Chapter 14

Warm hands cupped her cheeks and Nate's face blurred in front of her. "Close your eyes. That's it." His hoarse, low tone caressed her ears. "Think of a happy memory. Something that happened here."

Justin's grin immediately came to mind. Once, they'd been brushing down the horses after a ride, and he'd nailed her with a stream of water from the hose. Except, her cocky brother hadn't paid attention to what he was doing and tripped over a bucket. Lord, she'd laughed so hard her side ached.

"There you go." Nate grabbed both her wrists. "Keep your eyes shut." He guided her a few steps forward and moved behind her. Taking her hand, he set it on something soft. "Touch is a sensory. Keep that memory while you're doing it." Under his direction, he had herpet whatever was beneath her palm. "Open your eyes."

They were standing in front of one of the stalls. Leia, their youngest gelding, held her nose close to the gate, enjoying the attention like the princess she was named after.

Smiling, Olivia stroked her again. "How'd you learn to do that?"

"Therapy. It was forced on me after the injury." His breath teased her hair.

"Well, it worked." For her, anyway.

His hands fell on her shoulders. "You may have to repeat the process a lot." He stilled as if contemplating something, then swept her hair to the side. "Memory replacement is another technique." Gently, he massaged her neck with his thumbs. "The object is to return to a scene and substitute the bad feelings with good ones."

Oh God. His hands were freaking amazing. And talented. Firm fingers, soothing motion. "Substitute feelings?" she breathed.

He dipped his face near hers, their cheeks brushing. The rasp of his beard grazed her skin and sent every nerve in her body on fire as he pressed closer, cradling her against him. "Are you scared right now? Panicked or upset?"

"No."

"Do you feel good?" His hot breath fanned her jaw.

She moaned and tilted her head back, fully leaning on him. "Yes." So, so good. Her breasts ached and her panties grew damp. "Yes," she repeated. Pleaded.

His hands moved from her shoulders to her collarbone and slipped under her sweatshirt. Chest rising and falling in a rapid pant, he brushed his nose against the shell of her ear, then pressed his lips there. "I don't understand how you do this to me. But hell, you make me feel good, too."

Reaching around, she grabbed the backs of his thighs, earning a low, rumbling groan. His thick muscle was tense under the denim, yet his touch was tender. His fingers delved lower, tracing the outline of her shirt while his mouth moved to her neck. Feather-light kisses and unspoken words fluttered against her skin, and her legs buckled.

He instantly wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her to him. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have" Face pressed in her hair, he sighed. "I forget to think when I'm close to you."

He wasn't the only one. And why was that a bad thing?

She turned in his arms and he gripped the stall bars above her head, leaning into them. His lids fell closed asguilt?furrowed his brows. His scent of soap and warm male filled her nose, surrounding her because of the sweatshirt and his nearness. It was beginning to become familiar and she wanted to bury her face in his neck, breathe nothing except him.

This attraction was about more than just the two of them. It had grown and cultivated. She was caged by bulging biceps and a fortress of a chest, in a place where, hours ago, something awful had happened. Yet all she could do was focus on how badly she wanted him. All he seemed capable of doing was denying it. With everything he had.

"I don't understand." She pressed her lips together, rolling them over her teeth.

He opened his eyes, gaze trained heavenward. "Ditto."

"No. I mean, you said you couldn't do this, that it wasn't right and"

"I know what I said, Olivia." He still refused to look at her, his position stiff and unrelenting.

"I gave you space." She pushed the hair away from her face with both hands, growing frustrated. "I stayed away from you because I thought that's what you wanted. Forget what happened were your words."

His biceps flexed as if he'd fisted the bars tighter. His jaw ticked to the beat of her pounding heart and his nostrils flared like a confined bull.

"Is it what you want? Do you want me to forget?"

He shook his head, turned it away, and set his chin near his shoulder in a clear move that proved he was ready to snap. Veins and tendons popped on his neck and his tat sleeves came to life with the ripple of muscles.

"You claimed to not be the right guy for me. But one minute you act like being near me hurts you, and the next you're touching me as if you want to be that man." His only response was a steady increase in his respirations. "If you don't want to try"

"I do," he growled and shoved off the bars. He stalked away and came back. "Everything I said was true. But you make me burn, Olivia." He fisted a hand over his heart. "I don't understand it and I'm doing my best to fight. You are this strange anomaly that's become an obsession. So, yes, I want to try. Can I? No."

A cold sense of unease wove around her and chilled the blood in her veins. Not from his livid mood or his prowling, but because something was very, very wrong if he had to deny himself something he wanted. She scrolled through the fragmented conversations they'd had and latched onto the one thing he'd said that fit.

"Why are you unaccustomed to touch?"

Cursing a wicked streak, he set his hands on his hips and glared at the floor as if expecting it to swallow him.

There. An answer without him saying a thing. "Does it hurt? When I touch you, I mean?" Holy Lord in Heaven, please tell her this wasn't due to an abuse situation from his childhood.

"No."

"Does it make you uncomfortable?" There had to be a valid explanation. The few times they'd been in contact, his mouth said one thing and his body another. She didn't know which to listen to.

"Christ," he muttered and pinched the bridge of his nose. "No, no, and more no. I'm not feeding you a line here. It's me, not you." He strode forward two feet, right up to her until their chests bumped. His golden brown eyes were dialed to say-a-prayer and dilating darker by the second. His irises were nearly swallowed by his pupils. "No one's ever touched me."

What? "You can't be serious."

His unrelenting expression didn't waver.

And her heart cracked. Right in two. "Ever? I don't"

"Foster care, Olivia. Since infancy, I got moved around from one place to the next. Cuddling wasn't part of the system's M.O."

He was killing her. Killing. Her.

She exhaled a turbulent gust and rubbed her forehead. "After you aged out?" Surely, he'd had sex. Partners. Something.

"Minimal." He pointed at her as if reading her mind. "Uh-uh. No, I'm not a damn virgin and I'm damn good in the sack. Doesn't mean I'm up for fondling and everything else."

Then he'd never been intimate, truly intimate, with anyone, woman or otherwise. Had he not beenhugged? Held? She couldn't fathom it. For crying out loud, the poor man had never been loved. Did he matter to anyone?

"And we can call this exercise a rip-roaring success." He gestured toward the exit. "Let's go. You need to sleep and I need a drink."

She knew exactly what he needed and it wasn't alcohol. But she didn't think he'd allow her to show him.