Joey’s trying to form words, words garbled from the blood oozing from his mouth.

I wrench off my jacket, bunching it and pressing it against his wounds, yelling at him to stay with me. But when I look down, Tess’s face looks up.

It’s her broken body, her blood, her eyes fading into death, her hand lifting toward my face.

“Curran!” she cries.

“Curran!”

—

“Curran!” Tess’s voice snaps me out of sleep; so does her grip on my arm.

“Oh, God,” she says, her thin arms reaching for me.

I snatch her to me, pulling her tight, breathing hard.

Her hands smooth down my back. “It’s okay. I’m all right. I’m all right,” she repeats, struggling to take a breath.

I loosen my hold on her, only because I’m afraid I’m killing her.

Killing her.

Jesus.

She died in my arms because I failed to do my job. Just like I failed Joey. My arms go numb, and I sense her and reality slip away.

“Baby, stay with me,” she whispers. “Everything is okay. You’re all right.”

No. I’m not. In my dream, Tess’s blood soaked my knees as it seeped out of the holes in her back. It painted my face red when she reached up to touch me and tell me goodbye. “No.”

“No? No what, sweetie?” she asks, keeping her voice soft.

“You weren’t all right,” I answer her.

“Curran…” She sweeps her lips over my crown. “Do you want to talk about it? Maybe tell me what happened?”

Tell her what happened? Tell her how the bullets punctured her delicate skin—and how her eyes glazed over with death? How about I tell her that all I did was watch, since it was all I could fucking do?

She felt heavy in my arms. Dead weight? Is that what they call it?

My eyes sting as I grip her hips, but it’s Tess who cries. “Baby, tell me how to help you.”

Her heart breaks right then and there as I hold her. She wants to help; she just doesn’t know how.

But I do.

I place her on her back and bend to kiss her eyelids. “Don’t cry,” I tell her. “Please don’t cry.” I pass my thumbs beneath her eyes, wiping the tears moistening her cheeks as my lips press against her forehead, her nose, her chin.

I wait for her to settle, then slide my hand down the center of her chest before returning to knead each breast. Tess covers my hand with hers on my second pass, keeping it in place. “I don’t want to be just someone you have sex with,” she says. “I want to help.”

“This helps,” I tell her, truthfully.

She seems sad, like she doesn’t understand, so I do my best to explain. “I’m not good with words. But when I’m with you, I don’t need them. I only need to know you’re here, and real, and safe.”

Slowly, Tess drops her hand away. “This will help you?” she asks.

I nod, feeling myself get hard. “Yeah. It will.”

She shifts her body and lets her legs fall open. “Then let me help you.”

I lower myself on top of her and find her lips with mine. My fingers drag down her body. Against her soft skin, my world is less harsh. In her breaths, I find the air to fill my lungs, and in her warmth, the coldness fades, and I become alive.

There isn’t time to play.

I need her, and everything she gives me.

Jesus, my body is starved for her.

I reach between us and push inside of her, causing her spine to bow and a gasp to break our kiss. I cup her face, locking on to her sea-glass eyes as my hips withdraw and plunge.

Back. Thrust.

Back. Thrust.

Back. Thrust.

My eyes drill into hers and my hips pound. Her fingers clench my shoulders as the heat between her legs builds, slicking me, inviting me to go faster. I tilt her head forward, bringing her face and that expression of shock mixed with lust closer to mine.

This is good. So good. And just what I need.

My arm slinks behind her to tilt her pelvis, giving me access to that perfect spot. She whimpers, letting me know I found it. And when her whimpers grow more desperate, I know she’s peaking.

It’s exactly what I need to hear. That, and maybe a little more.

“Are you going to come for me?” I ask, breathing hard.

Her response releases in a long moan. “Yes.”

“Then come for me now,” I gasp. “I need to feel you come.”

Her expression breaks and tears stream down her face. Her eyes squeeze shut and she thrashes, her body losing control as she cries out my name.

I slow my rhythm but drive in deeper, prolonging her experience, and mine.

God, she’s everything.

My hips grind against hers as I fill her. I kiss her lips, taking my time before pulling out.

Carefully, I edge down and lower my head between her breasts. Her heart pounds against my ear, proof that she didn’t die, that I haven’t lost her, and that she’s mine.

If I let myself, I’ll fall asleep and stay this way until morning. I’m sure of it. But I need to keep hearing that heartbeat.

When it finally slows, I feel her fingers skim through my hair.

“Tell me about your dream,” she says.

Chapter 20

Curran

“Please tell me,” Tess says, again. “By the way you lashed out, and the way you were yelling, it must have been horrible.”

My knuckles brush along the curve of her waist. “I can’t.”

“Why?”

“It was too much” is all I can say.

“Because it involved me?” She swallows hard when I don’t answer. “It’s okay if it did.”

“No, it’s not.” I stare at the pile of law books stacked on her dresser without really seeing them. “I can’t lose you, Tess,” I admit. We’ve been together for more than two months now, and while it doesn’t seem like a long time, I can’t picture her and me not being together.

Her hands splay along my shoulders. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You did in my dream.”

Her hands stop moving. “It was just a dream.”

I shake my head against her skin. “No. It played out like the night Joey was shot. Only this time, you took his place. You took those bullets. I failed you, and because of it you died in my arms.”

My words should freak her out—hell, they freak me out. But I couldn’t stop them from shooting out of my mouth.

Shooting? I huff. Nice.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

“I am, too.”

Her voice remains calm as she strokes my hair. “Curran…I think you have PTSD.”

“I know what I have, Tess.” I’m not yelling at her, but I am yelling at myself. Mostly because there isn’t shit I can do to stop it. My frustration is, I should be able to stop it—turn it off like a switch or something. I’m better than this. Damnit, I know I am.

If she’s mad or hurt about the way I snapped, she doesn’t show it, keeping her motions and her voice gentle. “If you know what you have, then you also know you need professional help to overcome it.”

I adjust my weight against her. “No. I can’t. It’s not in me.”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Nor is it a sign of weakness. It can happen to anyone despite their strengths and preparation. Look at all the vets coming back from war, the firefighters who lived through 9/11…and your brothers and sisters in law enforcement. All of you deal with events that require physical and emotional strength beyond what most will ever face. But none of you are immune to the trauma your duties subject you to.”

“Tess, I get it. But you’re talking like a civilian from the outside looking in. I’m talking like a cop, and cops don’t talk. We keep it inside. It’s the only way to function given the amount of shit we see.”