She shut the front door as Eli started down the staircase. His pace was faster than he’d let on, but he was obviously working hard to navigate. As gestures went, his was significant. He’d pushed past his own barriers and comfort zones for her.
“Not bad, Eli Crane,” she said to herself as she headed to her bedroom. “Not bad at all.”
* * *
Eli reached the bottom of the stairs faster than he’d climbed them, that was for damned sure. Catching his breath at the bottom, he felt better about himself for having tackled them. Maybe he should make climbing part of his training. He could come here and practice a few times a week. He bet he could get faster.
Deep in thought and inspired by the idea of a new challenge, Eli walked to his car, head down as he pulled his keys from his pocket. He’d parked closer to the entrance of Sable Concierge, so walking to the car took him away from the staircase by about fifty feet.
Which was probably why Sable’s voice sounded distant when her scream pierced the air.
Fear wrapped around him like a length of rope, adrenaline dumping into his bloodstream by the gallon as he turned to run back to where she was.
Only he couldn’t run. He had the wrong fucking prosthetic on. Not the Gazelle, made for running, but his normal everyday walking foot.
She came into view a few sweaty seconds later and the sight almost stopped his heart. A man wearing a ski mask and gloves, covered head to toe in black, took one look at Eli, who was stalking at top speed toward him, thrust Isa to the side, and raced off at a full run.
Eli, muscles corded and taut, took a few bounding steps before freezing in place, knowing a chase would be futile. He cursed himself for not having a weapon on his person—he hadn’t bothered with his concealed carry since he’d returned home—as he watched as the figure grew smaller and smaller in the alleyway before turning right and disappearing altogether.
His heart slammed his chest, his fists balled, his blunt fingernails cutting into his palms. He was reminded that he needed to take a breath when his vision blurred. Isa’s delicate voice sliced into his brain a second later.
“Eli.”
The rush of adrenaline faded, and with it came a penetrating fear. For Isa. For what could have happened. And God help that asshole if he’d put a scratch on her.
Eli strode back to where she stood, her purse hanging open, the contents of her bag scattered on the ground beside her. She lifted a shaky hand to her hair as she pushed it behind one ear.
“Who was that?” he growled. “Tell me you had some clue.” Any description could help the cops.
“I…” Her face crumpled and she shook her head, her hair a mess and hanging in front of her beautiful face.
Shit, he was being insensitive. At ease, soldier. As much as he wanted to be able to describe the man who’d attacked her to the police, and as frustrated as he was that he couldn’t chase the attacker down on foot and beat him to a bloody pulp, Isa was his priority.
That became clear the second he wrapped her in his arms. Fragile and soft, she folded into him, burying her face in his shirt, her hands wrapped around the lapels of his leather coat. He shushed her, stroked her hair and back, and kissed the top of her head. She was safe now and that’s what mattered.
“Sable. I’m here.”
Her breaths were shallow, but she didn’t cry. After she loosened her hold on him, he felt safe to step away, having calmed down himself. Then he spotted the tear in her sweater along the low, scooped neck, her bra showing and blood dotting down the front.
“What the…” He cradled Isa’s face in his hands, and searched the rest of her for injury. No cuts. “Where are you bleeding? What the fuck did he do?” He ran his hands gingerly over her shoulders and down her arms.
“I’m not hurt.” Isa sniffed. “He grabbed me and I kneed him in the nuts and then elbowed him in the nose.” She showed him her elbow, where another blood spot stained her white sweater. Her arm shook like outdoor chimes on a windy day. “He was a bleeder.”
“You were in the process of kicking his ass?” Eli asked, stunned.
“He’s lucky you showed up.” One half of her mouth lifted into a weak smile. She started to bend over and pick up the items from her purse, but he held her elbow to keep her from it.
“I’ve got it.” He gathered everything that had spilled out, her intact wallet and spare change littering the ground, and put it back into her bag. Then he lifted the other strap onto her shoulder. “Didn’t look like he got anything.”
