“Um, you need to lean forward,” she whispered. He did, resting his body against her. She inhaled deeply, reached down behind him and pulled his shirt from his pants. He raised his arm and she pulled his shirt off. She felt his hand hold on to her hips as she gently pulled it away from his other arm. There was something innately sensual about his head cradled against her that sent tingles through her body. This wasn’t supposed to be seductive, but it sure felt that way.
“Okay,” she began as she slowly sat down again. Face-to-face, she gazed down at his chest and unconsciously licked her lips. “Okay, um,” she said again, forgetting what she was supposed to do. Stephen leaned in closer. Her focus shifted to his eyes. She knew what was coming. “Um,” she said again, as their lips came closer. He leaned in and so did she, and in seconds their lips met tenderly. Then, with added pressure, the kiss deepened. It consumed her just long enough for her to realize that the attraction was very, very real.
She leaned back first. “Um, I gotta get you bandaged up.” She saw that there was a blood-stained bandage already on his upper arm near his shoulder. “So you are hurt.”
“It’s an old wound,” he said.
“It must not be that old because it’s bleeding again. Do you still have stitches?” she asked. He shook his head. “I need to find the first aid kit and some more light. I’m sure my dad has something around here somewhere.” She stood, looking around.
“There’s a flashlight and a first aid kit in the kitchen cabinet under the sink. And the candles are on the top shelf on the left,” Stephen said weakly, then closed his eyes and lay back.
She nodded, surprised that he knew that. What else did he know about the house and just how well had he known her father? she wondered. Were they close? And did he know about her, their strained relationship? Her father would guffaw at that word. He’d say, strained was a coward’s way of saying she turned her back on him when he needed her most.
She rummaged through her purse, grabbed her cell phone then hurried into the kitchen. As soon as she walked in she looked around and smiled. It was like a time capsule. She dialed Janelle’s phone number and prayed she’d get a signal as she began searching in the cabinets for supplies. Luckily, the call went through.
“You didn’t call. What happened?” Janelle said, as soon as she picked up.
“Yeah, sorry, the phone keeps going in and out and then I kinda got distracted.”
“Everything taken care of?” she asked.
“Not exactly,” Mia said, glancing back at the unconscious cop on her father’s sofa.
“What does that mean? Did you get the reprieve or not?”
“No, the office was closed because of the storm. I’m at my dad’s house. We needed to get inside.”
“Oh Lord, how is it down there?”
“It’s about as you’d expect and worse. Torrential rain going sideways, blustering high winds and general craziness and insanity,” she whispered.
“Mia, why are you whispering? And you said we needed to get inside—who’s the we?” she asked.
“There’s an unconscious deputy sheriff lying on the sofa in the living room.”
“Why is there a cop lying on the sofa, Mia? What happened? Are you okay? Are you in trouble?”
“No, I’m fine, and it’s a long story.”
“Shorten it and tell me,” Janelle insisted. Mia told Janelle about being stopped and the tree falling and the officer’s injuries. “Tell me about the cuts and injuries,” she asked. Mia did, so glad she had a doctor for a sister. “Okay, by your description the cuts and bruises don’t sound life threatening, but it does sound like he might have a slight concussion. How long has he been unconscious?”
“Not long. He was talking earlier about being tired.”
“I can’t diagnose him over the phone, Mia, but I can walk you through some basic first aid until you can get him to medical attention.” She told Mia what to do and what to look for.
“Okay, but I don’t know about getting him to medical attention anytime soon. It’s pretty bad out there.”
“Fine, then you’ll just have to do your best.”
“I don’t think he has a concussion. I think he’s just sleepy and tired.”
“What makes you say that?”
“He kissed me.”
“He what?” Janelle asked.
“He kissed me. It was an accident I’m sure—I mean he was probably delirious or something—but still, he kissed me.”
“Okay, we’ll talk about that later. For right now see if you can keep him talking and focused. Ask him questions.”
“What kind of questions?”
“Start general, day of the week, state, things like that. If he’s answering correctly then just ask him about his family or his job. Most people will talk about that. It should keep him awake and alert. Check his eyes from time to time and also keep a close eye on that cut on his forehead. Make sure it doesn’t start bleeding again.”
“Anything else?” Mia asked.
“I’m on my way to Nya’s house. Call us later.”
“Electricity is out and I never connected the house phone. My cell needs charging and the signal is weak. I can barely hear you now.”
“All right, try calling as soon as you can and we’ll keep trying to call you, too. Be safe.”
“I will and, Janelle, thanks for not saying I told you so.”
“I learned a long time ago that you’re just too stubborn to take anybody’s word for anything. You had to see for yourself that the place was closed.”
“Tell Nya I’m fine. I’ll try to call you later.”
Before Janelle replied, the signal was lost.
She began gathering the supplies she needed—candles, two flashlights and the first aid kit. Thankfully there was running water, as per Janelle’s directions, she washed her hands thoroughly, poured warm water into a large pot, grabbed clean towels and took everything back to the sofa. She turned on the two flashlights and lit several candles and placed them around the room. By the time she sat down on the coffee table across from him, she realized that he was out cold.
