by RB Hilliard
I expected her to tell me no. In a voice so quiet I had to strain to hear, she said, “I was at the end of a race. It was an important one. When I went to draw my rifle it wasn’t there. Instead there was a pistol.” She pointed to her waist. “I couldn’t figure out how it got there.”
I had no idea what she was talking about, but at least she was talking. I didn’t dare interrupt to ask questions for fear of her shutting down.
“It was the same pistol my dad taught me to shoot when I was thirteen.” She paused to catch her breath, and I wondered what kind of father taught his kid to shoot a pistol at the age of thirteen? “I slipped off my gloves and tried to pull it from the holster, only it was stuck. The second time I tried, I lost my balance and my skis shot out from under me. I fell hard and the gun accidentally discharged. The bullet blew a hole through my k-k-knee,” she sobbed. “It was so r-r-real.”
Her tears bothered me more than I was willing to admit. In attempt to toss some levity into the situation, I said, “That’s one fucked up dream, babe.” She let out a hollow sounding laugh. It wasn’t much but at least it slowed the tears. Pulling her closer, I kissed the back of her head. “Do you have these dreams often?”
“I used to have them all the time but I haven’t in years. They started up again the night before I took this job.”
I didn’t want to push her but I wanted to know as much about her as she’d give me. “How exactly did you hurt your knee? Was there a gun involved?”
She quietly laughed. “If you’re asking if I shot a hole through my knee, the answer is no.” She sucked in a shuddering breath. Gently stroking her hair, I kissed the side of her head and waited for her to continue. It didn’t take her long. “I was such a cocky skier. I was young and reckless and didn’t care about anything but winning. I was taught caution but never used it, not in my day to day life, nor in my training. I was a bully and a know-it-all.” She tilted her head back and I was trapped in her stare. “Do you know what happens to bullies and know-it-alls?” Without waiting for me to answer, she said, “Karma, that’s what.”
I placed a gentle kiss on her lips. “All teenagers are bullies and know-it-alls, babe.”
“No, they’re not,” she huffed, and I smiled. I could handle a sassy Mallory so much better than a sad one.
“Tell me the rest,” I coaxed.
She lowered her eyes back to the wall in front of us and continued her story. “I was in the middle of trials and the training was brutal. The last day it was snowing so hard I could barely see the path in front of me, much less the trees. It was dangerous and they should have called us in but it was the last day. Everyone was running on fumes and just wanted it to be over. I was sandwiched between two of my teammates. I was so cocky,” she repeated. “In my head I was better than the rest of the team. The girl on my heels kept taunting me.” She tilted her head back to catch my eyes, and said, “She was a real bitch. The more she pushed the angrier I got. Instead of paying attention to the trail, I was busy devising a way to out maneuver them both. I missed the turn and slammed into a tree. My left ski bent all the way back and didn’t release until the ligaments and tendons in my knee snapped. In one foolish second I destroyed my whole career.”
“And now you have nightmares about it,” I stated.
“And now I have nightmares about it,” she repeated.
“What race?” I asked.
She dropped her eyes back to the wall before answering, “The 2010 Olympic trials.”
My jaw dropped. “You were an Olympic skier?”
“No, I was a biathlete, and for a very brief moment in time, an Olympic contender.”
“Holy shit,” I whispered. How did I not know this? “Show me your knee.”
She reared back and almost clipped my face with the back of her head. “What? No, it’s ugly.”
“Show me,” I commanded a second time. We both sat up and I almost swallowed my tongue when I noticed her barely there tank top and panties. Her tight little nipples were standing at attention and I tried not to stare at them but it was hard. Hell, I was hard. Focus, I told myself. Mallory slowly peeled off her knee brace and turned her knee to face me. Two long angry looking scars spanned either side of her knee cap. I ran my fingers up and down them and inwardly gloated when my touch made her shiver. Lifting my eyes from her injured knee, I asked, “Were you in a lot of pain?”
“Unbearable pain,” she half whispered, half panted.
