The Unseen Enemy Series

Chapter 116

“Do you – do you blame me for what happened? For what that sick f**k did to you in the conference room, and for the end of your career?”

“No.”

“But how can you not?” he asked, and she heard the despair in his voice.

“Because I only blame one person, and he’s dead. You killed him as he held a knife to my throat and whispered in my ear that he was going to s***h it wide open. Greg Wallace did all of this to me, and I know that he was sick and maybe one day I’ll feel pity for him… but right now, I’m angry as hell at him. Only at him.” Her eyes held his. “I know what it cost you to pick up that rifle again, babe, what you risked losing of yourself by doing that. I know how slim the chances were that you were going to make that shot. But you did it anyway, and you saved my life. I love you for that.”

“You do?”

“Yes. I do.” She got to her feet, and came to him. She stood right in front of him, close enough for him to feel her body heat. “I love you.”

Dallas reached for her now, pulled her down and onto his lap. She went willingly, wrapping her arms around his neck. Dallas buried his face in her throat, inhaling her sweet scent, needing to reassure himself that she was there with him. That she needed him, and wanted him, and loved him. Dallas held her tighter, almost too tight, unable to believe what a miracle she was.

“I love you, baby,” he said, and his voice broke. “I love you so, so much… please don’t ever hate me, OK?”

“Never,” she whispered. “Not ever.”

He raised his head and she gazed down at him. She smiled and he pulled her mouth to his. When their lips met, they both sighed at how right it felt to be together again. Dallas touched her uninjured cheek gently, and her eyes welled up at how tender those hands were on her body. Such a large, lethal man – and the care he showed her took her breath away.

She stood up and held out her hand. “Take me to your bed, Dallas.”

He took it and got to his feet, uncertain. “To… to make love? You’re not ready, are you?”

“I’m not ready, you’re right.” She ran her fingers over his chest, loving his strong, steady heartbeat. “Just hold me, OK? Let me sleep in your arms. Make me feel safe again.”

He stroked her hair back from her stunning face. “I can do that, baby.”

Olivia nodded. “I know.” She led him to the bedroom. “You’re the only person in the whole world who can.”

****

The next morning, Dallas woke up first. He held Olivia close, looked at her face in the winter morning sun, so calm and peaceful.

She’d taken the bandage off her cheek before going to sleep, and he examined the stitched wound closely. He knew that she’d have a scar, and that no matter how much it faded over time, it would always be visible.

He hadn’t seen the cuts on her chest and stomach yet; she was still working her way up to that with Francine’s help, she'd said. He’d told her the night before that she could show him when she was ready. He’d wait. Then he’d run his tongue over every inch of her body, worshipping it, adoring it.

When she’s ready.



But the visible scars were nothing compared to the invisible ones. She was starting her whole life over again in so many ways. Her career had exploded overnight, she was selling the house that she now hated and feared, she had lost her whole social circle and lifestyle. She was afraid, he knew, and she had nightmares about being watched secretly, about being held down and cut up. It would take time and therapy, and Dallas was determined to be there through all of it. Whatever she needed.