Chapter 20

Too bad Derek didn't have a tub put in his bathroom, Zane thought. He'd love to be soaking in it with Dara, luxuriating in the hot water, letting it ease the residual strain in both their bodies. But he did the best he could. He turned the shower on full force, as hot as they could stand it, and took great care in soaping and massaging every muscle in her body. He couldn't prevent himself from tweaking her rosy nipples when he washed her breasts or sliding his soap-covered fingers into the warmth of her pussy.

She kept her eyes closed the entire time, which drove him nuts. He wanted to know what she was thinking, how she was feRafeng. She seemed relaxed beneath the touch of his hands but he wanted to be sure. He wanted her to be satisfied and feel safe and to enjoy what they did.

When the hell had all that become important to him? How had a storm-tossed waif wormed her way into his heart?

At that thought, his hand stilled and he froze in place. His heart? He wasn't sure he even had one anymore, at least not one that could feel anything except pain and sorrow and regret. He also realized, with a shock, that since he'd rescued Dara from the lake he hadn't once thought about the nightmare of Afghanistan or the disaster with Lily. He had been so focused on Dara, the desperation of her situation and the way she turned him on that there hadn't been room in his brain for anything else.

He wanted to sleep with her tonight, to feel her soft body curled into his, hear the sound of her breathing and feel the rise and fall of her breast against his hand. The storm outside showed no signs of letting up and he was glad, for reasons different than this morning. As long as the weather was bad, Dara could not leave. In the space of a few hours, he'd gone from seeing her as an irritant and disturbance to someone who was at last pulling him out of his pit of despair.

It wasn't even that they'd gorged themselves on sex. Sure, tying her in the intricate rope pattern had made him hot and wanting, and of course turned on by her response to it. The intensity of their shared orgasm still shocked him. Now he wanted more, much more, and he didn't even know if that was possible.

When the water began to run cold, he rinsed them both off, turned off the spray, and wrapped Dara in one of the big bath towels he'd set on the counter. He knotted the other quickly around his waist then carried her into the bedroom. She hadn't said a word the entire time in the shower or even now, as he carefully inspected all the places the rope had bound her to make sure the skin was not bruised or broken. She watched him intently as he moved his hands over her body. He'd have given all he had to know what she was thinking.

At last he straightened up.

"I'm going to feed you," he announced. "I think food is in order for both of us."

Dara tried to push herself up from the bed. "I'll fix it. Just tell me what you want and I'll take care of it."

He pushed her gently back against the pillows. Then he sat on the edge of the bed and took one of her hands in his.

"If I wanted you to do it, I'd have told you." He squeezed her hand. "I don't know what to say to you, Dara. I'm so afraid it will be the wrong thing and scare you into a corner. That's the last thing I want."

She lifted her gaze to study his face with an intensity almost palpable.

"When I first saw you, I was frightened," she said in a soft voice. "You looked so fierce, so angry."

"I didn't mean to frighten you. I was just busy wrestling with my own demons and didn't want company while I did it."

Her lips curved in a tiny smile. "You haven't been so fierce since then."

He returned the smile, the feRafeng so strange he didn't know what to do with it. When was the last time that had happened?

"I'm glad." He looked down at their joined hands. "Dara, it doesn't look like you'll be getting out of here any time soon. Tonight, when we fall asleep, I - that is - my dreams are not always so peaceful."

And I might be in the middle of a nightmare and try to rip your head off.

"There is nothing you could say or do that would be any worse than what I've been through for the past five years." She reached up with her free hand and touched his cheek, tracing the scar with the tip of one finger. "Did you get this in your nightmare place?"

"No." He shook his head. "That's a souvenir of another bad time, but fortunately in the past."

"And this one isn't."

"No, it isn't." Not even close, he wanted to tell her.

"I want to sleep close to you," she told him. "Sir."

He cupped her head and drew it close to him, realizing with a shock that despite the mind-blowing sex, he had yet to kiss her. "Despite the fact you might end up in the middle of a nightmare?"

She lowered her eyes. "It can't be any worse than mine."

Want to bet?

But then he gave in to temptation and took that kiss. Her lips were soft and cool, molding easily beneath his. When he traced the seam of her mouth with the tip of his tongue. she opened for him at once and he thrust inside. Oh god! She was liquid heat both sweet and sensual, and he couldn't get enough of her. But what penetrated his lust-fogged brain was the absolute innocence of the kiss, as if she'd not done it very often. With great reluctance, he broke the kiss and looked at her. Hard.