Mistletoe Mischief: A Lost and Found Series Novella- Roger

by J. M. Madden

  Grinning, she headed toward her bedroom. She would wear clothes tonight just in case the investigator decided to … investigate.

  Chapter 3

  It was three a.m. when she got up to go pee. Then, because she couldn’t help herself, she walked down the hallway to the living room.

  Roger had stretched out on the couch. The blanket she’d pulled over him was hanging mostly off now, with just the corner covering his chest. The rest had puddled onto the floor. He was moving restlessly, as if he fought demons in his sleep.

  Then he cried out and her heart raced with fear.

  Cass clenched her hands, wondering if she should wake him up. She’d had dreams like that herself, and they were no fun. The flashbacks of men beating her, the pain. She stood there for a few moments, hoping the dream would let up, but instead it seemed to escalate. He seemed to be reliving the pain of losing his arm. He kept reaching for his right side. In the meager light she saw a tear slip from the corner of his eye to his temple, then another. God, her heart was shattering. She didn’t want him to suffer with this pain.

  Swallowing, she moved forward, but kept her distance. She knew enough not to touch him yet.

  “Roger?”

  He blinked his eyes open, but didn’t seem to see anything.

  “Roger!”

  Roger blinked up at her in confusion. There was just enough light from the kitchen for her to make out his expression. He looked terrified.

  His body jerked and he finally seemed to focus on her. “Oh, hey.”

  Her thudding heart began to slow with relief.

  “Hey. You all right?”

  His arms dropped to his lap and he looked around, obviously orienting himself. “Yes, I’m fine. Sorry, you just startled me.”

  He scrubbed at his eyes with his good hand. Cass moved closer to sit beside his legs on the couch. She wanted to reach out to reassure him, but didn’t know if he was ready for the contact yet. “No, that was totally my bad. You were dreaming, though, and it was getting worse.”

  Roger looked down at the blanket, then glanced at her kind of sheepishly. “Yeah. I do that.” He dropped his head back to the arm of the couch and covered his face with his prosthetic arm.

  The heat of him seeped through to her hip and she shivered in the chill. “My brother used to do that,” she admitted softly in the dark. “When he came home on leave, he would have terrible dreams. He would scream sometimes, too. It would wake me out of sleep. But he said there was nothing I could do for him and he never talked about it.”

  Roger’s prosthetic hand settled on hers in her lap. “I’m sure just knowing you were there for him was a big comfort. Most men don’t want to admit to that, but we get scared too. And we hope for something stronger than us to chase the nightmares away.”

  Cass nodded, her throat tight. “Yeah, I know how that is.”

  He squeezed her fingers lightly, and she noticed how much control he actually had with this arm. She ran her fingers over the cold surface. She shivered again, and he sat up behind her, urging her to her feet. “Come on, let’s get you back to bed.”

  Cass allowed herself to be guided back down the hallway to her room. The light in her bathroom glowed softly, just bright enough that he could see to lift the blankets for her to settle in. Then he tugged them until they were smooth around her, and her feet were covered.

  It was a surreal experience for Cass and her emotions were ricocheting like crazy. Adrenaline letdown. And now he was squeezing her heart. She couldn’t remember any time in her life ever being tucked in like this. Other kids had gotten that buy not the Jones kids. Living on the streets, she’d been lucky if they even had a blanket. She used to sit in a ball with little Andre between her legs. She would wrap her arms and legs around him to conserve heat. Even after their mother had died and they’d been taken to an orphanage with friendly, but overworked people, she and Andre had stuck together. There’d been boys there who had known more than they should have for their age, and didn’t mind sharing. Living on the streets as they had, she and Andre had seen and heard a lot of things, but these boys knew more. When one grabbed at her butt, saying something derogatory, she’d had no hesitation in bloodying his lip and kicking his ass. The streets had also taught them to protect themselves.

  Cass shivered and clutched at Roger’s hand as he started to turn away.

  “Yeah, baby?”

