Explosive (20 page)

“That’s better. Now touch them. Offer them to me like I taught you.”

Her vagina tightened around him as lust stabbed through her. She cradled her breasts in her hands from below, moving her thumb and forefinger just below the nipples, pinching ever so slightly. She moaned when Thomas snarled and tightened his hold on her hips. He lifted her, moving her up just a fraction of an inch and back slightly, up, down, and back, rocking and rolling his cock in her pussy.

“
Thomas
,” she moaned, but he just continued to agitate her clit and fuck her ever so subtly while he stared at her breasts in her hands. The hammock did a jerky little dance in the air and Thomas continued to rock her on his cock until she clenched her teeth in swelling pleasure.

“Pinch your nipples, Sophie.
Do it,”
he commanded harshly when she just stared blankly as orgasm reared over her.

She pinched and rubbed her fingertips over her beaded nipples. Climax shot through her with lightning spikes of sensation. One hand dropped to Thomas’s chest, bracing herself as pleasure shuddered through her flesh. She heard him curse, rough and low. He grabbed her buttocks in both hands and began to shift his hips up and down, thrusting into her pussy, causing the hammock to bob and rock in the air with his up-and-down movements. Coherent thought faded in her pleasure-infused brain as his mouth drew into a feral snarl and he fucked her with short, frantic strokes and she continued to come around his stabbing cock.

He lifted his head, his facial muscles tightening in an agony of pleasure or frustration; Sophie couldn’t tell which.

“It’s not enough.
God
. . . what I want to do to you,” he muttered brokenly as he thrust into her madly. His need cut through her haze of orgasm and Sophie began to buck her hips, stroking him in return, giving him the hard friction difficult to find in the suspended hammock. Their pelvises slapped together in a rapid, wild tattoo as they bounced between the trees on the placid summer day. A profound sense of satisfaction tore through her when she felt his cock spasm inside her and his facial muscles tightened in a rictus of pleasure.

“Ah, God,
yeah
,” he grated out between a tight jaw as he came. His eyelids clamped shut and with his hips still flexing powerfully, he leaned up and pushed her toward him, unerringly finding her nipple with his seeking lips. Sophie cried out in shock at the sensation of his hot mouth enclosing her and then this teeth nipping sensually over the hard crest. He suckled her as he came and continued to fuck her, the sensation sending her over the edge of climax once again.

After several moments of delicious orgasmic thrashing, Sophie felt all the trapped tension in Thomas’s muscles slowly ease. He fell limply into the suspended hammock and Sophie sunk down on top of him. The hammock, which had been jerking and swinging during their lovemaking, eased into a gentle rocking movement, the sound of the ropes creaking loudly in protest against the bark of the trees becoming a lulling, low rhythmic squeak. Sophie panted onto Thomas’s chest, feeling like she’d just completed the marathon of a lifetime.

When the hammock only swayed a few inches in each direction and their breathing had almost returned to normal, she turned her face and rubbed her opened lips against sweat-slicked skin, sliding softly against him, not thinking . . . just swimming through the heavy, sweet languor of the moment.

He palmed the back of her skull and held her against him while she mouthed his skin and his sweat melted on her tongue. She turned her head sluggishly, pressing her cheek next to Thomas’s thrumming heart when she heard the sound of a motor boat grow louder. She watched through the mesh rope as the speedboat raced by, distantly wondering why she’d been so concerned about being seen. As if he’d read her mind, his fingers rubbed her scalp soothingly.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured once the boat’s motor had become a distant hum.

“I’m not,” she whispered.

A couple of robins twittered in the lazy silence that followed. Thomas ran his fingers through her hair slowly, his caresses making her eyelids grow heavy. She sensed him stir in the hammock a moment later and glanced up, a question in her eyes.

“I wish I could make it last,” he said.

“What?”

“How it feels. When I’m inside you.”

Sophie’s mouth dropped open. It was an incredibly sweet thing to say, but she sensed he hadn’t meant it as flattery, or at least not entirely.

“What do you mean, Thomas?” she asked slowly.

