Echoes in the Wind

by Debra Jupe

  She slowly unsnapped the metal fasteners away from their worn outlets, one by one. Eric’s heart thudded harder against his chest as inadvertent caresses drove him close to the edge, to the point of ignoring his pain and doing the impossible. She stopped and stared at the opening where an obvious bulge made his desires known.

  He brushed her mouth with his. “I’ll take it from here, luv. Even in my decrepit state, I’m not sure I’ll be behavin’ if I let you go any further.”

  Darla dropped her hands and spun to hurry away.

  “Don’t forget the ibuprofen. And bring the whole bottle. I need a bunch.”

  She came to an abrupt stop, then did a slow rotation and pointed a forefinger. “You’ll get the appropriated dosage amount as directed on the instructions. Nothing more.”

  Eric turned his back, shoved his jeans and underwear down his legs, exposing his backside to her. Darla gasped and rushed out of the bathroom. He chuckled. If he didn’t feel like shit, he’d be having an awful lot of fun. He held on to the sink and strained to step out of his pants and boxers. The effort was agonizing, but he managed. Thankfully, the room was small and he made it into the tub, although he struggled when sitting, almost blacking out twice.

  The water lapped over his body, the heat soothed his skin. He had to admit, the stuff Darla added did relax him. He closed his eyes and drifted in and out of an uncomfortable doze, unable to erase the memory of Finn’s dead body or the stony chunk of steel slamming against his temple. And he’d seen stuff while under the medications at the hospital. But now his reality was questionable. The person holding the gun was nothing more than a fuzzy image.

  He fully awakened when Darla reentered, carrying a bottle of water and the ibuprofen. She walked to the bathtub. Their fingers touched as she gave him the medicine.

  “How are you?”

  He popped the pills into his mouth, then tipped the water bottle up, draining over half in one gulp. He hadn’t realized he was thirsty. “I’m fine,” he lied, before he finished off the drink.

  “I’ll let you rest.” She started to leave.

  “No, wait.” Eric lifted a hand from the tub to reach out to her. “Stay,” he whispered. “Please. I don’t want to be alone right now.”

  He had no idea what possessed him to make such a request, nor did she ask him why. She simply sat down on the floor next to him.

  He sunk lower into the water, leaving only his head and one arm exposed to rest on the edge. Darla grasped for his hand to hold in hers, their fingers interlocked. Mixed sensations of comfort and intimacy welled in his chest. The act alone frightened him. The urge to repel her gesture was overwhelming. Yet he didn’t let go.

  Instead, he squeezed her hand and closed his eyes. The fears he faced drifted through his mind. He’d lost friends, he was broke, and a killer was after him. But what scared him the most, what terrified him more than anything was this woman, this unaverage teacher from Texas.

  Chapter 14

  Darla sat on top of the bedcovers, leaning against a mound of pillows. She contemplated the sunrays that peeked through the blinds, etching shadows of vertical strips across the hardwood. A slight movement stirred beside her and prompted her attention to return to what she’d done most of the night.

  Stare at Eric sleeping.

  She released a deep sigh and swallowed an ocean of moisture that seemed to form in her mouth every time she looked at him. He lay on his stomach, the sheet twisted around his waist. His bare back was exposed, one leg stuck out from under the covers, his face buried into the pillow, while the rest of his head remained concealed by a muss of hair.

  She lingered, taking in his broad shoulders as her gaze flowed downward to inspect the taut contours of his back. Again. Like she hadn’t already mentally imprinted his upper torso into her memory forever.

  He had a rough night. She should be worried over his health, but she couldn’t help thinking about him in an entirely different way. Instead of concern, her thoughts persisted toward erotic daydreams, twisting her emotions into a vortex of heated hunger. Restless with need, she burned in certain areas, making her want for him too hard to ignore. Last night, even in his banged up state, he was clear. He wanted her. But just for sex. Could she? She’d wrestled with this question since they’d met. Would she be able to give her body to a man realizing once the physical part was finished, things were over? Given the way she ached for him, would it matter? For the umpteenth time, she mentally shoved these disrupting desires away.

