Claiming Her SEAL(26)

"Who was she?"

He shrugged. "Just a girl I thought was waiting for me. She liked the  romance of dating a SEAL who was off doing stuff she could brag about to  her friends, but not the reality. After I came home, it all fell apart.  She claimed I'd changed."

Among other things. She hadn't wanted him to touch her, as if he might  infect her with his dirty hands. That had been the most painful.

"Of course you'd changed." The fury in Emma's voice salved a bit of the  rawness this conversation had created. "You can't go through hell and  emerge the same."

Emma got that, as he well knew. Her wisdom and strength came from  experience. He hated that she'd been forced to walk that path, but God,  was it so wrong to be relieved someone understood? "Yeah. Seems like she  was expecting that."

"I'm sorry, Dex. She had an opportunity to be there for you, to help you  heal, and she gave that up. What a stupid woman." Emma clucked and  shook her head. "But lucky for me because now I get to."         

     



 

The wonder of it bled through him. That's what was happening here. A  cleansing. He'd confessed all his sins to a woman who not only wasn't  repulsed, she'd stuck around to wade through the crap with him.

"Lucky for me too," he murmured and pulled her into his lap because she  was too far away. Her tight little body fit into the hollow of his  crossed legs like a charm, but the stretch of silky hip bone against his  groin woke up everything south of his waist in point zero seconds.

Her mouth turned up against his neck as she nuzzled it. "Take it from  me, the only way to break free of the darkness is to kick your way to  the surface. Sometimes it helps to have someone up there shining a light  to guide your way. You did it for me. I'm here for you now."

And miracle of miracles, he could believe that. Could almost believe  those good qualities she claimed to see in him were real. Maybe they  were. Because of her.

How did you even respond to that? He didn't have a clue but he'd find a way, and hopefully it started with a kiss.





Dex slept like a dead man. It was kind of cute. Emma had been watching  him for a minute or twelve because God, the man was gorgeous. In sleep  he didn't have all his barriers up.

Asleep she didn't have to worry whether he could see right through her.  Because she was in a lot of trouble here, and the less he figured out  what was going on inside her, the better.

Thank God she was leaving tomorrow. She could go back to Boston, renewed and happy. Or something like that.

Dex's eyes blinked open, and the slumberous, sexy glance he shot her  nearly put her over the edge. That was the thing she'd miss the most,  the way he instantly set her on fire. She had to get out of this bed  where he'd held her all night long after exhausting her a third time. It  smelled like him, and all she wanted to do was curl into his side and  let the force of him pound through her like a tidal wave.

She was stronger than that. She had to be.

When he reached for her, she almost wept. But pasted on a bright smile.  "Oh, no you don't. Seems like you mentioned you had to be at work bright  and early this morning."

Dex growled out a curse. "What time is it?"

"Nearly eight. Rachel will be back soon." She hoped. Who knew where the  woman had spent the night? With Rachel, it was just as possible that  she'd ended up watching TV in the hotel clubhouse as it was that she'd  had a threesome in the hot tub.

He sat up, and the covers slid off his contoured chest. Instantly Emma's  mouth went dry. There wasn't a more finely built man in the entire  Caribbean.

"Yeah, I have to go," he groused.

She watched him slide from the bed and get dressed, covering up his  naked form far too fast. And then he swept out the door with a quick  kiss to her forehead, leaving her alone in silence.

Except then the sound of her heart beating filled her ears, and  something huge and sad filled her chest until the only way to relieve  the pressure was to sob.

Pretending that she was going to be okay when she left didn't make it  so. Dex had gotten ahold of her somehow when she wasn't looking. How  could this have happened? Her simple vacation fling had grown teeth.

Well, she'd have to figure out how to be okay. Weakness wasn't an  option, and Dex definitely felt like a weakness when she couldn't even  figure out how to get out of the bed he'd made love to her in without  wanting to curl into a ball.

She'd spent the past three months curled in a ball. She'd come to the  Bahamas to get past that, to go in the water and prove she had every bit  of her old self still under the surface somewhere. Emma Richardson was  not defined by any man, not Chris Cummings, and definitely not James  Riley. So she'd go under water by herself. She didn't need Dex.

