Sighing, he walked into the bathroom and told himself not to look at her. He took a big towel from the shelf, held it up and moved toward the tub, willing himself to keep his eyes on her face and nothing else.
It would have worked, too, if he hadn’t been human, and male, and in possession of a pulse.
He looked.
She lay on her back in the water like a newborn goddess. Her knees were bent and leaning toward the back of the tub, so his view was of the wet curve of her hip and then that of her waist. Her breasts were tempting beneath the water’s surface, her delicate collarbones making him want to touch, to trace. And then her neck. She had a neck to beat all necks. A neck that made a man understand why it was that vampires always went for the jugular. A hell of a lot more than blood pressure, that was for sure.
He moved closer, leaned over her kissable toes and pulled the stopper. The water began to drain, and he waited, not bothering to stop looking now that the damage was done. He figured at this point he could look his fill and do no worse. The problem was, with Maxie, he never got his fill. Not even close.
When the water was gone, and her skin grew goose bumps and her nipples went tight with the chill, he leaned over and laid the towel over her, gathered her closer to tuck it around behind her and scooped her up out of the bathtub. She was dripping wet, and the towel didn’t come together very well in the back. He snagged the bathrobe on his way out and tossed it onto the bed. Using one hand, he opened it and then laid her on it.
She opened her eyes a little but didn’t move to be of any help. The towel covered her while he slid her hand into the sleeve of the bathrobe. Then he did the same with the other hand, and drew the robe closed over her front. He tied the sash, then tugged the wet towel out from under.
Maxie smiled. “Leave it to you to find a way to get a wet, naked woman out of the tub and into the bed without having to look at or hardly even touch her.”
He lifted his brows. “I tried my best, Max, but even I’m not that good.”
She blinked at him, looking first confused, then surprised. He didn’t give her time to comment or speculate. “I’ll get the first aid supplies.”
“I’ll settle for a morphine drip and a stiff drink.”
“Can you make do with aspirin and a beer?”
She nodded. “Sounds like heaven.”
He returned to the bathroom. By the time he came back, she was lying under the covers and the robe was on the floor. She read his face, tugged the covers down in front. “I pilfered one of your T-shirts. The robe was damp, and I was cold.”
“That’s fine.”
“You didn’t look like it was fine when you thought I was naked under here.”
He smirked and came to sit on the edge of the bed, then handed her two aspirin tablets and glass of water.
She swallowed the pills and set the glass aside. “What else you got?”
He grinned at her. God, Maxie could always make him laugh, no matter the circumstances. Holding up a tube of muscle rub, he said, “It’s odor free, but works as well as the smelly kind.”
“You travel with muscle rub?” She speared him with her gleaming green eyes. “Is that a prop to convince me you’re over the hill?”
“A handful of old injuries. They act up every now and then.”
“Yeah? What kind of injuries? You take a bullet in the line of duty?”
He slanted a look at her. “Roll over.”
She did. Lou tugged the blankets down to her hips and lifted up the T-shirt. He squeezed some of the liniment onto his palm, rubbed his hands to warm it, then began massaging it into her skin. It was warm and taut, and he loved touching it. Everything in him came alive when he ran his hands over her flesh.
He felt her relaxing into his touch, heard her sigh. “God you’ve got great hands,” she said. “So, you gonna tell me what happened? How you got those old injuries?”
He rubbed at a knot beneath her shoulder blade, then massaged the shoulders themselves. “I was still a rookie, set up in a speed trap on a highway, and a guy went by me doing seventy-five. So I hit the lights and siren and went after him. Pulled him over. Ran the plates. Then I got out and walked up to the driver’s door.”
“And?”
She was looking over her shoulder at him, her eyes wide.
“Got nailed by a pickup the size of a tank. Felt like it, anyway.” He rubbed the small of her back.
She rolled over onto her back so quickly he found himself with his hands on her belly. It was soft, and he liked the feel of his hands there, but he took them away all the same. “Why don’t I already know about this stuff, Lou? God, I’ve known you for—how long now?”