  “Can you just lay down with me for a while? No strings. Just… maybe we can just… well, be here for each other for a while.”

  After a long, timeless moment Roger circled the bed to the other side and crawled beneath the blankets. He left his jeans on, which had to be uncomfortable, but she appreciated it. Once he was settled he lifted his good arm to her and she rolled close. She worried about letting all her weight rest on him, but he pulled her tight into the crook of his shoulder. He was so warm, and he smelled so good…

  In her half-awake state, she knew this would lead to issues later, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. As his warmth and protection seeped into her, some of the never-ending tension of always being on guard—and lonely—drifted away.

  Roger woke warm and content, and surprisingly free of anxiety. There was a heavy weight across his chest. Blinking awake, he tilted his head to look down.

  A curly mop of black hair tickled his nose, and a long, sleek arm draped across his chest.

  Cassandra.

  His good arm cradled her against his chest and his fingers rested against the soft skin of her neck. Oh, hell. What had they done?

  As he became more aware, he realized they hadn’t done anything. He still wore his jeans and shirt. Although he thought he felt a soft hand beneath the edge of the shirt.

  He let his fingers play over the soft skin of her neck. They’d laid like this for a long time, he could tell. His hips were sore from not moving and his right arm was itchy from wearing the prosthetic all night.

  The discomfort was minor, though, considering he’d slept for the past several hours. Once she’d pulled him into the bed with her, they’d both fallen asleep quickly.

  That was very strange for him. He worked the graveyard shift at Lost and Found, so when he did get time off, he tried to stay up through the night then sleep during the day, just like his regular schedule. Last night had been an aberration, though, for several reasons.

  In his wildest imaginings, he never would have expected to fall asleep on her couch.

  Then when the demons had come, she’d roused him. Her brother had dealt with similar issues, so she’d known what to do.

  Taking him to bed and wrapping him in her arms had probably not been her original plan.

  Cassandra shifted, her left hand gliding over the skin of his stomach. Roger tensed, wondering if there was a way to get out of the situation without embarrassing them both.

  As soon as he’d realized who he cuddled in his arms, his body had gotten interested. And now, with her fingers playing against the sensitive skin of his abs, he was becoming more interested.

  He shifted a tiny bit to let her know he was awake.

  “Don’t leave yet. I just want to lie here and enjoy this,” she murmured.

  “I’m fine with that. I just wanted to be sure you were awake.”

  “I am.”

  He wiggled a little, shifting positions with his hips. Not to draw attention to them, but to ease some of the tiredness.

  She sighed and began to ease away, but he tightened his arm around her. “Don’t move. I just had to shift my hips a bit. I don’t think we’ve moved all night.”

  She eased back down against him, nodding slightly against his chest. “My body is aching too, but I hate to move. This has been so perfect. We both slept for hours without any dreams.”

  For another few minutes they just lay there, watching the light brighten outside her apartment window. He could still see snow falling outside the gauzy curtains.

  “What do you dream about, Cassandra?”

  “My brother,
” she said immediately. “We did everything together, because our mother was usually gone. We relied on each other for everything. Even when they put us in the home after our mother died, we would sneak out of the segregated dorms to be with each other. When I turned eighteen and was graduated out of the home, it was the loneliest I’ve ever been in my life. I made some bad decisions and met some very bad men.”

  Roger didn’t know if he wanted details or not. “There are a lot of them out there. I will say that. And to a young girl with no direction…”

  “Yes,” she sighed. “I was on a very bad path until I realized I needed to be ready for Andre when he got out of the home. I needed to be the rock for him that I hadn’t had. That made me start thinking, planning. Within a couple weeks I had started a job and was looking for an apartment. About six months after that I petitioned the state to be Andre’s guardian. It took months, but they approved me and when he was almost sixteen Andre came to live with me. It was one of the most joyous times I can ever remember, us being together again. We didn’t have a lot of furniture or anything at first, so we would camp out on the floor.”

