Page 66 of Under Control

“Oh, that feels amazing. Thank you,” she whispered back as he massaged her, moving his hands down her shoulders and over her chest.

“It’s nothing.”

She smirked. “You can never accept gratitude, can you?”

He kept working her, moving down over her breasts. “I don’t like how it feels.”

She turned slightly, looking up at his handsome face. “To be thanked?”

He shrugged, and though he’d refused to respond, she wondered why Carrick hated being admired or focused on.

At some point, Danica realized that she was starting to nod off in the tub.

In a haze, she went to get up, and he pulled her back down to him. “Going somewhere?”

She grinned in delight. “What time is it?”

“Bedtime.” He wrapped his arms around her, stood then carried her out of the tub. Afterward, he grabbed soft towels to dry her off. “I’ve got a lot on the docket tomorrow.”

Taking her by the hand, he led her into his dark bedroom, the silence broken only by the ambient sounds of the ocean in the distance. She guessed it was really late. The entire day had slipped by in a haze of anxiety, punctuated by tremendous pleasure—the latter masking the former.

She collapsed on the bed, unbelievably drained. As she curled into the blanket, he climbed in behind her, holding her to his chest as they lay together.

He tightened his arms, breathing down her neck. “What do you want in life, Dani? If you could have anything you wanted.”

Her eyes shut, she confessed, “I’ve always dreamed of having my own tiny little art gallery, selling my work and supporting other local artists.”

With that admission, she knew she was done for. He would never respect her. She was just a childish dreamer.

“That’s different from nursing.” He was slow to respond.

She bit her lip, knowing he’d see this as worse than being a vegan. Feeling defensive, she justified herself by saying, “Nursing was a smart choice—a way to get a paying job. And I like taking care of people. I don’t have the money or the connections to open a gallery and sell art. It’s just a silly dream.”

But his response was surprising. “Interesting… I appreciate dreams. They gives you depth.”

She was taken aback at the reception, the lack of criticism. “I thought you’d find my dreams juvenile.”

“I’ve always been a dreamer.”

“Really?”

“Once, I dreamed of getting into the SEALs,” he explained. “Do you know how hard I had to work? All the way through the Navy—from scrubbing the bowels of a warship to finally getting a place in Special Forces, one of the most elite teams in the world. Damn, it was a fucking journey.”

“Your dreams made sense, though. Mine are unattainable.”

Carrick let out a low laugh. “Not at all. You are very talented. Youshouldhave a gallery and your artshouldbe featured there. Maybe it will happen one day.”

She almost gasped in disbelief. That was the most he’d ever said about himself, and it was the nicest thing he’d ever said to her. Coming from him, it meant the world.

Is this progress?

When he moved his hand down her body to find hers, wrapping his fingers around it, she had no choice but to let herself sink into him. He held her against him tightly, kissing her hair affectionately.

In a sleepy grumble, he finally said, “Never give up on your dreams, Dani.”

Finding her eyes fluttering shut again, Danica let out, “I dream of real love, of the white picket fence, the kids—someone who loves me like I love them…” But her mumbling trailed off, her mind growing hazy. “Someone to share coffee with every morning, share life with…”

The last thing she remembered was him tightening his arms around her. He didn’t say anything in response, but she was sure his heart was beating a little bit faster.

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