Somebody's Angel (#5 in a Military Romance / BDSM Romance series) (Rescue Me) (45 page)

Marc downed the rest of his wine in two gulps. She’d thrived without him. More beautiful than ever. Out with her friends. Hell, his friends.
Their
friends.

Perhaps he needed her more than she needed him.

She blinked, her chin quivering. “Is there any hope for us being able to talk with each other, Marc? This silence is killing me.”

Merda.

Sometimes he felt safer inside his own head. He should be able to communicate better, especially as her Dom. He ran his thumb through the condensation on his wine glass, avoiding eye contact. “Perhaps you deserve someone better.”

She leaned against the back of the booth, and he felt the withdrawal of her hand like a knife stab to his gut. “I never wanted anyone else, Marc. I only want you to stop running from me.”

Marc still couldn’t look her in the eye. “I don’t even know who the fuck I am. I can’t be your Dom until I get my head on straight again.”

“Then just be my man. My friend. I can live without kink, but I’ve been miserable trying to live without you. Maybe this time we can start more slowly and build on what we both need.”

He glanced up. She’d been miserable, too? Whenever he’d asked about her, she’d been busy doing something with their friends, not moping over what had been lost between them.

But they had yet to resolve the main reason he’d backed away from her. “You don’t even know who I am.”

“I know all I need to know.”

“Well, then
I
still need to know who I am. I’ve spent months trying to come to terms with what I might discover, and it still scares the shit out of me to face the past.”

“Marc, finding out who your parents are or what happened when you were a little boy isn’t going to change who
you
are today. You’re a good man. A friend to so many who love you and choose to have you in their lives. A hero—you’ve saved lives both in Iraq and in your SAR work. Heck, you even saved me at the club and went after me on Mount Evans when you knew I was in danger.” Angelina reached out once more to grasp his hand, and he made eye contact again. “And you’re the only man I want to be with—ever.”

Marc blinked, dumbfounded to hear she wanted him, despite how he’d fucked up so badly. Angelina was no needy doormat. She was beautiful, intelligent, and could have anyone she wanted, but she wanted him, flaws and all.

Never afraid to speak her mind or let him know when he was being an ass, she’d head slapped him more than once when he screwed up, same as Adam. Except in the middle of a D/s scene. At those times—well, except for the Mistress A one—Angelina had been beautifully submissive. He loved all facets of her.

He loved
her
. Period.

So how was he going to unfuck this?

“Why don’t we go over to your place and talk?”

“Is talk a euphemism for something more sexual?”

He grinned. “Well, our bodies are very expressive, as well,
amore mio
.” What he wouldn’t give to make love to her again tonight.

“I can’t make myself that vulnerable to you, Marc. Talk, yes. Sex, no.”

Two words he didn’t want to hear in conjunction with each other. No sex. He’d missed her. When they pushed all the bullshit aside, their bodies knew how to communicate with each another.

He’d better be very sure of the limits tonight, more so than in any kink scene they’d negotiated. “State your limits, pet.”

She blinked in surprise before a flicker of a smile spread across her full lips. “Talking is okay. Cuddling—with clothes on. That’s okay.” She grew serious again. “We have so much to sort out. We haven’t resolved anything since I left in February, because we haven’t
talked
since I left. The big question is what’s changed since then?”

He thought a moment. What had changed? He still had no answers. Still hadn’t spoken with his parents. Hadn’t found answers in talking with Pamela—only more questions. Hell, Pamela had just stirred up his insecurities about being the Dom Angelina needed and deserved.

“Savannah. What she went through. What
Damián
went through trying to get to her before it was too late.” He squeezed her hand. “The thought of losing you terrifies me.”

Angelina brushed her thumb over his knuckles. “Marc, the only threat against me is sitting in jail now and has been for half a year.”

“I have a need to protect you from hurts, big and small. I worry about you.”

“I don’t need or want a bodyguard, Marc. There has to be more to our relationship than that.”

Realization dawned slowly. “I know losing you to another attack is improbable. Instead, I’ve come very close to losing you forever—and for no reason other than my own inability to…” He couldn’t even find the words to explain.

“Communicate?”

How ironic. He nodded his agreement. He needed to express his reasons for wanting them back together. “I am more in control when I’m with you.”

“Still not a reason for us to get back together.”

He was screwing this up. How could he convey what he needed her to understand? He ran his hand through his hair. “Just before the mission to rescue Savannah, I had planned to meet with you.”

“That was more than a month ago.”

The unspoken
What took you so long?
hung in the air. What, indeed? He scrubbed his face. “I guess I wound up with more questions than answers after that mission.”

“Then what brought you here tonight?”

“You.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

Angelina’s tone of voice had changed. She wasn’t going to let him evade her questions anymore. Well, good for her. She deserved straight answers.

“While I had your nonna’s furniture, I assumed you’d come back any day.”

“Yet in the two months since I left, you only contacted me once.”

“You didn’t respond to that text.”

She held her chin higher. “I was still upset about you going to Italy without telling me until the night before. With you shutting me out of such an important and difficult time.”

