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He smiled up at her. They’d slept together last night. Just sleeping. Some of the best sleep he’d gotten in he didn’t know how long. And when his nightmares woke him up, she’d just stroked his head and crooned to him, until he remembered where he was and with whom. He didn’t tell her, but maybe she knew anyway — last night was the first night he’d slept with anyone in a long time. Oh, he had sex, sex was easy and plentiful. But then he went home. Or rolled into his own sleeping bag. He flinched away at the memory of trying to strangle a bedpartner. It became obvious that it was too dangerous to let someone be in bed with him the entire night. He’d tried to explain to Jessie last night. Tried to say he’d sleep on the floor. She’d just rolled her eyes and told him to come to bed. And he had.
Sleep. Someone to guard his back? Was that it? His back twitched at the phrasing.
She hadn’t even commented on his scars. Asked him about his tattoos, though. He grinned. Women and their fascination with a man’s tats.
But really, his hindbrain thought Jessie was capable of protecting him while he slept? A woman?
He glanced over at Titus. Guess Titus wasn’t the only one who trusted Jessie Nickerson.
“Come to bed,” he said, echoing her words of the night before. She laughed silently and started stripping. He would have liked to watch, but she was moving fast toward the covers, and he hurried to make a spot for her.
He lay back, and she snuggled against him, her face buried into the crook of his neck, her arm flung across his chest. And her leg was across his body, as if to trap him into place. She sighed with pleasure, and he let out a huff of laughter.
“Happy there?” he asked dryly. He hoped so, because his body was happy with her there —very happy.
She nodded, and he could feel her smile. She stroked his chest slowly, almost absently. He stilled, not sure what she wanted. Well, what the hell? He could ask her, couldn’t he?
“Jessie?” he said tentatively. “I want to be very clear, here. What are you suggesting? Because if you just want to sleep like that? I’m fine with that. But if you’re suggesting something more? You need to tell me. I don’t want to guess... and guess wrong.”
She was silent for a moment, and then she finally said, “I don’t know what I want. I....” She shook her head and started to move away. Ryder held her in place.
“Tell me,” he said quietly. “I need to know what happened.”
She opened her mouth as if to say something, and then shook her head again. “I can’t,” she whispered, and he heard the near-tears in her voice. “Did you ever have something happen that you just can’t talk about?”
Ryder was silent. He should let Benny handle this! He was the therapist, right? That still boggled his mind, but apparently it was true. He swallowed. He was asking her to reveal the most traumatic thing in her life. Was he surprised it was hard? Just the bits he’d picked up from the others on that insane convoy to Hat Island had told him that it had been bad.
So the question was, who was he to ask her to reveal this to him? And to answer that, he had to think. Was Jessie just a short-term fling for this mission, and then she’d go back — to Hat Island, he assumed —and he’d go on his way? Never see her again?
No! His wolf howled at that thought, startling him. His wolf didn’t speak to him often. Some people said theirs did, but his wolf was more about the hunt, and the run.
And about dominance. Oh, his wolf was all over that.
Mate, his wolf said. Mate.
What? No! He told his wolf. No mate.
His wolf didn’t argue, but he could feel its stubbornness.
And truthfully, the notion of losing this girl bothered him. Yes, she was too young. Yes, she had baggage. But damn. She had fire. She’d come to his rescue. And that surgery by wolf still astounded him and made him laugh. But he’d watched her protect the women, protect the twins, and just now, protect Titus Black.
He thought about her having fun at Last Chance. That made him grin. He would have bet the college girl would find that place distasteful. But no. She’d danced with him, had fun with the other women, and learned to play darts.
Jessie Nickerson was quite a woman. The real question was what did he have to offer her, not the other way around.
Mates, his wolf insisted again.
Well, if he wanted this woman for the long haul, he needed to step up here. He’d already been silent too long and he sensed she was starting to withdraw.
“Yes,” he said quietly. “I know what it’s like to have something you can’t talk about. And maybe you won’t be able to talk to me, Jessie. Maybe Benny would be a better listener for you. But the very fact that you can’t talk about it means that you should. Otherwise, it plants its roots and won’t let go, and you too will have nightmares.”
“Like yours,” she said.
“Like mine,” he agreed. He took a deep breath and told her about Mosul.
He’d been 20, 21, when 9/11 happened. And he’d been hot to go off to war. Of course he was —he had grown up among men who defined themselves by their own wars. He had something to prove to all of them.
Or maybe just his father, he didn’t know. His father tried to talk him out of it. Benny came home and tried. His mother begged and pleaded for him not to go.