He shrugged. “Years.”
“Almost a decade. I thought we were friends.”
“We are friends.”
“Then why is it I’m just now finding out about major things in your life?”
“Maybe just now is the first time I felt compelled to tell you.”
She blinked at him. He stared down at her and read her face. Why now? she wanted to know. She wanted to know if it meant anything, if it was some kind of signal that he was maybe ready to kick this thing up a notch.
Well, he wasn’t ready for anything of the sort, but he didn’t want to hurt her feelings by telling her not to go there.
“So where’s that beer you promised me?” she asked.
He was surprised as all hell. But he got up and went to the cooler on the table across the room, got out two beers, popped the tops and handed one to her. She’d propped up a bunch of pillows and was sitting upright now.
He sat down to sip his beer, then set the can down and reached for the liniment again. He knew this was the lamest, most pathetic, sorry-ass game he’d ever played, because there wasn’t a reason on God’s earth why she couldn’t rub this stuff on her own legs. At least with her back, the need for his assistance was plausible. Barely. But this was purely gratuitous, and he knew she knew it, too.
She would use it against him; he knew she would. But he yanked the covers back, anyway, and when he saw all the scratches, he set the liniment down and picked up the antibiotic ointment instead.
“How badly were you hurt?” she asked.
He used his forefingers to dab ointment on the gouges and cuts, scratches and scrapes. “Broke a femur and three ribs, and dislocated a shoulder.”
He stole a look at her eyes. They were wide and fixed on his face. “It’s okay, there was no permanent damage. I’m fine now.”
“You’re lucky it didn’t kill you.”
“Don’t think I don’t know it.” He shrugged. “Better skip the other stuff on your legs. They’re bruised, but that stuff would burn in the cuts and scrapes. Now…” He moved up on the bed, caught her chin in his hand and bent closer to look at her face. He turned her head left, then right. “There are some nasty scratches on your neck.”
“Are there?”
He nodded, realizing a little too late how close he was to her face and how intently her eyes were probing his. He cleared his throat and put a little more of the ointment on his fingers, then ran them gently over the smooth skin of her neck.
He was fine until she tipped her head back and closed her eyes, her breath easing out of her lungs in a shuddering sigh.
He didn’t realize his hand had gone still until those green eyes opened again and locked onto his.
Then her head lifted from the pillows and she pressed her mouth to his. Briefly, lightly, she kissed him. Then she kissed him again, and again. Taunting, teasing little pecks that only left him wanting more, until finally, unable to resist her, he slid his arms around and underneath her, one at the small of her back, one between her shoulder blades. He drew her to him, and he kissed her fully, deeply. Her arms twined around his neck. Her body arched up against him, and God, everything in him burned for her.
When he finally took a breath and lifted his head away, she whispered, “Don’t you dare start giving me a list of reasons why we shouldn’t,
Lou. You do, and I swear I’ll shoot you with your own gun.”
He stared down at her, wanting her so badly his entire body strained to get closer.
“It doesn’t have to be anything more than this. Just this,” she whispered. “Just us, here and now. No future. No past. No demands or expectations or repercussions, I swear.”
He knew she meant it. He also knew she was dead wrong.
She straightened and trailed hot kisses across his neck, along his shoulder. And then she said, “For God’s sake, Lou, make love to me. Please.”
He thought of all the reasons why he shouldn’t. But he was way beyond that kind of self-denial. Had been, he figured, since seeing her naked in that bath.
He was almost trembling—both with wanting her so badly for so long and with certainty that he was making the most horrendous mistake of his life—when he cupped her cheek with one hand and drew her mouth back to his again.
He felt her smiling against his mouth. And then her hands were on his chest, fingers wending their way between his body and hers to deftly open the buttons of his shirt. She pushed it open and then her hands were on him, and he was suddenly living in a state of physical bliss.