Wanting to get a similar reaction, as well as make her forget her nightmare, I gently ran my fingers up and down her scars. “Does it hurt when I touch them?”
“No,” she gasped. “They’re actually really sensitive.”
Leaning down I placed a kiss on one of the scars. Then I traced it with my tongue. She made a humming noise. I couldn’t tell if it was good or bad, so I did it again. When I felt her fingers slide through my hair I had my answer. Mallory Scott wanted me just as much as I wanted her. Slowly, so as not to spook her, I gently kissed from her knee over to her thigh.
“Grant.” The sound of her moaning my name made my cock ache unbearably as it strained against my zipper. I reached the spot where her leg ended and her panties began and paused to see what she would do. “We can’t do this,” she murmured.
I pulled back far enough to see her gorgeous face, and smiled. “Oh, but we can.”
“But we shouldn’t,” she huffed, right before fisting a handful of my hair. My cock jumped and I sucked in a deep breath when I felt the pinch of my zipper.
Before she could protest further, I leaned down and ran my tongue across the seam of her panties. Her honey scented skin called to me in a way that nothing ever had. I pulled back far enough to capture her gorgeous blue eyes. “This is about you and me and no one else.” Like magic, she opened up for me. I was going to do dirty things to my Mallory but not on a hotel room floor. She let out a squeak of surprise when I lifted her into my arms and placed her on the bed. Afraid she would change her mind I quickly slid her panties off and buried my face between her legs.
“Oh, God,” she moaned, and dug her nails into my scalp. With a grunt of approval, I devoured her sweet smelling pussy. It didn’t take long for her to break apart beneath my lips. The bite of her nails, along with the sounds she made when my tongue was buried deep inside her, drove me to distraction. She smelled like a dream and tasted like a song I wanted to lose myself in. When she came a second time I pulled back in order to adjust my aching cock and make sure she was satisfied. She stared at the ceiling with a satisfied smile on her face and I couldn’t help but grin like a teenager after his first taste of pussy.
“More?” I asked.
Shining her sweet smile on me, she said the only word I wanted to hear. “Condom.”
“Stay,” I commanded, and bolted for my hotel room. One thing Blane made sure to always have on hand, was condoms. I grabbed a strip of five and hauled it back across both hotel rooms. When I got to her bedroom door I paused for a moment to take her in. She was lying where I’d left her, naked from the waist down with her top up around her ribs and her breasts partially exposed. Moonlight spilled from a crack in the curtains and danced across her skin. Mallory Scott was the most beautiful woman I’d ever set eyes on. It wasn’t one specific thing that drew me to her, but everything. She was everything I never knew I wanted and more. Her head turned and her eyes landed on me. A slow, sensual smile spread across her face and I suddenly found it hard to swallow. “There are no words,” I confessed.
Her eyes dropped to my fly. “Then show me.” Her answer was both simple and perfect.
Placing the condoms on the table beside me, I pulled my shirt over my head and tossed it on the floor. Mallory sat up and licked her lips in anticipation as I fought back a groan. Her eyes were glued to my fly and I thought about teasing her but my dick really was throbbing in anticipation. As quick as my fingers would allow I released it from its prison with a sigh of relief. Kicking my jeans to the side I slid my fingers beneath the waist
band of my briefs and paused when I heard her suck in a deep breath. While pushing them down my legs I lifted my eyes to her face. The carnal gleam in her eyes made me swallow my smile. It also had me snatching the condoms from the table faster than I’d planned. Mallory stared up at me with those big blue eyes and all I could think about was how much this mattered. Sex had always been a way to blow off steam. It was fun and games but had never really seemed to matter, until now.
“What are you thinking?” Mallory asked.
