Reaching For Normal Read online

  She’d met him during one of her hospital visits. The memories of the sailor and the agony of his story assailed her and Myla swallowed against the emotions. She was too tired, too sore, to deal with this any more. Sawyer could believe what he wanted.

  Myla let her eyes drift closed and imagined herself snug in Sawyer’s arms without all the anger and mistrust between them. The two of them wrapped around each because they wanted to be.

  Would he undress her slowly, rip off her shirt sending buttons flying everywhere or simply stare at her until her clothing melted under his intensity?

  She knew where she’d start. She wanted to shove up his t-shirt and lick every single one of the muscles defining his torso. The man’s body had to be completely delicious and she wanted to indulge her fingers and her mouth.

  “Myla?”

  Her eyes flew open but it didn’t change anything. The darkness had deepened and she couldn’t see more than Sawyer’s outline against the grey night. Safety enveloped her and she snuggled in even more closely. His erection pushed against her, making him curse although he didn’t shove her away.

  Myla flexed her fingers and realized her dream hadn’t actually been all a dream. Her hands had somehow reached beneath the layers of his clothing to touch bare skin. As she moved, the muscles she’d imagined jumped at her touch.

  So she did it again.

  Sawyer’s growl made her smile and shiver at the same time. God, if he could do that with a wordless sound, it was impossible to imagine what might happen if she ever got him naked.

  “You don’t want to keep doing that.”

  His gruff order made her grin at how wrong he was. She totally wanted to keep touching him. In their current positions, she didn’t have much room to maneuver but she made the most of it, enjoying the way his hands bunched into fists behind her back, then flexed to grab her jacket and hold on tight. Like he couldn’t bear to let go.

  Though she couldn’t see his eyes, she knew they were trained on her. Emboldened by the night and his reactions, Myla tipped her head up and inched closer. When her lips brushed the stubble on his chin, she sighed and Sawyer swore. Using her tongue, she found out he tasted like the outdoors. Woodsy, mysterious.

  “Myla.”

  A plea or a warning?

  Didn’t matter. She flattened her hands on his abs and nibbled along his jawline. So strong. Masculine.

  Under her touch, Sawyer tensed and relaxed at the same time. In battle with himself?

  Her tongue reached the corner of his lips and he groaned. “To hell with it.” His words rumbled into her body before his mouth crashed onto hers.

  Any semblance of control Myla had been entertaining zipped away. And she didn’t care. The raw edge to the kiss told her he might not want to want her but he did.

  Their tongues danced and dueled, touched and tasted.

  He broke away, only to trail kisses along her lips, her jawline, and to her earlobe. “Christ, Myla, you taste like heaven.”

  She couldn’t catch her breath to respond.

  With another groan, he returned to capture her mouth in another soul-searing kiss.

  The layers between them chafed and irritated. She wanted skin, his skin. She needed to know the variations in taste and texture.

  She wanted. She needed.

  When Sawyer’s fingers brushed the skin of her belly, she jolted at the unexpected contact but his fingers stroked and soothed until she leaned into his touch.

  His hand slipped under the band of the yoga pants she wore beneath her ski pants then traced the edge of her panties. Her body nearly burst into flames. His calluses created delicious sensations as he edged his fingers beneath the cloth. Slowly. Too damn slowly. Myla squirmed, urging him closer and Sawyer groaned into their kiss. His fingers continued their journey southward, taking their sweet time.

  When his fingers slipped between her legs, she couldn’t stop the gasp. His chuckle was cocky but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Not when he captured her mouth in another kiss, his tongue mimicking the actions of his fingers.

  Slow.

  Fast.

  Firm.

  Feather soft.

  The ever-changing patterns had her giving up any pretense at control over the situation. She was drowning. And enjoying every last moment of it.

  “Come on, Myla.”

  That phrase. The one he was always slinging at her. Except this time, the huskiness of his voice, the tenderness of his touch had her responding in a much happier way.

