A new feeling began to blossom deep in her core, one that was stronger than the terror that had plagued her, but she pushed it down. She refused to read anything into it. Through Lina, Stacey knew that both of her brothers were the overprotective type. It only made sense that her behavior yesterday had tripped his instinctual wires.
And, she thought with some embarrassment, she had begged him.
Sure, they’d had great sex, the inner pragmatist in her pointed out, but that only meant he was really, really good at it. So what if it felt like more than that? They barely knew each other, and the number of words they’d actually spoken to each other wouldn’t fill a page in one of her books. His grunts, groans, and husky demands were sexy as hell, and while they could certainly be included under the “getting to know you” category, they didn’t count as traditional, relationship-building conversation.
Just because she was starting to feel something didn’t mean that he was, and there was no sense reading any more into it at this point. Before she got too carried away, it would be better to see how things went this morning in the stark, storm-free light of day.
With some effort and a lot of patience, Stacey managed to wriggle from his hold without waking him. It wasn’t easy. His arm weighed a ton and the leg he’d half-thrown over hers was even heavier. Even more difficult was ripping herself away from the sense of safety and comfort he provided, but that was exactly why she forced herself to do it. He had done something incredibly nice for her. Now she wanted to do something for him.
Stacey was pleased to discover that the power had been restored sometime during the night. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten in a while. After taking care of a few necessities, she quietly rolled into the kitchen to start the coffee and begin preparing breakfast.
“Hey.”
Stacey paused mid-pancake-flip and looked up from the griddle to find Johnny leaning against the doorway. She wouldn’t have believed it was possible, but he looked even sexier than usual. His long, golden hair formed a messy frame around his face. A dark shadow dusted his strong jaw line. And he was wearing a pair of those thin sweats again, sans boxer briefs.
No man should look that good first thing in the morning.
“Hey,” she managed, the greeting coming out a bit huskier than she would have liked. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“I wish you would have. I could have helped.” Johnny entered the kitchen, snagging a mug from the hook. He turned to fill it from the carafe, giving her a lovely view of his sculpted behind. She wondered vaguely if it bore the marks of her nails.
With that happy thought, she wrenched her gaze back to the pancake balanced on the turner and completed the flip. It was a good thing, too, because he turned around just then, nearly catching her ogling him. The man was confident enough; he didn’t need an additional reason to preen.
Johnny leaned back against the counter, crossing one ankle over the other. Stacey took in his strikingly male pose in a single glance. Mercy, even his feet were gorgeous! Since when had looking at a man’s feet become so arousing?
Since they belonged to him, she answered herself silently.
His eyes raked her up and down (clearly he didn’t care if he was caught ogling), his lips curling into a knowing smirk when he registered she was wearing one of his shirts. It had been yet another moment of weakness on her part, but in her defense, it was more comfortable than anything she’d brought with her.
“I hope you like pancakes.”
“I do,” he told her, bringing his eyes up to lock onto hers. “And if they taste half as good as they smell, I’ll love them. But you didn’t need to go to all this trouble. I would have made breakfast.”
“It’s no trouble. And I wanted to,” she said, resisting the urge to squirm under his intense gaze, “Especially after everything you’ve done.”
Johnny’s green eyes glowed. “You seem to be under the impression that you were the only one who benefitted.”
Oh, that look! The man didn’t have to do anything more than pin those emerald peepers on her and she felt like she was melting inside. She flushed, and thought she saw the ghost of a smile on his lips.
“So,” he said, reaching for the coffee, “what would you like to do today?”
Her heart thumped against her chest at the thought of exactly what she’d like to do. He looked good enough to eat, a bronze Viking god with his damp hair and beautiful green eyes. Her inner muscles clenched as she silently basked in the exquisite tenderness between her legs. He had done that. He’d played her body like an expert musician for hours on end, using his mouth, hands, and... yeah.
Feeling slightly light-headed, she sighed and turned her attention back to the pancakes. She was falling too fast, too hard. That couldn’t be good. This wasn’t one of her books, after all, no matter how closely these symptoms she was having mimicked the insta-love connections she crafted.
Loss of equilibrium? Check.
Sweet ache in chest? Check.
Burning core? Check.
Unable to think of anything else but him? Check and double-check. Even when she’d been in her writing frenzy, it had been his face she’d imagined in the scenes. His voice. His touch. His scent.
Yeah, she had it bad. Who could blame her? Johnny was the perfect muse – and, quite possibly, the perfect man. Gorgeous. Compassionate. So sexually charged she could almost come just by looking at him.
But what did he see in her, she wondered?
Yeah, she was a successful author, but she didn’t think that came into play. While she considered herself passably attractive, she also came with a laundry list of limitations.
That didn’t matter in bed, though, thank God. Otherwise, she would have missed out on two amazing, incredible nights.
Was he just interested in the sex, then? She had proven to be an extremely easy lay, allowing such mind-blowing, intimate contact within hours of meeting him. It would make sense. She was a sure thing, a convenient fuck-buddy.
But that didn’t explain why he was still here. He’d said he needed a vacation, but surely he had better things to do than hang out while she pounded away at her laptop. Unless maybe his appearance at the cabin hadn’t been solely by chance...
