Page 4 of Her Marine Master (Master Me #4)

She'd been an idiot. The whole thing was so shameful. She never should have let the chiropractor pick her up or know where she lived. She should have met him at a neutral location for their first date. She'd screwed up, and if Rob hadn't come along…

She shuddered to think what would have happened. Would he have killed her?

Her neck felt bruised and it throbbed where his fingers had nearly choked her to death.

She wondered if he was into asphyxiation, or if that had just been to subdue her so he could rape her without struggle.

She looked down at the bound asshole at their feet. She wished the cops would get there and take him away. She didn't want him in her apartment. Heck, she didn't want to be in her apartment anymore.

"Do you want to call someone? A friend to go to the hospital with you?"

He had said he would go with her. Of course he'd probably prefer not to. She should call a female friend. She stepped closer to him.

He rubbed her back and allowed her to press her cheek against his muscled chest.

"Are you still going to come?"

"Yeah. If that's what you want. Definitely."

His demeanor was totally different now. Gone was the surly, angry young man. Now, he was just a pillar of strength. She supposed he'd had to do crisis on a daily basis while on tour.

A knock sounded at the door and she pulled away. "I really don't want to do this."

"I know, but turning him over to the cops is the only thing keeping me from killing him."

She lifted her eyes in surprise.

"I'm serious. I'd rather not do the right thing here."

Okay, she didn't want Rob to do something illegal.

"You get it, I'll stay here and keep an eye on him," Rob said, kicking Alexander.

"Yeah. Okay," she whispered. She "opened" the door—which was hanging off the hinges. Apparently Rob had kicked it in. The police officers—one female, one male—entered and took charge of the situation, handcuffing Alexander.

Numbness set in as she and Rob gave their statements to the police. The paramedics wanted to take her in an ambulance, but when she refused, Rob offered to drive her. The female police officer advised her to bring a change of clothes, because they would keep hers for evidence.

Her stomach knotted up with the shame of the thing. She wanted this to be over. She wanted it to have never happened.

The hospital was a nightmare of having her privates dusted for fingerprints. Well, not exactly, but essentially. They took photographs of the bruising on her neck and asked her a ton of questions. Finally, two hours later, it was over.

When she emerged, Rob stood there, waiting, as he'd promised.

"Hey."

Once more, he wrapped her up in a hug.

She could get used to standing in the circle of his arms. To smelling his intoxicating scent, so clean and masculine.

To yielding to his dominant, commanding way.

She'd been too shocked at the time, but now that she replayed the scene back at her apartment, Rob's complete and utter take-chargeness made her swoon.

He'd rescued her, had handled the situation with ease.

A man born for crisis. It was no wonder he was having a hard time since his retirement.

It was funny how one event could change their whole dynamic.

Rob drove Kaitlyn back to their apartment building.

They sat in silence, but it wasn't an awkward silence.

There was a bond between them now. Like with his brothers in the Marines, they shared the knowledge that they'd been through something awful and that awful thing was made better by the simple fact that they were in it together.

Even though his brain kept trying to throw on the brakes, to push Kaitlyn away as he'd done from the beginning, it just didn't stick.

Maybe it helped that it wasn't his crisis, it was hers.

Nobody was staring at his scars, asking if he was okay.

She was the one with the bruised neck and whatever psychological fallout comes from an assault and attempted rape.

And it was a helluva lot easier to be with her wounds than his own.

He parked the car on the street and they walked into the building. He put his hand on her lower back, offering a light touch of comfort. She seemed to like it, because she glanced up when he first touched her, a grateful look on her face. She'd been through so much.

They stopped outside her door and surveyed the splintered wood and the way the door still swung on its hinges.

"I'll fix it for you tomorrow," he promised.

She didn't move.

Yeah. It probably wasn't safe for her to spend the night in an apartment without a door. Of course he'd be right next door and he wouldn't let anything happen, but he understood if she didn't feel safe.

"You can spend the night in my apartment."

She swiveled to face him. Her face wore no expression. It had been blank pretty much since they'd left the hospital. How he longed to see those dimples, even just a flash.

