Trusting Love

by Billi Jean

  Her face came into focus then blurred but he thought she nodded quickly. A wisp of her dark hair fell across her face, and he managed to brush it back behind her small ear. She didn’t speak again, not that he heard, but gently pushed him back until his back hit the soft mattress and suddenly she lost her balance, gasped, and landed on top of him.

  The slim fit of her against him fully for the first time set him on fire. He quickly caught her and turned, landing half on top and half on his side so he could be as close as possible. Her dark eyes widened adorably then she slid him a look that was much hotter.

  She didn’t move, not even when he let the full weight of his hips press his erection tight between her open legs. The rush of pleasure from finally having her in his arms soaked up his strength to resist lowering his head and taking her mouth. He bent, slowly breathing past the mounting needs pounding harder than his wounds, and with infinite care he brushed his lips over hers.

  “I’m sorry, Kris. So damn sorry,” he told her, sampling her lips with his tongue before he settled his mouth firmly on hers, and pressed past her open lips to taste her.

  The first sweet explosion of her made him groan and rock his erection against her, desperate for more. She didn’t move but didn’t push him away until with a soft sound in her throat, she circled her arms around his neck and pulled him down tighter while she pressed her lower body—and her sweet pussy—against his thigh with a needy sound.

  Explosions of light and sound rippled through him and he tightened his hands on her body, caressing down it, desperate for her. She tilted her head and dived into the kiss running her sassy tongue along his and pressing against him harder until he had to break away from her lips and kiss her cheeks and shoulder, her neck and gradually work his way back to her lips again so he could take as much of her as he could. “Sorry, so fuckin’ sorry, darling, you gotta believe me, gotta let me—”

  She moaned and latched onto his lips, stopping the spill of words even as she caused his body to tighten to the point of coming in his pants. He held back enough to reach down between them.

  When he did, she moaned louder.

  “Yes, oh yes.” She arched her hips upward, and grabbed hold of his head tighter to kiss him.

  He couldn’t get enough air. She kissed with the same desperation he felt and when he freed his erection, her kiss grew even wilder and she pushed harder on his thigh, making such passionate sounds in her throat he couldn’t take the time to unbutton her jeans and dive into her. Instead he edged his thigh tighter to her core and slid his hand inside her loose jeans and past wet silk to her heat. She was soaked and when he carefully rubbed her tiny clit she bit down lightly on his neck and started to tremble, crying softly as she did against his throat.

  His orgasm was seconds away. Kris took his cock in her hands and he stopped breathing for fear of missing a second of how good it felt. Her palms were soft, warm and so sweet he couldn’t hold in the groan of relief.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah, darling, don’t stop,” he begged in time with her tight grip stroking his sensitive erection.

  Right when he knew he couldn’t hold on longer she started pressing hot, wet kisses to every inch of his shoulders and chest she could reach. The tenderness hit like another squirt of gasoline on an already blazing fire.

  His muscles locked down and a shudder started at his shoulder blades and shot down his back to tighten his spine and tingle over his bare ass to the erection in her hands.

  “Robbie, oh yes, yes, come for me,” she whispered sounding like the sexiest woman in the world.

  At the sound of that name from her lips, he knew he’d reached the end. A rush of shivers sped down his spine, making his muscles tremble. Unable to speak past the pleasure, he frantically covered her hands with his and shoved through, coming so long and so hard his eyes rolled back in his head and he ground out her name with each thick gush of cum.

  When he could breathe past the spasms, he lowered his head, breathed her in and carefully removed his hand from her wet pussy but only as far as her stomach. She pressed a warm kiss to his throat and he reached up from where he’d still been holding her hand on his cock to caress her soft face once more.

  With the world spinning, he managed to twist his body, barely stopping himself from falling on top of her.

  “Kristen,” he murmured and curled on his side, holding her close in his arms as the room slowly went dark.

  Chapter Seven

  “Robert?” Kristen whispered against Robert’s sweaty shoulder.