“Officer, Stephen,” she said, gently shaking his good shoulder. He moaned, but only half woke up. “Hey, remember me? Mia, the woman with the two fallen trees.”
He smiled. “Mia, how could I forget you?” he asked sincerely.
“Yeah, I’m sorry about all that. But I’m glad you remember me. That’s a good sign. I spoke to my sister. She’s a doctor and she said that I need to keep you talking just in case you have a concussion.”
“I don’t have a concussion,” Stephen said sleepily. “I’m fine, just tired. I’m on light duty, but I pulled a triple shift.”
“Because of the storm?”
He nodded. “Hurricane evacuation.”
“Oh, okay, but why are you on light duty before?”
“There was an accident. I helped some people and then I got hurt myself.”
“So you’re a superhero, huh?”
“No, just doing my job,” he muttered slowly, closing his eyes.
“Hey, wake up,” she said, gently stroking his face. The slight stubble felt soft to the touch. “You need to stay with me awhile longer.”
“I’ll stay with you forever,” he whispered.
She smiled remembering his kiss. “Careful, Officer, I might just hold you to that.”
“Promise,” he said, opening his eyes and watching her as she began taking items out of the first aid kit beside her. Then she carefully removed the old bandage on his arm, wet a towel and began gently cleaning the wound, removing dried mud and blood.
“So, Stephen, do you always flirt with women you meet in hurricanes?”
“No, just you, Mia, only you.”
“And why is that, Officer?”
“Because you’re the woman I want.”
“But you don’t even know me.”
“I know you,” he said simply.
Mia looked into his eyes. The stark seriou
sness in his expression quietly stunned her. She was sure he was joking, but his eyes were so genuine. “Um, so, do you know what a concussion feels like?” she asked, hoping to end the uneasy feeling of attraction snaking through her stomach.
“Yes,” he said, smiling.
“Oh really, is that right?” she asked skeptically. He nodded. She looked into his dark eyes. They were glassy, but as he said, he looked more tired than confused. “Why are you smiling?” she asked him.
“Because you’re finally here,” he said as he reached up and touched her face. “You’re not a dream.”
“So me being here with you makes you happy. I think maybe you do have a concussion after all.” He closed his eyes and fell asleep, and she smiled, thinking how wonderful it would be to really have a man feel that way about her. She continued to clean his arm, relieved that the opened cut wasn’t worse. She applied the antiseptic gel then several Band-Aid bandages.
Next, she checked the small cut on his forehead. It proved slightly more challenging than she expected. The cut wasn’t too bad, but he’d rolled his head to the side and the awkward way he was lying made tending to the cut difficult. She had to nearly straddle his lap to clean it and apply the bandage. She gently, slowly turned his head to face her. Thunder rolled and he winced and moaned in his sleep.
She froze, expecting him to awaken and see her straddling him. But he didn’t. He just moaned again and eased back further. She leaned in again, placing her knees astride his thighs. The physical proximity and suggestiveness of her position was obvious. Had he awoken at that moment she wasn’t sure how she’d have explained.
She cleaned his cut and finished her task quickly. Standing, she looked down at her patient. He slept peacefully, so she decided to get some rest, too. Across the room she sat down in the large comfortable chair her father loved. She picked up his pipe in the ashtray on the side table. It still smelled of cherry tobacco, as did the flawed afghan she knitted one summer. She held the pipe to her nose and inhaled. It was her father. She looked up at the portrait of her and her father on the mantel. She’d been about thirteen at the time it had been taken. She smiled, then looked over to Stephen. It was obvious he knew her father well. She wondered just how well. Her father never mentioned Stephen to her, but of course, she hadn’t exactly been around much the last few years.
Leonard James, her father, died nine months ago. He was a brilliant writer and a self-professed journalistic rebel. When it came to seeking the truth and reporting, he was unequalled. A Pulitzer Prize winner, he was cutting, candid and brutal with a satirical edge that angered a lot of people. But he didn’t care. He wrote the truth as he saw it and never took his words back. He often said the truth hurt, and exposing corruption was supposed to hurt a lot. His motto was “no excuses, no retractions.”
As a result he made enemies, a lot of enemies. Most he insisted on calling sore losers; others he called currently uncommitted felons. Investigative reporting was his life. He loved what he did and he was good at it. When he stopped writing years ago he became a different man.
The change in him was even more so evident when she brought Neal down to meet him. The two men got along like fire and water. Her father despised Neal instantly, which broke her heart. And when she told him that they were engaged, he was furious and threatened to boycott the wedding and disown her if she went through with it. In the end he was right about Neal. He turned out to be exactly what her father said he was.
She curled up, laid her head back and closed her eyes. Outside, the storm surged and the winds blew steadily as the rumble of thunder began to lull her. Inside, memories, both good and bad, flooded her consciousness. She was hard-pressed to determine which storm was more threatening.
Chapter 5
The blast of howling wind woke Mia up. She looked around, then peered at her watch. It was after midnight. The room had darkened as a few of the candles had melted down. She heard Stephen moan and went over to him. The bandage on his forehead had come loose. She leaned over to secure it. He moaned again. “Shh, it’s okay, I just need to check your forehead again,” she said gently. Without thinking, she straddled him as before and adjusted the bandage.