  “That’s it, Myla. Come on. Come for me. Come on.”

  And she went.

  Muscles clenched and squeezed. Her breath stopped and the perfect moment filled her. Consumed her.

  Overwhelmed her.

  When her heartbeat and her breathing returned to normal, she wanted to laugh and yell in triumph but all she managed was a whispered, “Wow.”

  Sawyer grunted into her hair and eased his hands out of her clothes and straightened them. When Myla recovered enough to move, she shifted her own hands so that she could reach down. Sawyer stopped her with a word and a squeeze.

  “Not a chance, Myla.”

  “What? No way, it’s your turn.”

  His husky laugh sent shivers across her already sensitized skin. “My turn will have to wait.”

  His erection pushed into her and she wanted to get her hands on it. When she tried to protest again, he groaned roughly and pulled her in for a tight hug. “Not here. Not tonight.”

  Myla mulled that over for a minute. Freezing temperatures and a crazy man on their trail might not be conducive to full-on sex. “But sometime?”

  “Go to sleep Myla. We’ve got a long day tomorrow.”

  With her body and mind sated, it wasn’t long before Myla’s eyes were drifting shut but it didn’t distract her from the fact that he hadn’t answered her question.

  SAWYER heaved a sigh of relief when Myla's breathing finally settled into sleep. He wanted to kick his own ass. Again. He didn’t have a clue how she made him lose control so easily. Since he’d spotted her in that ditch, nothing had been normal.

  People avoided him because he liked it that way. In the SEALs, where every last man was a badass and tougher than any ten regular men, he’d had a rep for being implacable. Unbreakable.

  All this pixie had to do was turn those gorgeous eyes in his direction and his brain cells packed up his good sense along with his training and headed for the hills.

  The worst of it was, he didn’t know if she was telling the truth or not. Her words had been earnest. She was pissed he didn’t trust her. Shocked he’d suspected her of deceit. Affronted even.

  Which could all be an act.

  Jen had been one hell of an actress. Hanging on his every word as if he was some superhero. Laughing in all the right places. Acting interested but not too interested.

  His ego had puffed up like a pissed off porcupine. He’d been taken in completely, had never suspected Jen was anything other than a woman out to have some fun.

  He’d thought they’d both known the score. A few weeks enjoying each other and then they’d move on. Then he’d found out she’d promised a story about a SEAL scandal to one of the newspapers who had a very loose definition of the term news.

  Sawyer had been beyond pissed. Darby had been concerned about him being heartbroken. She’d been right but not in the way she thought. The experience had killed any last vestige of desire to trust a woman, to build a life with one. He didn’t want love and all the trappings that went with it. All he was looking for was a little sex, a little fun.

  Now, he found himself stuck with another writer. They needed to tweak journalism school and teach them that SEALs never divulged secrets. Ever.

  And they should have added Resisting a Pretty Reporter course to Hell Week.

  He hated being an idiot.

  Hated doubting himself but he couldn’t trust his gut. First Afghanistan. Then Jen.

  After hearing Myla tell her story about her past,
he’d wanted to tuck her in and protect her from the world. Which might have been exactly what she was angling for. The whole thing might be an act. Well, not the leg, that was impossible to fake but she could have made up the story to garner the most sympathy and to take the attention off her job.

  He’d almost answered her question about how he’d ended up back in Bloo Moose. Almost told her about the disaster in Afghanistan. Almost told her things even Anderson only guessed.

  Holding in the words and memories during the mandatory shrink visits hadn’t been as tough as when Myla asked him a simple question. At least he’d discovered her job and had been able to shut himself up. The reality of the deaths in the village was beyond horrific. With a few twists and turns, Myla could turn the story into a sensational one that would earn her accolades. Damage the reputations of some incredible people. Reveal Sawyer as a failure.

  He still wasn’t sure how he’d gone from pissed off and suspicious to having his tongue down her throat and his hand in her pants.

