He was one fucked up soldier. What business did he have with a woman like her? A fiancée like her?
“Are you okay?” he asked. He didn’t wait for her to answer. He ran his hands over her shoulders, her arms, assuring himself that she was put together, her body just as whole, her skin just as smooth.
“I’m fine,” she said, and at least her voice did sound more normal now.
Maybe he’d just scared her more than hurt her, but either way it was too damn close. Even if he’d been in a dream, if he’d believed that somehow he was protecting her, he’d used his body to dominate her. He could have injured her and not even known it.
Abruptly, he stood. The master bedroom was large, but suddenly it felt suffocating. He paced away from the bed, away from her, moving to stand at the window. So many nights he’d looked out of this window, awake again, panting and sweating again.
When would the nightmares stop?
He heard the sheets rustle as Erin got out of bed. Her footsteps were soft over the hardwood floors. And then she was behind him, her arms around his waist, her lips pressed to his back. So many nights he’d stood here, staring out the window, and so many nights, she’d stood behind him, kissing him, making him whole again. He knew she deserved better, deserved someone already whole, but he couldn’t give her up. Not when it seemed almost bearable with her here.
After a few minutes of stroking his chest, of pressing light kisses to his back, she said, “Come back to bed.”
He nodded. “Soon.”
“Not soon,” she said gently. “Now. We have to be up early tomorrow.”
The plan was to drive to his parents’ house tomorrow. It was a few hours away—and yet didn’t feel nearly far enough. “I’ll still be able to drive.”
She made a sound of protest. “I know you will, but I want you to feel okay too. Come on. I’ll help you relax.”
His body stirred at just the suggestion. Hell, he was half-hard whenever she was around. Now was no exception. His cock already formed a tent in his boxers. It would only grow painful if she kept touching him, kept pressing those lovely breasts against his back, kept her warm breath against his skin.
His hips actually bucked, his body blindly seeking her, an animal instinct, a need.
He felt her lips curve in a smile. “I didn’t mean that,” she said. “But we could.”
Except he didn’t like to fuck her when he’d just woken up from one of the nightmares. It felt too dirty, like letting her get close to that moment and all the darkness that infected him. He also didn’t quite trust himself right after one of those dreams, still shaky and overly alert.
Especially after he’d been fucking holding her down.
“Let me hold you,” he said instead. He wanted to hold her gently, sweetly. He wanted to erase every rough touch he’d used on her a few minutes ago. He wanted to erase those memories she had of him doing that, but he knew well how impossible that would be.
Wordlessly she took his hand and led him back to bed.
After she climbed in, he curved his body around hers. God, she was warm and soft. It was like fucking heaven to feel her in his arms. It scared him sometimes, how good she felt. Like he might hold her too tight, might force her to stay even if she’d be better off gone.
He let out an uneven breath.
She stroked her fingers over the back of his hand, rhythmic and soothing. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
He pressed his face into her hair. She smelled so fucking good. His arms tightened around her. He forced himself to relax a fraction, to let her breathe. But not much, because he needed her. Needed to hold her, to feel her safe and whole with him.
There were questions he wanted to ask her. Like if he’d hurt her while he was dreaming. If he’d hurt her before tonight. He wanted to know if she was happy with him, truly. But he knew what her answers would be. She was fine, fine, fine. He wasn’t sure she’d ever tell him if she wasn’t.
She was too damn strong for her own good.
His heart had stopped racing, his nerves had cooled. She had that effect on him. His dick was also hard as a fucking flagpole. She had that effect on him too, especially with her ass pressed up against him.
He smoothed his hand over her hip and down between her legs. Soft. Wet. Fucking heaven.
A small hitch in her breath was the sound of her assent. That and the widening of her thighs, giving him more access. She always let him in, and at least in this one thing, he could give her pleasure. He could make her feel good. As long as he kept the dark side of him in check. As long as he kept the beast locked up.