Trial by Fire (32 page)

“People hurt each other, Howard,” she said, linking her fingers with his. “It’s not realistic to think we could go our whole lives, everything all sunshine and roses, never having to really work at our relationship. For my part, I love you enough to stick it out.”

“I—what?” He stared at her serene face as she studied his reaction, beautiful green eyes peeking from under tawny lashes. A woman at peace, now that she’d said the words aloud. He had to hear it again, to be sure. “What did you say?”

“I love you, Howard Paxton.” Her full, sexy lips curved upward. “I’ve known since the day you saved that baby at the river. How far and fast are you gonna run now? Oh, wait. You’re not running anywhere at the moment,” she teased.

His mind spun. Hadn’t he just admitted to himself that he loved her? Hearing her put it out there . . . wow. “Kat, I—I . . .”

How could three little words make him feel like a king and scare the crap out of him at the same time?

He knew how. Making her understand meant giving her what she needed and deserved—all of him. His whole heart. His trust.

“You don’t have to say the words.” She faltered, looking uncertain. “If you want me to go—”

“No,” he rasped, his voice shot. “I was miserable without you. I
need
you. I’ve been a loner my whole life, baby. I’ve never had to share with anyone else, but . . . I’m learning. With you, I want it all. Please don’t . . . leave me again.”

“Hmm, pretty persuasive.” She gave him a small smile. “All right, I’ll stay.” Leaning over, she pressed a kiss to his lips. Soft and sweet.

Her full breasts grazed his chest through the pink cotton long-sleeved T-shirt she wore. His groin stirred and he groaned at the temptation he couldn’t indulge. She pulled back and he angled his head, catching a nice glimpse of the way her round, squeezable butt filled out those faded jeans.

She settled in her chair, and he forced his mind from lusty ideas and his burgeoning, unsatisfied erection.

She’d given him another chance, whether he deserved it or not. Thank God. “I want to tell you about my nightmares. About my past, anything you want . . .” His voice faded. He struggled to finish the sentence, but no dice.

“Oh, now look what you’ve done,” she admonished, without any real heat. She raked her fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp. “You can tell me everything when we get you home, okay?”

He nodded. Home. With Kat. Jesus, her fingers felt fantastic. His eyelids grew heavy. So tired.

Wait a second. His eyes popped open wide as a troubling idea occurred to him. He obviously wasn’t getting out of here for another day or two. Who’d protect Kat?

“Sweetie, what’s wrong now?”

Somehow he pushed the words past his scorched throat. “Where . . . you . . . staying?”

“Don’t worry, I’m parking right here until the nurses make me go home, then I’m sleeping at my parents’. Grace offered to let me stay at her condo, but Nashville is twenty minutes away and I didn’t want to be that far from you. Besides, with Joan and Greg there while their house is being repaired, I’ll have a houseful of people to protect me.”

“Police . . .”

“Detective Ford mentioned having a unit patrol your place and my parents’. He’ll be by later, when you’re feeling better. Sleep, honey.” Gently, she replaced the oxygen mask.

Wheezing a sigh, he gave up the fight. He had Kat back, making the world almost perfect.

And it would be, as soon as he sent a murdering lunatic to hell.

Kat stirred a pot of chicken tortilla soup on Howard’s stove, thinking firemen made sucky patients. Especially when they started to feel better and wanted to push themselves too soon. No matter how many times she tucked him snug on the sofa with stern orders to rest, he ended up following her around the house as though afraid she’d disappear.

Beat the hell out of the shape he’d been in when she’d brought him home from the hospital on Tuesday. As annoying as having a permanent shadow could be, she’d take Howard’s constant looming presence over that depressed silence any day. Just when she’d started to get seriously concerned about his lack of appetite, he’d begun to rally.

Now, a week later, he still hadn’t spoken much, but his brown eyes had lost their dull glaze and he’d been watching her with unmistakable heat. A big, hungry lion waiting to pounce the second his body cooperated.

“Mmm, something smells good.”