Stacey’s mind went back to Friday night, when she and Lina had been sitting in front of the fire. They’d been talking about something – Stacey couldn’t even remember what now – and Lina’s gaze had gone to her husband. The look in Lina’s eyes – the fire, the hunger, the desire, the love – had left her breathless.
“You really love him, don’t you?” Stacey had asked.
“Yes,” Lina murmured. Then Kyle had turned around and matched Lina’s gaze with one of his own. It was obvious he felt the same for her.
“What’s it like? To love and be loved like that?” Stacey wondered aloud, genuinely curious.
“It’s... I don’t know. It’s beautiful. Wonderful. Amazing. There aren’t really any words to do it justice.” Lina smiled. “Although you come pretty close in your books. You write some steamy interludes, Stace.”’
Stacey had chuckled at that. “Yeah, I have a good imagination.”
“Oh, come on. It must be more than that. No one can put that much passion into a love scene based solely on imagination.”
Yes, she could. When she lay awake at night, staring at the ceiling, her mind escaped the confines of her uncooperative body. She created an alternate reality, one free from pain and filled with love and passion and perfection.
Unwilling to dampen the mood by saying so, she’d taken a sip of her tea and deadpanned, “Of course not. That’s why I watch porn.”
Lina’s eyes had gone huge. Stacey hadn’t been able to maintain a straight face, and the moment her lips quirked, Lina caught on and started laughing, too.
“Seriously though, Stace. Is there anyone?”
“No,” she’d admitted. “But that’s okay. Not everyone needs a man to get their Happily Ever After, you know?”
Lina had looked at her then, and in that moment, Stacey had seen the flash of pity. It hadn’t lasted long, but it had been enough.
And just like that, the pieces fell into place. Lina left the next morning, and by the end of the day, her hot and sexy brother just happened to show up? That seemed like more than random coincidence.
Not that she was complaining. He had adjusted her attitude and charged her creative batteries (enough that she might actually have to give him a percentage of the royalties), but it did take some of the wind out of her sails. Not to mention put a significant dent in her pride.
“I don’t need a babysitter, you know,” she felt compelled to say as she placed the stack of pancakes on the table. She reached for the fridge to pull out some butter and syrup, but he was suddenly there in front of the door. His expression was no longer playful or sexy. He looked ... angry.
“Is that what you think I’m doing?” Just like that, his muscles tensed and his green eyes grew hard. “Babysitting you?”
She swallowed, trying to back away, but he grabbed the arms of her chair and held her solidly in place. Stacey gathered all the courage she could muster. As much as she wanted to believe otherwise, it was a possibility she had to consider, even if it did turn that sweet ache in her chest into a sharp pain.
“Come on, Johnny. What else could it be?” she shrugged. “I’m physically handicapped, not stupid. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate everything, but let’s not pretend it’s more than it is.”
Stacey held her breath. Deep within, her heart pounded furiously, waiting for his reaction.
She didn’t have to wait long before she got it.
His eyes flashed. His jaw clenched. The tendons in his forearms began to bulge. Johnny released the hold he had on her chair and took a few steps back. She saw the anger clearly now, and something else, too: hurt.
* * *
Her casual comments hit him like a sucker punch to the gut. Just moments ago he’d been thinking about how she’d managed to burrow under his skin, make him start thinking all kinds of crazy shit, like cutting work and spending the day with her, doing something other than fucking her into lassitude again (though if she had insisted on spending the day getting hot and heavy, he would have manned up).
Because yeah, sex with Stacey was good. Scary good. There had been a connection of more than body parts there. He didn’t pretend to understand it, but he didn’t have to understand it to know that that kind of shit didn’t happen often.
In his case, it had been a first.
So what was this crap about babysitting? Did she really believe that was what he was doing? Had she not felt the same things that he did? Had she not experienced the same shift in her world? Did she think that he made a habit of fucking scared, frightened women into ecstasy, or holding them through hellish nightmares while his chest ached on her behalf?
Okay, so maybe he wouldn’t be winning any awards for abstinence. There had been a fair number of women in his life, but nothing serious. Never once had he felt anything even remotely close to what he had with Stacey. And he certainly never hung around long enough to cuddle.
Forty-eight hours ago he’d come here to get drunk and forget the rest of the world existed. This morning, he’d realized the niggling, anxious feeling that had been plaguing him was gone. And it had done its disappearing act right about the same time he’d slipped into bed with a cherry-scented hellcat.
Maybe she was right. Maybe he was overthinking it. Maybe it was simply a matter of focusing on someone else besides himself. With Lina happily married and Michael back in town for the foreseeable future, he didn’t have as much to worry about. But even as he considered that possibility, he felt the wrongness of it. What he’d been feeling wasn’t just a result of self-reflection.
Exactly what it was remained to be seen, but it was something. Something that sure as hell deserved a chance. Was it sudden? Hell, yes, it was sudden. Like being T-boned by a goddamn semi at full speed right out of the blue. But Johnny had never been one to hang back and overanalyze. When he saw something he wanted, he went for it. Period. And right now, he wanted Stacey, not just in his bed, but out of it, too.
