himself hard today, harder than he usually did and his muscles were screaming for rest, for a few hours to rebuild what he’d broken down.
But it was hell trying to sleep one wall away from Ginger. Especially now that he knew how it felt to hold her.
He couldn’t stop replaying the scene in his head. Watching Ginger stop under the trees. Hearing the shifting and cracking of the limb, knowing it was going to crush her. Jumping out of his kayak and running through the water praying he’d get to her in time.
Sweating again at the thought of how close it had been, he kicked off the thin blanket covering his naked body. Finally, as the wind blew rain hard on the roof, Connor slept.
Ginger was wrapped deep in a dark and swirling dream where she was running through a forest full of falling widow makers when a cross between a scream and a roar woke her. Sitting up in bed, her hand on her heart, it took only a second to realize it was coming from Connor’s room.
Her stomach clenched with fear as she threw on a flimsy robe and shot out of her room. My God, what could possibly be happening to him? She shoved his door open.
From the dim light in the hall she could see that he wasn’t on the bed, but on his feet now, swinging at the air like a tortured beast, his eyes closed, his beautiful face taken over by rage. And deep, deep pain. His fists were closed so tightly the scars on his knuckles stood in out sharp relief and her heart broke into a million pieces as she watched this big, strong man fighting like hell against some demon in his head.
A voice in the back of her mind told her to leave him. That she should let him fight his battles alone. That he would probably break her in two if she got involved and he didn’t wake up.
But she couldn’t do that.
Not after he’d rushed in to save her from the falling limb tonight. Not after he’d taken the full force of the hit on his own back.
Not after he’d been so gentle, so protective of her out on the beach just hours before.
She ran over to Connor, any thoughts of fear gone. She put her hand on his arm and as soon as he felt her touch, he grabbed her forearm in a vice grip and pulled her against him, her robe opening and falling off her shoulders.
Oh God, he was squeezing her so tight, she cried out with whatever breath she could find.
“Connor! It’s me. Ginger. You’re having a bad dream. It’s just a dream. Please wake up.”
His eyes opened but she could tell he didn’t see her, that he was still trapped in his own personal hell. And then, in a flash, his eyes cleared and he came back to her, to his bedroom, to Poplar Cove.
His chest was rising and falling hard against hers and as their bare skin rubbed together, in the back of her mind it registered that he was naked and she nearly was. But it didn’t matter. Not when she’d just seen him go through something so horrible, not when she was so worried about him.
“What are you doing in here?” His words were as gruff and hard as he’d been when she’d first met him on the porch.
“I had to come, when I heard the—” She cut herself off as she realized just how much he was going to hate her having seen him like this. “I had to help you.”
His hands that had been so tightly gripping her shoulders moved, slightly at first, down over her shoulder blades, then farther down her spine, to her hips. His next words were so low she almost couldn’t make them out.
“And you thought this was how you could help me?”
She could hardly breathe, certainly couldn’t move, not when he was still holding her so tightly. Not when leaving his arms was the very last thing her body wanted. And then one of his hands curled into her hair and her head was tilting back and he was kissing her. Every part of her that was woman wanted to take this moment and give in to it. Give in to him.
Connor needed healing more than anyone she’d ever met, and imprisoned in his arms, with his mouth ravaging hers, while his hands
But it was hell trying to sleep one wall away from Ginger. Especially now that he knew how it felt to hold her.
He couldn’t stop replaying the scene in his head. Watching Ginger stop under the trees. Hearing the shifting and cracking of the limb, knowing it was going to crush her. Jumping out of his kayak and running through the water praying he’d get to her in time.
Sweating again at the thought of how close it had been, he kicked off the thin blanket covering his naked body. Finally, as the wind blew rain hard on the roof, Connor slept.
Ginger was wrapped deep in a dark and swirling dream where she was running through a forest full of falling widow makers when a cross between a scream and a roar woke her. Sitting up in bed, her hand on her heart, it took only a second to realize it was coming from Connor’s room.
Her stomach clenched with fear as she threw on a flimsy robe and shot out of her room. My God, what could possibly be happening to him? She shoved his door open.
From the dim light in the hall she could see that he wasn’t on the bed, but on his feet now, swinging at the air like a tortured beast, his eyes closed, his beautiful face taken over by rage. And deep, deep pain. His fists were closed so tightly the scars on his knuckles stood in out sharp relief and her heart broke into a million pieces as she watched this big, strong man fighting like hell against some demon in his head.
A voice in the back of her mind told her to leave him. That she should let him fight his battles alone. That he would probably break her in two if she got involved and he didn’t wake up.
But she couldn’t do that.
Not after he’d rushed in to save her from the falling limb tonight. Not after he’d taken the full force of the hit on his own back.
Not after he’d been so gentle, so protective of her out on the beach just hours before.
She ran over to Connor, any thoughts of fear gone. She put her hand on his arm and as soon as he felt her touch, he grabbed her forearm in a vice grip and pulled her against him, her robe opening and falling off her shoulders.
Oh God, he was squeezing her so tight, she cried out with whatever breath she could find.
“Connor! It’s me. Ginger. You’re having a bad dream. It’s just a dream. Please wake up.”
His eyes opened but she could tell he didn’t see her, that he was still trapped in his own personal hell. And then, in a flash, his eyes cleared and he came back to her, to his bedroom, to Poplar Cove.
His chest was rising and falling hard against hers and as their bare skin rubbed together, in the back of her mind it registered that he was naked and she nearly was. But it didn’t matter. Not when she’d just seen him go through something so horrible, not when she was so worried about him.
“What are you doing in here?” His words were as gruff and hard as he’d been when she’d first met him on the porch.
“I had to come, when I heard the—” She cut herself off as she realized just how much he was going to hate her having seen him like this. “I had to help you.”
His hands that had been so tightly gripping her shoulders moved, slightly at first, down over her shoulder blades, then farther down her spine, to her hips. His next words were so low she almost couldn’t make them out.
“And you thought this was how you could help me?”
She could hardly breathe, certainly couldn’t move, not when he was still holding her so tightly. Not when leaving his arms was the very last thing her body wanted. And then one of his hands curled into her hair and her head was tilting back and he was kissing her. Every part of her that was woman wanted to take this moment and give in to it. Give in to him.
Connor needed healing more than anyone she’d ever met, and imprisoned in his arms, with his mouth ravaging hers, while his hands
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