the bed and scooted into her chair. She snatched a blanket and wrapped it around her, then wheeled herself to the couch.

The blanket that had covered Isaac sat puddled on the floor. Before bed, he'd apparently stripped down to his boxer briefs, and while the sight released that tantalizing rush of longing, his body jerked like he was being tortured by an invisible beast.

“Isaac,” she hissed, taking his arms in her hands. She shook him hard. “Wake up. Please.” She hated to see him this way. Trapped in darkness.

His eyes popped open. He sprung to a sitting position as if he expected someone to be standing over him with a gun.

“Julia.” His hand raked through his hair. “Oh my god, Julia.”

“It's okay,” she whispered, her heart crumbling to dust. What had he experienced over there? What haunted him? “You're okay.”

He stared straight ahead, unblinking.

Minutes passed, but she didn't say anything. She didn't know what to say…how to stop the violent quaking in his shoulders.

Finally, his head turned to her. “Sorry I woke you up,” he said blankly. “I usually take sleeping pills. Then I don't dream. Or at least I don't remember it.”

“It's okay,” she said awkwardly. But it wasn't. He'd been screaming her name in a voice that still gave her chills. “What was it about?” she asked, smoothing a calming hand down his arm.

His body was coated with sweat.

He hunched over, stared at the floor. “It's always the same. Everyone I love is trapped in a hut.” His breaths grew ragged. “The bombs start falling. There's fire everywhere. Explosions. They're screaming. And I can't save them.”

She let her hand rest on his, those panicked shouts still echoing through her. “You were calling my name.”

He didn't look up. “Yeah.”

“Was I in the hut?” She didn't have to ask. She knew. From the shattered expression on his face.

His eyes raised to hers. “I thought you were dying. That I wouldn't be able to save you.”

“Who else was in the hut?” she asked, trying to step carefully, to talk him out of the hopelessness evident in the slouch of his shoulders.

“No one else this time.” He swallowed like it hurt and edged to the couch so their knees touched. “You have to know. I love you, Jules. I always have. Even when I was too young and stupid to realize it.”

She closed her eyes, held her breath, but the ache for him only grew.

“Don't you believe me?”

She opened her eyes, tears blurring everything. “You left, Isaac.” While she was unconscious in the hospital. He hadn't even said good-bye. “I didn't think I'd ever see you again.” That's why she held back. She'd loved him and he'd left her. It'd taken her years to get over that.

“It killed me.” Regret weighted the words. “The day before I joined up, I sat with you for hours. Watching you. Talking to you. I told you I loved you then.” He touched her cheek, smoothing her hair out of her eyes. “I didn't want to leave like that but I had no choice. Everything fell apart. I had to get out of there.”

“I know.” She remembered the day she found out about his father. She'd been in the hospital for months. Ben had told her Isaac joined the Navy, but he'd never explained why. Everyone was so careful what they said around her. They didn't want to upset her while she recovered.

But one day she was alone in the room, bored again, so she flipped through the five television channels she'd gotten in the hospital. There was a news special about the scandal. About how Isaac's father had done all sorts of illegal things in his executive position at the oil company he'd started. She'd called Ben and he told her everything—that Isaac's father would likely go to prison, that his parents were in the middle of a divorce, that all of his brothers had left, too. And while she understood why he'd left, it didn't make it easier for her.

“I'm sorry I left you.” His hands cradled her face, thumbs gently sweeping across her skin. “But I thought about you every single day. I dreamed about you at night. You got me through.”

“I thought about you, too,” she whispered. For years she'd dreamed he'd come back, that they'd be together. And now, sitting here with him in the dark, that dream took hold of her again.

Hope bloomed in those desolate scars left behind by his absence, reviving a hunger she hadn't felt for twelve years. After all of this time, Isaac still owned her heart. She couldn't keep denying that.

“I don't think I can keep my distance anymore,” he murmured, his lips coming for hers. “I want to be with you, Jules. I've waited so long.”

“Not nearly as long as I have,” she argued, working her hands up his bare stomach, over his broad chest, letting her fingertips glide lightly against his skin. Though she'd never touched him this way—with such greed—his body was familiar, sturdy and solid. Home. He felt just like home.

Isaac kissed her harder, his lips fusing with hers, his tongue teasing. She let her hand rest over his heart so she could feel the life in him. For years, she'd worried that he'd be killed in some horrifying battle, that he'd die alone. The fear used to keep her awake at night, but now he was here with her and nothing in the world seemed as important as sharing this night with him.