He glanced out at the lake, the bright sunshine on the water causing a flame to flicker in his narrowed green eyes. “It wipes everything from my brain. You burn me clean, Sophie.” He glanced into her face. Sophie wondered what her expression was when he smiled as if to reassure her.

Sex may burn you clean, but it’s only for a little while
,
isn’t that right, Thomas?
Sophie thought sadly. He must have noticed her unrest because he murmured, “Shhhh,” softly and placed his hand at the back of her head, urging her to return to his chest.

Sophie stared blindly at the sparkling lake, wondering how she was going to get him to speak of his pain when he was trying so desperately to deny its existence.

And worse . . . using her as a way to do it.

CHAPTER
FIFTEEN

Thomas set the covered platter of marinated chicken next to the smoking barbecue grill and headed back into the house to ask Sophie for some tongs. He’d been a little amazed to see all of Sophie’s preparations for their dinner, and he wanted to make sure his small part in making the meal matched up to Sophie’s efforts.

The woman really didn’t do anything halfway, he thought as he glanced at the vibrant colors of sunset she’d painted on the canvas on the screened-in side-porch. She disparaged her painting, but Thomas thought she possessed considerable natural talent. The cheddar potato casserole he’d watched her prepare with casual ease a few minutes ago had made his mouth water and it hadn’t even baked yet. They’d taken a dip after working up a sweat in the hammock and Sophie had actually swum quite a distance with him, her stroke graceful and strong. Afterwards, she’d insisted upon looking behind the boathouse to see if her patient was lingering by the edge of the wood, but Guy was nowhere in sight.

No, there wasn’t much Sophie couldn’t do. She certainly had the ability to make him sweat. He wanted her almost every second he was with her. If he could bottle what she did to his libido he’d be the richest man on Earth. But he didn’t just want her physically, Thomas realized as he walked down the dim hallway toward the kitchen. He longed for the sweet, clean scent of her skin, her touch, the sound of her low, soothing voice.

He heard her talking now, and it wasn’t to him. He slowed his pace in the hallway. Her voice sounded quiet and muffled. She had her back to him as she stood in the kitchen, talking on the phone. Her voice, though soft, carried an edge of anxiety to it that made his spine tingle in warning. He halted in the dim hallway, still several feet from the entrance to the kitchen, straining to hear her.

“Yes . . . I understand. You’re right. I hadn’t been putting it into that context until this afternoon. The lapse in memory is just an extreme example of the symptom of numbing and avoidance of the trauma. It’s part and parcel of the syndrome. You were right to question me about it yesterday in your office. What do you recommend?”

Was she talking about one of her patients? Thomas wondered with a growing sense of unease. Something about her tone made him think it was something weightier than a patient consultation.

“You and I both know that would be best, but it’s not likely he’ll be talked into that unless something breaks—” Her head dropped and she inhaled. “Unless some change occurs, I mean.”

Thomas held his breath in his lungs until it burned as the person on the other end of the line with Sophie spoke. He eased closer to the end of the hallway and peered around the corner into the kitchen in time to see Sophie shake her head, her hair whisking across her shoulders.

“No. That’s
not
going to happen. I’m not concerned about that.” She listened intently to the other person’s response. She shook her head again, but not as strenuously as last time. He strained to hear her voice when she spoke next; it was difficult to hear through his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

“No. I don’t want you to worry about that, he’s not dangerous. You’ve got to trust me. I can handle this. We’ll talk tomorrow. Yes, I promise. I don’t know how I ever got myself in this situation, but here I am.” Her laugh sounded tired. “Of course it’s not your fault . . . yes . . . I think what I’m doing might be telling, too. I’m not stopping now. I won’t. I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

Thomas turned and headed back down the hallway stealthily when she pulled the phone away from her ear.

Once she’d gotten off the phone with Andy, Sophie cleaned the green beans at the sink, staring out the window, her mind churning.

The best thing would be for Nicasio to be evaluated and treated by a professional. There’s no telling if a possible head injury is exacerbating a psychological trauma or not. But if you suspect he won’t consent to medical treatment, try to get him to talk about what’s happened to him recently, all the stressors he’s experienced, in a roundabout manner . . . see if it . . . dislodges anything.

