One Day in Apple Grove(57)

When she kissed then nipped the muscle there, he tensed. But then she licked where she bit and he relaxed beneath her, giving her his silent permission to do what she wanted with him. His open trust pushed her over the edge as she did a free fall into love.

Where did she start? Leaning her weight against him, she pressed her breasts to his back, loving the way he groaned out her name long and low. Shifting so that she could sit on his backside, she began to knead the knots out of his shoulders—impressive shoulders—until she decided to work her way down to his waist and then back up again.

She scooted down so she was straddling his ankles. Slowly and with deliberate feather-like touches, she skimmed her hands up and down his legs, pausing at the edge of his scarred flesh to press healing kisses to each pucker, every thick line of skin. Her reward was the loving look in Jack’s eyes when he rolled over and wrapped her in his arms. “I think I’m falling for you, Jack Gannon.”

He tightened his hold on her. The heat and warmth of him had her closing her eyes.

“I’m glad I’m not falling alone.” He pulled the satin sheets up to cover them and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

The thunder woke her. She lay quivering in bed; she hated thunderstorms. Lightning flashed and a crack of thunder struck close enough to have the hair on her arms standing on end.

Jamie whined, so she called to him, patting the bed beside her. He jumped up and curled up against her. Just as she was falling back to sleep, Jack started tossing and turning, mumbling in his sleep.

The storm was directly overhead now. Lightning flashed and thunder cracked endlessly. Jack shouted in his sleep, scaring the life out of her and Jamie. She tried to wrap herself around him, since he was still asleep, but he used his arms to break the hold she had on him. Surprised, but owing his reaction to a bad dream, she attempted to soothe him again.

This time, he jumped out of bed and shouted, “IED! Take cover!” As she tried to make sense of what was happening, he threw himself on the floor and cried out, “Bastards, can’t they let me finish sewing this marine back together before they blow us to kingdom come?”

Tears filled her eyes as he went through the motions of stitching an invisible marine back together while a battle raged around him. She had no idea what to do, how to handle the situation. Should she interrupt him? Would he try to tackle her to the ground, thinking she was the enemy?

“Stay, Jamie.” The little dog was terrified by the closeness of the storm outside…and the one in Jack’s bedroom.

When Jack sat back on his heels, she laid a hand on his shoulder and was tossed back against the bed. Such strength seemed superhuman, but what did she know about a person’s actions and reactions while they slept? She wasn’t the medical expert—Jack was.

“God, help me help him,” she prayed. Finally the storm moved farther away and he stumbled back to bed, pulling her into his arms.

When he started to snore, she knew he was safely sleeping—and not dreaming. She slipped out of his arms and his bed and went down to the kitchen. Hands shaking, she brewed strong coffee and waited for her delayed reaction to the violence to pass.

She had no idea how to handle a situation like this.

She poured the coffee when it was finished brewing and the shot of the caffeine hit her empty stomach hard. She ignored it, needing the jolt to shake herself free from the horror Jack seemed to be suffering from.

By the time she finished the coffee, she knew one thing—she was going to help Jack Gannon whether he wanted her to or not. The tricky part would be figuring out how.

One thing was certain—she wasn’t leaving. She was sticking. The sound of the stairs creaking had her looking toward the doorway, unsure of which Jack would be walking into the kitchen—the man she’d come to know or the tortured soul still serving as a navy corpsman.

Steeling herself to face the music and the man she was falling in love with, she turned and waited.

“Caitlin?” He seemed confused and uncertain, and that more than anything went right to her heart. She’d made the right decision.

“What are you doing down here?” Noticing the cup on the table, his gaze flicked up to meet hers. “Couldn’t you sleep?”

“The storm woke me up.” Watching his eyes for a reaction, she dove in head first, saying, “It sounded like something exploded, maybe one of the oak trees off the deck.”

He closed his eyes and he swore. She knew he understood when he asked, “Did I hurt you?”

Odd that that would be the first thing he asked and that he didn’t offer an explanation for what he must know happened. “Not really.”