“No.” The heat of his lips scorched a path from her shoulder right to a spot behind her belly button. “I really can’t. I can’t walk, so standing in the shower is out of the question.”
His brow furrowed and he pulled back to look in her eyes. She saw him struggling as he tried to make sense of her words, trying to determine if it was an attempt at lame humor. Inside, that cozy, post-coital afterglow quickly began to chill. Stacey began preparing herself, steeling herself against his reaction when the truth finally dawned.
Yeah, dude. You just banged a handicapped chick.
Her therapist told her she needed to stop judging people so quickly. That people needed time to adjust and process. Stacey didn’t agree. That moment of truth when they saw her – really saw her – was the most honest reaction of all, before they started spouting platitudes and well-meant but totally bullshit words.
To his credit, he was better at shielding his thoughts than most. Stacey inhaled and cleared her throat. “As a matter of fact, I could use your help. My wheelchair is by the hot tub.”
Without saying a word, Johnny straightened and walked out of the bedroom. He hadn’t bothered getting dressed, and Stacey was treated to a delicious view of his gorgeous ass. The instant rush of lusty desire was immediately overshadowed by sadness, a realization that the spell had been broken.
Stacey shifted her weight until her legs hung over the side of the bed, her useless feet dangling a foot above the floor while she waited. A chill swept over her body; feeling suddenly exposed, she tugged the blanket around her shoulders like a shawl and pulled it tight.
Minutes ticked by, far longer than they should have been. Outside, birds chirped and a jet flew over, somewhere far above. But inside, the cabin was quiet, too quiet.
Johnny appeared in the doorway, pushing her wheelchair. Time no longer moved slowly; it stopped completely. Stacy tried to breathe and couldn’t; for one long, agonizing moment, she felt nothing at all. It was similar to the feeling she’d experienced when she’d gone cliff-diving. Specifically, those moments when she’d leapt off the edge and her mind and body tried to catch up with the notion of freefall. She searched his face for something, anything, that might give her hope, but his features were unreadable, his body as still as carved golden marble.
As the seconds ticked by in interminable silence, the radiant warmth drained from her body while he put the pieces together. She fought against the tears that were suddenly welling in her eyes. It was too good to last, she had known that all along. Didn’t make it hurt any less, though.
Stacey mentally chastised herself for being so stupid. She should know better by now! Not for having the most incredible night of sex with a man she didn’t know (which admittedly was pretty stupid), but for allowing herself to think for even one second that it could be anything more than that. Because, damn her, she let herself get completely carried away by the foolish, fantastical notion of a perfect guy. If there ever was such a thing, she could have believed this man was hers. Never before had she felt such an instant connection with another person. Not just physically, either. When he’d looked into her eyes and he made love to her, she could have sworn he was seeing right down into her soul.
Humiliated, she felt the heat blooming in her face and hastily pulled the sheet tighter around her like a shield. She blamed Lina. All that talk about how things were between her and Kyle made Stacey actually believe the possibility of instant, true love between destined soulmates actually existed. The fact that she’d indulged in a beer or two after writing a fantastic, page-scorching novel yesterday obviously hadn’t helped with her tenuous grip on reality, either.
Unlike the soreness between her legs, which would remain for some time yet, her languorous post-coital bliss was completely gone. Stacey began locking herself away, piece by piece, back into her safe zone.
It’s all right, she told herself firmly. She could handle this. She was a grown woman. A successful, independent, mature woman. One who had just had incredible sex and made the mistake of believing her own fiction.
She attempted a smile. “Hey, don’t worry about it.” She sounded too bright, too cheery. The words rang false, even in her own ears. “It’s not contagious or anything.”
* * *
“I - ” Johnny tried to speak and couldn’t. He was at a loss for words.
Admittedly, the wheelchair had taken him by surprise. She was so beautiful, so passionate, so perfect. She managed to make him come with the force of a tsunami. And she definitely had feeling below the waist, along with the most amazing cock-grabbing sheath he’d ever felt.
