Can't Hardly Breathe (The Original Heartbreakers #4)

He had spent hours with her, distracting her, making her think and laugh and forget. Every second, his arms had been around her, offering comfort.

Like her, he must have fallen asleep when they’d lapsed into silence. His grunting soon turned to groaning, his body jerking as if he’d been punched or shot.

“No,” he mumbled. “No, no.”

She’d done her research, as planned, and most PTSD experts agreed it was best to let a nightmare run its course unless it was severe. Then a gentle nudge and a few softly spoken words might be in order. Although, you had to be careful when giving that gentle nudge. The dreamer could attack.

Dorothea decided it would be best to move out of striking distance. If he hit her, even while unconscious, he would hate himself. She stood at the side of the bed and whispered, “Daniel. Daniel, wake up. It’s Thea.”

His thrashing slowed.

“That’s right,” she said. “Come on back to me.”

The thrashing stopped altogether. With a gasp, he jerked upright. His wild gaze scanned the room. When he spotted her, he stiffened, scrubbed a hand down his face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I’m glad you did.” He’d been there for her. Now she would be there for him. She climbed back into bed and cuddled into his side.

“I’m going to go,” he said, and made an attempt to stand. “You need your rest.”

“So do you.” She threw herself on top of him, pushing him back onto the mattress. “If you leave, you’ll force yourself to stay awake, and that’s not good for you.”

“I don’t care. It’s better than the alternative,” he said, but he didn’t try to dislodge her.

She rested her head just above his heart. “Guess what? It’s your lucky day. Dr. Freckles is in the house, and she’s going to take care of you.”

His heart kicked into a faster rhythm against her temple. “I thought you hated your freckles.”

“I did, but someone keeps telling me how awesome they are. That someone even likes to lick them, so I’ve decided to embrace them.”

“This someone sounds smart.”

“He has his moments.” She removed his shirt and traced her tongue around his nipple. “He’s very tasty. Sometimes I just want to eat him up.”

He fisted his hands in her hair. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.” This time, she grazed his nipple lightly with her teeth. “In fact, I think I’m going to make a meal of him...right here, right now.”

“I should do the gentlemanly thing and tell you that you don’t have to do this.”

“But you aren’t a gentleman,” she said with a smile. She kissed the center of his chest and drew her tongue all the way to his navel. Then she stripped him to his underwear...drew the material beneath his sac.

“No. I’m not.”

“Guess what?” She clasped his erection. He was long and thick. Hard as steel. Lips parted, she traced her thumb over the tip, a bead of moisture rising up to greet her. “I’m very glad about that fact.”

He moaned a sound of abject pleasure.

She lowered her head, and as he stiffened with anticipation, she said, “Testing, testing. One, two, three. Is this thing on?”

He barked out a laugh, just as she’d hoped. “It’s on. I swear.”

It most definitely was, and it was only growing harder by the second. Nearly writhing with the intensity of his need, he waited...waited...for her to run her tongue over the head. The moment she did, he groaned an animal sound and released her hair to grab the sheet, as if he feared getting too rough with her.

“Now, just so you know,” she said, batting her lashes at him. Then she gave the tip another lick. As he jerked, feminine power flooded her. “I’ve never known the touch of a man. I’ve lived on a deserted island my whole life, and you’re the first male I’ve ever seen. I’m going to do my best to give you pleasure, but I’m afraid I’ll fail.”

The look he leveled on her suggested he’d never seen a woman, either. Well, not one like her. “I’m an iron-willed explorer and a hard taskmaster. You won’t fail, because I won’t let you. I knew you were untouched the moment I spotted you in your fig leaf bra and panty set, but I decided to take a chance on you anyway.”

What!

“Lesson one. Once you start, do not stop,” he said. “When you mess up, and you will, because you’re so innocent and all, I’ll give you pointers. You’re welcome.”

Jerk, she thought, trying not to laugh. He’d turned the tables on her, teasing her right back. Well, she would teach him the error of his ways.

Dorothea sucked his entire length into her mouth, earning a roar...and she didn’t stop until she’d wrung him dry.





CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

DOROTHEA WOKE ALONE, no sign of Daniel or the dogs anywhere, but at least she awoke with a smile. After her gentleman lover had come in her mouth, he’d thanked her, embraced her, and she’d thought he’d had every intention of easing the need he’d stoked in her—but he’d fallen asleep instead. She couldn’t work up a good upset; for once, his sleep was peaceful.

However, she remained awake and on alert. If he had another nightmare, she would be ready, a blow job engaged.

As sunlight had stolen into the room through the crack in her curtains, fatigue had gotten the better of her and she’d finally drifted off. But she’d ached for Daniel. Oh, how she’d ached.

How she still ached.

It’s my turn to come.

Rather than going for a run, she locked herself in the bathroom, stripped and hopped in the shower. Afterward, she painted her nails with a white undercoat, and yellow, blue, purple and pink stripes. And, rather than dressing, she donned the infamous raincoat. The last time she’d worn it, she’d been sick with nerves. Now she shook with anticipation.

She was going to trust Daniel with her body. After all, he’d trusted her with his past and she’d trusted him with her greatest heartbreak. He’d had his hands and mouth all over her. Why not his eyes, too?

No more holding back. No more regrets.

She should probably wait, at least until after working hours, but time wasn’t her friend. If she lost her nerve...

After tying the belt around her waist, she exited her bedroom. I can do this.

A pale-faced Holly waited at the bottom of the stairs. She was chewing on her nails.

Dorothea expected to feel rage, but all she felt was a hollow sensation. “Not now, Holly. Go to school.” She tried to pass, but her sister jumped in her way.

“I’m sorry, Dottie. You were right. I’ve been a spoiled brat. I wanted to hurt you, but I wanted you back with Jazz, too. I thought we could be a real family and this hole in my chest would finally be filled.”

“Not now,” she repeated. She was too raw, the wounds too fresh. “And don’t call me Dottie.”

This time, Holly let her pass without impediment when she sidestepped.

“I didn’t know,” Holly cried behind her. “I didn’t know you’d named the baby after me.”