This is good. So good. And just what I need.
My arm slinks behind her to tilt her pelvis, giving me access to that perfect spot. She whimpers, letting me know I found it. And when her whimpers grow more desperate, I know she’s peaking.
It’s exactly what I need to hear. That, and maybe a little more.
“Are you going to come for me?” I ask, breathing hard.
Her response releases in a long moan. “Yes.”
“Then come for me now,” I gasp. “I need to feel you come.”
Her expression breaks and tears stream down her face. Her eyes squeeze shut and she thrashes, her body losing control as she cries out my name.
I slow my rhythm but drive in deeper, prolonging her experience, and mine.
God, she’s everything.
My hips grind against hers as I fill her. I kiss her lips, taking my time before pulling out.
Carefully, I edge down and lower my head between her breasts. Her heart pounds against my ear, proof that she didn’t die, that I haven’t lost her, and that she’s mine.
If I let myself, I’ll fall asleep and stay this way until morning. I’m sure of it. But I need to keep hearing that heartbeat.
When it finally slows, I feel her fingers skim through my hair.
“Tell me about your dream,” she says.
Chapter 20
Curran
“Please tell me,” Tess says, again. “By the way you lashed out, and the way you were yelling, it must have been horrible.”
My knuckles brush along the curve of her waist. “I can’t.”
“Why?”
“It was too much” is all I can say.
“Because it involved me?” She swallows hard when I don’t answer. “It’s okay if it did.”
“No, it’s not.” I stare at the pile of law books stacked on her dresser without really seeing them. “I can’t lose you, Tess,” I admit. We’ve been together for more than two months now, and while it doesn’t seem like a long time, I can’t picture her and me not being together.
Her hands splay along my shoulders. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“You did in my dream.”
Her hands stop moving. “It was just a dream.”
I shake my head against her skin. “No. It played out like the night Joey was shot. Only this time, you took his place. You took those bullets. I failed you, and because of it you died in my arms.”
My words should freak her out—hell, they freak me out. But I couldn’t stop them from shooting out of my mouth.
Shooting? I huff. Nice.
“I’m sorry,” she says.
“I am, too.”
Her voice remains calm as she strokes my hair. “Curran…I think you have PTSD.”
“I know what I have, Tess.” I’m not yelling at her, but I am yelling at myself. Mostly because there isn’t shit I can do to stop it. My frustration is, I should be able to stop it—turn it off like a switch or something. I’m better than this. Damnit, I know I am.
If she’s mad or hurt about the way I snapped, she doesn’t show it, keeping her motions and her voice gentle. “If you know what you have, then you also know you need professional help to overcome it.”
I adjust my weight against her. “No. I can’t. It’s not in me.”
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Nor is it a sign of weakness. It can happen to anyone despite their strengths and preparation. Look at all the vets coming back from war, the firefighters who lived through 9/11…and your brothers and sisters in law enforcement. All of you deal with events that require physical and emotional strength beyond what most will ever face. But none of you are immune to the trauma your duties subject you to.”
“Tess, I get it. But you’re talking like a civilian from the outside looking in. I’m talking like a cop, and cops don’t talk. We keep it inside. It’s the only way to function given the amount of shit we see.”
“But you’re not functioning, Curran—not as well as you could be.” She releases a small breath. “I think that by trying to bury your pain instead of dealing with it, you’re spiraling into a very dark place.”