Going Dark Read online

  He reached for her, and then it was too late. He couldn’t change his mind if he’d wanted to. She was in his arms, his mouth was on hers, she was under him, and he was inside her again. Thrusting. Pounding. Loving.

  Over and over. All night long. Telling her with his body what he could not with his words.

  I want you.

  I need you.

  And then sometime near dawn when her legs were wrapped around his neck and he was pinned deep inside her making her come for the last time, I . . .

  Shit.

  I can’t.

  • • •

  Annie thought she’d won. Somewhere in the middle of the night, the lovemaking turned from fierce to gentle. The hard, powerful thrusts grew longer. Slower. More rhythmic. His hands caressed . . . cradled . . . lingered. The heat in his eyes softened, his gaze never leaving her face.

  He cared about her. He couldn’t make love to her like this and not care about her. It was in every gentle touch, every tender kiss, every deep stroke as he laid claim to more and more of her heart.

  The swell of emotion in her chest was too powerful to deny. Too clear not to recognize. She was falling in love with him. And he was falling in love with her, too. He couldn’t turn his back on this now.

  Her fingers gripped. Clenched. Dug into the unyielding muscle of his shoulders, his arms, his back. Pleading—no, demanding with every stroke.

  Don’t go.

  His body was pressing down on her, solid and heavy. And hot. So incredibly hot. She arched. Pressed. Her body needing to absorb every thrust.

  Stay here . . . right here.

  It was so perfect. If she could just hold on . . .

  He was inside her. Stretching her. Filling her. Each thrust touching a deeper and deeper part of her until she couldn’t hold on any longer. Until the sensations were too much. The pleasure too intense. The feelings too powerful.

  She felt his final thrust. This one deeper. More forceful.

  Mine.

  Yours.

  She couldn’t hold on any longer and let go. He gave her what she wanted. Everything. Holding nothing back. The guttural cry that tore from his lungs was so acute, so overwhelming and all-encompassing, it almost sounded of pain. But it wasn’t. She could feel the force of his pleasure, the raw power of his climax, as it reverberated through them both. She let it fill her, join with her own as the shuddering spasms intensified.

  When it was all over, there was nothing left to be said. Nothing that needed to be said. It was all right there in the sated collapse of naked bodies and entwined limbs.

  She hadn’t been wrong. She knew it with every fiber of her being. This meant something. They meant something. He’d told her in every way that mattered except for words.

  She just hadn’t heard what else he was telling her.

  • • •

  Annie woke to emptiness.

  She knew even before her hand reached to the side and landed not on a warm, naked chest, but on the cool, crisp cotton of a sheet that hadn’t been lain on for a long time.

  He was gone.

  She opened her eyes, shying from the light as much as from confirmation. But the evidence was as plain as day: she was alone. Her things—what she had of them—had been removed from his backpack and were stacked neatly on the dresser next to the TV.

  She sucked in her breath. Cold and sharp, the air pricked her chest like needles in a pincushion. The pain was oddly welcome. She was surprised that she could feel at all. The rest of her was numb.

  So this was it? This was how it ended? Waking up alone in bed after the most amazing night of her life?

  The cruelty of reality overwhelmed her. All she could do was lie there, the sheet pulled up to her chin as if she could hide from the truth, blink back the pain, and fight the tears that rose up the back of her throat in a fist of tightness and heat.

  Last night had been so perfect she’d thought . . .

  God, she was such an idiot. She’d completely misread what he’d been trying to tell her. He hadn’t been making her promises; he’d been telling her good-bye. It had been there in every lingering touch, every sweet stroke, every poignant kiss—she just hadn’t been listening. She’d only heard what she wanted to hear.

  She thought that if she forced him to confront his feelings, he wouldn’t be able to walk away. But real life wasn’t a romance novel. He might care for her—and might have given in to their passion temporarily—but it hadn’t changed anything. Whatever he was involved with, it was bigger than her. Bigger than them.

  He was right. Maybe she did live in Fantasyland. At her core, Annie was an idealist. She thought that if two people cared about each other, they could find a way. That there were no problems too big to be overcome. That if he cared about her—maybe even loved her—he wouldn’t be able to walk away, no matter what kind of trouble he was in or mission he was on.

  But that wasn’t the way the world worked. He’d been telling her that from the start. Mr. Tell-it-like-it-is, not how she wanted it to be. She just hadn’t wanted to believe him.

  She believed him now.

  She wiped angry tears from her cheeks. She was angrier with herself than with him. She had no right to be hurt. No right to be disappointed. He’d never made her any promises—the opposite actually. He’d told her exactly how it was going to be.

  She was the one who’d let herself get carried away. She’d tried to keep her distance. Tried to keep it casual. Tried to keep her feelings under control. But just because she’d done a horrible job of it didn’t mean he owed her anything.

  Not even a good-bye.

  She lay back down and curled up in a ball on the bed. If she didn’t get up, maybe it would just be a bad dream.

  But the dampness on her pillow told her the tears were real.

  God, how had she let this happen? How had she let herself think it could work? She knew better. The mission always came first with men like him. But she’d convinced herself it would be different—that he would be different. She’d relaxed her guard. Made herself vulnerable. Let herself need someone. She’d let herself rely on him—something she hadn’t let herself do since she was a child.

  Which was fine when they were in danger. But it wasn’t so great when they weren’t.

  For the second time in her life, a bigger-than-life, I-can-do-anything man she thought she could count on had left her. Ironically for opposite reasons. Her father because he’d turned out to be only too human, and “Dan” because he’d turned out to be too strong. Too much the cold, hard professional “machine” she’d accused him of being. The operator who could turn off his emotions for the sake of the mission. He might care for her, but he wouldn’t let that interfere with what he had to do.

  She wanted to hate him for it, but how could she hate the very qualities that made him the man he was?

  She’d been right about him in the beginning. Guys like him were good at coming to the rescue. They were who you’d want by your side when the shit hit the fan. But when it was over, they moved on to the next one just like superheroes. There was a reason it took Superman sixty years to finally marry Lois Lane. Batman was still single.

  So now what?

  Annie wiped the tears from her cheeks and sat up. This puddle-of-tears, abandoned girl wasn’t her. She was devastated, but she wouldn’t lie here in misery.

  She had to pull on her big-girl panties and suck it up. Face reality. He was gone and not coming back.

  She might feel weak and helpless at the moment, but she wasn’t. She was a strong, capable, grown woman who knew how to be happy on her own. She might have wanted a life with him, but she didn’t need it.

  But the “girl power” pep talk wasn’t helping right now. Right now she was too raw. Too fragile. Too hurt. But tomorrow she would hone her inner Scarlett and maybe feel a little better, the next day a li