“That would be my take on it. But maybe I’m wrong,” she allowed, turning toward him. “Maybe the interior is fabulous, making it worthwhile saving the building.”
The interior was just as bad as the exterior, but he refrained from saying as much for now. She’d see that for herself soon enough. Instead, he gamely said, “Only one way to find out.”
Brett extended his hand to her.
After the briefest of hesitations, Alisha placed her hand in his. She pretended not to notice the flash of electricity that went through her—just as it had the last time. You’d think she would have gotten used to this, she silently lectured.
“Okay,” she said, matching his tone, “Let’s find out.”
There were four steps leading up to the front porch and the front door. Those, too, were in need of repair. Even more so, it turned out, than some of the rest of the house.
Her shoe went right through the rotting board. With nothing under her foot to support it, her right leg went straight down through the hole that had opened up when she put her weight on the step. Her body thrown off balance, Alisha started to fall.
She had no idea just how far down she might have fallen—the basement was right under the porch—had Brett not been holding her hand. The second the wood cracked and gave way, he instinctively pulled her back, keeping her above the ground. The sudden movement made her stumble backward against him, causing Brett to lose his footing. They both wound up falling backward to the ground.
Through sheer luck, Brett managed to break her fall by giving her something to cushion her body—him.
Flushed, the air momentarily knocked out of her, Alisha found it took her a second to orient herself and another full second to realize that she was lying right on top of him, face-to-face.
Belatedly, she realized that, thanks to him, she wasn’t hurt.
The thought that he had taken the impact for both of them quickly followed. Horrified that Brett had gotten hurt because of her, she scrambled to one side while simultaneously apologizing and expressing her concern.
“Oh, my God, Brett, I’m sorry. Are you all right?” she cried, quickly scanning him for any bones that might have been sticking out awkwardly. None were. But that still didn’t mean that he hadn’t broken anything, she thought.
“I think my chances of running a marathon just diminished,” he cracked.
She drew back to look at his expression. “Does that mean you’re all right or delirious?” she questioned.
His mouth curved just the slightest bit. “Is there a third choice?”
She continued to scrutinize him as she hovered over him. The fact that Brett wasn’t cavalierly getting to his feet worried her. She’d come to know him in the past few weeks, and this wasn’t like him.
“You are hurt,” she cried in dismay. He was hurt, and it was all her fault.
“Not sure yet,” he answered honestly. “Taking inventory now.”
Really worried at this point, Alisha went into doctor mode. She began pressing first one limb, then the other, working her way along each length slowly, gently and methodically.
When she saw him wince, she asked, “Does this hurt?”
“No.” Brett’s answer came out in a huff of breath as he exhaled heavily.
She didn’t like the sound of that. Was he one of those macho males who refused to admit that he was suffering any pain until it turned out to be too late? Determined to be thorough, she kept on going.
“How about this?” she asked as her fingers kneaded the muscles along his other leg a little harder than before.
When he gave her a negative reply—which still didn’t sound all that convincing to her—Alisha slowly examined both his arms. Somehow, she wound up being bracketed by them without fully knowing how that had happened.
It reminded her too much of an embrace that was about to happen. She deliberately moved a little back from him, even as she went on with the examination.
“Stop looking at me like I’m a sandwich, and you’re hungry,” she instructed, then chided when he didn’t seem to be paying attention, “And you’re not responding to me.”
His smile was sly and managed to get to her at what seemed like the speed of light. “Oh, I’m responding to you, all right,” he told her in a low whisper. “Maybe you should stop squeezing like that,” he suggested. “You might get more of a response than you bargained for.”
She could feel the blush taking over, turning her skin an embarrassing shade of pink. Stop it. You’re a doctor first, a woman second. Act like it!
“Then you’re really not hurt?” she questioned uncertainly. She was eyeing him with more concern than nervousness at this point.
One side of his mouth rose in a devilish half smile that she did her very best to ignore. “At least not where you can see.”
On her feet first, Alisha extended her hand to him and waited.
Although Brett could get up on his own power—and did—he took hold of her hand anyway. Once on his feet, he continued holding her hand, his eyes on hers.
The silence grew deafening as it surrounded them. Having her land on top of him like that when his guard was temporarily down had caused havoc to run riot through his entire body, momentarily reducing him to a mass of needs and desires.
Reminding him just how very attracted he was to this woman, not just because of her looks, which he found stunning, but because of the person he had discovered beneath those polished looks. A person worth knowing.
“I’m a doctor,” she heard herself saying to him, the words leaving her lips in near-to-slow motion. “Maybe we should step inside the house, and you can show me where it actually hurts.”
Brett looked at her for a long moment, wondering if she knew what she was saying. He decided that she did—and not because it was wishful thinking on his part.
With a nod of his head, he released her hand. “Walk behind me so you don’t run the risk of falling through another step. I wouldn’t want to lose you.”