Case in point, the devil leaning on his good shoulder against the entry to the kitchen. Even with one arm in a sling, shirtless, and covered with multicolored bruises, wearing nothing but gray sweatpants slung low on his hips, he looked scrumptious enough to make a nun reconsider her vows. She held aloft a spoonful of spicy, fragrant soup. “Want to taste?”

“You bet.”

Pushing off the wall, he crossed the short distance separating them and spun her to face him. She squeaked, dropping her wooden spoon into the pot, and found herself backed into the counter. Pressed flush against six and a half feet of aroused male.

Invaded.
What a perfect word for his tongue sweeping into her mouth, his left hand skimming low to untie her drawstring pants, push them past her hips. His fingers brushed the curls between her thighs, found the bud of her clit to rub in lazy circles.

“That’s it, my angel. Open for me.”

A surge of moisture dampened her sex, his probing fingers. Pure pleasure melted her limbs.

“You’re the only woman for me, always. Let me in, sweet Katherine.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I’m all yours.”

“Hold on to me,” he growled, wrapping his good arm around her waist. He lifted her to sit on the counter and tugged her pants down her legs.

“You’re going to aggravate your injuries!” The surface felt cold under her bare bottom, and she wriggled.

Shoving his sweatpants low on his thighs, he parted her knees and stood between them. His sex jutted toward her opening, thick and hard. Ready to take what belonged to him. “Scoot all the way to the edge. Good girl. Now wrap those gorgeous legs around my waist and hang on.”

God, she loved this dominant sexual side of him. She’d love to turn the tables on him again sometime and have him begging for mercy—in the shower or out. Right now, he was unstoppable.
Oh yeah.

In the next instant, he was inside her, buried deep. He held her as close as possible with his right arm in the sling between them. Wholly connected.

“Feel this,” he murmured. “Feel me. Only yours, baby.”

“Yes.” She twined her fingers in his hair. “Mine.”

Her soft claim was met with a groan. Tightening his hold, he began to thrust with long, sure strokes. Increasing in tempo until he pistoned into her hard and fast. Sweeping her higher, higher, a category five hurricane blasting her senses. Devastating her from the inside out in the most delicious way. Primal. Raw.

The pressure built in her womb, the flames licking her sex spreading to her limbs. She felt her body go molten, and the quiver began. Her orgasm, driven to the precipice of detonation. No holding back.

Her orgasm shattered and she heard her cry of joy from far away as she clung to his shoulders. Her channel pulsed around his cock, so good. So right.

“Yes, angel . . . oh, God!”

With a hoarse shout he joined her, lunging as deeply as possible, spilling into her. His shaft jerking, pumping for several long moments as they floated gently to earth.

“Wow.” She gave a shaky laugh. “You were fantastic. ”

“We’re fantastic together,” he corrected, kissing her nose. “Though you might get tired of me jumping your bones in unusual places.”

“Not a chance. Jump to your heart’s content, until you run out of places.”

Howard cocked his head, one corner of his sexy mouth kicking up. “That’s gonna take a long, long time. Forever, in fact. Just to give you fair warning.”

Forever.

With you, I want it all.

Not exactly the word “love”—but pretty darned close. Huge strides for a loner like Howard.

In the meantime, she needed to learn what made him tick.

Slipping out of her, he hitched up his sweats and sniffed toward the simmering pot of soup. “Dang, I’m starved.”

Laughing, she swatted him lightly on his good arm. “Men! Food and sex. And here I was, wondering what made you tick.”

Blinking, he gazed back, the picture of innocence. “Is there more?”

“Humph! No more nookie for you, buddy.”

He flashed her a smug grin, slid a hand up the inside of her bare thigh as she shuddered in anticipation. “Really?”

Okay, so he spent the next hour making a big liar out of her, sating a different sort of hunger. But oh, what an hour.

Her lusty fireman gave the term
dining table
whole new meaning.

No fruit salad required.