“He didn’t.”
He liked that she was able to get in a few good jabs as much as he hated that he wasn’t able to get in a few himself. “Let’s get you inside.”
He followed her upstairs, a niggling, sickening feeling that the guy attempting to take her purse could have done more than rob her. It heated the blood in Eli’s veins to boiling and made him that much more pissed about his inability to hunt down the bastard and smash his face in.
Eli’s ascent was slower than hers, which was good because he talked himself down as he walked up. She would benefit more from his calm presence than his unhinged anger. Isa unlocked her door and let herself in, holding it open for him. When he entered her apartment, she took out her phone and dropped her purse on the couch.
She stared at the screen, her fingers hovering before she looked up at him. “I don’t know the number for the police.”
Shock. He could see it. He had seen it a million times on hundreds of faces, and he had suffered from it personally.
“I’ll call. You sit.” He took her phone and tipped her chin. Her eyes were blank, her teeth worrying her lip. “Sable?”
Her lashes fluttered.
“You’re okay now.”
“I know.” She swallowed, her throat moving as her eyebrows bowed. She looked delicate with her torn shirt, that asshole’s blood on her clothes.
“They might want the DNA, so you can’t clean up yet. Do you want some water? Tea?”
Her mouth slid to the side. “Do you know how to make tea?”
“Not really.” He slipped his hand beneath her hair and around the back of her neck, massaging until she took a breath that lifted her shoulders and filled her lungs.
“Thank God you were here,” she told him.
But a sick realization took the place of the pride he didn’t deserve feeling. Because the fact of the matter is, this had happened because he was here. If he’d never asked her to come out with him tonight—or if he’d waited for her inside her apartment instead of heading down the stairs…
He wasn’t a hero. He was to blame.
* * *
Isa sat on the very edge of her couch, uncomfortable, mind whirring. Her knee and elbow throbbed from the physical hit, but her mind replayed it on a loop. Her attacker’s arms banded around her, his stale breath and craggy voice.
Don’t fight me, you bitch, or I’ll gut you.
A shudder streamed through her. Who knew the defense class she’d taken with her assistants last year would come in handy for her? Isa was lucky Eli had been here. Sure, she’d resisted, but her attacker was much stronger than she was. She wasn’t sure if he’d have given up if it’d been just her.
What would have happened if she’d been alone?
Another shudder had her reaching for the blanket on the back of her couch. She pulled it to her chin and stared blindly at the coffee table in front of her. At the fitness magazine promising Sexy abs in 3 easy moves!
The older police officer who had questioned her was at the door talking with Eli. He was a big guy with kind green eyes and a thick Chicago accent. He told Eli they’d “be in touch” and the door shut with a click. The next thing she knew, Eli was lowering himself onto the couch next to her, the solid, welcome weight of his arm wrapping around her shoulders.
She was physically fatigued from excitement and fear, yet her mind was overly alert. She had no idea how she was going to sleep tonight.
“I need to shower.” Repeatedly. She�
��d already changed and had given her sweater to the police officer for evidence, but even now the feel of her attacker’s hands had her skin crawling.
“You can shower at my place.” Eli’s warm, whiskey-smooth voice rolled through her. But she was already shaking her head.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Then I’ll stay here.”
“I can’t run away, Eli. I work downstairs. I live here. I’ll have to come home eventually no matter what I do tonight.”
“It doesn’t mean you can’t come to my house. Sleep in my arms. Shower in my bathroom and dry off with one of my towels.” His gravel-laden voice was gentle, the rough quality not making her feel any less comforted. His hand on her shoulder, he gave her a light squeeze. “Does it?”
The thought of snuggling into him and feeling safe rather than staring at the ceiling all night and listening for strange noises was definitely a better idea.
“Sable.”
She nodded. Just a small nod, but he was already standing and heading into her bedroom. She heard drawers opening, the closet shutting. She curled the blanket around her shoulders and let Eli pack her things without her help.
