Deadly Obsession (11 page)

She yawned once, her eyelids so heavy she had to close them. Moments later she drifted to sleep.

* * *

Chance stripped down to his boxers and would have climbed into the bed, but he couldn't. Wound up from the attack and what it meant, he couldn't settle his thoughts. Instead, he paced the room on the other side of the wall from Jillian. Several times he stopped short of throwing open the connecting door and marching in to see how she was. Each time, he forced himself to wait. He needed sleep, but to sleep meant to dream.

Minutes before, he'd heard the click of the door lock on Jillian's side, which meant she'd chosen to leave their adjoining door unlocked.

A warm glow spread through him. She trusted him to keep her safe.

All the more reason for him to stay awake. He couldn't risk falling to sleep. What if his nightmares took him into Jillian's room and he tried to kill her, thinking she was the enemy? He couldn't forgive himself. Just in case he did drift off, he set his timer for four hours. He'd wake Jillian and check on her. Then he'd have her lock the door behind him so he could sleep without worrying that he'd hurt her.

Chance continued to pace, knowing he had to fight exhaustion for the next four hours. An hour into his vigil, he sat in the chair by the window and opened a magazine about the Oregon coastline. Somewhere in the middle of the stories about pirates and pioneers, and the tenth photo of a lighthouse, he slipped into a troubled sleep.

Their squad had infiltrated the Afghan village shortly after midnight, slipping through the dirty streets like shadows. Intelligence reports indicated the village was harboring a Taliban leader responsible for the raid on a US Army outpost that ended in twenty-three Americans and six British soldiers dead, and thirty wounded.

Chance knew one of the men who'd died in that raid. He left behind a wife and two little girls.

Taking out the leader responsible for his death wouldn't bring him back. But it would keep the bastard from making more widows and orphans.

The village had been too quiet. Their unit had expected resistance from the get-go. So far it was too easy. Where were the guards? It felt like a setup, a potential ambush situation. Going from building to building, they'd found only civilians, women and children. Where were the men? Where were the Taliban fighters?

An explosion rocked the village, shouts sounded and gunfire erupted. Chance raced toward the sound, his weapon ready.

Another explosion went off in front of him, the force knocking him flat on his back. For a moment he couldn't get his breath. His ears rang and sounds came to him as if from down a long tunnel. He pushed to his feet and swayed. He staggered toward the corner of a building. His buddy who'd just turned that corner ahead of him lay on the ground, his body mangled and his eyes staring up at the sky. A Taliban fighter stood over him, an AK-47 rifle pointing at the soldier's chest.

Rage ripped through Chance. He jerked his rifle up and fired a burst of bullets, nailing the bastard. Another enemy fighter appeared from a side street, shouting and firing his AK-47 at Chance.

Adrenaline running high, Chance unloaded his magazine at the fighter and the one behind him. He dropped the empty magazine and shoved another from his vest into his weapon and ran in the direction from which the three Taliban fighters had come.

He came across an enemy fighter with a knife positioned at the neck of a fallen American soldier. Chance pulled the trigger and nothing happened. He shouted to keep the enemy fighter from plunging his knife into the soldier.

The man looked up, dropped the knife and reached for the weapons slung over his shoulder.

Chance slammed his hand on the magazine and pulled the trigger again. Nothing happened. He flung the weapon aside and charged the Taliban fighter, hitting him in the middle before he could get his weapon up. The man fell backward, landing hard on his back.

Chance pounced on the man and grabbed him by the throat, squeezing with all his strength.

A beeping sound pierced his concentration, pulling him back, out of the fight, out of the village and out of Afghanistan. He opened his eyes and stared around an unfamiliar room, filled with antiques and a four-poster bed.

He was drenched in sweat and his hands were curled around the armrests, his fingers digging into the cushion. The beeping continued until he located its source—the watch on his wrist. He let go of the armrests and touched the button on the side of the watch. The sound ceased immediately, leaving him surrounded in an eerie silence.

For several long moments he sat still in the chair, the lingering effects of the nightmare still fresh in his mind. As his thoughts cleared, he shook his head to banish the remainder of the dream, his thoughts turning to the watch alarm and why he'd set it.

Everything that had happened the previous day came back to him in a rush and he pushed to his feet. Crossing the floor in three long steps, he reached for the knob of the connecting door to Jillian's room.

