Dawn Discovered

"You already have an invitation into my bed." Gina clutched Hunter's shoulders. He was good at what he did. Nipping at the narrow strip of flesh beneath her blouse and the waistband of her jeans, swabbing over the sting of his teeth on her skin with the tip of his tongue. He left her breathless and shaking. Forgetting why giving in and spending the summer with him was such a bad idea. His hands wandered around her hips to cup her butt, pulling her close to him as he nuzzled her stomach.

"And your heart?" Hunter asked. Reluctantly, he released Gina and zipped the bag. When they'd first started this game between them. She'd been the one to demand. She'd forced him to face truths about himself. And now she was the one trying so desperately to hide from the truths she needed to face about herself. She wanted to forget everything they'd suffered. She wanted to exist. But, that wasn't what he wanted for her. He knew what it was like to exist and not really live. And he was not going to let it happen to her. She would live, truly live. Forever with him, if he had his way about it. And damn was he ever going to try to win her. He knew all too well how brief forever was. And forever was but a blink of an eye. But, it was enough, as long as he lived it with her.

"I'll go water my plant." Gina couldn't answer what she didn't know. To do so might be to lie. There were too many variables to answer honestly. Unlike Hunter, she hadn't found her way back to who she was yet. She still lived in the shadows of a life that no longer fit her and in the dawn of a life she was terrified to grab hold of. She didn't know if she ever would trust herself enough to let anyone in. She'd wanted so badly to save him. And she had. Now it was her turn to be saved and his to do the saving.

"Step by step," she muttered to herself. It was the best advice anyone had ever given her. And of course, it'd come from Hunter's lips. He'd been by her side as she took her first timid steps into a much bigger world. He'd encouraged and coaxed her to live again. Not to return to her life, as she'd known it, but to truly live. "Day by day," she whispered as she picked up her plant and set it beside the bags piled on the floor. The plant was half-dead. The dry, brittle leaves dangled limply from a wilting green stalk. But, with a little tender loving care, she could bring it back to life.

He stared down at her as she crouched on the floor, double-checking the bags he'd packed. Gina smiled up at him, giving him a subtle nod of her head. They were going to try. After all, what they had to lose was far more than what she had to gain by staying here. She gave her apartment the once over. Trendy or not, the three rooms, the white walls, and bland beige carpet that she'd called home had lost their luster for her. She preferred the vibrant color of wild and the man standing patiently waiting for her to take that final step. He held out his hand and she took it, allowing him to pull her onto her feet. Grabbing her plant, clutching it to her chest as he took her bags, she followed him into the heart of the wolf's den.

Chapter 2

Thomas woke up with a pounding headache and a mouth that tasted like he'd tongue kissed road kill. Whoever said that mixing drinking with chronic loneliness was a bad idea was absolutely right. He slid his palm across the sheets, expecting to find his bed exactly as he did, cold and empty. She hadn't even left a note. Not that he required one to explain her absence. His memories were vague. Almost as if he'd dreamed the whole thing up, which, in a way, he wished he had.

They were both battling a demon with long teeth and sharp claws aimed right at their hearts. After a brief conversation and a few rounds, they'd left the bar arm in arm. Trying to defeat the ugly monster, or at least, find a temporary respite from its relentless bite. He lifted the pillow to his nose and inhaled. The smell of her perfume lingered vaguely on the fabric. A long strand of deep walnut hair tickled his cheek. The scent of her on his pillow and the long strand of hair were the only reminders that she was really there at all and that what happened between them had indeed happened.

Seven A.M. was a hell of a time to start drinking. But, after the night he'd had, at the time, a little liquid anesthesia sounded like a pretty good idea. And, well, apparently, he wasn't the only one with that thought in mind. The bar had few patrons at that time of the morning. But, she was there, sucking on an ice cube, swimming belly up in the depths of a whisky sour, eyeing him as if he were her only savior and her special, private devil. Yeah, it hadn't taken him much fortification to ask her. And she hadn't missed a beat before accepting. By, nine A.M. they were naked and sweaty in his bed. And approximately nine hours later, sporting one hell of a hangover, sweating beer and reeking of sex, he'd awakened alone. Regretting all of it and none of it at the same damn time.