Apparently, that hadn’t come through. Somewhere along the line, she decided he was keeping time with her out of a sense of ... what, exactly? Duty? Responsibility? Pity?
One look in Stacey’s tormented eyes and he knew that was exactly what she thought.
Christ, he felt like a fucking idiot. Why would she think anything else? She was a successful author. Brilliant. Beautiful. Smart. What did she see when she looked at him? A pleasant but temporary diversion? A perk, a bennie, right up there with the hot tub and the view?
It didn’t feel right, but what the hell did he know? Christ, for a couple of moments there, he’d thought she might be The One. Maybe she was. But until he had a chance to think it through, he wasn’t going to make any more assumptions. A ride on his Harley is what he needed to clear his head and get her delicious cherry scent out of his lungs.
“Right. What else?” he muttered.
Johnny stalked away, up the stairs, where he knew she could not follow, only to come down a few minutes later, fully dressed. He pulled on a black leather jacket, then tied a bandana around his head to keep the hair out of his eyes. He scrawled a number on a notepad by the phone.
“This is my cell in case there’s an emergency.” He tossed the pen to the side, avoiding her gaze, taking long strides toward the door leading to the garage. He needed some space to think, but he wouldn’t hesitate if she needed him.
No matter what she thought.
“You’re leaving?” Her voice sounded so small, he almost changed his mind and turned around. Almost. But his Irish temper got the best of him. And this whole situation – the sheer power and force with which he suddenly found himself caring for her – frankly scared the shit out of him.
“Yeah. Turns out I’ve got better things to do than babysit. Don’t wait up.”
She flinched as if he had struck her. Yeah, that was low, even for him. He probably wouldn’t have said it if his heart hadn’t felt like it had been stomped on by an elephant with a bad attitude. He stormed out without another word. A minute or two later he was spitting gravel behind him as he tore away from the cabin on his Harley like a bat out of hell.
Chapter Eleven
Stacey positioned herself in front of the big windows, staring off into beautiful scenery she didn’t see. There was only one thing she was looking for, and that was Johnny returning. To the cabin. To her.
She tried writing, but accomplished nothing more than staring at the same page for an hour. Instead of scenes, her mind saw only the hurt look in his beautiful green eyes before they’d gone cold.
She felt terrible about that. When she sat back and thought about it, he had done nothing but take care of her. Never once had he said or done an unkind thing. Almost as if he really cared.
Yet she found it hard to believe he could have serious feelings for her. A weekend fling? Sure. But more than that? Doubtful. They’d only just met, after all, and she was, well, like she was. Her fears were even more confining than her chair. Not exactly girlfriend material for someone like him. Johnny was the embodiment of life and power and passion – everything she had once been.
If only she could have met him then; they might have had a chance.
She’d been so different then. That Stacey wouldn’t have cowered under the sheets because of a thunderstorm. That Stacey never would have questioned why a hot, sexy guy like Johnny was keeping time with her. And that Stacey would never have let him walk out the door like that. She would have jumped on his back, dug her nails into that hard, muscled chest, and given him a damn good reason to stay.
Depression embraced her like a familiar friend. She exhaled heavily and looked down at her uncooperative legs. The accident hadn’t just taken her ability to walk. That she could deal with. It was what it had done to her soul that was the real paralysis.
&nb
sp; But despite everything, she couldn’t regret what she’d done. Even if she had known the consequences of going out to help that day, she would have done the same thing, because that Stacey had loved life, been connected to the world around her.
Now she sat staring out a window feeling sorry for herself.
Stacey gripped the arms of her chair, fighting back the wave of self-pity trying to swallow her whole. Indulging in such negativity was a slippery slope, one she’d already been down too many times in the last five years.
It had gone on long enough.
She would get through this. Everything happened for a reason. Maybe this was exactly the wake-up call she’d needed.
And what exactly was she crying about, anyway? She’d gotten everything she’d wished for. Well, almost everything, she thought, looking down at her legs. She’d wanted to get past her writer’s block, and she had. Wanted to reconnect with Lina. Also done. Wished to be held in the arms of a man and made love to again. Granted, ten-fold.
Unfortunately for her, falling fast and hard for Johnny hadn’t been part of the original wish. That had been entirely her own doing.
Love at first sight was a concept best left in her stories, but being with him had just felt...right.
Stacey rolled away from the window, back to the now-stiff, stale pancakes. Her appetite was non-existent, but she nibbled on one anyway and played the what-if game.
What if she’d kept her insecurities to herself? Chances were, she wouldn’t be sitting in this gorgeous cabin alone, too bummed out to even write. So what if it was a limited time, no-strings kind of deal? Johnny would still be around, and they’d be doing something a hell of a lot more fun than this. Just thinking about that wicked smile, his incredible body, those sexy male grunts he made right before he came...
She sighed. What-ifs were a waste of time and effort. The only thing that mattered was what was.
She was in a wheelchair, at least for now. She refused to give up hope. Miraculous advances were being made every day.
Johnny (Connelly Cousins #2) Page 8