Wild at Heart

by Jane Graves

  Slowly she released his hands, exhaling softly, and leaned back against his chest. He felt strong and solid behind her, and she was glad he was there because just standing was starting to feel like a chore. He unfastened several buttons of her skirt, then slid it down, taking her panties along with it. She stepped out of them. He nudged them aside with his foot, then turned her back around to face him. She crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Alex, this is kind of embarrassing. Please go. I’ll be all right.”

  He reached over and turned out the bathroom light. The only illumination left was what was coming from the bedroom lamp through the half-open door. The darkness was soothing. Relaxing.

  Alex took her hand and nodded for her to get into the tub. She stepped tentatively into the steamy water, then sank down into it, and she knew instantly that he’d been right. It felt wonderful.

  He turned off the water, and silence fell over the bathroom except for the occasional drip of the faucet into the water below. He took a washcloth and a bar of soap from the sink and brought them to the edge of the tub. She reached for them, but instead of giving them to her, he knelt down beside her, dipped the washcloth into the water, and rubbed the bar of soap over it.

  “Lie back,” he said.

  When Val realized what he intended to do, she couldn’t believe it. “Alex, no. You really don’t have to—”

  “Just trust me, sweetheart. Lie back and relax.”

  After a moment, she slid farther down, resting her head against the back of the tub, the water pooling just beneath her breasts. She was totally open to him, totally naked, while he was fully clothed. She’d never felt so exposed to another human being in her life, and it was all she could do not to beg him to hand her the nearest towel.

  “Relax,” Alex whispered, taking her hand in his. “Just close your eyes and relax.”

  He placed the warm, soapy washcloth against her shoulder, then slowly dragged it all the way down her arm to her wrist. She watched his gaze in the dim light, following the path of the washcloth as it streaked tiny bubbles down her arm. As it neared her hand, he opened his palm beneath hers, bringing the washcloth all the way to her fingertips, then reversed the process and ran it back up her arm. He did it twice, three times, circling underneath to reach the tender skin on the inside of her upper arm.

  Val had never felt anything like it.

  He continued to stroke her with the cloth, until slowly her eyes drifted closed, until she was giving herself completely to him in a way she’d never expected.

  He dragged the washcloth across her shoulder, then swirled it around her neck and upper chest. He found her other arm and gave it the same slow, gentle treatment. She breathed deeply, inhaling the steam, and it seemed to cleanse her from the inside out. Then she heard him dipping the cloth in the water and soaping it again. She waited, eyes closed, for where he would touch her next.

  He placed the cloth against her upper chest, then swept it in a circle, moving toward her breasts. She tensed, but he merely swirled the washcloth in three or four cleansing circles, then moved down to her abdomen, then to her thigh. She sighed at his touch, melting further into the warm water.

  He curled his hand around the back of her ankle, lifted it slightly from the water, then ran the washcloth up the length of her leg. Every move he made was so gentle, so giving, so unlike anything she’d ever believed Alex to be, that tears came to her eyes again. She thought about how she’d rebuffed him in that shed today when he’d asked about her stepfather, telling him how heartless he was, when all he’d done was ask her to tell him why she was hurting. And he knew she was hurting. In spite of all the smart-ass comments she tossed at him, in spite of all the accusations she threw his way, still he’d seen right inside her. And now tonight … tonight …

  How could she have misread him so completely?

  Because of what he did five years ago.

  But somehow that memory had blurred, becoming impossible for her to grasp. All she saw was the man who was with her now, the man who was helping her wash away something awful and degrading, who understood enough about her to know what she needed when she didn’t even know herself.

  After soaping both of her legs, he rested the washcloth on her hip, then placed a gentle hand on the inside of her thigh.

  “Open up a little for me, sweetheart.”

  By now she was so entranced by the wonderful feelings he was creating that she did as he asked without question. She let her left leg drift to one side, allowing him to dip the soapy cloth beneath the surface of the water and move it gently between her legs. Looking at him through heavy-lidded eyes, she saw that his gaze was intently focused on his task. She also saw that the whole time he was doing his best to comfort her, the man inside him wanted to touch her in a completely different way.

  “Can you sit up?” he asked. “Need to get your back.”

  He took her hand and pulled her to a sitting position. He gathered her hair at the base of her neck and draped it over her shoulder. Soaping the cloth again, he bathed her back, rubbing in small circles, then moved the cloth up to squeeze soapy water over her neck. It slid in little rivers along her back and chest, sending warm shivers down her spine.

  “Your hair,” he said. “You’re going to need the shower for that. Can you stand up?”

  He unplugged the tub, then helped her to her feet. Every muscle felt limp, her skin warm and flushed. He turned the shower head straight down, then turned on the water, testing it, then adjusting it until it was the proper temperature. He reached over to the basket on the sink and handed her a little bottle of shampoo. He started to pull the curtain. She caught it with her hand.

  “You could use a shower, too,” she said.

  “As soon as you’re out.”

  “Now would be fine.”

  He stared at her a long time, both of them knowing what was at the heart of her invitation. She could feel his indecision, and she was astonished at how desperately she wanted him to say yes.

