Sea Haven 01 - Water Bound

She’d fought hard to stop that, but wearing one for fifteen days made her want to disappear into the warm material. She was desperate— desperate— for the sea.
    106

    His gaze shifted to her face, then drifted down to her neck. She suddenly wished she hadn’t drawn his attention. His face darkened, and shadows crept into the blue of his eyes.
    “How bad is it? Let me look.”
    He stepped close, looming over the top of her so that she hastily backed up to create more space. When he was in bed, he seemed vulnerable and needed care. She actually could lie on the bed and fall asleep beside him as long as she got up before he woke, although she sometimes suspected he knew the moment she opened her eyes and just didn’t say anything to her.
    She wasn’t certain how to feel about that either, because it meant he sensed how uncomfortable she was with him when he was awake.
    Rikki shoved at her unruly hair in agitation. She had no idea what to do with him. But he had to sit down and quit walking over her floor. He was barefoot at least. She might have to hide his shoes if he demanded to put them on and walk across her clean floor. It was that or kick him out—which she was certain was the better idea.
    “Keep your hands off my neck. In fact, keep your hands off of everything. You’re making a mess.”
    He hadn’t stopped coming at her, not even when she gave him her blackest scowl. She held up a hand to ward him off. “People say I don’t know boundaries. You have none at all. Don’t touch me. And don’t touch my things.”
    He ignored her hand and pushed at her sweater, exposing her throat.
    His fingers brushed strokes over the marks. They had long since faded to little green smudges, but she didn’t want anyone—not even him—to see the evidence. She had never liked being closed off, and his body trapped hers between freedom and the table. She held her breath, afraid she might explode into violence, but somehow the stroke of his fingers took away the sense of being ensnared. Instead, sensation poured through her body, like a wave of heat, brushing over her skin, sinking deeper, until she felt his touch in her bones.
    “I didn’t mean to do this. I actually don’t remember grabbing you around the throat.”
    She pulled away from him and jerked the neckline of her sweater up, stepping to one side to give herself room to breathe. “Do you remember the knife?”
    He kept his gaze locked with hers. “You should have dumped me back into the ocean.”
    “Darn right, I should have,” she agreed. “Now that that’s settled, sit down. I’ll fix you a sandwich.”
    107

    He looked pained. “I don’t eat peanut butter.”
    That genuinely shocked her. “Who doesn’t eat peanut butter? It’s the perfect food.”
    He shuddered. “Even to make up for all the things I’ve done wrong, I don’t think I can do it.”
    “For a man who carries around as many weapons as you do, you’re a bit of a baby.”
    “It isn’t being a baby not to eat peanut butter. I don’t think babies eat the stuff.”
    “That’s un-American.”
    “I’m not certain I am American,” he pointed out.
    She had to agree with him there. “Fine. You can put peanut butter on waffles. Blythe bought some of those frozen thingies that you put in the toaster. I’m not sure how old they are. Do frozen foods last like four years or more?”
    He groaned and dropped into the nearest kitchen chair, pushing his head into his hands. “Death by peanut butter. I never thought I’d go that way.”
    Rikki found herself laughing. Nothing made her laugh, not out loud, not hurt-her-tummy laughing, not like this. He looked so dejected—a big, tough man done in by peanut butter.
    He looked up at her and smiled, and the laughter faded. Her stomach somersaulted and her heart contracted. Suddenly it was hard to breathe again.
    “I don’t know how to cook,” she blurted out.
    He looked at the dishes and pots and pans.
    “I just wash them to keep them clean, but I’ve never used them, not once in the four years I’ve had them. There’s broccoli in the vegetable bin. I can’t cook it but you can eat it raw,” she offered.
    “You fed me soup.”
    She tapped her foot and counted to twenty before she faced him again.
    Color crept into her face. “I heated it up in the can on this little gas outdoor thing I have. All the soups are ready made so it was easy.”
    There was a small silence while he studied her expression. “How about I cook for