  She bent to inspect the cavity penetrating his outer arm. The redness around the exterior area concerned her though his forehead appeared better and his color had returned to normal. Curious, she racked a hand across the shaggy fringe and brushed away the strands from his ear, fighting the urge to plunge her fingers into the softness of his hair. Until he told her, she’d never noticed his piercing before. Now she found the tiny diamond twinkling from his lobe. She licked her lips. His delicious lobe.

  He half-opened a blue eye and peeked up from the fluffiness of his pillow.

  She withdrew her hand. “You’re awake.”

  “You were rocking the bed. I figured you were about to get me up.” He stretched his long body releasing a loud yawn. “Again.”

  “No. I think you’re out of the woods.”

  “I was never in the woods.”

  “I beg to differ. The bump on your forehead was bigger than a baseball. The doctors believe you have a concussion, although they weren’t much on information as to how to treat one. So I checked online, and you did show several symptoms. My following the directions, waking you every two hours, plus adding ice helped bring the swelling down quite a bit. Although you need to keep an eye on the area for a few days.”

  “Thank you for your Internet expertise, Nurse Darla.”

  “Now you’re being an ass.” She put her hand to his forehead to comb his bangs through her fingers. “The knot is down about half the size from last night. The icepack did the trick.” She let his hair drop and leaned over to get a better view of his bullet wound. “This is angry, though. The inflammation worries me.” She lightly laid a palm over the hole. “And the place is warm.”

  He flinched with a hiss.

  She removed her hand. “Does it hurt?”

  “Hell, yeah, it hurts. ’Specially when you mash on it.”

  “Quit being a baby, I barely touched you. I suppose I’ll get the same foul response I’ve been getting all night if I suggest you make another trip to the doctor.”

  “You suppose correct.”

  She stretched across him to retrieve a tube of ointment from the nightstand. “Let me put some more of this antibiotic cream on.”

  “What’s the point? The stuff isn’t doing any good. The place keeps getting worse. You’ve smeared enough greasy shit on me. I should never need an oil change.”

  “This is the only medication I have. I don’t know what else to do until we get your prescriptions filled.” She cleaned off the blood with a wet wipe, then unscrewed the lid, and pressed the end of the aluminum cylinder to expel the cream. She put a fair amount on the tips of her fingers before she dabbed the medicine over the wound.

  “What? The Internet doesn’t give additional instructions on how to treat a gunshot?”

  “As a matter of fact, there are some directions.” She sat back as she twisted the cap onto the medication. After she laid the tube down, she plucked a tissue from the box sitting by the bed to wipe the excess from her skin. “It says for you to go back to the doctor.”

  “Funny.” He flipped over. “What I really need is a smoke. Except you have my only pack, so that’s not gonna happen either, I guess.”

  “Your lungs will appreciate me someday.” She put the tissue down, then waved a palm over him. “This is the problem. Every time I smear ointment on you, you turn over and rub everything off on the sheets. That’s why the salve isn’t working.”

  He sighed loud, spun around, and raised his brows. “Happy?”


  “No matter if you’re lying on your back or front, every time you move, you wipe the stuff away.” She leaned in to re-smooth the balm over the gash. “I know we left the hole uncovered to allow some air to get through, but let’s cover it for the day and see what happens.” Without waiting for him to reply, she rolled from the bed, going into her bathroom for the required materials. Then she walked back into the room to settle next to him again to dress the wound. “What’s with this tattoo?”

  He glanced over his shoulder at the etching of a lightning bolt striking into a heart with wings covering his back. “Like it?”

  “I think it’s interesting.” She shifted to get a little closer to tape down the gauze. “Definitely expresses your views on matters of the heart. I mean, there’s no better way to say love sucks than inking the sentiments onto your body.” Darla pressed down on the final strip of medical tape, and then sat back to view her work.

  Eric looked at her. “You’re not much of a morning person, are you?”

  “I didn’t sleep a lot last night.”

  “Nobody made you stay awake.”

