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“I missed you too, Cal,” he said, his green eyes locking on hers. Her breath caught at his expression. Earlier on the sofa she’d practically been pawing at him, desperate for his kisses and touch. This was something softer—more tender. It felt like it meant something. Wyatt’s big hand lifted to her face, his thumb lightly caressing her cheek. It almost seemed like he was about to say something but stopped himself. Her heart was pounding, but he simply leaned down and pressed his lips to her forehead. “Let’s go to bed.”
CALLIE TWISTED IN HER sheets, fighting off another nightmare. She was terrified and in pain, her arm throbbing, but she couldn’t escape. She was trapped there in the hellish confines of the cockpit on the hijacked plane. The terrorists who’d dragged her to the cockpit were talking to someone—another person that she couldn’t see. They were planning something. Angry. Somehow her subconscious knew she was dreaming, but Callie couldn’t wake up—couldn’t stop the memories. She struggled to see the blurry images in her mind—a person, a face.
Whose voice was that? Had someone else been in the cockpit?
“Who is that?” a male voice barked in anger.
“No one. One of the hostages,” the hijacker next to her said.
“Fucking idiots. Why is she there? We’ve got an entire plane full of passengers. Leave the bitch alone.”
“She’s got a mouth on her,” one hijacker said. “I’m going to strip her bare and show her what to do with that mouth and body.”
“No,” Callie whimpered, cowering back.
Time seemed to pause, the moment hovering there in her dream. She felt like she was stumbling around in the dark, unable to get her footing, watching snippets of the scene unfold. Even though she’d been there, it was like watching a replay of her own life. Who were they talking to? There was something she was forgetting. Something important. Why couldn’t she see all of it?
“She’ll never get off this airplane,” one of the hijackers seethed.
“No!” she cried out in her sleep, fighting with the sheets. “No! No!” Callie sprang up in bed, panting, her entire body drenched in a cold sweat. She wrapped her arms around herself, shaking, and Wyatt was already sitting up beside her, his arms pulling her close.
“Callie, what happened?” he asked, his voice groggy with sleep. He was already tense and alert, looking around, seemingly ready to spring up and fight off any danger. “What’s going on?”
Her room was dark, with only the moonlight from outside her window providing any illumination. Her eyes began to adjust in the dim light. The apartment was silent. Still. She was safe from everything but the terror of her own past. Her memories clutched at her, nearly drawing her back into a panic.
“It was another nightmare,” she said. “I was there in the cockpit.”
“Hell, sweetheart,” he said, his soothing hands running over her bare arms. One big hand cupped the back of her head as he pulled her closer, and then she buried her nose in his neck, breathing him in, wet tears streaming down her cheeks. “Don’t cry,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”
Callie relaxed into his comfort, her body slowly recognizing that she was safe. Wyatt didn’t say anything more, just held her, and she clutched onto him, her tears finally beginning to slow. “In my dream, I think I remembered something. There were voices talking. I think someone else was in the cockpit.”
“Someone other than the hijackers?”
“Yeah. It’s weird. It’s like they were there but they weren’t.”
Wyatt frowned. “Callie, honey, I was there on the airplane. I saw three dead bodies by the cockpit. There was one additional hijacker who escaped in the confusion and was later killed, but witnesses said he was pacing up and down the aisle of the plane, keeping watch on the passengers. He wasn’t in the cockpit with you.”
“No. Someone else was there. I know it. He was mad that I saw him. Why can’t I remember?” she asked, frustrated. Her hands fisted, and she thrust them down into her lap, angry. “I know there’s something I’m forgetting. I know it.” She shook her head, bringing one hand to her forehead as she let out a sigh.
Wyatt’s big hand smoothed down her back. “It’ll come. You’re remembering more and more. I’m both happy and hate that for you. I know you want to remember everything that happened. It’s coming back to you in bits and pieces, but one of these days it’ll all click into place.”
“Well, why can’t it happen now?” she asked, huffing out a breath. “It’s so hard to know something is there and not be able to see it. I want to put all this behind me, but until I know what exactly happened, I don’t think I can.”
“You were traumatized,” he said gently. “People block out painful memories for survival. It’s your body’s way of protecting itself. The memories are there, locked away, and in your case, it seems like they’re slowly coming back. You said earlier when I was talking about the boat you recalled the hijacking.” He lifted a shoulder. “Little things are going to remind you, and I’ll be here to help you.”
She finally looked up to meet his gaze. “I feel bad for waking you up,” she admitted. “You were exhausted from your mission and didn’t need me waking you in the dead of night.”
“Callie,” he gently chastised, “that’s the last thing I want you to worry about. I wouldn’t have been able to sleep well at my own place because I missed you. I know we’re still fairly new, but this is serious for me. I don’t want to date any other women. I just want you.”
She bit her lip, waves of emotion washing over her. “It’s serious for me, too. I’m not seeing anyone else, which I think you already realized. I don’t want to date any other men. I want to take my new boyfriend on all my new blog ventures—strictly in Hawaii for the time being.”
“I think that can be arranged,” he said, his voice low and smooth like warm caramel. It felt like something shifted in the air between them. A spark that was quickly about to combust. The silent night surrounded them, but they were both wide awake now, nearly naked in her bed. Wyatt’s soft cotton tee shirt stretched across his broad chest, his boxers hugging his growing erection. Her nipples pebbled against her thin camisole, and Callie could feel arousal pooling at her core.
Wyatt shifted slightly, both hands cupping her face, and then his lips were on hers, soft and gentle but with promises of what was to come. Her mouth opened to him, and he took the invitation, his tongue sliding inside as the heat between them grew stronger. Wyatt laid her back on the sheets, shifting atop her, and then their bodies were pressed together, their mouths hot and hungry. Callie clutched at the bottom of his tee shirt, trying to tug the material up. Wyatt obliged, pulling it over his head in one quick movement. Her hands moved over his hot skin, smooth over those taut muscles. She ran her hands over his broad pecs and down to his washboard abs, exploring every dip. Wyatt was beautiful. Handsome, yes, but also a work of art. His body was chiseled from hard work, no doubt involving blood, sweat, and tears. He was hers now, and she wanted to grab hold of him and never let go.
“I told you we could take things slow,” he offered, pausing for a heartbeat as he gazed down into her eyes. His chest was rising and falling, and she could feel his thick erection pressing against her inner thigh, his entire body tense. He was hanging on by a thread, poised to pounce, but willing to stop for her, to hold back if that was what she wanted.
“No,” Callie said, her arms sliding back up his abdomen to his broad shoulders. She clutched onto him, her own breath now coming in shallow pants. “I need you.”