Chapter 14
Eli removed the shower chair and turned on the water and the room began filling with steam. Isa stood in the doorway of the bathroom, looking weary, her arms crossed over her waist.
“Soap and shampoo are in the shower, towel’s right here.” Eli rested his hand on the fluffy gray towel and watched her, worry eating a hole in his stomach. He wasn’t sure how to comfort her. “Do you want my help?”
“No.” She gave him a tired smile. “I won’t be long.”
He thumbed her chin and watched her a moment longer. He understood. Showering was personal. He never wanted help in here either. “I’ll be in bed. Join me when you’re done.”
She gave him a faint nod and he left her alone.
Outside the shut bathroom door, he hesitated, considering going back in there. As tempted as he was, in the end he gave her privacy.
He’d opened a book on his lap but hadn’t read a damn word of it. He thought about her instead. How frightened she must be, how he’d failed her—twice now, arguably more.
A short while later, she came into the bedroom, towel wrapped around her body, hair dripping.
Her chin wobbled, and then she started to cry. Eli was off the bed in an instant, peeling the damp towel from her body and hoisting her in his arms. He’d kept his prosthesis on for this very reason. He suspected she might need him to come for her.
He lowered onto the bed, a trembling Isa in his arms. Her dripping hair and leaking eyes made a puddle on his T-shirt.
He held her in his arms and wrapped her in his blanket.
They naturally moved from sitting to lying down, her snuggled deep in his bedding and him facing her, clothes still on, his eyes on hers.
She sniffled again and he swiped under her eyes with his thumb.
“I’m sorry, Sable.” It was the first words he’d spoken since before she stepped into the shower, and arguably his apology came late.
“Thank you for letting me stay.”
His heart squeezed. The last time they were in this bed, he’d been transfixed by his own grief and hadn’t given Isa the consideration she’d deserved.
Tonight, that changed.
“Thank you for coming back,” he told her, swiping her drying hair from her face.
“Am I back?” Her eyes, red and puffy, sought his. She was so beautiful it hurt.
“I sure as hell hope so.”
When her lips curved, he put a kiss on one corner of her mouth.
“Give me a second.” He disentangled himself from her to quickly pull off his clothes and set aside his prosthetic leg. Back in bed next to her, he maneuvered under the covers until she was in his arms once again. Her cool fingers touched his torso and he wrapped her tightly against him. In the dark, Eli took a vow.
If phantom pain attacked his missing limb, or if he suffered a numb arm, or if his back cramped to crippling capacity, he didn’t care.
In no way was he letting go of Isa until sunrise.
* * *
The bed bounced, a subtle shift, and Isa pulled in a breath through her nose. Sleep’s fingers tickled the edge of her mind, leaving her disoriented, but only for a second. A man cleared his throat behind her, which should’ve been out of place considering she usually woke alone, but there wasn’t a second of hesitation as to who it was.
Elijah Crane.
Eli, who’d come to her house to apologize.
Eli, who’d called the police after she was attacked.
Eli, who’d insisted she come home and stay with him.
Sleep in my arms.
She had. She opened her eyes when he kissed her shoulder. She’d fallen asleep facing him but must have rolled over in the middle of the night. She faced him now. He was propped on his right elbow, hair a mess, eyes hooded and sleepy. Sun poured through the blinds, casting him in yellow light, making his blue eyes shine.
She didn’t speak. Neither did he. She wondered if he was also turning over the significance of this being the first night they’d spent together. Waking up to him felt strangely normal. She was comfortable here—comfortable with him.
He lowered his face to hers, slowly, as if testing her reaction. She gave him the kiss he requested.
“How’d you sleep?” he asked, his morning voice rich and deep.
“Better than I would’ve thought.” Hers sounded more like she’d smoked a few cigarettes.
“That’s good.”
“Thanks for letting me stay last night.”