Not wanting to scare her with the truth of my thoughts, I leaned over and pressed my lips to hers. She sucked in a surprised breath before opening up and letting me in. I pulled my mouth away long enough to peel her tank from her body. Mallory was lean with just the right amount of muscle, but she still managed to have curves. Right now, those curves were taunting me. I cupped her breast in my hand and lowered my mouth for a taste. Taking her nipple between my teeth I bit down just enough to cause her to gasp. When I gave it an apologetic kiss with my tongue her head dropped back against the pillow and she let out a moan. My cock literally wept as I was torn between wanting to slowly savor her and needing to take her like an animal. I wasn’t sure if this made me more of a man or a monster, or if I even gave two shits either way. The desire not to scare her, thankfully, overrode my caveman tendencies. I switched nipples and she arched her back and dug her nails into my scalp. Her whispered, “Please,” was all it took for me to completely lose all self-control. I pulled back long enough to get the condom on and, with zero finesse I grabbed my throbbing cock, lined it up to her entrance and pushed inside. The moment I entered her, my mind completely blanked. Pleasure whipped like lightening up my spine and my only thought was, finally.
Mallory let out a long breathy moan and, like a switch, I was back in the moment and thinking clearly again. Sex as a whole was amazing, but this…this was something else. The wide-eyed look on her face as she stared up at me told me she felt it too.
“You feel that?” I asked.
“God yes,” she panted.
With each thrust I gave her a piece of me and in return I gained a piece of her. When her walls squeezed down on my cock I knew I wasn’t going to last much longer.
“Grant,” she moaned for the third time, and I almost let go.
“Tell me what you need,” I said between strokes.
She shook her head back and forth against the pillow and gasped, “I don’t know. It’s too much, too much.”
“Let go. I’ve got you,” I growled. This time when she screamed my name I was right there with her.
If I wasn’t sure before, I was now. Mallory Scott was mine.
Chapter Eighteen
About As Real As It Gets
Mallory
As the most mind numbing orgasm I’d ever experienced in my entire life blasted through my body, I shouted Grant’s name. Satisfied beyond my wildest dreams, I melted into the bed, a complete and total puddle of mush. Then it hit me. I’d just done the one thing I was forbidden to do. I’d slept with my client. Grant collapsed on top of me and I wanted to put my arms around him and never let go. I wanted to but I couldn’t. I couldn’t because I was frozen in the wake of my stupidity. Grant’s weight shifted as he lifted up into a partial push up and I closed my eyes. The old Mallory would be reveling in the fact that she’d bagged Grant Hardy. She’d see him as a challenge and not the man who’d stolen her heart. Never that.
“Be right back.” He gave me a quick peck on the lips before vaulting off the bed and escaping in the direction of the bathroom. I stared at his perfect body as he walked away and fought the urge to weep. Grant had seen me at my most vulnerable tonight. As I lay there, a raw, exposed heap of bitterness, crying for what I’d lost, he’d swept in and saved me. No one had ever saved me before. I didn’t think it was possible.
Minutes later he strode back in with a gorgeous grin on his face and crawled into bed beside me. I tried not to stiffen when I felt his lips graze the back of my neck.
“Mallory,” he said with a sigh of frustration.
“We shouldn’t have done that,” I whispered. Before I could get another word out I was flat on my back with him hovering over me like an angry storm cloud.
“Why?”
“For one I’m your counselor. Two, I could lose my job. Three, it isn’t real.”
“What isn’t real?” he snapped.
“This!” I hissed, when what I really wanted to do was shout. I wanted to scream at the unfairness of the situation.
“Oh baby, this was very real.” The hurt behind his smile made me feel horrible. It also solidified the fact that we’d gone too far.
I pushed against his chest but he didn’t budge. “I’m not kidding, Grant. I can’t lose my job.” He stared down at me and I wondered what would happen if I just gave in. Would it be so bad?
“You won’t lose your job.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Is the fear of losing your job the only thing holding you back?” he countered.
Yes, that and you discovering the truth about me. “The first year is a probationary period. If I lose a client during that time I will have to repeat the last six months of training and answer phones before I’m allowed to try again,” I explained.
