Free TooHottoTouch by Samantha Cayto

you of it,” he added with a feral grin.
    * * * * *
    Sean fought his way out of the dream, past the sound of his
weapon firing and the screams, past the stench of blood and human waste. He
struggled for breath and the strength to force his eyes open. His mind latched
on to the one sound of sanity and hope that pushed its way past the nightmare
of memory tormenting him.
    “Sean!”
    His name. He recognized it and the sweet tone of voice that
called. He heard it over all of the wretched noise reverberating around his
head. Focusing on it, he followed it up and out of the morass in which he was
trapped. He reared up in bed, heaving great gulps of air into his lungs. His
whole body trembled in the aftershocks of the nightmare, while dual visions
blurred his sight—an earthen floor covered in blood and the muted tones of a
woman’s pretty bedroom.
    He fought for control, clenching the soft sheets his body
was tangled in. With deep breaths, he willed his body to go still and cleared
his mind of all except the soothing sound of Zoë’s voice and the safety of her
home.
    “Sean?”
    He swallowed hard and looked at her. She sat on her heels at
the bottom of the bed, her eyes wide with concern. A sudden fear clutched his
heart. “Did I hurt you?” he barked out, afraid of the answer.
    “No, of course not.”
    He heaved a sigh of relief and closed his eyes briefly.
“Thank God.” He opened them up again and scrutinized her, not sure if she told
the truth. She looked unharmed and she didn’t seem to be afraid of him. That
was good, although she should be. What was the matter with him, staying the
night like this? He knew better. “I should go.” Before he could yank the sheets
back, she grabbed his ankle.
    “Don’t you dare leave.” The look she gave him was fierce.
    He huffed out a breath in frustration. “Zoë, sweetheart,
please don’t make this harder. I shouldn’t be here. I’m not fit company right
now and I don’t want to hurt you accidentally.”
    She scooted closer to him. “I’m not worried about that.”
    “I am,” he replied firmly. He really was. The last thing he
wanted was to clock her while having one of his nightmares.
    Throwing her head back, she groaned. Then she fixed him with
a determined stare. “Tell me about the dream. It might help.”
    Christ. He shook his head. “No. No way. It’s ugly and it’s
over and it’s enough for those images to be in my head. I’m not putting them in
yours.”
    “I’m not that delicate. I can handle ugly. Please, Sean, let
me share this burden with you. I know it’s not much but I want to help.”
    It was such a sweet offer, it almost made him cry. In fact,
to his utter horror, tears welled up and he had to blink them back. Great, just
what he needed to add to the scene. Zoë could now see him as a complete basket
case. And there was more to telling her about his dream than simply putting
ugliness inside her head. Maybe if he were completely honest with her, she’d
let it go, let him go for the rest of the night.
    “I don’t want you to know what I’ve done,” he confessed. “I
can’t bear the idea of your looking at me and seeing me for what I am.”
    “What exactly do you think you are?”
    He took a deep, shuddering breath and let it out. “A
killer.”
    “Bullshit!” The vehemence of her swear startled him. “You
are not a killer.”
    “Yes, I am. Zoë, I’ve killed a lot of people.”
    “As a soldier. That doesn’t make you a killer.”
    “Maybe it doesn’t make me a murderer, but I am a killer,” he
insisted, not sure why he was determined to push her away with horrible truths.
    She scoffed. “Don’t argue semantics with me, Professor
Poindexter.” When he took a breath to continue, she overrode him. “Let me tell
you a story about soldiers who were killers.” She looked away, shifting so that
she sat cross-legged next to him.
    “ Yiayia was a young woman living in Greece during the
Nazi occupation. One day the resistance