  He didn’t answer, but he also didn’t move. She could have stayed with him like that forever, she thought suddenly, but reality intruded on the happy thought, squashing it completely.

  What have I done?

  Will he remember it?

  Yes, she decided, a man that called her name so desperately while he drove her insane with sex like she’d never dreamed possible, all while wounded, would remember that she’d not only let him kiss her but practically begged him to drive her insane!

  Where has my brain gone? Where have all my thoughts of him leaving, and quickly, gone?

  She always believed men thought with their brain below their belts, not women.

  Obviously when he’d rolled over on top of her, her brain had focused on one thing and one thing alone—the hard erection pressing against her stomach. That and the feel of his thigh shoved tight to her clit. Even now, her mouth watered at the feel of his semi-hard penis lying so thick and deliciously tempting along her lower back. All she had to do was reach back and she was certain a few strokes up and down would make him as hard as he’d been before. A quick wiggle of her hips and her jeans would slip down and he’d certainly be able to find where to go from there. I’m a sex maniac and never knew it.

  The fantasy was right out of her dreams, to snuggle up to this man and make him hot enough to slip in her pussy from behind, no kissing, no talking, just slow, deep thrusts with low groans and breathless pants until they both toppled over the edge of reason into that bliss only a climax could deliver.

  But just because it was a fantasy didn’t make it okay.

  He was drunk, not me!

  But, God, how long has it been since I felt the weight of a man on top of me?

  Years before the divorce, and now years since her life had ended. But life didn’t end, did it? Robert had said he was a coward when she was the one who was a coward, wasn’t she? With Daniel, then with her life after him, she was.

  How long can a person go without being touched?

  She wondered suddenly if the man curled so sweetly around her suffered from the same loneliness and isolation she’d tried to block.

  She’d never seen him with a woman. She’d heard he dated here and there but put his efforts into the military, not finding a girlfriend. She’d often fantasised he’d not brought a woman with him around her because she was what he wanted. He’d been what she wanted. But she’d been with Daniel. It wasn’t fair to think he’d been lonely and waiting for her to smarten up, when he should have and could have had his choice of women. Especially a good-looking man like Robert, she thought, turning in his arms.

  He didn’t stir, but stayed silent, intoxicated, she guessed. He looked years younger sleeping, she thought.

  She slowly reached up and traced the line of his jaw. There was something different about the bones there. He was strikingly good-looking, or had been until his makeover. He was still handsome, but now his good looks were also coupled with hardness. He looked intense but the scars she thought made him look even sexier than before—if that was possible.

  The impact of what they’d done settled over her until, with a sense of panic, she eased from under his arm and his leg and slipped over to the side of the bed. Robert shifted restlessly onto his back when she did, frowning in his sleep. His penis was still out and she couldn’t help the rise in her temperature at the sight of his flaccid flesh nestled in his dark curls.

  Quickly, so as not to disturb him, she tucked him
back inside his boxer briefs. He groaned and tried to take her hand, but she moved out of the way and instead froze half off the bed when he reached inside his shorts to grip himself.

  Her heart really couldn’t take the ups and downs he caused, she thought, watching him shift his legs restlessly while he stroked himself. Was he going to come again?

  She watched the fascinating muscles in his chest and stomach bulge. She was too shocked to move as he masturbated, then with a groan, he stopped, pulled his hand free with a frustrated sound and lay still again.

  As soon as she could breathe normally—and get her mind off ideas of what to do with him when he did heal—she got off the bed and paced the room to the window and back. Her body was still simmering, still hot for the feel of him filling her. She’d been close to begging him but so close to climax from his fingers alone, she’d been unable to think beyond the pure pleasure.

  She had to stop and focus on what she needed to do to help him. While making him come again would be wonderful and her body tingled all over at the thought, she needed to fix him first. Or at least try.

  Yes. I have to at least try.