Isaac pulled back, those tender eyes searching out hers. “You're sure?” A note of desire lowered his voice to a near growl. “This is what you want?”

“I want to be with you, too,” she answered breathlessly. Because what else could she do? Isaac was already part of her. Their hearts were already connected, their stories interwoven.

Parting his legs, he pulled the wheelchair closer, all the way up against the couch until he straddled it. His gaze remained steady with her eyes as he slowly peeled the blanket away from her shoulders and dropped it on the floor next to them. Then he slid her undershirt up, over her stomach, over her chest, pulled it over her head and dropped it with the blanket.

Her pulse throbbed in her neck. Julia sat back watching as he took his time to stare at her breasts, then her red underwear, then her scarred and withered legs. The sight didn't even seem to jar him.

He simply glided his hands over her thighs. A wonderfully helpless sigh escaped his lips. “You're more beautiful than I ever imagined.” His face drew closer to hers. “And believe me, I imagined you a lot.”

His touch, his hands on her body, set her skin ablaze. “What did you imagine, exactly?” she whispered. With the fast pulse of her heart, her voice had lost power.

“I imagined doing this.” He brushed his lips against hers, lightly taking her bottom lip in his teeth, releasing a surge of exquisite heat. “And this…” he whispered against her mouth, before tracing his lips to her neck and kissing his way down to her collarbone.

“What else,” she rasped, threading her fingers into his hair.

“This…” He breathed against her skin as his hands slid up to cup her breasts. “I imagined this a lot.”

Julia's head fell back as he stroked his fingers up her nipples, then took one in his mouth.

“Is that all?” she managed between ragged breaths.

Isaac laughed and moved to the other breast, kissing and nipping and sucking until she couldn't sit upright anymore.

Ohhhhh…
Helpless, she deflated against the back of the chair, lungs weak, every erogenous region in her body pulled taut and tingling. Only Isaac. Only Isaac could take her this far this fast.

“I imagined bringing you to a beach,” Isaac murmured between slow, sensuous kisses against her lips. “Laying down a blanket and pulling the strings of your bikini until it fell off.” He wrapped her in his arms and lifted her into his lap, threading her legs around his waist, then kicked the chair away from them.

“I don't wear string bikinis,” she informed him, pressing against him, and yes, the anticipation was obviously killing him as much as it killed her. In the best way possible.

“Trust me,” Isaac said, his eyes emphatic. “You were wearing a string bikini. It was red. Just like your underwear.” As he said it, his hands traveled down her sides, barely grazing her skin, then his fingers traced the outline of her thong over and over and…

Digging her fingers into his shoulders, she eased out a measured breath so she didn't give in to the titillating sensations waltzing through her right then.
Not yet.
She couldn't let herself go yet.

“What happened then?” she asked to distract herself before she lost control.

“Then…” He slipped his fingers under the fabric of her underwear. “I made the very long wait worth your while,” he whispered in her ear, all hot and breathy. “Over and over and over again.” His fingers stroked before plunging deep, gripping her in a writhing fervor.

“Isaac,” she panted. “Oh…
mmmm
…” Her forehead fell forward to rest on his shoulder while his fingers continued to dance over her, into her, making her throb. She tried to strain against it, but those fingers…

“Wait,” she gasped, wanting more than this…

“Go,” he commanded her. “I want to watch you, Julia. Go.”

And then it was happening. So hard and so fast that she cried out as she quaked in sheer ecstasy against him, riding the surges until every part of her weakened, until she was slumped over him, gasping for breath. She turned her head so that her cheek rested on his shoulder.

Isaac grinned down at her. “
That
was
way
better than I imagined,” he said, kissing her lips again.

Oh yeah?
She lifted her head and looked him in the eyes. “You haven't seen anything yet,” she promised. “Now take me to bed.”

“I told you mine, now it's your turn.” Isaac lowered Julia to the bed and crawled in next to her.

“My turn for what?” she asked, easing to her side to face him.

Uh huh. Right.
Like she didn't know exactly what he was talking about. “You said you imagined me, too.” He propped his head up on his hand and gazed down at her, loving the way she looked in bed with him—hair mussed, sexy bare shoulders peeking out from under the sheets. “Or was that just in a brotherly way?”

Her sly grin and playful shrug made him want to slide right into her. “I can't remember.”