She began to notice his features more closely. She was right before, he did look familiar. His face was angular and chiseled and definitely model-perfect. His skin was sun-kissed with deep rich mocha and a mixture of racial backgrounds showed in his features. His eyes were closed now, but she remembered they were dark, almost black, now rimmed with long curly lashes. His mouth was sexy and sensuously full, the lips temptingly shaped, seemingly perfect for long, leisurely kisses and sweet, tender nibbles.
Unable to resist, she touched his lips then hesitated. What was she doing? Her grandmother would be aghast. Good girls didn’t do this. Good girls didn’t touch. Her libido must be in serious overdrive. The man was unconscious and she was fondling his body. Besides that, the man was a cop.
She checked the bandage one last time, then paused and just stared at him. Her searching eyes greedily devoured every inch of his face. Manly and strong, he was very attractive, more so than she originally considered. His mocha skin shimmered in the flickering candlelight. She placed her hands on his broad shoulders, feeling the magnificent iron muscles beneath.
He was solid, strong and powerful and she liked the feel of him. She began touching him, running her hands over his shoulders, to his arms, over his chest then downward. His muscles rippled tight from his chest to his open belt. She stroked the washboard stillness of his stomach. It was chiseled stone. She smiled at her guilty pleasure. She knew she shouldn’t be doing this, but the temptation was just too strong. Besides, who would know? Her stomach trembled as she leaned in and touched her lips to his just once.
Leaning back, her skin goose-pimpled. She knew it was wrong but for some reason, it felt so right. She leaned in again. This time her kiss was longer. This time it was also different. This time he kissed back.
Surprised, she jumped back. The penetrating intensity of his dark sexy eyes sent instant shivers through her body. “Oh my God, I’m sorry, that was so wrong,” she said, moving farther away. He held her in place. “I don’t know what came over me, I just—I’ve never done anything like that before. I don’t know what I was thinking. I was—I never lose control like that.”
His hand reached out to her in almost slow motion. His body tensed as his jaw and stomach muscles tightened. He touched her face tenderly and smiled. “Mia, mi fantasía, maybe you should lose control more often.” His hand gently cradled then cupped her neck, drawing her close. Her lips were still parted in awe when he captured her mouth. Kissing her full, deep and with promise, he literally took her breath away. He delved deep into her mouth, his tongue circling playfully, tasting her sweetness. Seconds later, his arms wrapped around her, holding her close as she collapsed against him.
She moaned, melting against his body, feeling the rhythm of her heartbeat accelerate. He held her close, guiding her across his lap. She felt her body moisten and it had nothing to do with the room’s stagnant heat. My God, what is this man doing to me? The sweet kiss turned quickly into a heart-pounding, nerve-numbing, toe-curling, erotic experience. Her thoughts swam dizzily as she wrapped her arms around his neck and positioned herself to take him in fully.
She leaned forward, pressing her breasts against him, pinning his back against the pillows. Her nipples hardened as they crushed into him. His hands encircled her tighter, pulling her buttocks closer against his unmistakable desire. She felt him, hard and ready, pressing between her legs. He wanted her and she wanted him. The sensation of feeling him hard for her was too arousing to deny and she ground her hips into him. Her thoughts spun wildly. She was floating, losing balance, swept up in the blissful passion of the moment.
His tongue penetrated deep into her mouth, rubbing and tickling the roof of her mouth. She shivered. This was different; he was different. She’d never felt the pull of passion and desire so intensely. The sensation was bey
ond imaginable. She was losing control.
She closed her eyes, savoring his mouth on her body. He kissed her hard and long, then trailed his lips to her neck, her shoulder and chest, nibbling, licking, sucking, sending tremors through every nerve ending. She moaned and arched back, giving him full access to her body. Desire welled in her stomach and heated her blood.
Suddenly an unexpected chill enveloped as a memory assailed her. “Sexually repressed.” Neal’s comment echoed in her mind. What if she disappointed Stephen, too? She couldn’t take another embarrassment. She knew she had to stop or be humiliated. She needed to regain control. “Wait, wait,” she rasped, pushing back from him, surprised to see her shirt was open and she was literally on top of him, straddling him. He nodded and released her instantly.
“Maybe we should slow down,” she muttered, breathlessly. “I know this seems like I’m teasing, but believe me, I’m not. It’s just that—I mean, I don’t know anything about you. You could be married or engaged, or—”
He interrupted. “Mia, I’m not married, I’m not engaged or anything else.”
“Still, you’re a cop and I just about molested you, when you were unconscious no less. Talk about coming on strong. I can’t believe I did that,” she said.
He held her secure for one last moment. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not complaining,” he assured her tenderly. He released her and she quickly began buttoning her shirt, then gathering the discarded bandages and other trash from the table.
“The thing is,” she began, and then a loud crash got their attention. The boom was followed by a tremor as the small house shook.
Sultry Storm (Kimani Romance) Page 4