  After she helped him out of the tub he’d been close to passing out, complaining of a severe headache. To add to his problem, the warm water washed away the clot over his wound, inciting a stream of blood to flow down his arm. She put him into her bed, cleaned him, and compressed the gunshot until the bleeding stopped.

  He was in such crucial need, she barely noticed his nakedness when she assisted him from the bathtub and dried him off. The discomfort she’d experienced earlier from undressing him disappeared as she slid a pair of boxers over his legs to cover his lower body.

  He claimed he couldn’t make it to her guestroom. He had such a difficult time walking into her bedroom, he convinced her he was in awful shape, hence her decision, however bad, to stay with him and keep an eye on him throughout the night.

  Eric grinned. “You should have crawled under the covers with me, laid your head on my shoulder, and slept against me.”

  Uneasy, she twisted a ringlet. His condition had definitely improved. He appeared to be in fine form today.

  “I’ve some sure fire ways to make you tired if you would’ve had any trouble nodding off.”

  “You can’t do anything. You’re hurt, remember?”

  “I’m much better this morning, thanks to your tender lovin’ care.” He put his good arm around her and drew her closer to him. “Let me return the favor. I’ll relax you enough to where you’ll sleep through tomorrow. Only fair I get to wake you up every two hours same as you did me, but not for icepacks or cream.”

  “I don’t think this is a good idea. You may re-aggravate your injuries.” She attempted to shove him back, but he resisted.

  “It takes more than a lump on the head or a bullet to stop me.” He swiped his lips across hers. “Plus, I need to prove to you I can kiss you to your satisfaction.”

  She gently pushed him away. This time he moved. “I have no idea what you’re thinking.”

  He rolled onto his side and shot her a wary gaze.

  “Okay, I do have an idea,” Darla suppressed a smile. “Or more like I felt what was on your, ahm, mind when you were close to me.”

  Eric laughed as he glanced down at the obvious bulge between his legs showing from under the sheet. “I’m sure you did.”

  Darla gave him a light tap on the head. “Focus.” She frowned at him and laid her hands in her lap. “Let’s be clear here. I realize in your circles, certain things are done in a more casual manner. You have a freer attitude than I’m used to.”

  Eric chuckled and repeated, “Certain things in a casual manner. You’re talkin’ ’bout sex, right?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Then come out and say the word, luv. Fuckin’.”

  Darla stared at him. “First off, I’m not that crude. And second, why do I need to say anything when you know very well what I’m talking about?”

  “First off, you may not be crude, but I get the impression you might enjoy things a little down and dirty every once in a while.”

  Darla’s gasp triggered Eric’s grin to widen.

  “And second, you and I both see where this is going. So don’t act all proper. Let things take a natural course.”

  “You think whatever you want about me. My point is we live in entirely different universes. Natural or not, this isn’t going to happen.”

  “Sometimes universes collide. The explosion can be earth shattering.”

  “Not this one.”

  Eric rolled to his back with a laugh. “We’ll see.”

  “You have such an ego. I mean, do you think you can just look at me with those deep blue eyes, flash your cute little dimples, and believe you’ll mold me in your hands like putty?”

  “Putty?” He propped onto his elbow. “No, I don’t want any clay, but you? Yeah, I want you in my hands.” His mouth curved as his eyes shined wickedly.

  Her heart bumped in double time. How was she supposed to react to this? This was too much. Him, in her bed, all muscled and bare-chested, being naughty, charming, and sexy rolled into one. Not to mention his obvious erection.

  She held up a hand. “Okay, stop. No more talking about—sex. Not happening.”

  “Whatever you say, luv.” Eric lay back again. He angled his head in her direction, his mischievous, know-it-all grin intact. “You like my eyes and dimples?”

  “I’m not…yes, I mean no.”

  He rolled to her, rising until his face was even with hers. “So which is it?”

  Darla forced herself to turn away. He traced a finger under her jawline until he found her chin and gently returned her to him. He tilted her face even with his and rubbed his lips against hers, then paused before he kissed her with amazing tenderness. He pulled back, gazing into her eyes, asking a silent question.

