“It’s me,” Duncan repeated more softly. “You’re safe.”
Her stricken gaze landed on his cheek. A small cry escaped before she could stop it. With one hand covering her mouth, the other hovered over the long scratch mark oozing blood. “I’m so sorry.” She dropped her hand without touching him.
“It’s fine,” Duncan reassured her, but the look in her eyes told him that it wasn’t going to be fine. Reaching over, he grabbed a towel.
“It’s not fine.” She ignored the towel, her face twisted in anguish. “I’m not fine. This isn’t fucking fine!”
“Come on, you’re freezing.” He carefully pulled her up, keeping his eyes on her still stricken gaze. Wrapping the towel around her, he helped her step out of the bathtub.
Pam stood shivering, holding the towel like a lifeline. “I can’t do this.” Pam shook her head looking panicked. “I’m not going to be able to do this.”
“Do what, honey?” Duncan had no clue what she was talking about until her gaze and hand dropped to her stomach.
“Be a good mother.” Tears started to flow freely down her pale cheeks. “What if I see him every time I look at the baby? What if my feelings change once the baby is born and I resent…” She couldn’t finish.
“Have you ever looked at any of the children you worked with differently because they came from a drug dealing father or a deadbeat mother?” Duncan clipped her chin in his large hand, bringing her face to his. “Have you ever turned your back on a child in need?”
Swiping the tears Pam shook her head. “No.”
“You have a heart of gold, Pam. What you have done for children who are not even of your blood, is beyond what a lot of others would do.” Duncan’s lip curved in a small smile as he placed his hand on her stomach. “This little bundle is of your blood, Pam. You are going to love him, or her, like no other, and as for being a good mother, honey, you already are.”
“Thank you,” Pam whispered still looking down at his hand before placing hers on top.
“Just stating the truth.” His other hand touched her cheek; he was pleased she didn’t flinch from his touch. “No need to thank me for that.”
“I want me back.” Pam leaned into his hand. “I’m so tired of being afraid, weak and unsure.”
“Honey, you never left. You’re still here, just a little shaken. I have never met anyone braver.” Duncan’s voice was strong and true. “Give yourself a little time to work through this. I’m not going anywhere and will be by your side.”
“You’re a good man, Duncan Roark,” Pam sighed, feeling a little better.
“Yeah, well, let’s keep it between us because if Sid or Jared find out, I’ll never get any work out of them.” He winked, grabbing the shirt he’d gotten for her to wear. “I’ll leave you to get dressed unless you need help.”
Cheeks flushed, she shook her head. “I’m fine. I’ll be right out.” She stopped him before he could leave. Grabbing the wet washcloth she was using, she gently wiped the blood from his cheek.
Duncan stood rigid while she wiped the blood away, her eyes focused on his lips. God knew he wanted to kiss her, but she was going to have to make the first move. As much as it pained him, she was in control. He stood perfectly still as she leaned closer. He watched the war rage in her beautiful mismatched eyes. She was so close, he could feel her raspy breath against his lips. With a feeling of victory, her lips touched his; he had definitely won the war that battled inside her. He was the victor and her lips his prize.
*****
Nicole fought her way through the massive crowd of reporters. If one more reporter shoved a microphone in her face, she was going to shove it up their ass. She was so not in the mood. Finally making it to the front door, she stopped at the sight of Damon leaning against a post, hidden from view of the street.
“Where have you been?” he asked without moving, his golden eyes flicking from her head down her body.
“I’m not in the mood for your protective macho crap, Damon.” Nicole cocked her hip.
“I asked you a question,” he barked.
“And I gave you an answer,” she shot back.
“That wasn’t an answer,” he snorted. “That was you being a smartass.”
“That was me being honest.” She took a step toward him tilting her head with attitude. “If you can’t take it, that’s your problem.”
“You’re my fucking problem,” he growled, grabbing her before she could move out of the way. He plastered her against the pole he had been leaning on. His lips mashed down on hers, his hand moving to tangle in her hair pushing her closer. She didn’t hesitate, didn’t fight. She kissed him just as fiercely. Finally, he pulled away, his eyes black with need. “Do you regret it?”
“Regret what?” Nicole’s eyes, cloudy with desire, stared up into his, her chest heaving for breath.