She’d known Thomas was amnesic about certain events ever since last night when he’d behaved as though they’d just made love for the first time in her office. She just hadn’t contextualized his localized amnesia as being a part of an acute stress response or PTSD until she’d seen the way he’d reacted toward Sherman Dolan this afternoon, when he’d looked
precisely
like someone suffering from the symptoms of an acute stress disorder.

What she still didn’t know, precisely, was the
extent
of the trauma that he’d experienced in the past several days. She knew some of the internal demons he struggled against . . . but not all.

And Thomas couldn’t tell her at the moment. His psyche was fighting like mad to make him
not
remember whatever had blasted into his consciousness like a lethal bullet, altering his entire world. She suspected he was doing everything in his power not to acknowledge that wound.

Her anxiety ratcheted up when she considered Andy’s advice to subtly get him to talk about the trauma. The idea of temporarily increasing Thomas’s discomfort and emotional pain was a little intimidating, mostly because she was afraid he would leave again.

The thought of confronting Thomas didn’t make her nervous, however, despite Andy’s warning that Thomas might be dangerous. No. She refused to believe that, Sophie told herself even as she once again recalled what Andy had said.

Sophie, listen to me. We’re talking about a man who served in a crack military unit. Do you know how much psychological testing is required for a person to even qualify for the EOD? Those people stare right into the face of death again and again, and they can’t fight it with fists and guns. They have to keep ultimate control while dismantling a bomb. Nicasio served and excelled in a unit like that, even becoming a decorated officer. If he could keep his head under those conditions, just consider what kind of stress he must be experiencing at the moment to make him respond in this way. Nicasio is no stranger to violent situations. I want you to remember that, Sophie. I don’t know what he’s reacting to, precisely. Maybe Rick’s and his nephew’s deaths were just the final straw that broke the camel’s back after so many years of living under frequent threat of death. Either way, it’s possible he’s dangerous. Soldiers suffering from acute or posttraumatic stress disorders have been known to attack their spouses during flashbacks and nightmares. And that’s not the only potential threat, Sophie. If it’s true what you suspect about Nicasio—that something so painful happened that it made him amnesic for a short period of time—then he might resort to the defense mechanism of projection to deal with it. He might unconsciously start to blame the only other person in his vicinity. He might start to project his growing anguish and aggression onto you.

Sophie clamped her eyes shut tightly. It hurt her to think of Thomas suffering so acutely—like a wounded animal that felt pain, but had no understanding of why or how to make it stop.

But she didn’t believe for a second that Thomas would ever harm her.

She started and choked on an inhale when a drawer suddenly opened behind her. She spun around and stared at Thomas, who stood in profile next to the opened drawer, a knife in his hand.

“Thomas? You startled me. What are you doing?”

He set the carving knife down and picked up a large silicone spatula and then tossed that aside, as well. “Sorry. I’m looking for some tongs for the chicken.”

“Oh,” she exhaled shakily and hurried across the kitchen. “In here,” she said as she opened another drawer.

“Thanks,” he murmured when she handed him the tongs. She noticed the way his dark brows pulled together slightly as he examined her before he turned and left the kitchen. Was he wondering about her edginess?

She shut her eyes again once he’d disappeared down the hallway, willing her heart to calm.

After she’d put the water on to boil for the green beans, Sophie walked out the side entrance of the house with a glass of wine in each hand. She’d already known Thomas was on the front porch, sitting on the old, cushioned gliding bench that faced the lake. She’d watched him from her cooking post in the kitchen as he’d settled there a minute ago.

They’d taken another swim after they’d made love in the hammock. Afterwards, they’d showered again. This time when Thomas had left the bathroom, he wore another pair of cargo shorts and a simple white T-shirt that highlighted his lean, muscular torso and deepening tan. Sophie noticed he hadn’t shaved again, and a scruff darkened his jaw and upper lip. He looked so different than his polished city-self, but Sophie thought he had never looked more real, more savagely intense than he appeared here at Haven Lake. He may be a whirlwind of grief, but she’d never known a more vibrant man in her life.