"I'll sleep on the couch," he said quickly, wanting the setup to be clear.

She still didn't speak, but she turned away from her door and walked over to his, stopping to wait for him to unlock it.

He held it open and waited for her to enter, seeing the space through her eyes. It definitely had the "man-cave" thing going. The living room had nothing but a television and couch. No decorations hung on the walls. He didn't have any stuff to fill the corners yet.

"It's ah… pretty basic."

She smiled faintly, looking around. "Thanks for letting me stay here."

He waved at the couch. "Do you… uh… want to watch TV?"

She shook her head. "No thanks." She turned back to the door. "I'm going to go brush my teeth and stuff."

"Sure. Okay."

She walked out the door, but he heard her stop in the hallway.

He listened to the silence.

She was scared to go in alone. He didn't blame her.

He rose from the couch and walked out his front door. Sure enough, she stood in front of her door again, staring in exactly the same position she'd been when he'd offered to let her stay with him.

"Come on. I'll go in with you."

She looked over her shoulder at him and swallowed, wincing as if the movement of her throat pained her.

"Okay. Thanks." She pushed the door open gingerly, probably afraid it might fall off the hinges.

Which it might. When he replaced it, he would install a solid door that couldn't be kicked in so easily. With decent locks.

He put his hand on her lower back and guided her inside. "Do you want me to have a look around first?"

She shook her head. "No." Her voice sounded raspy. "I'm sure it's fine."

"I'll be right here." He folded his arms across his chest and adopted the look of her bodyguard. Which at this moment, he was. No one would be giving her any hassle again, if he had anything to do with it. Dimples didn't deserve it. She hadn't deserved anything that had happened to her tonight.

She scampered toward the bedroom like she didn't want to make him wait. He heard the sound of water running in the bathroom. A few minutes later, she came out, dressed in an old t-shirt and the cutest pair of boy-shorts he'd ever seen.

She wasn't trying to look sexy, which was exactly what made it rip-roaring hot.

His cock went rigid, pushing painfully against the zipper of his jeans. Damn—the way she filled that t-shirt! Her bra-less breasts stretched the thin, worn fabric taut, nipples protruding in stiff peaks. The shorts hugged her ass. She wasn't wearing panties underneath them.

Jesus, he wanted to pull those shorts down, part her legs and lick her pussy until she screamed.

And… that was exactly the wrong thought to have at this moment.

He needed to pull it together. She wasn't looking for sex right now, for God's sake.

She licked her lips, staring up at him with those pale green eyes. It wasn't right that she should be that drop dead gorgeous. It shouldn't be legal.

He held out his hand.

She looked at it in surprise—the same surprise he felt at having offered it. What? Was he playing at being her boyfriend now? It didn't matter though, he wasn't going to retract it. He wasn't going to be an asshole to her. Not tonight. Maybe not ever again, the way he felt right now.

Something had shifted for sure.

Her hand fit in his, small and warm. He liked the trusting way she gave it to him, how she looked up at him, like he might erase all her fears, at least for the night.

"Come on," he murmured and led her back to his place.

"Do you need anything? A snack or something?

" He seriously wanted to serve her cookies and milk.

Or hot tea. Or whatever would be comforting.

The Dom in him sensed the need for aftercare.

He'd forgotten what it was like, but he'd missed it on some level.

She shook her head. She hadn't said much. Maybe her throat hurt from being strangled. He didn't mind the quiet.

"You sure you don't want to watch TV? The Bourne Identity is on."

She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "No… I'll just go to bed. Thanks."

She padded to his bedroom and pushed the door closed, but didn't shut it all the way. Despite her assertion that she was going to bed, he heard her moving around his bedroom and the light never went out.

Should he check on her?

"Kaitlyn?" He called her name softly, in case she was asleep. But loud enough that if she was awake, she'd come back out. He had a feeling going straight to bed wasn't going to be the best thing after a trauma. And he'd had plenty of experience.

She didn't answer, but he heard movements from his room. What in the hell was she doing in there?

He didn't want to intrude, but he didn't want to leave her hanging on her own and feeling raw. That's how he found himself standing outside the door, peering through the gap.

Holy hell.