His mouth turned up into a cocky grin and my heart melted. “You won’t lose your job, I promise.”
“But if Kirkland finds out –” His body froze when I mentioned Kirkland’s name and I swallowed the rest of my sentence.
“Fuck Kirkland,” he gritted out. The he flipped onto his back and stared up at the ceiling.
“What’s going on?” I quietly asked.
He turned his head and I could see the turmoil in his eyes. “Kirkland won’t touch you, I swear it.” Flipping back to his side he ran his fingers across my cheek. “No regrets, Mallory. Let me hear you say it.”
“Grant –”
“Say it,” he commanded. The man was so hard to resist. “Say. It,” he slowly repeated.
I closed my eyes and, against my better judgment, said, “No regrets.” When I opened them back up he was staring down at me with a smile on his face.
Has anyone ever told you that you’re worthy of a song?”
Evidently I’d hit a nerve when I mentioned Kirkland. I wanted Grant to talk but clearly challenging him wasn’t the right way to go about it. His fingers traced a line from my cheek to my neck. When they reached my waist I snatched his wandering hand and held it in front of my face. “Why tattoo only half of your body?”
“Because I have yet to find the inspiration for the second half. Who knows, maybe I’ve finally found it?” His sexy tone plus the way he was looking at me had me aching for more. Dropping his hand I reached over and traced my fingers across the guitar on his chest. It was white with a black center and red etching. “I started taking lessons when I was eight years old. At first, I hated lessons. I thought they were pointless and just an excuse for my parents to get rid of me for an hour every Saturday morning. Once I could play, though, I grew to love them,” he explained. On his shoulder sat an ornate skull. The letters D and N sat in place of the eyes. I traced my fingers over the letters. “Dale Nelson was the best musician I’ve ever known.”
“He was your drummer before Chaz, right?”
“He was.”
“What happened?”
“He had a drug problem. We ignored it. By the time we figured it out, he was too far gone. If I had been less self-absorbed I could have prevented his death.”
“You can only save someone who wants to be saved and even then it doesn’t always work.”
His lips grazed across my shoulder and I shivered. “Did you want to be saved?”
“I think deep down everyone wants to be saved, even when they don’t.” Turning on my side to face him I pulled the covers up over us and asked, “Tell me about Never the Same.”
A sad smile appeared on his face. My heart dipped when he ran his fingers gently across my cheek and asked, “What
would you like to know?”
“I’ve never heard it before. It was…sad. Did you write it?”
“It made you cry.” I glanced away in embarrassment. I’d cried more in the past few weeks than in the past several years, and all in front of Grant. Pressing his fingers to my chin he lured me back into his amber stare. Then he told me what happened with both Dale and Nash’s mother.
“So, it’s about letting go?” I asked, once he’d finished.
“Death and disease are two things that change you as a person. Watching Dale destroy himself had a profound effect on all of us, but especially Luke. The same goes for Nash and his mother. She’s all he has and he’s being forced to watch her slowly die. At what point do you throw in the towel? Do you give up or do you keep fighting? Sometimes you have to know when to let go.”
“Why Luke?”
“Luke and Dale were tight. Luke did everything he could to save Dale. In truth, I don’t think Dale wanted to be saved.” I felt bad for Luke. I felt bad for all of them. I’d stood on both sides of that coin and was so thankful I’d survived.
“Are you and Nash okay?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Because you are best friends who barely talk which, by the way, is strange.”
He shrugged. “Nash should have believed me. We both were there every step of the way with Dale. Nash knew how much I hated what happened and how much I blamed myself. Yet, when it came to me, he couldn’t look past the surface. He wouldn’t even listen to what I was telling him. I’m the first to admit it looked damning but if it had been me in his shoes, I would have at least listened to what he had to say.”
“Are you still mad at him?”
“No, yes,” he rolled onto his back and sighed, “I don’t know. Can we please not talk about this anymore?”
Not willing to let it go quite yet, I said, “Nash regrets not believing you.”
“I know he does.”