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So his.
The spasms went on for a long time, his and hers. Just when he thought the after-tremors were done, some small inner squeeze of her body triggered another response from his.
Sometime afterward, he fell onto his side next to her, turning her in his arms so they faced each other. He wanted her again with the same insatiable need he’d felt for her so long ago, only this was even more insistent.
This new need had been compounded with a possessiveness born the day he’d learned she was taken. It was almost as if those hellish weeks of thinking about her obsessively, praying for her return and basically losing his mind had created a cavernous hole in his chest that only she could fill. Now, she was here, filling that gap for the first time.
He was happy as hell.
As long as he didn’t think about the fact that the very same spot would be ripped open all over again in three weeks. He didn’t have a clue how he’d let her go. So right now, he planned to hold on tight and enjoy the ride.
* * *
“DANNY?”
The urgent whisper woke him. Stephanie was still in his arms and quiet for long moments afterward, so he thought he’d just dreamed her saying his name.
Muted light from a wall sconce in the hallway filtered through the open door across the bed. He guessed it was around midnight. They’d ordered a pizza a few hours ago and he’d played his guitar until she fell asleep listening to him. It had been the perfect night. He’d told her about his work aboard the USS Brady and she’d told him more about her time overseas. Not the kidnapping, but the better memories that came before it—meeting locals in the rural parts of southern Iraq before she’d traveled into the city of Baghdad.
Now, her hair fanned out along the pillowcase like an inky tattoo. Sleeping in one of his old T-shirts, she lay with one hand tucked under her cheek and the other resting lightly on his bicep. He still couldn’t believe she was here with him after all this time.
“Danny!” Suddenly, she squeezed his arm hard, her eyes flying open to stare at him in the scant light, her body tense.
“I’m right here.” He smoothed a touch along her shoulder and down her back. “You’re safe.”
She blinked a few times, coming more fully awake. Slowly, the tension in her eased. He tucked the blankets around her on one side and tucked her against him on the other.
“Sorry.” She rested her head on the pillow again, a pink daisy earring glinting as she shifted. “Did I wake you?”
“Not really. I’d just closed my eyes.” He tipped his forehead to hers, already imagining what it would be like to wake up to her on a permanent basis. “Did you have a nightmare?”
“No.” Her soft, sleep-husky voice wrapped around him. “Sometimes I startle easily or have little moments of panic. They’re not bad anymore. It probably only happened because I’m sleeping somewhere different.”
Yet she’d called out for him, even in her sleep. New possessiveness surged through him, making him more determined than ever to show her how good they could be together.
“You want to...talk about it?” He was rough in the sensitive-conversation department, but for her, he made an effort. He’d seen enough guys screwed up by combat in the navy to know that talking about past traumas was better than stuffing it all down inside and pretending it never happened.
“No. I’ve discussed the kidnapping with a therapist and I’m...solid as I can be with what happened.” Her hand settled on his chest, her fingers skimming light patterns over his skin. “But thank you.”
He searched for something to say, something to take her mind off whatever it was that sent her into panic mode.
“Can I ask you something else then?” He liked the way she touched him, the light caresses straying over his shoulder and down the inside of his arm before jumping back to his chest.
“Mmm?”
“What made you start photographing pets?”
Her touch paused for a moment. Then started again, slower.
“My mother is still upset that I haven’t gotten back to my so-called real job, filming news video,” she began, her frustration evident.
“Hey.” He captured her fingers and brought them to his lips to kiss. “I’m not judging. I think it’s a great career. I’m just curious how you made the switch.”
“You know I got into the news media because I wanted to travel. See the world. Make a difference.” They’d talked about her dreams when they’d met the first time. “But there isn’t much call for objective reporting anymore. The media is so entertainment-driven that I didn’t enjoy it.”
“So you left the old job after you wrote your book.” He knew the timeline of that first year after she came home since he’d been keeping tabs on her from a distance. “I remember hearing you volunteered at a counseling center, too.”
