Kiss Me, Kill Me

TWENTY-FIVE

Sean heard Lucy cry out at the same time something hit his chest. Waking instantly, he reached for his gun on the nightstand, but quickly realized there was no intruder.

Lucy was writhing next to him, her hands swatting the air in front of her, eyes squeezed closed. She hit him again, and he switched on the hotel room’s light. His heart raced, but he spoke calmly. “Lucy. Lucy, wake up.”

Was he not supposed to wake someone in a nightmare? He didn’t know, but he couldn’t let her remain in this terrified state. Sweat coated her face, but her skin was ice cold. Every muscle was coiled; she was in full panic.

“Lucy! It’s Sean! I’m right here.” He spoke right in her face, hoping she would hear him through whatever torment she was suffering. He desperately needed to break her out of her dream.

Suddenly, she jumped out of the bed and backed against the wall, eyes wild, clearly not remembering where she was.

He leapt over the bed and stood in front of her, palms up, wanting to hold her but fearing that if he touched her she’d scream. “Lucy, it’s me. It’s Sean. You’re safe.”

At first, she didn’t see him. The fear in her eyes was as real as if she were at that moment facing an attacker. Then her eyes widened in recognition and her lips trembled. She threw her arms around his neck, tears running down her cheeks as her body shook in silent sobs.

He picked her up and carried her to the couch on the other side of the suite. He sat with her in his lap and she gripped him tightly. “Don’t let go. Don’t let go,” she repeated.

“Never.” He rocked her until at last her body began to relax. Her heart was beating so hard he thought he could hear it. Or was that his? He kissed the top of her head. “I’m right here, Lucy. You’re safe. You’re safe,” he repeated, as much for himself as for her.

Her breathing evened out as he held her. He didn’t know how long he sat with Lucy cradled in his lap, holding her, stroking her hair, still damp from her panic, rubbing her back, not thinking. He couldn’t think about anything. He just needed to touch Lucy. Every nerve in his body was raw with grief-coated anger from seeing the raw terror on Lucy’s face in the moment between sleep and waking.

He thought she might have fallen back to sleep, but when he shifted position, she sighed and nuzzled his chest, her knees drawing up. He kissed her forehead and realized she was cold.

He started to get up but she said, “Don’t go.”

“I’m not going anywhere. You’re freezing; I want to get you warm.”

Sean carried her to bed, then lay down next to her and pulled the blankets around her. He reached over and turned off the light, hoping he could hold her until her heart rate returned to normal, until she fell into a dreamless sleep in his arms. He would cling to her the rest of the night, protecting her from her fears. His heart still pounded.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” He continued to touch her, as if to assure himself that she was safe. Her face burrowed into his neck, and he kissed her forehead. “How long?”

She didn’t say anything and he thought she wasn’t going to answer.

“Lucy?”

“They went away for a long time. But the last couple weeks …” Her voice trailed off.

Sean bit back a profanity that Lucy didn’t need to hear right now. Five weeks ago, her past had confronted her again when her rapist had been found shot to death only miles from her house. Why didn’t he see that she was in pain, even now?

“It’s not every night,” she added.

“Even once is too often.” He kissed her forehead again, and adjusted her into the nook of his arm. Her body curved against his. Her feet were cold. He pulled one of them between his calves to warm it.

Sean wanted to sleep in Lucy’s bed every night. He wanted to protect her from dangers real and imagined and remembered. He wanted to hold her close, to make love to her, or just listen to her breathe in peaceful sleep. He wanted to make her smile and hear her laugh every single day of his life. He wanted to show Lucy how much he loved her. He dreaded returning to Washington knowing they’d be going back to their separate homes.

“Sometimes,” she whispered, “I feel so empty. Like there’s nothing left inside and I’m alone.”

“Oh, sweetheart, don’t.” He found her lips and kissed her. “You’re never going to be alone. I’m here.” He kissed her again. “I love you, Lucy. I’m not going anywhere.”

I love you.