His mind was filled with memories of their brief tryst. The smell of whisky on her breath and the biting sting of top shelf black label against his tongue, the feel of her soft, supple skin beneath his fingers, and the cries of pleasure echoing in his drunken mind as she climaxed. She hadn't cried out for him when she came. She hadn't cried out for anyone. But then again, neither had he.

The only girl he'd ever wanted was married now. Living her happy life, married to the man of her dreams. Not him, of course. Never him. She was probably nursing the son he'd helped to deliver into the world. He should be flattered that she had named the baby after him. Grant Thomas Blake Samuelson-Wolfe, GT for short, hell of a mouthful for a seven pound- six ounce, twenty-two inch bundle of joy, carbon copy of Claire. The baby was named after his father, Grant, and after him, her best friend, and after her father, as a token of honor.

He was GT's godfather. Talk about rubbing salt in an open wound. Idiot that he was he'd jumped at the chance. Maybe, he'd done it as a way to stay close to her. It wasn't fair to GT. But, nothing about this whole goddamned situation was fair. She was lost to him forever. There was no going back. And moving on was going to be a hard and bumpy ride. How many more women, like Jan, just temporary diversions from his pain, would there be before he finally got over Claire?

He frowned at his reflection in the mirror over his bathroom sink. He looked like hell. His thinning, sandy brown hair stood up in a tangle of disarray from where Jan had ran her fingers through the strands as he pumped his cock in and out of her core. He had dark circles under exhausted, bloodshot, blue eyes. A layer of light brown stubble grew thick and bristly on his jaw. He tried like hell not to compare himself to Grant and came up lacking. Grant had it all: good looks, the baby son with his eyes and his perfect profile, and Claire's sweet smiling face. He had the girl and the life Thomas wanted so badly for himself.

"Suck it up buttercup, you dumb schmuck," he grumbled. Scrubbing his hand across his chin, he made his way to the shower. Nope, he was shit compared to Grant. Rapidly approaching middle age, he barely cleared five foot- ten standing on the tips of his toes. He wasn't in bad shape. He was lean, perhaps too lean, with the light build of a runner and none of the bulging muscle Grant seemed so inclined to flex every time Thomas got within five feet of Claire. Thomas had his mom's brilliant blue eyes. And as for his father, Thomas had no clue what he'd inherited from the man. He'd never even seen as much as picture of him. But, no doubt his father was in him, somewhere.

His cock was sticky with the remnants of the events of this morning. And didn't that condemn him in a special way. What a complete idiot he was. Crossing the line in more ways than he cared to count. Fucking a coworker. He ambled to the shower and flicked on the tap. Leaning heavily against the peach tiled wall, he waited for the water to heat up. Yeah, he was a special brand of stupid. And this morning had been his final slide down a slippery slope straight into pathetic. Claire was alive and well, for the most part, thanks to him. And when he should be flip dizzy embracing life and the wonders of it. He'd been embracing Jan instead. He stepped under the spray and lathered up. Refusing to think about the used condoms in his trashcan, the smell of sex and Jan on his sheets, and how pitiful he truly was. Rinsing off and relathering for good measure he washed any traces of Jan and this morning down the drain.

His only salvation was that Jan would have the decency to keep her mouth shut. The bar had practically been deserted this morning. The patrons that were there were hip deep in their own misery and paid little attention to them when they left together. This was a small town and rumors could spread like wildfire. No one needed to know what happened and it was really no one's business.

He scowled at the empty condom wrapper in the trash. At least he had had the common sense to protect them both from any further embarrassment. This morning was a fuck up that didn't need to be compounded by...my God, he couldn't even think about what could happen. He'd given in to his body's needs and shared a few hours of pleasure and escape with an almost complete stranger. And the sex...Jan wasn't Claire. The two women were as opposite as night and day. Claire was sunshine and the golden glow of things revealed. And Jan was cool midnight and dark shadows. But, the sex was...well, what little he remembered or was willing to let himself remember, was pretty fucking fantastic.