Later, she and Howard lounged on his deck, enjoying the sunny Saturday afternoon and each other’s company. There was a bite in the air, not cold enough to drive them inside, but enough to hint at Thanksgiving a mere three weeks off.

Howard had overdone it and worn himself out, his movements stiff after their mini marathon. After their late lunch, he’d lowered himself gingerly into the padded lounge chair with a grateful moan, and hadn’t said much since. He looked tired and drawn. Pensive.

“I’m sorry Bentley placed you on indefinite leave,” she said. The chief had delivered that bit of unpleasant news this morning in person.

“He had no choice. My presence has put everyone else in jeopardy.” His words were matter-of-fact, but his tone conveyed how much he hated it. He fell quiet again.

Kat didn’t push. She’d made that mistake before, and it wasn’t one she planned to repeat. All good things come to those who wait.

Which was why she looked at him in surprise when he finally said, “I’d like to tell you what I remember about my past . . . and the nightmares.”

As badly as she wanted to know, her reply surprised her even more. “Honey, you don’t have to. I was selfish to pressure you when you weren’t ready.”

“No, you were right. I do need to talk to somebody I trust, and that person is you, angel.” He reached for her hand. She took it, and his broad palm swallowed hers.

At last. He’d reached out. “If you’re sure . . .”

“I am.” Studying her from under his thick lashes, he began, his voice soft. “Did you ever see that creepy movie
Final Destination
?”

“The one where a group of teens escape death, and it tracks them down one by one? Good for a cheap thrill on movie night, but way farfetched.”

“Is it?” He looked out over the yard, his gaze faraway. Lost in the past he’d never wanted to remember. “What if we’re all set on a certain path, one that can’t ever be changed? Maybe it’s true you can run, but you can’t hide from your fate.”

“I don’t believe in superstition and neither do you.” She frowned, not liking where he was going with this.

He shrugged. “Doesn’t sound quite as stupid to me now as it would have a few months ago. Anyway, I meant it more as a metaphor.”

A disturbing one, but she refrained from interjecting her opinion. As he collected his thoughts, the only sounds were the brown leaves rattling in the trees, caught by the breeze before floating to the ground, and an occasional bird.

“When Bentley decided I was old enough to handle the answers to my questions, he told me I was one of the worst child abuse cases in Tennessee history,” he said, point-blank.

“Based on what you’d told me about your father beating and dumping you in the woods, I’m not surprised. ” Sickened on Howard’s behalf, but not surprised. A sudden, horrible thought occurred to her, and she gasped. “And I hit you with the fishing pole! Howard, I’m so sorry! I swear, I’ve never done anything like that in my life. I didn’t mean to remind you of—”

“You didn’t,” he reassured her with a rueful grin. “Not even close. Your swing is kinda puny, sweetheart. Besides, I was too embarrassed about the whole situation to make the connection. I sort of had that one coming.”

Looking back, there was no excuse for what she’d done, even as pissed as she’d been. Her loss of control shook her anew, especially given his history. But if he was willing to put it behind them, so would she—with a vow she’d never lay a hand in anger on him or anyone else again.

Dismissing her concern over the incident, he continued. “Anyway, I have a few clear memories of my father’s rages, but most of what I recall has a dreamlike quality, as though it happened to someone else. Or my mind embellished the terror he put me and my mother through, made up its own script to fill in the blanks.”

“You were very young, so that’s not an unreasonable assumption. What do you remember for sure?”

“My mom screaming while my father held me down and forced me to drink some sort of cleaner from under the kitchen sink. How the stuff burned and I vomited for hours, and he beat me for making a mess. Another time, he chained me naked outside next to our dog’s house because he said the dog minded better than I did. He left me there all night, and I got pneumonia.”

She stared at him, speechless, unable to fathom such sadistic cruelty or that young Howard lived in spite of this treatment.

“He never called me by my name, just Rat. He’d laugh when he caught me rummaging in the pantry or fridge for scraps. Just like an ugly little rat, he’d say. One of his favorite games was to withhold food for so many days I could hardly stand.”