It took a few moments for his mind to make the journey back from the land of Epic Sex and re-engage. By the time it did, Stacey had already shifted to the edge and lifted herself into her chair with the effortless ease of someone who had performed the maneuver a thousand times.
“No biggie.” She shot him a hard look, daring him to think otherwise. When he said nothing, she grabbed a few items from her suitcase and wheeled herself from the room.
Johnny watched her leave, then sunk onto the bed. Christ, what had he done?
The bathroom door closed, and soon he heard the sound of water running into the combined shower/tub. Images assaulted his brain, images of her trying to lift herself in and out of the tub, falling on the slick tile, getting hurt. He grabbed a loose pair of sweats and knocked on the bathroom door.
“Go away.” she said. The words were thick, muffled. Just like Lina’s used to get when she was...
Oh God, she was crying.
“Please, open the door.” Johnny rested his head against the smooth wood.
“Fuck off.” He flinched. The pain in her voice sliced through him, cutting him as easily as if she’d swung a scythe at him. He stayed by the door for the next hour until he heard the sound of the water draining from the tub. He knew in his heart that she didn’t need – or want – his help. But he couldn’t seem to help himself. The need to protect her, to watch over her, was there.
When it sounded as if she was about ready to emerge, he quietly left the room and made for the bathroom on the other side of the cabin.
He was going to fix this. Nights like last night didn’t happen often, and he’d be damned if he was going to let her get away from him that easily, not until he had some answers. In the meantime, he had some quick thinking to do.
Chapter Eight
When Stacey guided her chair back into the bedroom, Johnny was gone. She wasn’t surprised, but she was a little disappointed. What had she expected, him to be there waiting for her? Why the hell would he? They’d had their night, and now that he knew the truth, an encore was most likely not in the cards.
Hating how much that thought hurt, Stacey pushed her way over toward the far wall, where her suitcase sat on a folding chair. How ironic was it that the guest room Lina had given her – the only one on the first floor – was his?
Stacey made up her mind to relocate to a different room. His presence permeated this one, in the deep, rich brown and green color scheme and the golden oak wood furniture. And it was definitely his scent she’d smelled on the clothes in the closet and on the pillows.
Too make matters worse, now she smelled like him, too. It was unfortunate that she hadn’t thought to take her own personal care products into the bathroom with her earlier; she’d been in such a rush to get out of there before she did something really stupid, like cry in front of him.
Crying was something she rarely did, so her earlier impromptu jag surprised her a little. Like the impulsive epic sex with a guy she’d just met, she was going to blame it on a moment of weakness and an overabundance of rampant female hormones, and move on. What had happened had happened. It was unexpected. It was awesome.
And it was now officially over.
Stacey rummaged in her suitcase for deodorant, then sprayed herself with a bit more than usual. She followed that up with a generous application of her favorite body butter along her arms and legs. It didn’t complete
ly eradicate the smell of his manly scent, but it did manage to mask it enough for her brain to function again. It was a common cliché that men often bypassed intelligent reasoning and thought with their dicks, but she’d just proven that women were just as fallible when it came right down to it. She let her lust override her common sense, and now she had to face the music.
Almost as an afterthought, Stacey squeezed one more drop of the thick lotion onto her finger, then swiped it directly above her lip until all she could smell was the crisp, clean scent of cherry blossoms.
Wearing her own clothes and her favorite fragrance, she felt better equipped to deal with whatever awaited her beyond the bedroom door. He was still around; she could hear the occasional sounds of someone moving around the kitchen, and the footfalls were too heavy to be Lina’s. With a deep breath, Stacey pulled up her metaphorical big girl panties and gathered what remained of her self-respect. She hoped she wouldn’t see regret in his eyes when she faced him, but if she did, she’d deal with it.
It was pity she couldn’t abide.
