Caleb let out a long breath and held her tight. Adrenaline subsided, leaving him shaking harder than he had since he went on his first real op before he was even old enough to drink legaly.

Her head was tucked under his chin, and he could feel her breath fanning out across his neck. Her tears left cool, wet spots on his T-shirt. The honeysuckle scent of her skin wafted between them, and Caleb dragged it into his lungs, praying it would calm his frayed nerves.

She was safe. Plagued with nightmares likely caused by PTSD, but safe.

Caleb cupped the back of her head in his palm while the other hand smoothed down her delicate spine over and over. She fit against him perfectly, and the feel of her soft curves under his hands was like coming home. For about half a second, he nearly alowed himself to think of her as a woman, al sweet and soft in his arms. But then he ruthlessly slaughtered that thought and cursed himself for being such a selfish ass.

It wasn’t enough that he’d nearly kiled her, or that he now had to come back into her life and make her relive her past—he had to heap on a ful serving of dick-centered lust to go with it.

God, how could he be such a low-life scum?

He closed his eyes in regret, wishing that there wasn’t a huge canyon of ugly past between them. It would have been so nice to alow himself to think of her as a woman rather than an assignment. He would have shucked his jeans and T-shirt, crawled under those covers with her, stripped her naked, and warmed her with the most primitive of methods. If the rest of her skin was as silky as her arms, it would be like stroking sunshine when he touched her. The urge to find out was almost too much to bear, but Caleb held back. She deserved his restraint. She deserved a hel of a lot more, but right now, restraint was al he had to offer.

Her lips pressed against his throat. Caleb’s body clenched in a fit of pure animal lust. His jeans became uncomfortable, and his blood prowled in hot pulses through his veins. His fingers curled into soft flesh, and until then, he hadn’t realized her hip was under his palm. Somehow, his hand had snaked under her blankets without his permission and was resting on her nearly naked flesh. Only a narrow strip of her cotton panties separated his hand from her skin. He relaxed his grip, and his fingertips grazed over her skin as he did so, causing his stomach muscles to tighten.

God, she was so soft and smeled sweet and womanly against him. He’d always had a good sense of smel, and he knew that for the rest of his life, he’d remember just how she smeled right now, lying al warm and trusting and sleeping in his arms.

Her fingers slid up his chest and curled over the colar of his shirt. She had elegant hands. He remembered that from the hours he’d spent holding them, wiling her to live.

He probably knew the texture of her skin better than he knew his own, and her fragile bones were so slender that he could hardly feel them laced between his fingers.

He had no right getting this close to her. Hel, he could probably rol over in his sleep and hurt her without even trying.

She let out a sigh, which moved her lips and breath over his throat in a soft caress.

Caleb’s eyes slid shut, and he pushed his mind away from the physical feelings of his body. He’d spent years learning to ignore pain, fatigue, and hunger. Certainly he could ignore his lust.

Slowly, with so much effort it was almost humorous, Caleb untangled his body from Lana’s. If he stayed here holding her, he’d do something he’d regret. There was not a single doubt in his mind.

Lana woke up slowly, fighting off the grogginess that often plagued her after a rough night. She stretched and roled over onto a patch of pilow that held a subtle, masculine scent—a scent that brought back the memory of her dream last night. For the first time in months, she’d had a good dream—one in which Caleb had driven away her nightmares and held her in his arms. For a while, she’d felt like a normal woman with normal desires.

She’d actualy been happy, and it had been so long since she’d last been happy, she’d forgotten what that felt like.

The grogginess faded, but the scent of Caleb’s skin was stil on the pilow. It hadn’t just been a dream. He’d actualy been there.

Which meant he’d seen her at her worst, locked inside her nightmares.

Humiliation filed her stomach until she wanted to vomit. He’d seen her in her lowest, most vulnerable state, helpless and screaming over things that were no longer real

—things that were al in her head. Surely he’d think she was a total mental case now, which, she supposed, wasn’t far from the truth.

Her cheeks burned with shame, and she briefly thought about caling in sick so she wouldn’t have to go to work. She couldn’t face him today, not after last night. She’d die of humiliation.

She heard the gurgle of her coffee pot, and a few seconds later she smeled it brewing. He was stil here, in her apartment. There was no avoiding him, even if she caled in sick. She had to face him one way or another. Preferably after she’d showered and brushed her teeth.

Lana pushed out of bed and raced to the bathroom too fast for him to stop her from getting there safely. Fifteen minutes later, she was clean and dreading seeing him even more than before. She should have gotten her humiliation over with first and enjoyed her shower.

Lana wrapped herself in a plaid flannel robe she’d permanently borrowed from her father and bravely stepped out of the bathroom. He was sitting on her kitchen counter next to the coffee pot, reading her newspaper. He wore a white cotton T-shirt that blazed in comparison against the deeply tanned skin of his throat and arms. He looked up from the paper as she padded into the kitchen, suddenly feeling indecent wearing only a thin layer of body lotion and her father’s huge bathrobe.