Was that a flippant remark—or something more? Wishful thinking, idiot, she upbraided herself. Get a grip!
Alisha did as he instructed without comment, listening instead to the sound of her own heart slipping into double time.
She was acutely aware of the fact that she hadn’t been with anyone since she’d thrown her engagement ring at Pierce.
Before, actually, since she and Pierce had hit a dry spell before the incident. The dry spell had gone on for almost a month because her schedule didn’t mesh with his at the hospital. Each time she was free, he wasn’t and vice versa.
It was only after she caught him making love to another woman that she realized their schedules hadn’t meshed because Pierce had seen to it that they didn’t. He’d told a mutual friend that he wanted to experiment with other women before having to go through the charade of being faithful to a wife.
She dwelled on the thought as a last-ditch effort to talk herself out of what she was about to do. After all, she’d sworn off having anything to do with good-looking men because of the disappointment they represented.
But thinking of Pierce didn’t make her back away from Brett. Instead, it seemed to have exactly the opposite effect.
It made her feel things, need things, that all centered around this saloon owner/would-be cowboy with the wicked, wicked mouth.
They made it to the porch without further incident. The front door, she discovered, was unlocked. It was apparently in keeping with most of Forever, where people locked their doors only at night—if then. The other, more obvious reason the door was unlocked became apparent on closer scrutiny. Someone had taken the lock out, leaving a hole where metal should have been.
Alisha barely noticed. The beating of her heart, not to mention the fact that her whole being was heating to an almost dangerous degree, had her focuse
d on only one thing: the man who was with her.
The man, she turned around to look at, who was closing the more-than-useless door behind him. The sound of it meeting the door frame echoed inside her chest, signaling a beginning.
“So,” she began, her mouth inexplicably dry enough to safely house dust, “do you want to show me where it hurts?”
Brett slipped his hands into her hair, framing her face as he brought his mouth closer to hers. Yes, he ached physically, but that had more to do with her than the fall he had taken.
“Later,” he replied. “I’ll show you later.”
“And now?” she managed to ask, her voice dropping down to a whisper as everything inside her scrambled for a vantage point, silently begging him not to turn away, not to bring her up to this throbbing expectation and then back off.
She’d had so many disappointments, she didn’t think she could endure another one, even though this man wasn’t the forever kind. He was just someone who had the power to dull the fierce ache, to silence the loud pain now echoing through her entire being. The pain that was bringing her to the edge of her resolve and having her teeter there, turning her into a casualty at any moment.
“And now,” he whispered back, his breath feathering along her lips, “we have something else to do, something else to occupy us.”
Drawing her in closer to him, he kissed her. At first very lightly, his lips hardly touching hers. All that did was cause the hunger inside both of them to escalate to an almost uncontrollable size.
He kissed her again, longer this time.
The third kiss absorbed them both and sealed their fate—even if neither one of them realized it at that exact moment.
Chapter Fifteen
Looking back later, it was as if a frenzy had seized her. Alisha felt a desire so large, so strong, she wasn’t certain just how to approach it, how to begin to contain it, and she was far less certain just how she could appease it.
All she knew was that this desire consumed her, and she instinctively sensed that she would know no peace until she was somehow brought to that final, incredible pinnacle where all these demanding sensations were finally released.
That she was even thinking like this surprised her.
This just wasn’t like her.
While, for the most part, she had enjoyed lovemaking with Pierce, the act itself had never been the foremost entity in her life. It certainly was never this all-pervading hunger that threatened to undo her if she didn’t feel that exquisite sensation exploding throughout her body.
But this, this urgency, was quite unique. She’d sensed it the moment the lyrical dance between them had begun.
Everywhere Brett touched her, he made her crazy, fueling her need rather than satisfying her desire. Every pass of his lips along her skin, every caress of his warm, gentle hands just heightened her excitement, increased her need. Made her passions grow that much more volatile.
This was different. She was different because she felt if she couldn’t ascend the summit with Brett, couldn’t attain that wondrous fulfillment that each touch of his promised, she would disintegrate into a pile of ashes.
Eagerly, she tugged against his clothing, needing to feel his skin against hers, needing to touch him the way he was touching her.
She knew, knew this was insanity, yet she couldn’t stop herself, couldn’t just regain possession of her sensible side and back away. She needed to become one with him, even if it was for only a moment.
This had never been, even remotely, part of her plan for coming to this tiny dot of a place. She hadn’t come here looking for love or even acceptance. If anything, the opposite had been true. She came here not to feel anything at all, to purge herself of the ability to feel anything at all.
But the exact opposite had happened. She knew that love was far too much to hope for, but some reasonable facsimile would do in its place. At least for now.