A sound came to him through the thick panel of the old door. Was it a whimper, a high-pitched cry of a kitten, or had he imagined it? Pressing his ear to the door, he heard it again, only louder. This time he could tell it was a sob, followed by another and the quiet cry, “Please, let me go.”

Chance twisted the knob and yanked on the door, but it didn't budge. It took him a precious second to remember he hadn't unlocked his side. After twisting the lock, he yanked open the door and rushed in.

Expecting to see someone hurting Jillian, he was surprised to see her asleep in the bed, her eyes squeezed tightly shut, her fingers tangled in the sheets, tears streaming down her face.

She rocked and thrashed her legs. “I want to go home,” she murmured. More tears fell and she sobbed. “Please. It's so—” she sniffed “—dark...and cold.”

The anguish in her cries tore at Chance's heart. He switched on the lamp on the nightstand, sat on the bed beside her and gathered her in his arms.

Jillian struggled against him, her hands flailing, her tears soaking his chest.

“Jillian, darlin', wake up,” he said softly, stroking the blond hair out of her face. “Jillian, it's okay. Everything will be okay.”

Chapter 11

“N
o. It's not. I want to go home.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her body against him.

“You'll go home soon. I promise. Just wake up now.”

“No. Want to sleep. So tired. So dark.” She had yet to open her eyes and her tears were Chance's undoing.

“Please, Jillian. Open your eyes. You'll see. It's a dream. You're okay.”

“Not a dream. Dark,” she whispered. “Dark and cold.”

He kissed her forehead, his heart aching with her pain. “Baby, wake up. I promise, everything will be okay.” He rocked her, holding her close and knowing how real dreams could feel. He had lived through so many of his own nightmares.

“Don't want...to wake.” Jillian snuggled closer. “Don't know where home is,” she finished on a whisper.

His chest tightened and he pressed his cheek to her hair. She was lost in a dream, not knowing where she was or which way was home. All the trauma of the day before must have left her feeling more insecure than she let on. “Open your eyes, Jillian, and you'll see. It's a dream.” He kissed the top of her head and tipped her face up. Then he touched his lips to one of her eyelids, then the other. “Wake up, sweetheart. It's just a dream.”

Her lashes fluttered. She opened her eyes and stared at him. Then she shot a glance left, then right and back to Chance.

He could see recognition dawn in her eyes, and she smiled. “Has it been four hours?”

Chance nodded.

She closed her eyes again and rested her cheek on his chest. “This is nice.”

“Yes, it is.” It beat the hell out of the horrible nightmare she'd been having. He tightened his hold and stayed where he was.

Jillian's breathing grew deeper.

Though he wanted to lie down next to her and hold her for the rest of the night, he didn't dare. Only minutes before, he'd had the dream that had plagued him since Afghanistan. He'd dreamed he was choking the enemy. Chance smoothed a stray hair back behind Jillian's ear. He couldn't risk it. He had his demons to fight. Apparently, Jillian had some of her own. But he wasn't her knight in shining armor come to slay hers.

When he started to turn away and slip out from beneath her, she draped an arm around his middle and opened her eyes. “Please stay.”

With her blue eyes staring up at him, he froze.

The tears hadn't dried on her cheeks.

He couldn't risk falling asleep with her in his arms. It was too dangerous. Could he stay awake? He squeezed his eyes shut and sighed. “Okay.”

Her eyes drifted closed and the corners of her lips tilted upward. “Thanks.”

When Chance leaned toward the light to turn it off, Jillian's fingers dug into his skin. “Don't.” A tremor shook her body. “Leave it on.”

If he'd had doubts about staying with her, Chance didn't anymore.

“Just curious...” she said. The blanket slipped down to her waist, exposing a filmy blue nightgown that did little to hide what was beneath it.

“Yeah?” he said, his voice tight, his groin tighter.

“Why are you in my bed?” Her hand flattened on his abdomen. “Not that I'm complaining.”

“You were having a bad dream. I did the only thing a gentleman could do. I held you until you woke.”

“Oh.” She looked up at him again. “Did I snore?”

“No. Actually, you were crying.”

Her brow puckered. “I was?”

“Do you remember what you were dreaming about?”

She lay still against him, her breasts pressed against his side, the sheer, filmy fabric tickling him. “No.”

“You were moaning and you said something about it being dark.”