“Coffee?” he asked, watching her with solemn black eyes.

Lana nodded, not trusting herself to speak when those feelings of shame were starting to swel again upon the sight of him.

“I hope you don’t mind that I helped myself to your paper.”

“No. Of course not. I rarely have time to read it anymore, anyway.”

He slid off the counter and stood to his ful height. He seemed to fil the kitchen with his large presence, nearly blocking out the overhead fluorescent lighting.

The memory of him carrying her out into the sun flashed in her mind, so potent and powerful that it made her sway. Lana gripped the counter behind her to steady herself and felt Caleb’s hands wrap around her upper arms. His fingers were hard, hot bands that completely encircled her biceps, making her feel vulnerable and protected al at the same time. She had no idea how he did that, and it kept putting her off balance.

“You need to eat something. You had a rough night.”

Lana blinked up at him, trying to make sense of his words. “Rough?”

“The nightmares,” he said in a bleak, harsh tone.

She felt her face heat with embarrassment. “I’m sorry you had to see that. They’re not usualy so bad,” she lied.

Rage flared in his eyes and tightened his jaw. His cheeks darkened with anger, and his hands tightened slightly around her arms. “Bulshit.”

Lana shrugged, feeling the strength of his grip around her arms. She couldn’t think straight when he was touching her. “Think what you like. It’s none of your business, anyway.”

He cursed a low, violent word. “I’l take care of the door if you give me your landlord’s name and number.”

“The door?” Lana hadn’t even noticed until he’d said something that her front door was lying in two splintered pieces against the hole it had once fit into. “You did that?

With or without the help of a battering ram?”

“Sorry. I heard you screaming and I thought—”

“It doesn’t matter what you thought. This never should have happened, and it wouldn’t have if you’d left like I asked you to.”

“What would you have done last night if I hadn’t been here?” he demanded.

“The same thing I do every night. Get through it.” She wished the words back into her mouth the second she saw his face darken.

“You mean you have those nightmares every night?” He was so close she could see the golden brown flecks in his black eyes nestled against his pupils.

“It’s none of your business. Can’t you get that through your head? I don’t want your help.”

His jaw bunched under the force of his clenched teeth. He released her arms and turned around, but not before she saw the look of hurt that crossed his hard features. The cloth of his shirt stretched to contain the thick layers of muscle over his ribs and along his spine. Lana’s mouth went dry, and she couldn’t help but stare. He was such a powerfuly built man, yet when he touched her, he was achingly gentle.

Lana rubbed her arms, trying to hold in the heat of his touch. Whether or not she wanted him here, there was something soothing in his touch—something that calmed the parts of her soul that were constantly screaming in fear.

He turned back around a moment later, looking solemn and calm once more. His gaze fel to her hands, which were stil futilely trying to hold the memory of his touch. “Did I hurt you?”

She let her arms fal hastily to her sides and felt that embarrassed flush rise up her throat again. “No.”

He took her arm and shoved the loose sleeve of her robe up to her shoulder. There was not a sign that he’d even touched her. Not even a pink mark of irritation, just pale, naked skin.

His nostrils flared, and his fingertips just barely grazed along her arm.

Lana shivered in a purely feminine reaction, and Caleb’s gaze shot up to meet hers. She was sure he could see every bit of her feelings about him in her face—every bit of solace his touch gave her, every sliver of calm he offered, every single horrible memory he dredged up with his presence. He just kept looking, making her feel stripped bare of al her secrets.

Those golden slivers in his eyes widened, outlining the sudden dilation of his pupils. Then his thick black lashes lowered, veiling his eyes as he went about the job of checking her other arm for damage.

When he was satisfied that she was whole, he stepped back, and in that single step, he put an entire world of distance between them. His emotions vanished, and he donned the mask of professionalism so easily it left Lana reeling, wondering if she’d seen anything at al in his eyes.

Caleb slugged down his coffee, poured another cup, and finished that one off, too. Even though it burned al the way down, it was much cooler than the blood pumping through his veins.

God, he wanted Lana.

He knew he shouldn’t want her. He figured his attraction to her was just a cruel joke of fate, but he wasn’t laughing.

It was al he could do not to rip that oversized robe off her and run his hands over every bit of the naked skin beneath. And he knew for a fact that she’d been naked under that robe, too. He could smel her body al warm from her shower, the lotion she’d smoothed onto her skin, and the subtle, womanly scent that was al her own.

When he’d touched her, she’d blushed. He wasn’t sure whether it was out of anger or embarrassment or desire, but he knew which he wanted it to be. He’d wanted to part the lapels of that droopy robe and see just how far down her chest that blush went. He’d bet his last dolar that it would go al the way down to cover her smal, high breasts and her tight little nipples.