  “I’m glad you had that time with him.”

  She nodded against him. “Me too,” she whispered.

  Neither moved, as if they knew the tenuous wisps of dreams lost would fade away.

  “Merry Christmas,” he whispered.

  Her body jerked, and she began to quiver. Roger thought he had hurt her somehow. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

  She eased back and turned her face up to look at him, then burrowed it into his shoulder.

  Roger levered them both over until she was on her back and he on his elbow beside her. “What’s wrong, Cassandra?”

  Blinking, fighting tears, she seemed too overcome with emotion to utter a word. Her hands were clasped over her face, fingers rubbing at her eyes. Roger gathered her to him, pressing kisses to her hair and face. “You’re breaking my heart, baby. Tell me, please.”

  “I just—,” she gasped, then fought for control. “This is going to sound so lame, but this has been the best Christmas I’ve ever had.”

  Roger chuckled against her, relief making him a little giddy. “Damn, woman, I thought there was something seriously wrong.”

  She shook her head, laying back against his arm. “No. You’ve done everything right and I don’t want this day to end. I’m afraid that when the real world intrudes it’s all going to come falling down.”

  “Why?” he asked softly, looking into her jade-shot eyes.

  Her face scrunched up a little. “Because that’s the way my life seems to roll. I find something a little tiny bit good and life snatches it away from me. I’m afraid to hope for more.”

  Roger took her words and gave them the consideration they deserved. Then he pressed a firm kiss to her lips. “I think that, as of last night, your luck has changed.”

  For a moment she seemed hopeful, then her face crumpled. She started to tremble. “I don’t know if I can do it.”

  He brushed her hair from her forehead. All of the make-up from the night before was gone, but she was still just as beautiful to him.

  “What baby?”

  For a long heartbeat of time, she looked him in the eye. “I don’t know if I can lose you.”

  Roger stilled, wondering if he’d heard her correctly. The sick feeling in his stomach told him he had, and he realized the thought of leaving her absolutely gutted him as well. They’d been together an incredible ten, twelve hours, maybe not even that long, and he couldn’t imagine her not being in his life. Cassandra Jones drew him like no other woman ever had. He cleared his throat, suddenly a little anxious. He knew what he wanted to say to her. It was there in his heart.

  “I don’t think I can lose you either,” he admitted.

  Her eyes widened as he leaned down to kiss her again, and he realized it was easier to show her how he felt than to articulate it into words. She opened her mouth to him as she cupped his face in her palms.

  Roger could count on one hand the number of times he’d been kissed in the past few years, but he’d never in his life been kissed like this. As if the weight of dreams too long unrealized threatened to suck Cassandra under before she had a chance to transfer them to him. Roger took everything, every nibble and moan, and gave her back the same. In spite of the tears just now, he knew Cassandra was a strong woman. She’d battled her way out of poverty and heartbreak, and he wanted to be as strong as she was.

  Yes, he’d been through a lot physically, but he felt like she was the warrior.

  Roger allowed himself to feel the body beneath him. Lush and soft, Cassandra’s shape was his idea of a real woman. Her breasts pressed against his chest, making his hands want to wander, but he didn’t want to move too fast. His body was ready to go all the way, and his mind and his heart were quickly getting on board with the idea, but it was entirely up to her. He didn’t want to push her into anything.

  Cassandra moaned into his mouth, shuddering, and he hardened to the point of pain. Shifting his hips away from her, he tried to maintain control over his rioting body, but it was hard to do with every signal she put out telling him that she wanted him.

  Then her hands clutched his ass, dragging him back over top of her. Roger gasped as she ground her pelvis up against his own.

  “Oh, fuck, baby, you have to stop doing that or we’ll never get out of this bed.”

  “And is that a bad thing? You’re the first man I’ve wanted here in years.”

  He stilled and looked down at her. Those seductive eyes of hers were clear with determination and half-slitted with arousal. “Are you serious?”

