Recovery (21 page)

Chapter 23

Over the next two days, I avoided being
around Dallas as much as possible. He was always there, however, giving me orders about doing this for him or doing something to make our little fortress more secure. I tried to stay in the living room most of the time, sitting by the stone fireplace and reading from the assortment of books I had kept at the house. Dallas was usually close by, staring out of the window, cooking in the kitchen, continually checking the perimeter of the house, or pacing back and forth in front of me. It was like living with a frustrated soldier who was teetering on the edge, eager for a good fight, but also eager to avoid one.

Every afternoon, we would go outside and Dallas would give me shooting lessons on a target range made up of some old cans.

“Keep your feet apart and let your breath out when you fire the gun,” he instructed one cloudy afternoon. “Don’t breathe in when you pull the trigger. And never take your eye off the target,” he added as he started placing some more bullets in the chamber of my hammerless .38. “Not even after you’ve hit someone. Make sure they are down, and never lower your aim on them. Kick any gun they have near their body away, far away, so they can’t reach it and shoot you.”

I nodded and watched as he finished loading my gun.

“And always remember, Nicci,” he said, handing me back the loaded firearm. “If you ever have to shoot at an intruder in your home, you empty the gun into them first, then ask questions later.”

“And after I have killed my intruder, then what?”

He cocked his head slightly to the side. “What do you mean?”

“How do you deal with killing someone?”

“You don’t.” Dallas shook his head. “You just know that if it’s a question of you or them, you will always choose survival. Trust me, Nicci. It’s instinct.”

“And have you ever killed anyone?”

He looked past me to the makeshift target he had set up about fifty yards away. “I’ll just go set up some more cans.” He turned back at me. “Keep that gun pointed at the ground until I get back,” he ordered and then he grinned. “I know just how much you would like to use that thing on me.”

After target practice, we would usually walk around the property to stretch our legs and relieve the tedium of the day. Dallas would complain about the isolation of the place and would swear every time an insect floated by him.

“I hate bugs,” he mumbled one afternoon while swatting at a passing fly.

I laughed at him. “Bugs? You?”

He turned to me and scowled. Something he seemed to be doing a lot lately. “Everybody hates bugs.”

I grinned, happy to find a weakness in his armor plating. “I would have thought a spy boy like you wouldn’t let anything as insignificant as a bug bother him.”

“I live in New York, Nicci,” he shouted. “Men with guns and knives I can handle. Flies and mosquitoes are another story.”

Whenever we went upstairs to shower or change, he would wait discreetly outside the bedroom door. Gone were his words of encouragement and his endearments. As the distance between us grew, I would often reflect on all the things he had said to me, all the meaningful glances, the tender moments, and wonder if any of it had been genuine.

After five days in our self-imposed prison, the tension between us had reduced our relationship to a series of cold stares and grunts of disapproval. It was only a matter of time before one of us snapped. That night, I discovered how dangerously close to the edge Dallas had been pushed.

Dallas was standing by the window gazing out into the darkness. I sat on the couch deep into a mystery novel.

“You read too damn much,” he grumbled.

I frowned at his back. “I have a brain and I like to use it.”

“That’s your problem, you think too damn much.”

“Anything else?”

He turned away from the window and scowled at me. “You’re driving me crazy just sitting there every night like some zombie.” He paused. “Why aren’t you writing?”

“I can’t concentrate on my novel with you hovering around me all the time like some depraved warden.” I returned to my book, eager to avoid his hostile stare.

“Isn’t there something else you can do?”

I put the book down in my lap. “What would you suggest I do, knit?”

“Why, you impudent—”

“Impudent implies disrespect,” I interrupted him as I picked up the book in my lap again. “I never respected you to begin with, so how could I possibly disrespect you now.”

He came toward me, his dark blue eyes fuming. “You little…” He grabbed me from the couch and pulled me up to face him. “You like playing games with me, don’t you?”

I tried to wrench myself free. “I’m not playing games, Dallas. You’ve been acting like some deranged psychotic, attacking me with every glance or with every word you utter, and now you accuse me of playing games?” I finally shirked off his arm.

He spun away from me and threw his hands in the air. “You’re driving me crazy!” he yelled.

I threw the book down on the couch. “Me? What in the hell have I done to you?”

He turned to me and then I saw it. The muscles in his body tensed while the frustration in his face was almost too painful to witness. His eyes started taking in my body like a starved man seeing food for the first time in days.

“I see,” I said, suddenly aware of the power I held over him. I slowly stepped closer to him. “I’m disturbing your concentration, is that it?”

He moved away from me and took up a position in front of the stone fireplace. He ran his hand over the back of his neck and then grabbed for the old oak mantle in front of him. I saw how his knuckles shone white against the dark wood.

“Damn right you are.” His voice sounded strained and unsteady. “And I have had just about enough of it.”

When he turned to face me again, his eyes were filled with a disturbing heat. The intensity of his gaze frightened me, but before I could step away, he was on me. He threw his arms about my body and pulled me to him.

I struggled to free myself, but he held me even tighter. “Dallas, stop this,” I pleaded.

“Every time I touch you, kiss you, you think of him, don’t you?” He moved his face closer to mine. “Well, tonight I’m going to make sure you think only of me.”

His lips were instantly on mine. My willpower was retreating by the second as the smell of him, the feel of his body, and the taste of him filled my senses. I forced myself to think of David. This was our house, and Dallas was intruding on our memories here. But as much as I concentrated on the image of David in my mind, my body fought back, dissolving David’s face behind a cloudy wave of overwhelming desire.