17
It was happening. She could hardly believe it was happening. His mouth on hers, his hands pushing the T-shirt up. He lay in the bed beside her now, and he stopped kissing her to look at her as he lifted the shirt over her head and tossed it aside. He looked at her the way a child looks at Santa Claus. Awe and wonder in his eyes. His hand moved, the back of it sliding over her neck and collarbones, then lower to her breast, where each knuckle bumped over her and made her close her eyes in pleasure and arch her back to his touch.
He went still, so she opened her eyes again. “Lou?”
He was still staring at her body. But then he looked away. “I can’t do this.”
“What?”
He rolled away from her, sitting up, feet to the floor on his side of the bed. “I…I’ve got that muscle rub on my hands.”
“That’s not a reason…. Lou?”
He was getting up, walking into the bathroom, though he left the door open. His shirt hung open as he leaned against the counter, turned on the faucets and began washing his hands.
She got up, too, knowing damn good and well he was trying to run away from her yet again. She wasn’t standing for it. Not this time, dammit.
She strode into the bathroom and stood behind him at the sink. “Don’t do this to me, Lou. Not this time…not after…all of that.”
He lowered his head, not even meeting her eyes in the mirror.
“I’m doing this for your own good.”
“Why don’t you let me worry about what’s good for me? You stick to worrying about what’s good for you. I’d be good for you, Lou. So good…”
“Stop.”
Swallowing her pride, she dropped the robe from her shoulders. Just let it fall to the floor at her feet. Then she gripped his arm and tugged him until he turned around. His eyes widened, then fixed on her, before moving up and down her body over and over.
“Jesus, Maxie, what are you doing?”
“I’m doing this for your own good, Lou.” She reached for his hands. They were still wet, dripping. She drew them to her breasts and pressed them to her. Then she let go, so she could slide her own hands over him, underneath the shirt that hung open. “God, I love your chest,” she said as she let her palms trace every ripple. “And your abs…” Her hands moved lower.
His hands were squeezing her breasts now. Kneading, gently and rhythmically. She wasn’t certain he was aware he was moving them. She slid hers to the front of his jeans and opened the button and zipper. He didn’t pull free or run away. She felt him tremble under her touch as she drew the zipper down and slid her hand inside.
He was hard, warm to her touch. She let her fingertips dance over the tip of him and heard his breath come stuttering out. She took his measure by wrapping her hand around him, then sliding it down slowly, squeezing as she did.
He made a sound, a deep groan that told her she was on the right track.
Smiling, nearly drunk with the power she felt surging through her—the knowledge that he couldn’t say no to her, even if he wanted to—she dropped to her knees, shoving his jeans down as she went, and before he had even an instant to object, she had him in her mouth.
He swore. A long, growling stream of cuss words, and he even backed up a little, but his ass only hit the sink counter. She took him deeper, then let her lips slide all the way to the tip, where she used her tongue before sucking harder and taking him deep again.
She looked upward as she mouthed him. Saw him tip his head back and close his eyes even as his hands buried themselves in her hair. He was shaking harder now. Trying, she thought, to resist the urge to hold her head captive and plow into her throat. Instead, he slid his hands to her shoulders and firmly pushed her away.
Fine. She got to her feet, wrapped her arms around his neck and took his mouth, pulling him away from the sink as she did. His hands moved to her backside, cupping her cheeks, squeezing them, pulling her hard against him. And he pushed her mouth wide open with his tongue, then dug in, licking deep. She thought maybe she’d pushed him past the place where he was capable of turning away, so she used her hold on his neck to support her as she lifted her legs and wrapped her thighs around him.
His hands tightened harder. She wriggled until she felt his hardness nudging at her opening, and then she pushed herself lower, sheathing him, taking him inside. They sank a little as his knees gave, but he caught himself, straightened and moved, carrying her, on him. He pushed her up against a wall and drove up into her, once, twice, again, each time stabbing more deeply. Then he spun her away from the wall and stumbled toward the bed.