She gathered up her few belongings and placed them in her lap. Too bad this was the only bedroom that didn’t require the use of stairs to get to. She’d figure something out. She’d sleep under the goddamned stars if she had to, but she would not spend another night in his room.
That U-shaped sofa in the living room was pretty comfortable, and was placed near enough to the floor-to-ceiling windows that it would afford a spectacular view in the evening. That would do. There were only one or two steps into the sunken area where it sat, and Kyle had already rigged up a makeshift ramp for her.
Opening the door to begin her roll of shame, her senses were assaulted by the heavenly scent of bacon, eggs, toast, and that nectar of the gods, fresh coffee. Her stomach grumbled loudly, reminding her that her physical exploits had long since burned off last night’s sandwich.
Oh sweet Mary, Mother of God, help me. It just wasn’t fair. A gorgeous man who knew exactly how to pleasure a woman and knew how to cook?
He was in the kitchen, preparing enough food to feed a small army. His hair was damp, fresh from the shower, and he was bare-chested. He wore a thin pair of work-out pants that hugged him in all the right places, and let her know for a fact that he was totally commando beneath them.
Why was he still here? And why was he making her breakfast?
His eyes flicked to the suitcase in her lap, then to her face. That neutral, impassive expression was gone, and he was back to looking like smug sex-on-a-stick. She told herself it didn’t matter.
“Thought you might be hungry,” he said, flashing her one of the devastating grins that would have made her knees weaken had she been standing. “Hellcats do eat, don’t they?”
“Not necessary.” With supreme effort, she turned away from him and navigated her chair over toward the window, setting her suitcase on the floor along the way. The weather outside was overcast, the sky filled with heavy blackening clouds threatening to open up at any minute. Perfect. It fit her mood. Even as the thought flitted through her mind, a distant rumble of thunder echoed around her.
“Big front moving in,” he said casually, fixing two plates. “We’ll probably lose electricity. This may be your last chance to grab a hot meal for a while.”
His words gave her pause. She didn’t like storms, not anymore. If one hit, she sure as hell didn’t want him around. Hopefully he’d leave before that happened, and the stack of candles, flashlight, and box of wooden matches on the table were solely for her benefit.
Stacey flicked a nervous glance toward the windows. The skies were dark, but they didn’t look that threatening. As long as the forecast didn’t call for lots of lightning, she’d be fine.
Hmmm. That gave her a great story idea. A heroine, trapped in a remote mountain location in a candlelit cabin with a sexy male god in human form. The woman could be injured in some way, and the hero could have magical healing powers. It was a perfect set-up for her next novel. Normally she shied away from paranormals, but this one felt too right to ignore. And really, it was no more fantastical than the once-in-a-lifetime loves she wrote about.
Try as she might, it was impossible to ignore the mouthwatering aromas now filling the cabin. Why did it have to be such an open floor plan? Why was the kitchen visible from the living room, so she could not only smell all that delicious food, but she could see him preparing it, too? Who did that?
With a shake of her head, Stacey resisted the urge to speed across the room and inhale everything on the table. It smelled so good. What really broke her will, though, was the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, strong and potent.
Just like him, she noted. And he was potent. Good Lord, the man literally oozed virility.
His lips twitched ever so slightly as he tilted the carafe over two huge mugs, studying her surreptitiously from beneath half-lidded eyes. He thought he was so clever, trying to lure her over there with his god-like body and freshly brewed magic beans....
Ah, shit.
With a sigh, she cursed her own weakness and made a beeline for the table. She was careful to stay away from him and his virile pheromones, though she caught his triumphant smile when she practically lunged for the mug.
* * *
His hellcat was back, looking just as fierce and sexy as ever, whipping around with speed, skill, and precision. Her fresh, cherry scent settled around him. Johnny closed his eyes and inhaled, his mouth watering in remembrance, because that’s what she’d tasted like, too. Fresh. Clean. Rich. Sweet.
Delicious.