Lucy’s breath hitched when she tried to tell Sean she loved him. She couldn’t get the words out. She wanted to, but fear stopped her, fear of losing Sean, fear of losing herself. Fear that she would never be normal, no matter how much she pretended that everything was all right. The nightmares, her past, her future—or what was left of it. She wanted to love Sean, she wanted to stay here with him, to forget that anyone else existed, to forget pain and sorrow so deep that if she thought about it she’d break into a million pieces and no one would be able to help her. She didn’t want Sean to suffer her burden. It wasn’t fair to him.

She was teetering on the brink. Her cool façade was just that, an act, a hard shell she’d erected not only to stop pain from coming in, but to prevent her emotions from leaking out. Sometimes she felt blank, without the capacity to love or hate, able only to exist. And sometimes the deep-seated fear and hate and regret and endless sorrow that simmered in her core threatened to boil over until she wanted to scream. How could she cultivate the ability to love someone, to hope for a bright future, when she didn’t even know if she had love to give?

She couldn’t speak, but she could give Sean a small piece of herself, show him that she needed him.

Lucy felt for his unshaven face and held it between her hands, then kissed him. She kissed him until she felt as warm inside as she was outside, wrapped in his arms. His body temperature was always raised; he could wear shorts in winter and be hot to the touch. She kissed him until all remnants of the nightmare memories that had been plaguing her for weeks faded far away into the dark corners of her mind. She kissed him as if she were dying and he was her only hope for survival. And maybe he was. Maybe he could save her from shattering.

It was a fine line between commitment and obsession, a narrow path separating sanity from lunacy. She walked it every day, an acrobat on a tightrope, fearing she’d fall straight down and there would be no safety net, personally or professionally. Lucy knew she could lose herself in her past just as easily as she could lose herself in her future. She felt close to being a whole, normal person only when she was pursuing justice, focused on helping others.

Except now. Except with Sean.

Her hands were on his bare chest, and she pushed him onto his back, rolling on top of him, never letting his lips leave hers. His biceps flexed around her body as she straddled him. She felt a groan deep in his chest. She had no words, no thoughts, just a deep, extreme physical need.

Never had she been so forward, so urgent, in lovemaking. Sean’s hands were on her back, holding her tight, as if afraid to let her go and lose this unspoken, overwhelming desire. She tossed her T-shirt and panties across the room and pushed down Sean’s boxers, without breaking contact for more than a fraction of a second. She needed his hands, his arms, his entire body wrapped around her, inside her, filling her emptiness, completing her as only he could.

She gasped as she controlled Sean’s entry, but slid down smoothly, firmly, without hesitation. She broke the kiss as her back arched up, sweat coating her body and his. She held still for a long moment, savoring this instant flash of pleasure so natural, so real, so primal. A wave of heat washed over her and she pushed the blankets off impatiently.

Sean pulled her back to his chest, his lips on hers, as their bodies moved in unison, jumping from first gear to overdrive. Lucy gasped each time he went deep, his hands pulling her onto him as he pushed himself into her. Their lovemaking was perfectly timed, as if they joined together like this every night and had for years, though it was all still new and fresh and exploratory.

Sean said something but Lucy couldn’t hear over her rushing blood, as every muscle in her body tightened simultaneously, then released in a flood of ecstasy that surprised her so much she exclaimed Sean’s name in a voice that sounded nothing like her.

Sean thrust in a final time and held her tightly against him, their bodies hot and thoroughly pleasured. He didn’t let go when he was done, his hands moving from her butt to her back to her hair. He grabbed it in his fists and pulled her face to his and kissed her again, just as passionate and heated as before.

“Lucy,” he murmured into her mouth.

Lucy felt languid and so relaxed she didn’t think she could move. Sean sensed the shift inside her, and adjusted their position so she returned to the crook of his arm, but her head tilted so he could kiss her. She sighed contentedly, feeling like a lazy cat must when stretched out under a sunbeam.

“You’re smiling,” Sean said.

“I am.” And like a lazy cat, she was satiated and tired. She sank into a blissfully dreamless sleep.