that crease above his nose deep.
“I think I’m going to go watch TV with Milo. Call if you need me.” She left the room and went right to the bedroom, to Boone’s sad bed. Milo trotted in, and she coaxed him up next to her. Then she looked around for the remote.
“Is this what you’re looking for?”
Boone stood near the dresser, holding the remote.
“Yeah, thanks.”
He walked it over to her and sat on the edge of the bed. “You should try and get some sleep.”
She shrugged.
“Don’t give up. These are the best people I know.”
“What if he’s better?”
“He isn’t.”
She hugged Milo. “Go on. I’ll be fine.”
Boone looked at her for a long time, then he stood and put his gun on the bedside table. “You can use this until we get back to your place.”
She watched his back as he left the room, then she turned to the gun. It was too much to think about. Guns and what she used to think of as home. She picked up the remote and turned on the TV. She hadn’t thought of TV in weeks, if not months. It was so bright and loud. The people looked happy. Normal. How could the world go on when hers had turned upside down? She lay down, hugging the pillow instead of the dog. And she smelled Boone. His scent was in the sheets. It wasn’t a cologne, it was the man. Completely distinct, she’d know it anywhere.
She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, oddly comforted.
TERROR PROPELLED HER UP THE bed where her head cracked against the wall. A hand touched her shoulder, a chest pressed against her side and her breath ran out before her scream.
“Christie, it’s me. Christie.”
She gasped as she struggled against him, the voice familiar but it was dark and her heart pounded so hard it hurt her chest.
“Shh, Christie, honey, it’s okay.”
Her fingers released the blanket and grabbed on to Boone’s shirt. It ripped as she forced him closer, needing to feel him, to make him real. He touched her hair, her side, and she pulled as if she could climb right inside him.
“It’s okay, it’s all right,” he said, over and over, until the words made sense and she didn’t feel as if she were going to die.
Her mouth found his and she breathed him in, and still he wasn’t near enough. Her hand went to his neck, her leg wrapped around his hips and she needed him so much.
If he hadn’t kissed her back, she would have cried until the ocean was dry, but he did, he kissed her, hard and deep.
What she needed was Boone, just Boone. Only him, and no one else. Her hand went under his shirt to touch his warm skin. She pressed her palm over his heart but she couldn’t find the beat.
He thrust again into her mouth, his tongue rigid and thick, and she captured him between her teeth and sucked hard, making him moan and push up with his hips.
Her hand moved from his chest to his waist, to the panic of getting him unbuttoned and unzipped. He went to help and she shoved him away.
When she released his tongue, he pulled back, away from her, and it didn’t matter because she had his zipper down and when she reached inside his pants he was hard and ready.
“Christie,” he said, his voice a coarse growl, warning her.
“Don’t,” she said. “Don’t you dare.”
“You had a nightmare. You’re scared.”
She held him in her fist, almost squeezing. “Damn right I’m scared. You were almost killed. You got that? Killed. It could all be over in a heartbeat, and I’m not going down empty, you hear me? I won’t.”
“Stop it,” he said. “You’re not going to die. I’m not going to let you die.”
She pumped him with one hand, the other went to his waistband to push his pants down and off. When she couldn’t push any farther, she reached for her own, desperate to be naked, to have him inside her.
“Christie. Wait.”
“No. Don’t.”
“I’m not leaving you, I swear to God. Just slow down. Take a breath.”
“Go to hell,” she said as she pushed her pants down her thighs.
“I’m not going anywhere, I told you,” he said, his hand circling her wrist.
It was dark, so she couldn’t see his face well, and she couldn’t tell if he was mad, but he wanted her, she knew that, so what the hell was his problem?
“Talk to me, honey. Tell me what scared you so badly.”
“What scared me? Haven’t you been paying attention?” She jerked her wrist free. “I don’t want to talk. I want to screw. Now.”
“I don’t.”
She reached for his cock again, but he stopped her before she touched him. “Liar.”
“I don’t want to screw. Not now, not with you.”
“Don’t preach at me, dammit.”
“I’m not. I just want you to slow down. We can do whatever you want. But let’s take our time, okay?”
She pulled away from him completely, kicking off the stupid blankets and her pants. Naked from the waist down, except for his socks, she wanted to laugh at herself, but she was so afraid that it wouldn’t be laughter at all.
Boone was right, she had been dreaming. This time, she hadn’t seen the red dot in time. Boone had fallen over her body, dead, and his blood had been hot and thick, like the blood all over her bed.
Why couldn’t she stop shaking? Boone was alive, and the blood on the bed was fake, so why did she feel as if she were going to be sick if she didn’t do something right now?
He touched her shoulder, making her jump. “Okay?”
She nodded, and his hand gentled. It was so large and warm. If she just focused on his touch, she’d be okay. She’d stop trembling.
He moved over so he was sitting beside her. His legs touched hers and she didn’t even care that he was still dressed. She leaned over, pressing herself against the hard bulk of his body.
His arm slipped around her shoulder. And then, with his other hand, he touched her face. He was so tender, she cried out. Tears came then, and he kept stroking her cheek, whispering soft words that meant nothing and everything. She tried to stop, but there was no stopping. The tears poured out of her, wracking sobs that shook her so that she didn’t feel the old trembling at all. Boone brought her closer but never stopped touching her.
Finally, she was empty. The only thing holding her together was the arm around her shoulder, the touch of gentle, coarse fingers against her skin. She looked up into his face, and even though it was dark and there were shadows all around her, she saw the kindness in his eyes. He knew. He understood.
He came toward her slowly, still patient and watching, until his lips brushed hers. The panic was over and now she understood his caution. This was what she’d wanted all along. To be close, to be cared for.
He kissed her more deeply, letting her know that there was no rush, that she was safe. Only when she parted her lips did she feel his desire, hot and sweet on her tongue.
For a long time, they just kissed. As the seconds drifted by, everything outside faded and she felt herself relax deep inside. When her hand went to his thigh, he didn’t try to stop her. She stretched her fingers out but they didn’t reach all the way across. The memory of him in the bathtub, before they’d made love, when he’d given her comfort. She pulled back,