She powered the chair past him, pointedly refusing to meet his gaze. She was wearing a dark red tank top that showed off her smooth skin and toned upper body to perfection. A white skirt with dark red flowers flowed over her legs, hiding them from his curious eyes. Not for the first time that morning, he wondered why she was confined to a wheelchair. Had she been in an accident? Or was she born that way?
Not that it mattered. With or without the chair, she was the most vibrant, intoxicating woman he’d ever met. Sexy body, sassy mouth, a passion that rivalled his own. Hopefully, she’d see past his initial shock and subsequent unfortunate inability to speak and give him another chance, maybe even trust him with a confidence or two.
Her face was an unreadable mask as she poured something thick and white from a small carton into her coffee. Soy milk. Then she added the contents of a small yellow packet. Organic sugar substitute. Johnny made mental notes, so tomorrow morning, he could bring her coffee in bed.
The thought gave him pause. Was he planning to be here tomorrow morning?
Hell yes, he was.
Stacey lifted the mug to her lips he witnessed something close to rapture pass over her face. He’d seen that look on her before, when he ...
His cock jerked again, reminding him that he’d neglected to grab a pair of briefs before he’d run up to the upstairs shower earlier. It was one thing to borrow a pair of Michael’s sweats, but there was no way in hell he was going to wear his brother’s underwear.
“Coffee okay?” he asked innocently, studying her face. Her eyes snapped open, as if she suddenly remembered he was there.
“It’s okay,” she mumbled, and he fought hard to contain the grin that lurked just beneath his blank expression.
“Just okay?”
“Oh, who the hell am I kidding?” she breathed out in a whoosh. “This is a damn good cup of coffee.” Johnny’s grin broke through full-force. “But don’t let it go to your head,” she grumbled, taking another sip.
It was a start. Johnny sat down at the table and focused on his food, giving her some personal space. “So...,” he said, between mouthfuls. He had to be careful how he approached this. He didn’t want her bolting on him again. Or crying.
“So,” she echoed. Her eyes were closed, and she was holding the mug of coffee in both hands as if it was a precious child.
“I’m sorry.”
She avoided looking him in the eye. “About what?”
“About this morning. You kind of caught me by surprise.”
She shrugged. “Like I said, no biggie.”
She was a horrible liar, but he wasn’t about to call her out. Doing so would raise her hackles again and put her on the defensive, and as much as he loved her fiery spirit, he preferred to see it manifested in other ways.
She took another sip of coffee, then flashed those silvery gray eyes his way. He was glad to see they had softened a bit. “I’m sorry about using your room. Yours was the only bedroom that didn’t require steps to get to.”
“No problem. I don’t mind sharing.”
Her big eyes widened and flashed his way. “You’re – you’re staying?” she asked hesitantly. He couldn’t tell if she was pleased or displeased by the idea, but either way, he wasn’t ready to walk away.
“Yeah, I have some vacation built up, thought I’d crash here. You know, leave the rat race behind and all that.” That might not have been his original plan, but he was liking the idea more and more. He could use a break; he’d been busting his ass, working as much if not more than his crews. Besides, barring this morning’s misunderstanding, he felt better than he had in weeks. Another few nights like last night, and he’d be set for a while.
Stacey was biting her lower lip. He could see the whirlwind of thoughts in those stormy gray eyes. He’d once heard the saying that “eyes were the windows of the soul”. He’d never really understood what that meant, but it was starting to make sense when he looked in hers.
“Will that be a problem?” he asked, tossing back her earlier words.
* * *
He spoke casually, as if this sort of thing happened to him all the time. As if strange women just appeared in his hot tub every weekend and were gifted with an incredible night of passion. After the exemplary experience he’d given her, it was a distinct possibility.
But why did that bother her so much, she thought as the sharp pang of jealousy stabbed at her insides? She had no claim on him. They were both mature, consenting adults who’d found themselves in a perfect storm of hot tubbing, horniness, and opportunity.
Johnny (Connelly Cousins #2) Page 6