Jan hated his guts. Why she'd done it was a complete mystery. A mystery he didn't have the least bit of desire to solve. Ultimately, it didn't matter. It would never happen again. There'd be no calls. No secret glances. No romance. The sex was nothing more than two lonely people using each other for comfort and shelter from the shit storm that was life. He dressed in running shorts and a t-shirt. Towel drying his hair and quickly brushing his teeth. He chewed four ibuprofen pills to cure his pounding headache. He dumped the bathroom trash, disposing of the evidence. Tearing the sheets off his bed and tossing them in the wash, he wrote off Jan Collins, RN. She might be Claire's replacement at work. But, not in his heart, not ever.

He had enough on his plate without dealing with the entanglement of an unwanted relationship. Not that he thought he'd have to worry about Jan getting mixed signals. He sure as hell wasn't going to let himself get the bigger issues confused. To him, everything was crystal clear. And it was going to stay that way. Fortunately, he wasn't due at work for two days. Things would have at least a chance to cool off a little before he had to deal with her again. He tried to remind himself that he wasn't the first employee at the hospital to get tangled up with a coworker. It happened. When you spent more time with the people you worked with than you did your actual family. These things were bound to happen. And they did. Jan was just an unfortunate accident. A momentary lapse of reason he'd just as soon pretend hadn't happened.

But, the point was. It had happened. He knew every curve, every lush line of Jan's body. His palms had stroked her breasts. His fingers and delved deep into every secret part of her. He'd tasted and drank deeply of her forbidden fruit. The taste of it, despite the mint of his toothpaste and the bitterness of the medicine he'd chewed and swallowed down, was still thick on his tongue. He remembered, although he wanted to forget, the way her lips parted, her cheeks heated, and the way the shudders raked through her body when he made her come. She'd had her hands on his body. Her lips wrapped around his cock as she gave him as good as he'd given her. And damn, wasn't that going to make for an interesting day at work Monday morning.

She was in his head. And there was no remedy, no way to get her out. He scrubbed the house from top to bottom and all the little corners in between with a fervor he'd never bothered to use for such mundane necessities as cleaning before. As if he could be rid of her as easily as he could scrub away the non-existent filth in the corners.

His mother kept the house spotless as if the cleanliness of the two-bedroom, bath and a half bungalow was her only mission in life...or in her case, death. He was thirty-three years old, an accomplished physician, and his mommy still took care of him. How humiliating was that? Sure, it was his fault. But, he didn't and would never blame himself for doing what he'd done to keep her alive. And if caving to her every whim, letting her clean the house he'd grown up in, fold his tighty-whities nice and neat, and being her little boy for as long as she needed him to gave her a reason to stay alive, so be it.

The thought that his mother might pop by to check on him as soon as the sun went down, about an hour from now, had him febreezing the mattress. The stuff, Christmas pine scented from last winter, was thick as a fog in his bedroom. His mother had an uncanny sense of smell and if she scented what he'd been up to and whom he'd been doing it with. He just couldn't go there. She'd ask questions. And how the hell was he supposed to answer them? More importantly, why did he feel he needed to? He was a grown man. He had a man's needs. And he'd taken care of them. End of story.

Hell, he knew why he was trying so desperately to hide the evidence of things that should damn well be none of her business. His mom had been trying to get him married off since he'd graduated med school. He just hadn't had time nor the desire to get with the program. She'd think his momentary lapse of reason, the woman in his bed, was the answer to her prayers. She'd be planning a wedding. Digging stuff, his baby stuff, out of the back corner of the basement planning for grandchildren he wasn't ready to give her.

The reek of air freshener was more choking than the musky scent of good sex. Coughing on the stuff, he opened a window and turned the ceiling fan on high to clear the air. He was so fucked and not in a good way. His mom wanted him married. The best parts of his career, his greatest accomplishments, were cloaked in secrets. And the sex he shouldn't have had. The best sex he'd ever had. Had been the biggest mistake he'd made in his life. And that had nothing at all to do with Jan and everything to do with him.

He wasn't over Claire. Plain and simple, he wasn't ready to give up on her. She was married. She had a beautiful son and was building the perfect life with the man of her dreams. And Grant, for all his shortcomings was good for Claire. Better than he ever would have been for her. And that's probably why this whole thing was so hard for him. Never let it be said that he was falsely accused of being a sore loser. He was a sore loser. He should go down gracefully and be happy for her. But, he just couldn't let it go.