  And how desperately she wanted him to say no.

  Finally he took her face in his hands and kissed her gently. “No, sweetheart. You shower first, and then I’ll take one.”

  With that, he flicked the light back on, then turned and left the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

  chapter twenty-three

  Alex stood outside the bathroom door, his back against the wall, his eyes closed, picturing Val in that shower right now, lathering her hair, then tilting her head back, her eyes closed, to let the water spill over it. He couldn’t think of anything he wanted more than to duck under that warm spray of water with her. But keeping it platonic would have been a seriously difficult thing to do, even though the last thing she needed tonight was a man demanding sex from her.

  The way he’d felt when Val had started to cry … Damn. He hadn’t known what to do. The woman he thought was tough as nails was more fragile than he’d ever imagined. He couldn’t stand to watch it. At that moment, he would have done anything to make her tears stop. But what he’d actually ended up doing—where had that come from? He had no idea. He’d never touched a woman like that in his life. Slowly. Soothingly. Reaching out to her instead of pulling back. Touching her because she needed comfort instead of touching her because it would eventually lead to sex.

  Not that the thought hadn’t crossed his mind. She’d looked so beautiful lying there in that water, her body covered with soap suds, that by the time she finally issued him an invitation to join her in the shower, it had been all he could do not to leap right in. Right now, though, he saw nothing in her eyes but total trust, and he had no intention of doing anything to lose that.

  Even if it killed him.

  He sat down on the bed and tortured himself with more thoughts of Val naked, until finally he heard her turn off the shower. After a moment he heard a blow-dryer, and soon after that the bathroom door opened and she stepped out.

  He’d brought her jeans and a T-shirt, but she’d forgone the jeans, w
earing only a pair of panties and the shirt, which grazed the tops of her thighs. Her hair was full and lustrous once again, her cheeks tinted pink from the hot water. He rose from the bed and started toward the bathroom. They stopped and stared at each other, and he prepared himself for her to say something flippant or sarcastic to ease any embarrassment she felt about what had happened between them in the bathroom.

  Instead, she placed her hand against his shoulder and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  Her hand fell away from his shoulder, trailing down his chest. She turned and walked to the bed, leaving behind the soft scent of soap and shampoo, then slid beneath the covers. She rested her head against the pillow with a weary sigh, closed her eyes, and was still.

  Alex grabbed some clean clothes, went inside the bathroom, and closed the door, thanking God in heaven that he’d been smart enough to do the right thing.

  Ten minutes later, he came out of the shower wearing a pair of jeans. If he was going to be getting into bed with Val, that was as naked as he intended to get.

  He turned out the light and slipped beneath the covers. He wondered if she was asleep already, but then she turned over to face him.

  “Feel better?” she asked.

  “Much.”

  She slid up next to him and laid her head on his shoulder. He put his hand on her hip and froze.

  “You’re naked.”

  “Yeah. I was hoping you’d get that way, too.”

  Right then Alex felt as if he were being handed the keys to paradise, only he wasn’t at all sure that he should take them. For the past hour his mind and body had been at war with each other, and while his mind had been winning, right now he could feel the tide of that battle beginning to turn.

  She rose on one elbow. The sheet fell away from her shoulder, exposing her breasts. She put her hand against his abdomen, skimming her thumb back and forth, and he knew now that the battle was all but lost.

  “It’s what I want, Alex. You. Tonight.”

  He closed his eyes. “God, Val—you don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

  “What?” she whispered. “What am I doing to you?”

  He pulled her hand up and pressed it to his chest. “That.”

  Beneath her palm, Val felt his heart racing, and all at once her heart was pumping just as fast. She slid her palm away and placed a gentle kiss on the spot where it had been.

  He exhaled. “Don’t do that unless you mean it.”

  “Oh, I mean it.”

  She did. She’d never been so sure of anything. He was trying so hard to be considerate, turning down her invitation to join her in the shower because he was afraid of pushing her. And now every sweet, gentle word he spoke made her want him that much more. She kissed him in the same spot again, knowing she’d finally found the heart he tried so hard to hide.

  “Just promise me something,” he said.

  “What?”

  “If I touch you in any way that you don’t like, you’ll tell me.”

  She smiled softly. “I’m okay, Alex. I really am.”

  “I know. I just …”

  “As long as you’re the one touching me,” she said, “anything goes.”

  “Oh, sweetheart—don’t tell me that. I’ll keep you awake all night.”

  “Right now, I don’t need sleep. I need you.”

  Alex rose from the bed and pulled off his jeans and underwear all at once and kicked them aside. Even in the darkness of the bedroom, she could see that he was already fully aroused, and just the sight of him made it difficult for her to catch her breath. What had happened to her tonight, what had happened to her as a teenager—all of it disappeared from her consciousness. All she saw was Alex.

  She expected him to lie down beside her again. Instead, he went to the foot of the bed, and she rolled to her back to watch what he was doing. He took hold of the sheet that covered her, and slowly, slowly he pulled it away. It swept over her breasts, then her abdomen, then her hips and legs and feet. He dropped it at the foot of the bed and stared down at her. For a moment she felt self-conscious, until she saw his expression of total appreciation.