He pushed her hair away from her eyes. She’d slept on it wet, so no doubt she was rocking some serious floppy bedhead. “No thanks needed, Sable.”
They shared another quiet moment before Eli leaned forward again. This time when his mouth moved on hers, he opened, an invitation for her to go deeper. She accepted, her tongue tangling with his, warm and wet. He slipped his hand beneath the sheets covering her, palming her breast and thumbing a nipple. Her truncated breaths filled the air as her hand sought his shoulder.
“Eli,” she whispered as his fingers brushed over her belly, closer, closer to where she wanted him. He paused, as if he was unsure, so she gave him permission. “Touch me.”
He kissed her again, cupping her intimately before he dipped a finger along the seam of her.
“Wet,” he said, his voice low and reverent.
“I want you.” She gripped his biceps and parted her lips to let loose a gasp when he continued to tease her. Eli watched her as she watched him, his fingers dancing between her folds, unseen beneath the blankets. Each slick glide drawing her closer to the abyss.
Raising one hand, she palmed his beard, stroking her thumb over his bottom lip as she writhed from pleasure that only his attentive, rough touch could deliver.
He moved his fingers faster, faster…until she clutched and came, her eyes squeezing closed as her body bowed off the bed. Heart ratcheting, bloodstream pumping, she lazily opened her eyes to take in the man who’d guided her to the pinnacle with little effort.
He’d known what she needed last night. And he knew what she needed this morning.
“How do you do that?” she asked on a pleased sigh.
He placed a kiss on her nipple, then on her lips. “Do what?”
“Know what I need.”
“You seemed tense.” His lips tipped, his eyes blinking in that ultraslow way she found enticingly sexy. “Now you don’t.”
She let out a long hum of satisfaction. He wrapped a hand around her butt, squeezed, then let go to fall to his back.
Isa rolled over and wrapped an arm around his bare chest, admiring the swell of pecs and biceps, the tattoos that swirled over his arm. Flowers and waves, a sunrise, a cross. A plethora of scenery and images that meant enough to him to be immortalized on his skin for as long as he was on this planet.
“Your body is beautifu
l,” she murmured, dropping her chin on his chest.
There was a palpable hesitation in the air, one she didn’t ignore.
“I guess guys don’t see themselves as ‘beautiful.’” She traced a line down his chest and drew a circle around his belly button with the tip of her finger. His abs tightened, each bump standing out from his skin. Her fingers followed to his cotton boxers. He was hard and ready and grunted when she gave him a gentle squeeze.
A rough exhalation tickled her cheek and she wiggled into a comfortable position on the bed. On her side, chin on his ribs, her fist gripping the thick ridge of him.
“You are, though,” she said as his eyes sank closed. “Completely beautiful.”
* * *
Eli tugged Isa up his body and kissed her, his tongue dancing with hers. Much as he liked her touching him, he wanted her kissing him more. When he pulled away, satisfaction brimmed in her dark eyes. Satisfaction he’d put there. After the scare she’d had last night when he’d insisted she come home with him and lie safe in his arms, in his bed, he considered this happy, sated look a success.
“I was going to return the favor,” she murmured against his lips, her hand flat on his stomach and inching lower.
“Were you now?” Her touch was amazing, but it wasn’t what she was doing to his body that had him losing his breath; it was what she’d done to his heart. This exotically gorgeous woman draped over his body, drawing a line down the underside of his arm, had sneaked in there without his knowing.
He cared about her. In a way that was different from anyone before her.
She traced the muscles along his abs. She’d said he was “beautiful” but he knew what beautiful was, and it was Isa. Still, he couldn’t help feeling a modicum of pride that she admired his body.
He’d built muscles because he’d needed them. The more strength he had in the rest of him, the easier it was to maneuver with his new leg. But she hadn’t differentiated what parts of him were beautiful. She saw and accepted all of him. It was a sobering realization, and not one he was used to.
The Bastard Billionaire Page 19