Dare to Hold (Dare to Love 4)

“You’re right.” He tilted his head, looking into her eyes as he spoke.

“I am?”

“But you have to admit we’ve had a lot of different emotional topics going on. I can’t always know what’s best or get it right.”

She sighed, and the weight on her shoulders eased a little. “I’ll give you that.” Nothing between them was simple. Or easy. Not anymore.

His hand slid from her back to her hip, and he turned her to face him. “Don’t give up on me,” he said in a thick tone, his eyes a darker navy than she could remember seeing them, his expression serious. “I know I’ve given you reason not to trust me. I came on strong, and I pulled back … but that’s over now.”

She shook her head, not understanding. But her heart beat faster inside her chest.

“You’ve been great,” she told him honestly. “You stepped up when nobody else did. You’re making sure both me and my baby are safe. I’m grateful.”

His hand tightened on her waist. “I don’t want your gratitude, baby.”

Her heart tripped at his use of the word in that tone. He sounded more like the Scott who’d pushed his way into her life and promised he’d never leave and less like the man who’d pulled away emotionally.

She ran her tongue over her lips, gratified when his eyes followed the movement. “What do you want?”

“You,” he said gruffly, pulling her against him and kissing her hard.

If he was trying to make a point, he did it well, his tongue swiping over her lips, demanding entry she willingly gave. As he consumed her mouth, he held her hard against his hips, her body well aware of his hard length pressing into her. Excitement and yearning filled her veins, a liquid pulsing desire that spoke of true need and longing for this man. She kissed him back with everything she had, ignoring the warnings that tried to intrude.

Suddenly a loud car horn sounded, and she jumped back. “Get a room!” a man yelled out the window of a car that had pulled up the ramp of the parking garage. She and Scott were blocking the driver from leaving.

Certain she was blushing, she stepped to the side and waved. “Sorry,” she called toward the car’s open window as Scott joined her, laughing.

They didn’t discuss the moment outside the garage or the words he’d spoken, and Meg was grateful. Her head was spinning as it was, and she needed time to unwind and just be, something Scott seemed to sense.

Once they arrived at her apartment, they stopped at the mailboxes downstairs, and she pulled out the stack of letters and a bulky soft package that barely fit into the box.

Scott waited while she packed up a few more casual tops and other things she’d forgotten before rejoining him. “I’m just going to look through the mail here, so I only take what I need. I have my checkbook so I can mail out any bills I don’t do online.”

“Take your time.”

She sorted junk mail from bills, tossing the former into the trash. Her eye caught on the package, and she picked it up, looking for a return address. “Huh.”

“What is it?”

Scott asked.

“I don’t know.” She grabbed a scissor from a drawer in the kitchen and cut straight across the top. She turned it upside down and shrieked as a small baby doll, the head separated from the body, fell onto the table.

Meg stared, unable to believe what she was seeing.

“Holy shit,” Scott muttered. “Don’t touch it.” He grabbed her and pulled her back, away from the doll.

Shaking, Meg glanced up at him. “He’s lost his mind,” she whispered.

“He’s not going to get near you or the baby,” he promised, wrapping his arm around her and leading her away from the counter and the offending package.

“Let me just call someone to come pick this up and dust for prints. I don’t expect to turn up anything, but maybe we’ll get lucky.”

Meg didn’t reply. She couldn’t. She was too nauseous and scared to even try. This time, a friend of Scott’s from the force arrived, not a cop he didn’t know. The man took more interest in Meg and her case, and they processed the doll for evidence, but like Scott, he didn’t hold out much hope for prints.

Through it all, Scott held her hand or wrapped her in his protective embrace, and she didn’t think it made her weak to accept his comfort. Mike wanted to kill her baby. No way would she let it happen. Neither, she believed, would Scott, and that was the only thing that kept her marginally sane.

A very long while later, they returned to Scott’s house. She still didn’t speak, and he didn’t push, which she appreciated. His steady presence was all she needed.