“You’re not going to shut me out anymore,” he whispered against my cheek. “For once, forget about your damned principles and just give in to me.”

He kissed the nape of my neck and then when his teeth sank into my flesh, my body shuddered. I tried to reason with myself that this was a mistake, that we were going nowhere, and that I was a woman who needed more.

I opened my eyes and looked into his face. I thought I would never see his cold blue orbs warm for anything, but at that moment they were on fire, for me. I reached up my hand and ran my fingers along the curve of his cheek and down to his lips. I let the passion flowing inside of me silence my doubts.

“You win, Dallas,” I sighed. “I can’t fight you anymore.”

“Now you’re finally being reasonable.”

He pushed me over to the couch as his lips desperately explored my face and neck.

“We can’t go to the bedroom,” he said breathlessly as he pulled my sweater over my head. “We need to stay down here.” He tossed my sweater to the floor and then quickly removed my bra. “Damn, I don’t have any protection!” he cursed, his voice filled with frustration. “I didn’t—”

“Dallas,” I silenced his words as I ran my trembling fingertips over his lips. “Stop being so damned practical.” I hungrily pulled his mouth back down on mine.

He unbuttoned his shirt as he kissed me. He threw the shirt to the floor next to my sweater. I ran my hands up and down his muscular chest. As I stroked his flesh, he fumbled with the zipper on my jeans and then slowly wiggled me out of them. His lips explored my naked body, tempting my skin with tender kisses. His mouth came to settle over my right breast. As his teeth bit down hard on my nipple, I bent my head back and let a satisfying groan escape my lips.

I pulled at the zipper on his jeans and eagerly helped remove them. Once free of our encumbering clothes, I let my fingers travel every inch of his lean, hard body. I reveled in the feel of his flesh against mine, the smell of his skin, and the touch of his anxious hands. He shuddered when I reached down and gently stroked his erection.

“You’re gonna drive me crazy doing that,” he whispered into my cheek.

He teasingly ran his fingers along the tender folds between my legs as his mouth clasped over my left nipple. A guttural cry emanated from me as the waves of pleasure pulsated throughout my body. And when the orgasm finally ripped through me, his mouth found mine, silencing my scream.

While still throbbing with satisfaction, Dallas spread my knees apart and repositioned himself over me. I eagerly lifted my body in anticipation. He reached behind me and grabbed my buttocks, slamming his hips into mine.

“I can’t wait,” he murmured against my lips.

Without warning, he drove himself into me with one desperate motion. I gasped overwhelmed by the sensation, and then I wrapped my legs around him, urging him deeper. Dallas moaned as he began to move inside of me. Again and again, he forced his flesh into mine, going deeper and deeper with every thrust. I clasped my arms about his neck and arched with urgency as I felt the climax rising from within. And finally, when I cried out into the darkness, it was his name that echoed all around me.

After, we lay together on the couch, naked and exhausted. As I listened to the rhythm of his breathing, I reflected on how different Dallas had been from David. David had been a passionate man who had taken to a woman’s body like an intrepid explorer unearthing a lost civilization. Dallas, on the other hand, was an intense man who studied a woman from the inside out and then used that knowledge to satisfy her most intimate desires. I did not prefer one method to the other; I simply recognized that how a man makes love to a woman reveals a great deal about the true nature of that man.

I blushed as I recalled the way Dallas had skillfully manipulated my body until I cried out in unrestrained ecstasy. I had been with another man and I had enjoyed myself. I thought I would be filled with remorse. I wasn’t. What coursed through my body was a profound sense of relief. I could finally move on with my life without being haunted by what I had left behind.

Dallas gave a heavy sigh. “We shouldn’t have done that. I don’t think I’ve been this stupid since I was sixteen and thought I almost got Stacey Harding pregnant.”

“Was Stacey your girlfriend?”

He chuckled. “No, let’s just call her one of those girls all the guys got to know pretty well.”

“Don’t worry, Dallas. You didn’t get me pregnant. I studied nursing, remember.”

He kissed my forehead. “God, I love a woman with a brain.”

“I thought you told me before I think too much.”

“No, I was rather frustrated at the time, and attacking you was easier than telling you how I felt.”

I hugged his chest and nestled against him. “And how do you feel now?”

He abruptly sat up on the couch and removed my arms from about his body. He reached over to the floor for his pants. “Nothing’s changed, Nicci. What I said before about going back to New York still applies. You deserve someone who can make you happy.”

I sat up next to him, feeling more than a little disappointed by his reaction. “Why are you so convinced you can’t make me happy?”

He kept his eyes focused on the floor beside the couch. “I failed, well, let’s just say I failed once and I’m sure I would fail again.”

I looked into his face. “You didn’t fail Carol, Dallas. It was an accident.”

“It was my fault,” he stated, avoiding my eyes. “I was driving and I lost control.”

“So because of a stupid accident, you’re going to spend the rest of your life paying some kind of penance.”

He stood up from the couch and started pulling on his jeans. “Nicci, you are analyzing me again.”

I stared at him. “No, I’m not. You live this life of yours, deny yourself happiness, and keep up that cool, detached front to make up for what?”

“I told you I’m not good for anyone and it has nothing to do with Carol and the accident. It’s me, Nicci.” He ran his hands over his short dark hair. “It’s always been me,” he whispered.

I reached for my clothes and started to dress. “You are the most—”

Suddenly the lights went out.

“Stay on the couch,” he ordered.

I heard a faint click a few feet away.

“What was that?” I asked.

“Taking the safety off my gun,” he said softly next to me. “Get dressed. I’m going to take a look around. I want you to stay here, hidden away, and don’t move. I don’t want to accidentally shoot you.”