  His body continued to throb mercilessly. Nothing in his life had affected him like watching Myla build up and crash over the edge. Like everything else he’d seen her do, she’d surrendered with every bit of passion she possessed.

  He already wanted to see her go over again.

  This time while he was buried deep inside her.

  Or while he tasted her.

  Ten more scenarios ran through his head before he could shut them down.

  The sexy woman in his arms was nothing but trouble. Capital T trouble. Maybe All Caps Trouble.

  He wanted to trust her, wanted to believe that she was writing winter adventure stories but it was hard to believe anyone made a living doing that. Especially when the writer didn’t know squat about the subject. He would expect a reporter to come up with a more believable story than that.

  When they got home, he’d look her up online and find out exactly how much truth she was telling.

  Until then, it was hands off. All the way off.

  Myla shifted and let out a gasp of pain but she cut the noise off short. Even in sleep, she was tough. Her body might want to be frail but she didn't let it hold her back.

  He had at least seventy-five pounds and almost a foot of height on her, as well as years of experience, yet she'd kept up. Kept going. Pushed herself through pain and exhaustion and a fright with hypothermia. All while evading some crazy asshole who got his kicks killing a wolf and stringing it up.

  He wanted to believe her.

  Abandoned at birth. Hard to imagine anyone low enough to toss a child in a dumpster. Her leg had been bad from the beginning. Had the injuries been caused by those who dumped her? It made him want to chase them down and shake the truth from them. What had growing up in a hospital been like? The death of Sawyer’s parents had devastated him at eighteen. But he had the warmth of memories, of their love and laughter, to help him through. He had Darby.

  Myla had no one. Nurses she exchanged cards with once a year.

  Yet, she was happy, outgoing, and strong. So damn strong.

  And, while she was likely using him, he was starting not to care.

  With his head full of questions and his arms full of warm, sexy, satisfied woman, he wasn't about to sleep anytime soon, so he let his mind work on figuring out what in the hell was going on. Killing a wolf way out here was nuts. It wasn't a farmer protecting his crops. It wasn't a rage killing. It was calm, cold, and calculated.

  Designed to grab attention out in one of the loneliest places in Vermont.

  It didn't make a lick of sense. Sawyer wasn't an official part of the reintegration program, he only helped out with tracking data when he could. Sawyer basically only talked to a handful of people in town and he doubted most of them knew he was involved with the project.

  Locally, the wolves hadn't caused a single problem. No domesticated animals had been harmed. No one had been scared by them while out camping or hiking. No negative press. Absolutely nothing. It might not be about the wolf at all. The wolf might have been a victim in a larger scheme to target him or someone else.

  There were no signs for Sawyer to follow. No clues. Even with his instincts set at useless, he knew he wasn’t missing things. There were no signs. Which meant the guy was good. Or so off track, his signs weren’t recognizable. Maybe Sawyer wasn’t the target and he was operating on a false premise.

  Myla winced again and his hands moved to soothe her. Because her face was pressed up against his throat, he felt her lips form a pout but no more sounds escaped.

  He tightened his grip on her, dropped a kiss on the top of her head. Then cursed himself. He really had to keep his hands off her.

  He wasn't sure he was strong enough.

  #seriously?

  The meadow in Myla’s dream was filled with flowers and sunshine. Safety and serenity surrounded her right along with the warmth and she worked hard to stay in the dream.

  Sighing she snuggled in and listened to the soft winds whispering around her.

  When the wind sighed a soft curse, the serenity blinked away and Myla jerked back to reality.

  “You awake?” Sawyer’s husky question sent shivers through her and brought her back to the previous night when he’d sent her flying.

  Heat flushed her skin and she snuggled closer before realizing what she was doing. “I’m awake.” And ready for just about anything.

  Myla lifted her face, thinking to give him a good-morning kiss but he was already putting distance between them and unwrapping the blankets.

  “Time to move.”