  “You’re not playing fair,” she murmured.

  “No. I usually don’t.” He chuckled quietly. “Did I meet your approval this time?”

  Darla understood this flirtation was because he wanted sex, yet somewhere deep inside she wished he was serious. She needed this. So she hurled away her doubts, the fears and, accepted the reality; she was his entertainment for a short while. Without caution, she slid her arms carefully under his, letting her hands meet across his lower back. She drew him closer to hold him more secure against her, then buried her head into his good side.

  “Oh, yeah, I approve.”

  He eased in a few more inches and smoothed the wild curls away from her face. His eyes were dark, pupils dilated to show his desires mirrored hers. He dipped his head as their mouths hungrily merged.

  She let out a little sigh. He lost it. And she lost it. The heat from his body singed her skin, his hands slid beneath her shirt, finding her breasts. His touch, his kisses, and oh god, his tongue had her gasping for air, almost helpless and unaware the tiny moans filling the room stemmed from her.

  Somewhere in the swirls of passion, she realized. This was the moment. The second they’d been leading up to since they’d met. In this instant, nothing else mattered. What existed between them was propelled by some unknown entity. The attraction was much stronger, more powerful than either of them imagined. Their bodies, souls were meant to come together, if only for this one moment, this one time.

  He broke the kiss and slightly rose above her. He urged her T-shirt up and slid his hand down the front of her sweatpants and under her panties. She caught a breath. The soft pressure of his thumb circling, stroking, and sliding between her thighs drove her to relinquish control. He understood exactly what to do and he did it very well. If anything described a feeling as too good, this would qualify.

  A small tidal wave surged through her, the promise of bigger explosions on the way. Her need for him expanded beyond the plane of wanting more. Pure carnality detonated within her. She opened her legs wider, to invite him in. She wanted all of him.

  He crawled over her, sank down on top of her, and growled in her ear, �
�We need to get these clothes off.”

  He kissed her lips softly before he shoved her pants and underwear down at the same time, and tore off his boxers. The mere sight of him naked, made her hotter, the craving for him to be inside her amplified. He elevated over her, then lowered to cover her body with his and settled between her legs, his lips once more finding hers.

  She froze, then put a hand on his chest to stop him.

  He sucked in and stopped. “What?”

  “You need to get off me,” she hissed.

  “Why? What’d I do?”

  “It’s not you,” she whispered. “I think I heard the front door open. Someone’s here.”

  In a fluid motion, Eric rolled away from her. As Darla crawled out of bed, she yanked her shirt down, located her sweats, and slipped them over her hips.

  “Stephanie sometimes stops by for coffee in the mornings,” she said in a low voice as she headed toward the door.

  “Get rid of her.”

  Darla walked into the next room and stopped her in her tracks. Her jaw dropped to the ground. Impossible. If she wasn’t seeing this with her own eyes, she wouldn’t believe it.

  Finally she found her voice. “Um, Mr. and Mrs. Sunday?”

  The owners of her house stood inside her living area. Mr. Sunday was at the bay windows, his back to her, while Mrs. Sunday was inspecting the new paint job on the walls with a sour expression. Both whipped around. The woman raked a scrutinized gaze over her, but Mr. Sunday grinned.

  “Darla.”

  She fleetingly met their eyes, but quickly dipped her chin to hide the blush coating her skin. She maybe should’ve re-adjusted her T-shirt better, except she hadn’t expected her uninvited visitors to be the proprietors of her home.

  “Did we wake you?”

  Darla raised her head, taken aback by the casual question. “Um, yes, I mean no, um,” She peeked at her bedroom door. “What are you doing here? I wasn’t expecting…”

  “It’s obvious you weren’t anticipating company, dear,” Mrs. Sunday replied in a haughty tone.

  Her husband glanced at his wife. “Under normal circumstances, we’d have called so you could make other arrangements for a place to stay, but we spoke with your boss, and he told us you were on your way to Texas. Did your plans change?”