I do?"
"You gave me Marisol. Without her, I never could have left that house. You gave me the courage to leave."
"If I'd known…" How much abuse was Damián responsible for? After all, he'd returned her to the monster's house that night.
She placed her finger over his lips. "It's not your fault. You're not to blame." Hearing her throw his own words back at him told Damián he'd at least gotten through to her mentally, whether she accepted the words for herself yet or not. Hell, she probably didn't believe them any more than he did. But guilt could eat a person alive. Man, did he know that.
Damián's gaze lowered to her full pink lips. Having her body pressed against his like this wasn't such a great idea at the moment. Control yourself, Chico . He'd spent more than six years regaining control of his life, his body, after Fallujah. Why couldn't he maintain control over one long-neglected part of his body at the moment?
He wasn't going to make a move on her, though. He'd only hurt her if he pushed her too far sexually, then abandoned her. Again.
Which he would have to do eventually. She needed a whole man.
That didn't mean he couldn't fantasize about being with Savannah again. Savi. Whatever the hell she wanted to be called. She was the woman he'd dreamt about for more than eight years.
Mi sueño.
Chapter Four
Savi had too much to lose to get involved with Damián. So, why did she feel the need to comfort him? She didn't want him to feel responsible for what her father had done to Savannah all those years ago.
She shuddered.
To her.
But she hadn't told Damián about her father back when they were two desperate nineteen-year-olds just seeking one day of perfection in each other's arms. There had been no need. She'd planned to end her life that night after he'd dropped her off at home. How could he know what horrors happened to her in the stately, but sinister, mansion on the hill in Rancho?
Damián's gaze warmed her lips, and she held her breath. She needed to get back to Mari. Now. Before it was too late.
Don't panic. This is Damián. He won't hurt you.
His head came toward hers and she shivered. How could she be hot and cold at the same time? Was she about to go into another panic attack? She opened her mouth to tell him she didn't want to do this, but Damián seemed to take it as an invitation and his lips brushed hers.
Savi's heart pounded. Fight or flight kicked in. Why couldn't she just enjoy the sensation of his kiss? Part of her wanted to respond and enjoy it. Heat pooled in her lower abdomen.
No!
I can't do this.
Damián pulled away and looked down at her. "You okay?"
She shook her head, but no words came out when she opened her mouth to speak. How had he known she needed to stop? No matter. The point was that he'd stopped, even without her needing to tell him to stop.
"I'm sorry, Damián."
"Sorry about what?"
"I can't." She couldn't even say the words, but surely he knew what she meant. She looked into Damián's deep brown eyes.
The pads of his thumbs brushed along her still damp cheekbones. "Tell me what you're feeling."
Feeling?
"Nothing."
But she had. And she didn't like it at all.
Savi shook her head and looked down in shame, trying to negate the response her body had had. She didn't want to feel anything sexual ever again. Kissing led to sex. Sex was dirty. Sex hurt. She splayed her hands against his chest and gave him a gentle push, but he didn't budge. Again the feelings of panic started to bubble up.
"Talk to me, Savi."
"I can't."
"Yes, you can. Look at me."
Her gaze rose to meet his. Why did he keep pushing? Worse still, why did she respond to him so docilely?
"Better." He smiled. "Now, when's the last time you were kissed—by a man, not Marisol or some air-kiss from a girlfriend. I mean the wet, heart-pounding kiss of a man."
Well, that was easy to answer. It had only happened with one person. "At Thousand Steps Beach."
He didn't mask the look of surprise on
"You gave me Marisol. Without her, I never could have left that house. You gave me the courage to leave."
"If I'd known…" How much abuse was Damián responsible for? After all, he'd returned her to the monster's house that night.
She placed her finger over his lips. "It's not your fault. You're not to blame." Hearing her throw his own words back at him told Damián he'd at least gotten through to her mentally, whether she accepted the words for herself yet or not. Hell, she probably didn't believe them any more than he did. But guilt could eat a person alive. Man, did he know that.
Damián's gaze lowered to her full pink lips. Having her body pressed against his like this wasn't such a great idea at the moment. Control yourself, Chico . He'd spent more than six years regaining control of his life, his body, after Fallujah. Why couldn't he maintain control over one long-neglected part of his body at the moment?
He wasn't going to make a move on her, though. He'd only hurt her if he pushed her too far sexually, then abandoned her. Again.
Which he would have to do eventually. She needed a whole man.
That didn't mean he couldn't fantasize about being with Savannah again. Savi. Whatever the hell she wanted to be called. She was the woman he'd dreamt about for more than eight years.
Mi sueño.
Chapter Four
Savi had too much to lose to get involved with Damián. So, why did she feel the need to comfort him? She didn't want him to feel responsible for what her father had done to Savannah all those years ago.
She shuddered.
To her.
But she hadn't told Damián about her father back when they were two desperate nineteen-year-olds just seeking one day of perfection in each other's arms. There had been no need. She'd planned to end her life that night after he'd dropped her off at home. How could he know what horrors happened to her in the stately, but sinister, mansion on the hill in Rancho?
Damián's gaze warmed her lips, and she held her breath. She needed to get back to Mari. Now. Before it was too late.
Don't panic. This is Damián. He won't hurt you.
His head came toward hers and she shivered. How could she be hot and cold at the same time? Was she about to go into another panic attack? She opened her mouth to tell him she didn't want to do this, but Damián seemed to take it as an invitation and his lips brushed hers.
Savi's heart pounded. Fight or flight kicked in. Why couldn't she just enjoy the sensation of his kiss? Part of her wanted to respond and enjoy it. Heat pooled in her lower abdomen.
No!
I can't do this.
Damián pulled away and looked down at her. "You okay?"
She shook her head, but no words came out when she opened her mouth to speak. How had he known she needed to stop? No matter. The point was that he'd stopped, even without her needing to tell him to stop.
"I'm sorry, Damián."
"Sorry about what?"
"I can't." She couldn't even say the words, but surely he knew what she meant. She looked into Damián's deep brown eyes.
The pads of his thumbs brushed along her still damp cheekbones. "Tell me what you're feeling."
Feeling?
"Nothing."
But she had. And she didn't like it at all.
Savi shook her head and looked down in shame, trying to negate the response her body had had. She didn't want to feel anything sexual ever again. Kissing led to sex. Sex was dirty. Sex hurt. She splayed her hands against his chest and gave him a gentle push, but he didn't budge. Again the feelings of panic started to bubble up.
"Talk to me, Savi."
"I can't."
"Yes, you can. Look at me."
Her gaze rose to meet his. Why did he keep pushing? Worse still, why did she respond to him so docilely?
"Better." He smiled. "Now, when's the last time you were kissed—by a man, not Marisol or some air-kiss from a girlfriend. I mean the wet, heart-pounding kiss of a man."
Well, that was easy to answer. It had only happened with one person. "At Thousand Steps Beach."
He didn't mask the look of surprise on
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