She shook, her fingers digging into him again. “Dark?” she said, her voice shrinking to a whisper.

“Hey. Let it go. I'm sorry I brought it up.”

Her entire body shook. “It was cold and dark. I didn't know where I was. I just wanted to go home, but I...”

“Didn't know where home was,” he finished for her. He slid down in the bed and gathered her in his arms, smoothing his hand over her hair. “Now that you're awake, you know it was all a bad dream.”

“Yes. Of course.” She didn't sound completely convinced.

“Home is here in Cape Churn. You have your friends, Molly, Gabe and Nova.”
And me
, he wanted to add, but he couldn't. He wasn't going to be around for long.

“And Nora and Tom, Emma and Dave,” she said. “My friends are all the family I have.”

“They can be enough. They all know you and love you. That's what counts. This is your home.”

“And I'll soon have a house to live in.” Her body relaxed against his. “Thank you for saving me.”

“From what?”

“The dark.”

“Glad to be of assistance.” He lay for a long time, trying to hold back the rising sensations generated by her body nestled against his and her arm riding low on his belly, close to the elastic waistband of his boxers. God, this was the worst kind of torture.

When she slid a slim naked leg over his, he came so close to losing it, he groaned.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her voice soft and husky from sleep.

“No.” He shifted. “I need to go back to my room.”

“Why?”

The smoky tone of Jillian's voice sent raw heat south to Chance's groin. “Lying here with you is making me crazy. If I don't go now, I might do something I'll regret.”

Her hand slid lower, bumping against the hard evidence of his rising passion beneath the fabric of his boxers. “
I
won't regret it.”

“Sweetheart, that bump on your head is making you delirious.”

“My thoughts are clear. I'm not dizzy, and I've never wanted anything more than I want you.” She closed her hand around his arousal. “Right now.”

“You're playing with fire, Jillian.”

“Then warm me up.” She raised her leg over his thigh, rubbing her sex against him. He could feel the hot moisture on her panties and he couldn't take it anymore.

In a second, he rolled over, pushing her onto her back, and leaned over her, planting his hands on either side of her head. “You're a very attractive woman, and you're quickly pushing me to the edge.”

Her lips curled in a slow, sexy smile. “Good. What do I have to do to send you over?”

“This.” He bent to claim her lips in a hard kiss, his erection pressing into her warm, soft belly. “And this,” he said, his words mingling with her breath. With his tongue, he traced the seam of her lips until she opened and let him in. Quickly advancing, he thrust his tongue into her mouth, caressing hers in a primal mating dance.

After thoroughly tasting what she had to offer, he rose for air. “There's something you need to know.”

She smiled, her eyelids lowering to half-mast. She leaned up and kissed his chin, his neck and his collarbone before responding, “Go on.”

Everywhere she touched him lit up like the Fourth of July. Chance sucked in a deep breath and let it out. “I'm not fit for long-term relationships.” There. It was out in the open. She could end it or live with it, but at least she knew the stakes.

Jillian raised her hand and cupped his cheek. “Was I asking for one?”

“No, but you need to stop me now, if that's what you want.”

“I don't. I want what is here and now. Tomorrow is another day.”

“If you don't stop me now, there may be no going back.”

Jillian dragged her fingernails lightly down his back and beneath the waistband of his shorts to slide over the curve of his buttocks. “Trust me, there was no going back from the day I met you. Please,” she said, her fingers digging into his flesh. “Don't stop. I know what I'm getting into. Only one thing...”

He sucked in a breath, so close to shooting over the top, he didn't think he'd last ten seconds in her hands. “What?”

“Protection.”

Protection. His mind spun for a full second before he pictured the condoms he's stashed in his wallet several months ago, on the off chance he ever had time to date and just maybe get lucky.

“Hold that thought.” He shot out of the bed, dashed to his room, riffled through his wallet and let go of the breath he'd held when he found the two foil packets stashed in one of the little pockets. He was back in less than a minute, slowing as he neared the bed, realizing he hadn't been gone long but possibly long enough for Jillian to change her mind.

She was sitting up in the bed, her hair spilling around her shoulders, the blanket pulled up over her chest.

“Change your mind?” he asked, sending a silent prayer heavenward. He'd have to take a really long, cold shower if she decided to back out at the last minute.

Jillian shook her head slowly and lowered the blanket.

