Sea Haven 01 - Water Bound

her sweet fantasy mouth and her soft body. He disappeared into her, the amazing heat and fire her cool body could produce. Tidal waves of sensation broke over him until he felt shaken by his growing need of her.
    He lifted his head, brushing the top of her silky hair with several kisses.
    “I didn’t mean to trigger bad memories, Rikki. God knows I have enough of those for both of us.”
    Her gaze drifted over his face and he had to really resist the need to read her thoughts. A small, brief smile curved her mouth and she shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t think you’re any better of a cook than I am. You’ve burned breakfast.”
    He whipped around to look at the stove. She’d removed the pans, saving what was left of the scorched pancakes and bacon. It took a few minutes to orient himself again, to put the food on the plates and set them in the middle of the table. She sank back into a chair, obviously uneasy.
    Rikki cleared her throat. “I’ve never actually used these dishes before.
    My sisters gave them to me when we finished building the house.” She touched the edge of one of the plates almost reverently.
    Realization slammed home. No one had ever given her presents before.
    These plates represented family and love to her. He touched the same plate, just as reverently. “Then this is a special occasion. Our first time eating from beautiful dishes together. I’ll never forget this memory, not even if I take another bump on the head.”
    He poured a small glass of orange juice for both of them and put one pancake on her plate and a stack on his. He lifted his glass, waiting until her fingers slowly—almost reluctantly—curled around her glass.
    “Here’s to many more firsts and many more great memories.”
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    Rikki clinked her glass against his and took a cautious sip of the juice, watching him the entire time. Her expression changed as she tasted it. “This isn’t anything like I remember.”
    “Good or bad different?” He encouraged, studying her face.
    He loved to look at her. There was no guile there. She didn’t look at him, but into the glass, as if studying each tiny drop as though fascinated beyond belief. She swirled her glass and her eyes widened as she watched the juice moving before she took another sip.
    He found the way her lips touched the glass just as fascinating as she found the orange juice. He had an unreasonable urge to reach out and stroke back her sweater so he could see her throat move as she swallowed.
    “Good different,” she said and turned her head to smile at him.
    Her smile hit him like a punch. His belly tightened into hard knots. He indicated her pancake. “Since you helped, if it isn’t any good, I’m blaming it on you.”
    Her smile widened, and her eyes lit up, sparkling at him. “I see how you are.” She studied the pancake without touching it, looking at it from all angles.
    He couldn’t take his eyes from her, even as hungry as he was. Food wasn’t nearly what he needed anymore. He needed her. He was broken.
    Shattered. He was wide open, and somehow, she had done it with her penetrating gaze. She’d stripped him of his past and the monster he’d become, and she’d given him life and a purpose beyond use as a weapon.
    She’d managed to slip past his guard and open him up, and now, when he was at his most vulnerable and should have been terrified and fighting for his survival, he felt at his safest—here—with her.
    It was as if he’d melted into her space somehow and become part of this . He looked around at the neat kitchen, the cherry cupboards obviously crafted by a master wood-worker. She’d done this—carved out a safe haven for herself in a world that didn’t understand different. There, under the water where solace waited, he’d found himself trapped in her eyes. She’d never once looked at his past as if it mattered. And to her, whatever he’d done before that moment didn’t exist.
    She reached across the table, cut his pancakes and lifted a bite to his mouth. He opened automatically, thinking it the most intimate thing he’d ever done in his life. His gaze didn’t leave hers as he chewed and swallowed. A slow smile welled up. Happiness. So this was what it felt like.
    He’d never known kindness or caring. He’d never known love. Maybe love was a woman feeding him pancakes. Maybe it was someone sitting across from him sipping orange juice just to please him.
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    “It seems I’m a good cook after all.”
    She