Everything about his life was a contradiction in terms. His mom should be dead. And thanks to him, she wasn't. His accomplishments should be published in medical journals. But, thanks to the secrets he was vowed to keep. They never would be. And the woman that should have been in his bed was married to someone else. And Jan...what about Jan? What they'd shared, those few hours that were supposed to be nothing but bodies colliding together in the heat of passion, meant more than he was willing to admit. FUBAR'd didn't begin to cover the state of his life.

Well, at least the ongoing bet between the nurses at the hospital was settled. He wondered if Jan told, who would win the big wager. The staff had money riding on which one of the single nurses would finally manage to bed him. In a million years, up until last night when he'd pulled her son from her body and begged her to live, his money had been solidly on Claire.

He sat on the edge of the bed, resting his forehead in his cupped palms. He'd sat here, in this very same spot this morning with Jan crouched on her knees between his thighs. Staring up at him with those big dark eyes of hers as she took his erection into her perfect mouth. His cock stiffened, tinting the front of his running shorts in an embarrassing, humiliating bulge. He was so frustrated he wanted to scream. But, that really wouldn't do much for the throbbing in his temples or in his groin. And it sure as hell wouldn't change the sorry state of his fucked up, contradictory life.

He flung his body back on the mattress. His head rested on the exact same spot Jan had stretched out before him, offering up a feast to a starving man. He'd feasted and feasted well. His hand wandered down to the bulge in his shorts. Shivering with the memory and hungry for just one more sampling of the divine. He intended to simply readjust his cock. But, like everything else he'd ever intended to do. His best intentions went straight to hell in a hand basket. Fisting his erection, gritting his teeth against the friction, and damning the surge of pleasure he delivered to himself. He pumped up and down, jerking hard in swift motions and swabbing his thumb over the drop of moisture on the tip.

Sweating and shivering in the dim pallor of the evening light snaking through his curtains, he came. His release hot, scalding his palm, and slick against his softening member. Thomas rolled over on his belly, hiding the stain on the front of his shorts in shame. Not because he'd jerked himself off in the most pathetic way possible. No his reaction had nothing to do with his most embarrassing, most compromising occasional indulgence. It had everything to do with the name torn from his throat in that fragile moment between pleasure and pain. That moment when the orgasm tightened his groin and the release took him to the place where the boundaries between fantasy and reality blurred. The name hadn't been the one he'd expected to groan in such desperation. It'd been the one he'd least expected and never wanted to repeat again in such a manner. It'd been Jan's.

Chapter 3

Gina kept out of the way as Hunter's family congregated in the living room to wait in eager anticipation for supper. From the bits and pieces she'd overheard the menu tonight was one nobody wanted to miss. And if the smells of cooking food wafting from the kitchen, the muffled whispers of approval and hungry licking of lips were anything to judge by, supper was going to be spectacular. The eager, nervous, shy giggles of children overtly curious in their unabashed childlike way about their guest, primarily her, cut through the din of conversation in the living room. Gathered around a big screen TV were about ten school age kids, at least four toddlers, and a one cool, aloof reluctant teenage boy. "Which ones are yours?" she asked Hunter. With all the black haired, brown-eyed kids running around sharing so many familiar characteristics, she couldn't hazard a guess.

They'd returned to the city sometime around mid-morning. He hadn't bothered with any introductions. And that was a good thing. She was so bleary eyed exhausted, she wouldn't have kept all the names straight anyway. Hunter had promised to introduce her to everyone later after she'd had a chance to rest. Hell, she'd still be asleep if he hadn't awakened her in time for supper. After a very long and much needed nap, she sat perched on the corner of an oversized recliner chair with Hunter nestled in cozily by her side. Sipping coffee from the mug she clutched in her hand, Gina tried to take it all in.

Hunter chuckled. "You see that one over there. The one oozing teenage angst and the ear buds crammed in his head?" Hunter pointed, directing Gina's attention to his middle son. Daniel slouched against the fireplace, balancing his weight on one foot pretending to care less about his surroundings as he fiddled with an iPod. But, he was watching, not the TV or anyone else in the room, but Gina. Hunter noticed. Gina pretended not to be aware of his son's apparent dislike of her. She looked in the direction his finger pointed and nodded. "That's Daniel."