Hallelujah
echoed through Chance's head.

Oh, she was ready, all right. She'd removed the frothy blue nightgown and her full, perfectly formed breasts reflected a golden radiance from the soft glow of the nightstand lamp. “I believe you're overdressed. Do you need help stripping?” She tilted her head toward his boxers.

“I've got this.” He winked and shed his shorts. Standing in front of her, he let his gaze travel over her lightly tanned face, neck, shoulders and breasts. “You're beautiful, Jillian.”

Her gaze traveled from his head to his knees. “You're pretty hot yourself.” Then she tossed the blanket to the side.

Chance let out a low whistle.

She lay against crisp white sheets, completely naked. With slow deliberation, she pulled her legs up, bending her knees and then letting them fall to each side.

That was all the invitation Chance needed. He crawled onto the bed between her knees and kissed her with all the emotion and passion he'd accumulated since he'd awakened her. When he'd fully conquered her mouth, he trailed kisses along her jaw and down the long, graceful length of her neck, pausing to tongue the wildly beating pulse at the base of her throat.

Continuing lower, he found the distended tip of one of her nipples and sucked it between his teeth, rolling it around and around.

Jillian gasped. She wrapped one of her hands against the back of his head and held him there while he laved the tip of her nipple until it tightened into a firm bead. This was where he wanted to be. Where he needed to be. If he died after this day, he'd die a happier man than he'd been in a very long time. But he wasn't dead and every cell in his body was alive and well, ready to take this woman all the way.

* * *

Jillian's breath hitched in her throat as Chance lavished his attention on first one, then the other of her breasts, sucking, nipping and tonguing them until the sensations pulled her core so tight she thought she might come apart if he stopped.

He trailed his mouth down her torso, kissing his way south toward the triangular tuft of hair covering her sex.

The path he traveled left her in tense anticipation of him reaching the goal. Curling her fingers into his hair, she struggled between wanting him to stop and dying for him to take it all the way there.

Chance paused, parted her folds and blew a warm stream of air over her heated skin.

Breathing became difficult and shaky. “Please,” she whimpered.

He thumbed the center strip of flesh packed with hundreds of tiny nerve endings, each firing messages to her brain, screaming for more. He swept his tongue down the middle of her folds, sending electrical shocks speeding through her body.

Jillian pulled her knees closer and braced her heels against the mattress. Despite her determination to let him do what he would, she couldn't stop her hips from rising with every thrust of his tongue. Like the musician strumming the chords of an instrument, Chance drew the best music from her, lighting her entire world in a radiant glow.

When she thought she couldn't take such exquisite pleasure one second longer, she rocketed over the edge, catapulting to the heavens.

As her hips rocked and her insides quaked in spasms, Jillian threw back her head and emitted an exultant cry. She tensed, drawing out the pleasure of her release until she drifted back to earth.

As satisfied as she was, she knew it could be even better with Chance buried deep inside. She laced her hands in his hair and tugged gently.

“Hey.” He chuckled, climbing up her body. “That hair is attached.”

“I want you.”

“I'm all yours.”

She shoved him to the side.

He dropped to the bed and rolled onto his back. “Pushy little thing, aren't you?”

“I don't want to lose what I have before you get there with me.”

He grinned. “I like the way you think.”

“Yeah, then you'll like this even better.” She straddled his legs and wrapped her hands around his shaft. Slowly, she raised and lowered her fingers, squeezing gently, settling into a rhythm. Soon she increased the tempo.

Chance closed his eyes, his jaw taut. He thrust upward, matching her pace, his shaft sliding through her hands. Faster and faster until he froze and gripped her arms. “I can't hold out much longer.”

“Protection,” she said and held out her hand. Chance grabbed one of the packets he'd left on the nightstand and placed it in her hands.

Jillian tore it open, removed the condom and rolled it down over his engorged shaft.

Then he sat up, rolled her off him and pinned her beneath him. “I can't go slowly.”

“Don't,” she said, her voice shaky. Delicious anticipation made it hard to breathe.

“I don't want to hurt you.”

“You won't unless you stop. Enough talk.” She spread her legs, bringing her knees up.

Chance pressed the tip of his erection against her entrance, dipped in and drew it out. His face was strained, his breathing ragged.

Anxious, yearning and past her ability to be patient, Jillian grabbed his buttocks and slammed him into her.