Resolute, she rolled from the bed and found her white bikini. It was  symbolic. All the important steps she'd taken thus far had happened  while wearing this suit, and she was taking the final step in it as  well.

God, why had she associated the fabric with Dex's hands? Slipping it on  became an exercise in agony now that she actually knew what his hands  felt like on her breasts. Ignoring the state she'd just thrown herself  into, she picked up a towel and sunglasses and left the room before she  gave in and stripped off the swimsuit.

The walk to the secluded beach past the barriers of the resort didn't  take long enough to settle her nerves. Emma stopped at the edge of the  surf, letting the water rush over her toes. So far, so good. She waded  out up to her ankles. To her calves. Knees.

She should dive in. Get it over with. Show herself that she'd turned  that corner on her own. Sure, Dex had held her hand, encouraged her, but  she wasn't dependent on him. She could do this.         

     



 

A particularly strong wave broke against her waist, flinging salt spray  at her face as it knocked her off balance. How had she gotten this deep,  this fast? Didn't matter. Righting herself, she fought the current and  forced herself deeper.

Do it. Stick your head under the water, then go back to the resort. Find Rachel and have a margarita.

She couldn't bend her knees. Tried. But they locked, refusing to allow  her to ease down into the rolling water. There was nothing to be done  but to fall backward. Drawing on a sudden burst of harmony that welled  up from somewhere way down inside, she did.

Her arms shot out, spread-eagled, as she smacked the surface and plunged  below. Sputtering, she pedaled her legs against the sandy bottom and  finally bit in with a heel, pushing herself free of the water.

Yes, she'd done it. Her pre-Chris self had prevailed. Wiping the water  from her eyes, she spun and smacked straight into Dex's bare chest.

His hands came up to steady her, warming her, as his concerned face snapped into focus. "Emma. Are you okay?"

"You're not supposed to be here."

He'd followed her. The whole time she'd been fighting with elements of  nature, with the fears and uncertainties, he'd been five feet from her.

Was that the only reason she'd been able to do it? Had her body somehow  sensed his presence and relaxed its moratorium on going below the  surface?

"I was on my way back to your room. The guys gave me the day off." His  thumbs smoothed over her shoulders, oblivious to the inner turmoil his  presence had stirred up. "I wanted to spend time with you before you  left."

"You didn't have to come in after me." A wave splashed against her back  as she stared at his disheveled hair that had been misshapen by her own  hands not that long ago.

"I …  wanted to be sure you were okay." He cocked his head. "But I wasn't  going to stop you. I was just watching. You know, in case."

"In case?" Her spine bristled. "Like there was a question about whether I was strong enough to do this on my own?"

"No, like the current is deceptive. You should never swim alone."

"I wasn't swimming," she pointed out defensively because of course he  was right. "I don't need you to protect me, Dex. Some things I have to  do on my own."

His hands slipped from her shoulders. "Okay. What should I have done?  Kept walking when I saw you wade out into the surf, pretending I hadn't  seen you put yourself at risk?"

"Yeah." And that was dumb to even say out loud when he wouldn't have  done that under any circumstances, but he had her all upset and  backward. "I'm going home tomorrow. Soon, you'll just be that hot guy I  had a fling with on vacation. You won't be around the next time I go in  the water. You won't be there to save me anymore."

Her heart twisted as she said the words, even though they were the God  honest truth. He wasn't her white knight for better or for worse, for as  long as they both shall live. When she went home to Boston, she wasn't  going to turn around at the door of her apartment to see him standing  there with a cocky grin, one hip resting against the brick wall opposite  her.

"I know that, Emma." His expression closed in, hardening. "You're  glossing over the part where I didn't alert you that I was here. I could  have. I could have put my hand on your back ten different times, like I  did when you were inching off the boat at a snail's pace. I could have  slid my fingers into yours, holding tight, like I did when we were  snorkeling. But I didn't. Because I wanted you to see how strong and  amazing you are all on your own. So you could go back home and put your  life back together."