  “You’re beautiful,” he murmured. “I’ve always thought you were so damned beautiful.”

  She started to sit up.

  “No. Lie still.”

  She relaxed back against the pillow. He knelt down at the end of the bed.

  What was he doing?

  He wrapped his hands around her legs just below her knees, then swept them downward along her calves, finally rubbing his thumbs against the arches of her feet, then sliding his hands back up again. He did it twice, three times, sending shivers all the way to the top of her head and back down again.

  “I have a confession to make,” he said, still stroking her legs.

  “What?” she said.

  “That night at your apartment after you were shot. I carried you to bed. I took off your ankle holster and stared at your legs. Just stood right there in your room and stared at them for I don’t know how long. You wouldn’t have liked it then. I hope you don’t mind now.”

  “Of course not,” she said, a little breathlessly. “I would have liked it then, too. I just wouldn’t have told you so.”

  She saw a smile play across his lips. As far as she was concerned, he could look all he wanted to. Touch all he wanted to. Any way he wanted to.

  Then, to her surprise, he took hold of her ankles and gently dragged her down toward the foot of the bed until her legs were dangling over it. Still on his knees, he nudged her legs apart, moved between them, and began to stroke her thighs. It surprised her a little, but she quickly gave in to the delicious feelings he was creating, his hands massaging her thighs, lightly at first, then more firmly, then lightly again. The sensation was incredible, but she couldn’t say it was completely relaxing, because every movement of his hands seemed to set her more and more on edge. Her skin became flushed, her breasts hot and tingly.

  And all he was doing was stroking her legs.

  Then he curled his hands around the backs of her knees and pulled her down some more, until just the tops of her thighs rested against the bed. He placed his hands gently against the junction of her hips and thighs, then moved his thumbs in the creases between them. Slowly. Gently.

  “Last night in that motel room in Tinsdale, I said some terrible things to you,” he said.

  “It was my fault. I pushed you into it.”

  “No,” he said, still stroking her with his thumbs. “I’ll never talk to you that way again. For any reason. I’ll never touch you like that again, either, as if I don’t care about you at all.”

  He moved his thumbs closer to the most sensitive part of her, until she thought she’d go crazy for wanting him to touch her there. The moment he did, she moaned and moved against him, and immediately he dipped his fingers downward. She was wet—already so wet and swollen that every movement of his fingers felt like a thousand electric shocks.

  “Yes,” he said. “That’s how I want you to be. Hot and wet.”

  “Alex …” she said, barely able to breathe. “Come here.”

  “Not yet.”

  He lowered his head and touched his tongue to her. The feeling was sudden and intense, so intense that she immediately shifted away, but he caught her hips in his hands, his forearms along the outsides of her thighs, trapping her in place.

  “Easy, sweetheart,” he said, his breath hot against her, then continued to tease her with his tongue. The feeling was astonishing—so incredibly personal, so invasive that she wanted to pull away, but so deeply arousing that she never wanted him to stop.

  He didn’t know what he was doing to her.

  But she knew that wasn’t true. He knew exactly what he was doing, and the very best way to do it. Soon, what had merely been a pleasurable sensation became a strongly focused need. Unconsciously, spontaneously, she began to move her hips against him until she felt something take hold, a spark of intense
pleasure that caught fire and began to spread, slowly at first, and then faster. For a few mindless minutes, the world seemed to contract, until she knew nothing except Alex’s touch and the sound of her own harsh breathing. She was getting close. So close …

  And then he stopped.

  Her body went limp with frustration. He turned his head to kiss her inner thigh, once, twice, teasing his lips over it. She dug her fingertips into his forearms, twisting in his grip, seeking his mouth again.

  “Alex, please …”

  She wasn’t even sure her words were comprehensible, but then he touched her with his tongue again, this time tilting her hips up, opening her even more to him, and she thought she’d die from the feeling. He was moving exactly as she wanted him to—needed him to—and the fire flared again.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Oh, yes. Like that.”

  Another buildup. Another sense of being positively insane with need. Another feeling that she was poised to plummet right over the edge. And once again he stopped. And once again she wanted to scream.

  “Alex …”

  He swirled his tongue against her thigh. “Yes?”

  “I want you inside me. Now.”

  He froze, his fingers tightening against her thighs. She couldn’t help smiling.

  “Assuming you’re ready to do that,” she added.

  “Ready? Sweetheart, I was ready the second I got into bed and found you naked.”

  “Show me,” she said.

  He stood up suddenly and moved her until she was lying fully on the bed again. He pressed her knees apart and stared down at her, his dark eyes full of hot anticipation. For a moment she thought he was going to tease her again before finally giving her what she wanted, so she wrapped her hand around him, stroking the length of him, back and forth, loving the fact that this particular part of him was just as impressive as the rest of his body. He squeezed his eyes closed, every muscle tensing.

  “I’m warning you, Alex,” she said, still caressing him. “In just a minute here I’m going to start to beg. It’s not something I do well, and it won’t be pretty. So please just spare us both the pain of that and—”