  Reluctant to leave him, she walked to the bathroom and cleaned up, shocked to see how flushed her face was in the mirror. Well, why wouldn’t it be? She’d just had sex—or closer to sex than she’d been in years. She patted her wet face with a towel and examined herself, trying to see what a man like Robert seemed to like about her. He did like her, too. The thrill from confirming that made her smile.

  “So that’s what you look like smiling?” she whispered.

  She used to smile so much. Now the expression looked odd, as if her mouth wasn’t made for it any longer. Her lips were swollen from his kisses, and she spotted a red mark on her chin from the rough rub of his unshaven jaw, but nothing in her face that would make a man like Robert still want her after all these years.

  Exhaling shakily, she steeled herself for the job ahead, forcing herself to think of how hurt he was, not girlish worries over what he saw when he looked at her. He was in pain, whether he admitted it or not. She’d got him drunk—now she needed to hurry before he woke up. She’d seen Dr Valentine pull a bullet out of more than one dog, even a horse. She would go slow and hope the bullets would be simple to remove.

  All too soon, she stood over Robert again, caught by the way he slept so peacefully and how she was going to hurt him, even if he was out and couldn’t feel it. He’d feel it in the morning. She wasn’t a doctor, and she hadn’t even been a full vet before she had quit her studies.

  “Not going there,” she whispered to the past and all the pain waiting with the memories. “Just gotta start, that’s always the hardest part.”

  She breathed in and out a few times, and when her hand stopped trembling, she picked up the forceps and began. She hit the bullet after several slippery tries, but Robert was bleeding so badly, she couldn’t see well enough and playing blind woman fetching a bullet from a man wasn’t her favourite game. Finally she pulled the tiny bullet free.

  She nearly passed out herself from the relief.

  “Oh thank you, and please don’t make the other so hard to get out,” she muttered, sopping up the blood as best she could with a folded piece of linen. After a minute of holding the bandage firmly in place she dabbed the wound again, noticing it was slowing already.

  “Now the fun part,” she whispered, getting the needle, thread and her nerves back on line.

  With a lot of trial and error she managed to sew him up, and remain conscious doing it. Thankfully he hadn’t woken either, but he’d downed two full bottles of Jack on an empty stomach with a loss of blood that scared her. He had more alcohol in his body right now than blood, in her opinion.

  She admired her work, and added more antibiotic to the wound before she gently tugged his big warm body onto his side so she could wrap a bandage she’d made of an old sheet around and over his shoulder several times. She settled him on his back quickly and tied off the wad of sheet with a sigh of relief.

  Now the hip. Only the hip was harder, wasn’t it? Since to get to that bullet properly, she’d have to take his pants off again.

  Her heart stuttered erratically at the memory of what they’d done with his pants on. Another fantasy surfaced, rushing through her head in a hot image of him making love to her on the kitchen table. She blinked the thought away and tightened her hands into fists. A woman should be better at not thinking such thoughts when a man lay wounded in front of her.

  Robert frowned and shifted on the bed and his boxers pulled tight over the bulge under them. She held her breath, half horrified he’d wake up and she’d have to get him drunk all over again and half alarmed he was awake and watching her admiring his body. Or waking up and wanting to talk about how he’d let her masturbate him into an orgasm that still thrilled her.

  His features relaxed and he merely settled more firmly on the bed, even let out a few loud breaths that might have been snores before he quieted.

  “All right, let’s do this,” she said to the empty room.

  Rowdy was outside the door, but she could hear him pacing. She’d been too afraid he’d bark at the wrong time to allow him in here. Besides, she didn’t need an audience.

  Robert didn’t move when she got his hip clean and with a breath of frustration at her own silliness she pulled his open pants down further and slowly over his legs and off. He had a line of hair from his flat navel down to the top of his briefs where more was visible, then more black hairs sprinkled his muscled legs. She’d not had time to take in everything about him when he’d had his magical fingers down her jeans, but now she noticed so much she couldn’t seem to process it all quick enough. He was a real man for one, not one of those lady’s men who ‘cultivated’ their privates for the ladies. At least she didn’t think so.