At least she was talking with him again, even if she remained pissed about that asinine trip to Italy. He’d better not blow this chance at reconciliation. “I called Adam the other night to see if he’d heard anything after you moved your things out of our house.” He hoped to conjure up some shared memory of what they had once shared.

“You checked up on me?” She didn’t ask the question as an accusation for him meddling in her affairs but more as if she’d been pleasantly surprised he’d bothered.

He reached across the table to take her hand and brushed her knuckles with the pad of his thumb. “I never stopped worrying about you, caring what you were doing.”

“No one told me you’d been asking. I thought…” Her voice cracked.

“I didn’t always have to ask. I observed what was going on with Damián and Savannah. I knew you were taking care of Marisol. I’m glad you weren’t abandoned by our mutual friends.”

“I owe you a lot for sharing your friends with me. They’ve been wonderful through this…separation period.”

He didn’t want to hear that word, but at least she didn’t call it a break-up. “After talking with Luke last month, I knew what I wanted—you. I just didn’t know how to go about bringing you home again and being the man you deserve.” He wasn’t sure he should admit this but needed to be honest. “The man you needed.”

She paused long enough to make him worry. “I don’t think we should rush things this time, Marc. Maybe that was our problem before—we moved too fast, before we’d really established trust.”

“You know I trust you—”

“No, I don’t, Marc. You talk about being the man I need and deserve, well, unless you start sharing your life with me and stop shutting me out when things get difficult or emotional, how can I possibly know that?”

He pulled his hand back. Why had he come here in the first place?

He remembered.

“Adam mentioned you’d be here tonight. Since this is where it started for us, more or less, I thought it might be a place where we could get back on track. Rekindle some memories of happier times.”

“Marc, are you ready to let me be a part of your life? It all boils down to your answer to that question.”

Chapter Twenty-One

L
uke watched as Marc led Angelina off the dance floor and back to their booth. A lot had happened since the last time the three of them had been here. He hoped they were well on their way to reconciliation tonight. He was tired of watching two people he cared about being so damned stubborn. They belonged together. Anyone with eyes could see that.

Adam stood next to him describing a Shibari scene he wanted to work on with Luke’s help after Karla had their baby—something involving roping two submissives together. Sounded interesting, but all Luke could think about was Cassie Lôpez being the second demo model. His gaze strayed to the woman seated near Karla across the barroom. The girls had been deep in conversation the whole afternoon. He’d wanted to spend some time with Cassie, who’d been haunting his dreams lately, but apparently she and Karla had a lot of catching up to do.

He had no idea if Cassie had a submissive bone in her body, but from the way the woman closed herself off from everyone except her friend Karla, he didn’t think he’d ever find out.

“Grab your beer, Luke. Time we break up that hen party over there. They’ve had more than enough time to roast my nuts over the fire by now.”

Luke grinned at Adam.
Hell, yeah
. He picked up the long neck and followed Adam to the table where Karla and Cassie sat.

“Mind if we join you girls?” Adam set his bottle of water on the table without waiting for a response.

Cassie blinked before glaring at Adam for intruding, and then she sat back in her chair as far away from him as possible. She was more skittish than the mustang he’d spent the last month trying to train for SAR work—and just as worth working with to get past her fears. When Cassie zeroed in on Adam’s hand stroking Karla’s cheek, Luke didn’t miss the instantaneous look of longing in her big, brown eyes before she masked it. He didn’t know what she feared a man would do to her, but one thing Luke had in spades was patience and a gentle hand.

Adam sat down next to Karla at the square table while Luke took a seat with Adam and Cassie on either side. The girl scooted her chair close to Karla in retreat.

Hearing Karla mention her baby had just kicked splashed cold water on his mood. Maggie hadn’t been far enough along for them to feel their baby’s kick. In some ways, that made it easier to pretend their baby hadn’t been real. Well, until Cassie drew that sketch of Maggie holding his baby up in heaven and gave it to him at the hospital while they were all holed up in the waiting room waiting for news about Adam’s condition.

Luke didn’t want to think about all he’d lost that day in the mountains nearly eight years ago this month. He also didn’t want to think about Maggie right now.

“So Cassie, what are you working on now?”

She looked up at him as if she’d just realized he was there, which didn’t do a lot for his ego, and then she sputtered on a swig of what looked like a margarita.

“You okay, darlin’?”

Luke leaned forward to pat her hand, but she snatched it back as she coughed to clear her windpipe. He didn’t try to get too close, but when she regained control of her breathing, he asked about any upcoming projects or exhibits she might be working on. She spent several minutes talking about her llamas—no,
alpacas
, as she’d corrected him—and work she was doing in fiber arts. But she made it clear she didn’t want him coming anywhere near her or her alpacas.

Fine. Might as well enjoy himself. Watching Cassie scowling at him all afternoon wasn’t going to cut it. He shifted his focus to Adam. “How about a round of pool? You and Karla taking on Cassie and me?”

Adam smiled. “Sounds good to me.”

Luke turned back to Cassie only to find the blood had drained from her face. Now what had he said? She had a glazed look in her eyes, and her hand shook uncontrollably.
Damn.
He stood and went to her, trying to bring her back to the present with a firm arm around her back. He placed his hand on her quivering arm.