Her back hit the mattress, his weight pressing her into it, his hips using the momentum to drive still more deeply. She tipped her hips high, straining to take all he wanted to give her, though he was already stretching her to her limits. She arched. He caught her hips, halting her. “Easy, babe. Easy. I’ll hurt you.”
She replied by grasping his ass in her hands and tugging, even sinking her nails in a little. “More,” she whispered against his ear. “I want all of you.” Then she bit his earlobe.
With a deep shudder, he gave her what she asked for. His hands slid to her knees, and he pushed. She unlinked her ankles from behind his back and let him open her wider. He pushed her knees apart and upward, and he met her eyes.
“Give it to me,” she dared him.
He did, driving into her so deeply that she felt the breath leave her lungs in a gust. And then again and again. Harder, each time filling her, stretching her. She whispered his name, moaned and panted as he pushed her higher. He let go of her knees and slid his hands around her, one cupping her buttocks, fingers sliding between its cheeks, exploring and invading her darkest secrets. The other hand slid between them to find her breast, her nipple. He caught it between thumb and forefinger, began tugging and twisting.
“Yes, yes, yes,” she whispered as he pushed the flames higher. She lost all sense of what he was doing or how he was doing it. She felt pleasure, delicious naughty stabs of pain mingling with it as he pinched and pulled and drove. And then she was exploding, and she knew he was, too, when he drove into her so hard she felt him in her womb, pulsing into her, holding her to receive him.
She wrapped her arms and legs around him, holding him to her, tightly, desperately, as unbearable pleasure twisted her body into knots. She held on, and so did he; his arms and body were her anchor as her entire being shattered like a dropped mirror and rained down in a deluge of glittering, shining bits that pierced her body and sank deep, and then melted into quicksilver in the warmth that suddenly lived inside her, warmth Lou had put there. Then the parts of herself gathered together again, smooth and shining and better than before. Her body uncoiled. Her arms went from clutching him to simply holding him.
Lou lifted his head, so he could stare do
wn at her face. She thought he was going to kiss her, smiled just a little in expectation. But he didn’t. He rolled off her, then gathered her in his arms and maneuvered them both into a more comfortable position in the bed. Then he drew the covers over them both, turned off the light and lay there, holding her, spooning behind her, his arms around her.
“Lou?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you okay with this?”
She felt his breath wafting over her hair. “Go to sleep, hon. We don’t need to pick it apart tonight.”
“We don’t need to pick it apart at all. It was wonderful, Lou. It was a wonderful, amazing, mind-blowing moment. It doesn’t have to be anything more.”
He snuggled her close to him.
“Would it be better if I went back to my own room?” she asked.
“Don’t even think about it.”
“But—”
“Maxie, hon, just shut up and go to sleep, okay? Don’t worry about what I’m thinking. I don’t even know what I’m thinking right now. Ask me again in the morning.” To soften the words, he pressed a kiss to her shoulder.
“Okay,” she said. But she snuggled closer to him. “It’s okay, you know. Nothing has to change, Lou.”
“Everything’s changed, Max.”
She closed her eyes tightly, dreading what he would say next. “Was I…I mean, did you…?”
“You were incredible.” His arms tightened around her. “You are incredible.”
And I love you, she added mentally, imagining those words on his lips. Say it, Lou. Just say it.
But he didn’t. He snuggled her as if he loved her, held her as if she were precious to him, but he didn’t say what she was so longing to hear.
“Just get some sleep, hon. We’ll figure this out in the morning.”
“Then I hope the morning never comes,” she whispered. But to her surprise, she did just what he’d suggested. She fell asleep. Deeply, soundly asleep in his strong arms.
When she woke, she was alone in the bed.
She rolled over onto her back, blinking the sleep from her eyes, then winced because even that small movement caused pain. A deep, dull achiness pervaded her body. Her limbs and back hurt.
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