Brett made her feel gloriously alive. Somehow, when she hadn’t been paying attention, he had managed to open the tomb that she had locked herself into. Opened it and brought her out so that she could see the sunlight. More than that, Brett had somehow succeeded in making her want to see the sunlight.
Single-handedly, he had brought light into her darkened world.
Her head was spinning, and she knew that half the thoughts running through her brain could easily be discounted as just so much rambling nonsense once they were dragged out into the light of day. But right now, at this moment, it was all making complete sense to her.
She let the last little tether that was anchoring her to reality go—and became completely his.
* * *
ALISHA WAS UNDOING HIM.
Layer by layer, she was stripping him bare, making him want her with an intensity that not only surprised him but downright unnerved him, as well. It did everything but rattle his teeth.
Lord knew he had never wanted for female companionship. Since practically in the cradle, he had been blessed with an easy charm that drew women to him like tiny iron filings to a giant magnet.
As far back as he could remember, he was never alone if he didn’t want to be. But the attraction he held for the female of the species neither fed his ego nor gave him an inflated sense of self. It did, however, allow him to perceive the world in a certain light. He’d never once experienced wanting someone and being in doubt as to the outcome.
Here, despite the fact that Alisha was with him, in his arms, igniting him like a torch dipped in kerosene, he wasn’t certain of her, wasn’t assured that the next time he desired her this way, she would be here.
This match was different for him, and it both frightened him and intrigued him—mainly because what he was feeling gave this woman power over him, and he had never been in that sort of a situation before. He had always been the one with the power, the one in charge, and while he had never abused that power, never inflicted himself on a woman or had taken advantage of a situation, even in the most cursory of ways, he didn’t know what it felt like not to be the dominant one.
Now he knew.
And yet, rather than run for cover, the way common sense would have dictated that he do, Brett wanted to be exactly where he was. Right here, in this moment, with this woman.
With each article of clothing he peeled away from her, he grew more inflamed, more eager to possess her. More hungry for the feel of her.
He didn’t recognize himself.
It didn’t matter. All that mattered at this moment was Alisha.
The furniture within the ranch house was large and comfortable and dusty. It was scarcely noticed and, for the most part, ignored. They moved from piece to piece, exploring one another, raising the stakes even as they raised one another’s temperatures to dangerous new heights.
Did she realize how crazy she was making him?
Did she begin to understand what all this was doing to him? He doubted it. It was hard for even him to make sense of it.
The feel of her lips, skimming along his skin like the soft, fluttering wings of a butterfly delicately, fleetingly, perching on a flower, had his heart racing at speeds he hadn’t thought possible.
He wasn’t sure what turned him on more: when she teased him this way or when she allowed the full measure of her intensity to break through.
All he knew was that if he didn’t have her soon, didn’t completely lose himself within her, he would self-destruct.
Pulling her against him, he possessively stroked the length of her body, bringing both of them to the very brink of an explosive climax, then drawing back. He did it twice—until he wasn’t able to hold himself in check a single microsecond longer.
Pushing Alisha back against the overstuffed deep green cushions of the sofa, he raised himself over her.
She was all that existed for him.
Bracketing her face with his hands, his eyes holding hers, Brett began to ease himself into her.
But what had started as an exercise in restraint quickly took on a life of its own. Shifting gears, he began to move his hips more and more swiftly against hers.
Hardly able to catch her breath, Alisha wrapped her legs around his torso, matching his every thrust, going ever faster and mimicking his every movement.
And then she was gasping for air as the euphoria seized her, bringing her up higher still until she finally felt Brett’s arms tightening possessively around her. He moaned against her lips as they rushed up together to the very top of the peak. One lone, precarious moment and then they were suddenly free-falling down the steep incline together, clutching each other in an effort to preserve the moment.
To preserve themselves.
* * *
WHEN SANITY REAPPEARED, making its way to her on tiptoes, Alisha felt her heart pounding so hard, she was certain that it was going to leap out of her chest and then explode.
Gradually, she became aware of the fact that the weight of Brett’s body was pinning her down to the cushions. Not hard enough so that she couldn’t move if she wanted to, but just enough to allow her to feel every single ridge, every single muscle of his body as it lay pressed against hers.
The thought of his hard, nude body pressed against hers pinned her down more than the actual weight of it did.
With a blazing-hot haze still very firmly wrapped around her, Alisha thought she heard his voice. But for the life of her, she really wasn’t sure if she was actually hearing Brett speak to her, or if she was just imagining the whole thing.
She strained to make out the words, if there actually were any.
There were.
He was asking, “Did I hurt you?”
Even now, in such a primal situation, he was being thoughtful. The thought made her heart swell.
She couldn’t answer him right away. To do that, she would have had to have been able to breathe, and right now, that was an entirely tricky proposition.
It took her two attempts before she could finally manage one word. “No,” and that came out in barely a whisper.
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