  By the time Myla wished really hard for a mug of coffee to clear her brain, Sawyer was up, had folded one blanket, and had retrieved her jacket from his homemade drying rack. “Put it on. Time to go.”

  His brusque tone had her wondering if mornings irritated him or if it was all about regrets from the night before. “Good morning to you, too.”

  Sawyer sent her a look with more amusement than she expected. “What do you need to do for your leg before we get moving?”

  Myla sighed. Another day when normal was out of reach. She scooted to the edge of the blanket still on the ground and started her basic stretches. Every muscle in her leg protested the exertions of the day before but she knew she had to push through. “I suppose a visit to the hot tub is too much to ask for?”

  Sawyer grinned. “I’ll get right on that.”

  When Myla was ready to move she shoved to her feet before he could move to help her and rolled up the shiny blanket. She’d pull as much of the weight as she could. He’d done enough.

  Her jacket was dry but it was stiff and cold, adding to the chill. Thoughts of what her body had experienced last night helped to warm her a little but she wasn’t sure what to do next. Sawyer had been hurt by a writer. He didn’t trust her. Didn’t want to want her.

  Pushing for more intimacy from him felt wrong even when she wanted to ask him to sleep with her.

  While Sawyer did something with a few tree branches to make it appear no humans had ever entered the clearing, Myla dug out some granola bars and nuts for them.

  He took his with a nod as he tossed the branches aside. “Ready?”

  She nodded and shrugged on the pack. Once again, they found the stream and followed its path.

  Inevitably, Myla’s thoughts turned to Sawyer’s hands on her. She’d never experienced anything that powerful, hadn’t even imagined it being that good with someone else at the controls.

  Joel had been her bravest attempt at losing her virginity. He hadn’t been man-of-her-dreams material, so he’d been the perfect candidate. Someone she could experiment with while knowing her heart was safe and sound. But knowing that rejection was coming hadn’t eased the sting. Not with the way the snake had made her feel.

  She needed to get past it, past it all. Being a whole woman meant having sex. Last night was the closest she’d come and while it had been spectacular it wasn’t enough.

  Myla wanted to have sex with Sawyer Banks. She need
ed to figure out how to make it happen. Straight out asking hadn’t worked out well for her in the past but she already knew Sawyer was way different than Joel. It might work.

  It might also cause him to run in the other direction. He was a man who took responsibility seriously and she doubted he would want that weighing him down.

  Her heart wavered at the thought of her actions hurting him and she shook her head. She couldn’t allow herself to fall for him. She just wasn’t sure she could stop it happening.

  “Watch the slope here.” When she looked up, he extended his hand. “Come on.”

  They both froze at his phrasing, remembering how he’d used those words to send her over the edge during the night. Heat flared in his eyes momentarily before he blinked.

  His blank stare reminded her the man actually didn’t want to want her, didn’t want to follow up on the attraction between them. Didn’t trust her.

  Time to don her tough-girl facade. “Keep saying that and I’m going to dump you into the next stream we find.”

  Silence grew between them while she watched Sawyer watch her, deciding whether or not to go along with her choice of ignoring the previous night. Finally, he nodded and she breathed out a sigh of relief. She didn’t need him saying aloud what she already knew.

  Instead of saying he didn’t want her, his lips quirked as he looked down at their feet. “We’re on a stream.”

  Myla smiled and turned to navigate the slope. When she wobbled, he helped steady her but didn’t try to take over.

  And her heart wobbled right along with her balance.

  After they’d walked for a while, Myla was sick of the thoughts circling around in her head. Time to figure out a way to be useful instead of always being the one to screw things up or slow things down.

  The least she could do was to listen for signs of pursuit. First, she’d have to find out what sounds were normal then she’d have to spot what was out of place.

  At first, the swish of her clothing and the soft thumps of their snowshoes were the only sounds she noticed. It was hard to tell if her footfalls were louder because Sawyer was further ahead or if he was truly almost silent as he strode through the snow.