Assumed Identity - By Julie Miller Page 0,59

fading bruise on her collarbone peeking out beneath the baby-blue pajama top she wore and feared he’d just put similar marks on her.

“Are you okay?” she whispered, brushing her fingertips against his bare, damp chest. She was petting him again, taming the instinctive fight response out of him while he...

“Oh, hell. Oh, honey...” Jake swore at what he’d done, at the violence that seemed to be a part of every heartbeat. He shifted his hips off hers and sat up, scooting to the far end of the couch. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He tried to push to his feet, but she got up on her knees and threw her arms around his neck before he could stand. “You can’t run and hide this time.” Her knees found a spot on either side of his left thigh and she pulled herself against his chest, sliding her soft cheek against his and hugging him close. “You’re all right. It was a nightmare. Let’s deal with it. Let’s face this together. You’re all right.”

“I hurt you.” He gripped the back and arm of the couch, fighting what his body wanted to do. “I didn’t mean...” And then her warmth and strength and stubborn spirit moved past the guilt and fear, and Jake wound his arms around her, squeezing her tight. “Oh, God, honey, I need...” He needed the warm human contact to ground himself back in reality. “I just need to hold you. Can I hold you?”

She nodded, rubbing her cheek against his. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”

“Safe?” He swiped at the tears that stung his eyes and buried his face in the fragrant softness of her hair. “I’m supposed to protect you.”

Her palms slid up against his scalp and across his back, wrapping him up in her shielding strength. “You’re not going to win this argument. Just talk to me.”

He almost laughed at the idea of her bossing him around. But it had been too long since he’d laughed, too long since he’d shared any part of himself with another person.

She pressed a kiss against his grizzled cheek and pulled back enough to stroke her fingers beside his eyes and beside his mouth. “Your face was contorted in such pain. You were thrashing and moaning. You scared me.”

“I’m sorry.” He leaned forward and stole a quick kiss. “I didn’t mean to. Usually, I just deal...” Her hands settled atop his shoulders and she waited expectantly for him to continue. “That’s why I was there that first night you were attacked.” He reached down to pull her legs from around his and settled her squarely on his lap. “I’d had a nightmare, and I thought a cold, long walk in the rain would clear my head. At first I thought...” He tangled his fingers into her sleep-mussed hair and tucked it behind her ear. “When I heard you scream, for a split second I was reliving...something. I had to save you. I’ve got this thing about saving people.”

“I know.” Her hands never left his skin; her gaze never left his face. “Was it the same nightmare tonight?”

Jake nodded. She asked a question—he tried to answer. That was the deal. Every time Robin forced him a little closer toward that civilized behavior she kept insisting on, the easier it became. “In my dreams, I have to kill someone or I’ll be killed.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. I’m killing shadows—stabbing, shooting, strangling with my bare hands—any way I can.” She gasped softly at the graphic images he described, but let him continue. “I think I’m saving lives but maybe I’m just saving my own skin. Either way, I’m failing. I’m bleeding. I’m...”

“Do you think it’s a memory trying to surface?”

“It sure feels real.” He clenched his teeth so tight against the images he’d seen that the muscles in his jaw were shaking. “You and Emma were there tonight, mixed up in all the violence. I couldn’t save you.”

“Oh, Jake.” She squirmed against his groin, waking something far more basic than the gentle warmth she stirred in other parts of his body as she lay her head on his shoulder and wound her arms around his waist. He felt the bead of a firm breast brush across his skin and every muscle she leaned against quivered in response. “Shh. We’re okay. Both of us are okay.”

Jake didn’t want to be feeling this desire heating his blood. Robin was lean and soft, wearing cotton pajamas that were far too thin for her not to notice the swelling response of all