  She blinked and groaned at, once again, getting caught up in admiring his body.

  With a great deal of effort, she ignored the way his penis was big enough soft to ride his hip and concentrated on the painful tissue she had to dig into. If the way he sweated and was so silent meant anything, he wasn’t going anywhere, least of all off into a snowstorm anytime soon.

  The thought made her shiver, but she couldn’t claim to be unhappy about it. Slowly, she caressed his stomach, easing him she hoped before she had to hurt him. When she’d built up enough nerve, she carefully pulled him to turn him slightly using his side above the wound to do it. His skin was smooth and warm, a little freckled she noticed maybe from the sun. He had one of those tan lines Anglos got from the sun hitting them above their waist but not below it. She wondered if he tanned easily or burned. She’d bet he tanned.

  Why that mattered she didn’t know. The proximity to him was making her lose her intelligence.

  Thankful that he’d been shot in the same side twice so she could move him like this, she tenderly felt the back of his wounded hip, not feeling anything under the smooth skin. Did that mean the bones weren’t fractured? What would she do if they were? No, she answered herself, they weren’t fractured. No way could he have moved his hips like he had when he’d been closing in on his orgasm if he’d had a fractured bone in his hip. But there was no exit wound, so the bullet was inside his body.

  She gently lowered him back on the bed and took a few deep breaths. He was very heavy. He wasn’t a large man, like a body builder, but every ounce of his frame had ropes of solid muscle. She warily pressed her palm on his lower stomach and tried to be as careful as she could as she brought the forceps to his wound. She pulled gently on his flesh with her hand, opening the round hole bit by bit and guided the silver instrument forward.

  Luck was on her side because she felt the tap of metal on metal immediately, which meant the bullet had to be close to the surface. She watched the skin around his wound rise when she pulled on it. The bullet was right there, only marginally under the surface.

  How is that possible?

  Sweat dripped down her face and she paused to rub her brow
on her shoulder, blinking rapidly to clear her eyes when some of the sweat dripped in her eyes. Her hand shook a little from the tension, so she waited a moment, then gripped the little bullet with her forceps and pulled. The bullet popped free with a sick sound she hoped she could forget quickly.

  “Robert, you owe me for this,” she told him as she cleaned the wound, dabbing it with more triple antibiotic before she settled back on the bed. She’d need to bind it, but maybe only with a big square bandage from the bathroom, the kind she never used because they were so big. She gathered her things, trying not to look too closely at the bloody instruments, bullets or her hands and headed to the kitchen to clean up. As quick as she could, she returned and gently slipped the bandage on his hip wound and tucked the blankets over his tempting body. He slept peacefully, only that small furrow between his eyebrows marring his handsome face. Maybe the expression was from his discomfort, but she smoothed her fingers over the skin and saw the lines etched there from years of frowning. He used to smile, she remembered. A half smile, but still, he’d seemed like a settled kind of man, not a grump.

  Volatile. He’d said his temper was volatile. Whatever that meant, she wasn’t buying it. Robert McNeil was a controlled kind of person, reserved even, but never out of control. She couldn’t believe any military experimental drug, or even the years that had passed, had changed him so completely. But maybe the men after him, men he wanted to kill, he’d said, or would kill him for what he had, made him volatile. She couldn’t imagine knowing someone wanted to kill her and could…

  What kind of life is that, Robbie?

  She brushed her hand through his hair once then let her arm fall to her side. She had no room to talk. Her life was pretty pathetic after all.

  Sighing, she watched him for a moment more then turned away. She had work to do and for now at least, Robert was fine. She’d see to him again, after she’d caught up on her chores.

  * * * *

  It ended up taking her longer than she’d wanted, but she let Rowdy out for his run, and started some stew on the stove before she added more wood to the fire, and had the time to check on Robert again.