  She nodded, her dark hair a halo around her head. She gave him a soft, tentative smile and shrugged a little self-consciously. “Like I said, had to call cops for the last two. One wouldn’t take no for an answer and tried to beat me into a yes, and the other just wanted to get close enough to steal my car. They never got anywhere near my lusciousness, though.”

  She grinned up at him, and that warrior spirit of hers turned self-consciousness to bravado.

  Roger grinned down at her, entranced by her. “You amaze me, Cassandra Jones.”

  With a long, considering smile, she pushed at his chest, rolling him to his back. Then she sat up, turned to face him and whipped her sleep shirt over her head.

  Roger almost choked on his tongue, not daring to believe that the beauty in front of him wanted him. He suddenly felt very insecure in his own body. Yes, he worked out and tried to eat right, but the goddess before him put all his efforts to shame, in a completely different way. She was glorious and womanly, her body rounded yet firm. She still wore a white sports bra, but it did little to hide her magnificent breasts.

  In the pale light of dawn, her creamy coffee skin seemed even softer than before. Paying special attention to the feel, he ran a finger over her soft shoulder and down her arm.

  He thought of the ‘I’m no Angel’ campaign he’d seen on TV recently. The ‘plus-sized’ women drew his attention more than any other advertisement he’d ever seen. Cassandra would fit into that line-up and outshine every woman there. She looked happy and healthy, not sickly like most of the super-models other men seemed to go for.

  She was so beautiful to him that his throat tightened with emotion.

  Then he felt a wave of self-doubt. As daring as she was pulling her shirt off like that, he didn’t feel nearly as excited to whip off his own clothes. His bottom half wasn’t too bad. Yeah, some scars and old burns, but his top half was a mess. And that was before you even got to the arm.

  Cass took his silence as censure and began to cover herself. Roger sat up beside her, reaching out to cup her neck. “No, baby, don’t you dare cover those breasts. They’re superb. I was just thinking that I’m not nearly as magnificent. I look like the worn side of an old boot.”

  She looked down at his chest, then planted her hands on his pectorals. Her fingers began to explore, and he let her.

  “I’ve been dre
aming of exploring this chest all night,” she told him softly. “You look mouth-watering. And when you wear tight T-shirts like that, you have to expect women to throw themselves at you, even with the flannel on.”

  He winced. “Yeah, they do, sometimes. But I shut them down because I know what I’ll see in their expressions when they finally see me.”

  Cassandra frowned and looked directly into his eyes. “I know it’s just words, but you can’t judge me by the other women that have passed through your life. I’ve seen a lot of fucked up shit in my own life, but I don’t think what you have under here,” she plucked at the material, “will spook me nearly as bad as other things I’ve seen.”

  She pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “But I don’t want to guilt you into exposing yourself if you’re not ready. If this relationship goes anywhere, it can’t be built on sour emotions like that. You do what makes you comfortable. I want that shine back in your eyes.”

  She smiled at him, and he automatically smiled back, then he looked down at the expanse of cleavage in front of him and huffed out a breath. Cupping the weight of her breasts in his hands, he leaned down to press a kiss to the slope of each one. Cassandra shivered at his touch, and the banked arousal surged again. She was a delectable piece of bliss just waiting to be eaten, and he was worried about the damn scars.

  Maybe he was so worried about it because he actually could imagine a forever with Cassandra, and he didn’t want to risk the possibility of that for anything.

  But then he wondered if he shouldn’t go ahead and get it over with. He would rather be hurt now than weeks or months down the road when they were solidly entrenched in each other’s lives.

  Pulling back from her, giving her solid eye contact, he hesitated only a second, then dragged the T-shirt over his head.

  Cassandra’s eyes widened at his abrupt move, but she kept her gaze on his even as her smile broadened. “You make me see beauty,” she told him, voice hushed. “Not of the body, but of the soul, which is much more important. I haven’t had that in my life. And before you get offended at me calling you beautiful, it’s just about the best compliment I can give you.”