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Wincing, Darcy hitched the sheet higher as if to shield herself. Flinging his T-shirt in his lap, she backed away. “You want my guts spilled all over the floor? Fine. I was kidnapped when I was thirteen years old. An extremist terrorist group, who wanted the military base gone from the island, decided to make their statement in a big way.”
Her words gathered force, rolling out of her in the hurricane he’d unleashed. “So they snatched me from a luau, right under all those flyers’ noses. They took me. They locked me up in an old World War II bunker and kept me there for a week.”
The pain in her voice in spite of her composed face jolted through him with as much power as her words. Hearing what she’d been through shredded his insides. He’d witnessed scenarios like hers before firsthand while pulling someone out of a nightmare like the one she described. But this was Darcy.
And he righted these kinds of wrongs for a living. A totally illogical part of him wanted to have been there for her then. Resolved to be there for her now.
Forget about boundaries. He yanked her back into his arms and dropped her into his lap, her spine as straight and rigid as her unbroken will. But she didn’t pull away. He stroked his hands up and down her back and let her talk. He’d asked for this, after all, and he would see it through for her.
She clutched that shield of a sheet in a white-knuckled fist. “If I made any noise, they threw bugs and rats in there to keep me company.”
Max forced the red haze of fury away as he thought of all she must have endured the past weeks with all those “accidents.” He wanted to find the person responsible and kill him. Twice. Except her records indicated they were already dead, taken out during the raid to rescue her. “I’m so sorry, Darcy.”
She laughed, a wobbly half effort that brought his arms tighter around her. “So, yeah, I have intimacy issues. I like my personal space. Big flipping deal. It doesn’t stop me from getting up in the morning and doing my job. It doesn’t stop me from living my life. And if I’m not living it the way you want me to, then tough. Just who do you think you are making me spill my guts like that?”
The answer burned in his gut, in his brain, words he’d never wanted to say again, much less feel. “I’m the guy who loves you.”
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
Darcy reeledfrom Max’s words echoing in her head. Her intimacy issues were taking some serious boundary hits tonight. She should be dancing. He wanted her. Even lo—
Wait. Full stop. She couldn’t even think it. Couldn’t breathe as she sat in the circle of his arms. Still, she felt so much for this man. And it scared her. Max was supposed to have been safe, first as the moody professor, even later as the driven operative—both men who wouldn’t make demands on her emotions.
Yet the words were right there in her head, waiting to be spoken in return. Waiting for her to throw away control and give over her life and herself to a chance with this incredible man who mesmerized her even as he confused her.
“Max.” She pushed the word out. “I—”
He shook his head, cupped a hand behind her neck, urged her forward and just kissed her. Man, did he have a way of just kissing her.
Her insides melted. She hooked her arms around his neck and lost herself in the moment. All the while, she tried to ignore the insistent voice telling her she wasn’t being fair. She was using attraction to avoid talking. She knew it, but couldn’t make herself stop.
How strange that Max could voice his feelings while she hid behind desire, a desire sparking through her with all the heat of an afterburner. Desire - and emotions, too, whether she wanted them or not. But whatdidshe feel for this wild, unpredictable man who’d so captured her attention, from the minute he’d sauntered into her life?
And then cool air brushed over her and she realized he’d pulled away. Her eyelids fluttered open and she found his serious gaze holding hers.
He tapped her lips softly. “No more talk. No more thinking or worrying for now. Just let me hold you while we sleep.”
She started to argue, to push for… She wasn’t sure what. She only knew that even as he declared he loved her, he shut down any discussion of the admission.
Heaven help her, as much as she’d fought against taking the coward’s way out, she couldn’t stop herself from taking the excuse he offered to escape confronting anything more tonight.
Silently, she nodded. Thankful for the excuse, she sunk back into the pillows with him and let sleep give her a few more hours in Max’s arms.
* * *
With his back against the headboard, Max watched the glowing numbers on the bedside clock blink away the night—2:00 a.m. Darcy lay on her stomach sleeping, her face turned away from him as if she wasn’t ready to see the morning or him yet.
The hurricane shutters might be blocking out parking lot lights, but it couldn’t stop morning from arriving, anyway, in another few hours. He knew Darcy well enough to understand she would likely start running. Soon. She would rebuild her boundaries before facing him again. If she came back.
He needed more time and they didn’t have any, not with a case to close. But he sure wasn’t letting her climb into another plane until they had the people responsible for her emergency landing in custody.
So he watched the clock and counted down the minutes until he would have to leave her. And with every second that ticked by, he was thankful for this stolen pocket of time with her.
Darcy stirred, burying her nose in the pillow before turning to look at him with blurry eyes.
I’m the guy who loves you.
His words from earlier hovered between them.
