by Lia Riley
He grunted, not without a trace of humor. “It’s a specialty of mine.”
“Well, consider yourself up against a grand master,” she said with a rueful laugh. “I will meet your apology with a shirt-wrenching, teeth-gnashing plea for forgiveness.”
“You don’t strike me as the kind of person who lives with a lot of regret.”
“Really, that’s your impression of me?”
He ran a hand up her arm in a light, gentle touch. “A bright spark. Beautiful. Happy. Confident.”
Maybe she picked the wrong job in Hollywood. “Smoke and mirrors.”
“Hrumph. Maybe I should borrow a little for myself.”
“Would you do something for me?” She inched closer.
“What’s that?”
She patted the side of the bed. “Come here. Be next to me. We don’t have to sleep together to sleep together. Maybe I’m not ready to go whole hog, but what about cuddling?”
“Cuddling?” His breath sounded labored.
“Don’t be so dismissive.”
“I’m not, it’s just that . . . no one has ever asked me to before. I don’t exactly have a reputation as the warm and cuddly type.”
“Or no one’s ever bothered to look close enough.”
He froze before sitting on the edge of the bed, the mattress creaking from his weight.
“There we go, that’s a start,” she said encouragingly.
“Now what?”
“Now we both lie back on your pillows, get under the blankets.”
“What about shoes?”
“Right. Shoes. Very practical. Glad one of us handles the details. See? This is what makes me a terrible Virgo.”
“You nervous?” He slowly undid the zipper to her ankle boot, easing it off, giving her toes a squeeze before proceeding to the next boot. Her stomach muscles clenched. This guy would give amazing foot rubs; she knew it.
“A little, but in a good way.”
He considered her. “You’re strange.”
“And you are terrible at giving compliments.”
He chuckled at that, tossing her boots on the floor and pulling back the blankets, tucking her in.
“Aren’t you getting in too?”
“For my sanity, I’d rather have this as a barrier.” He tugged on the thick comforter, “Otherwise, I’ll never fall asleep.”
“Am I that hard to resist?” She batted her lashes with a faux-seductive voice.
“Woman, you drive me crazy.” But he sounded happy or at least not angry, which was a change. And for not being a cuddler, he had an excellent way of putting his arm around the hollow of her waist and spooning her against him. Was the rumbling sound the blood still racing through her veins, or even his veins?
“What is that noise?” she asked.
“The falls. Castle Falls.”
“You live that close to them?”
He gave a single nod.
“Will you take me to see them?”
He smoothed back her hair. “How about tomorrow?”
The warmth of his suggestion cooled under a dose of reality. “Tomorrow I have to do something, but soon.”
“It’s a date.”
Something about the way he said the word made her thighs clench. “A date?” She turned and traced a small circle on the end of his nose. “I’d like that.”
“You would?” He pretended to bite her finger.
She cupped his cheek and kissed the tip of his nose. “Don’t sound so shocked that a person might like you, Wilder Kane.”
Chapter Nine
WILDER COULDN’T SLEEP. Quinn gave another cute little sigh but he couldn’t drift away with the prosthetic on. He needed to take it and the stump’s shrinker sock off. If she glimpsed his body, she would pity him. He’d faced enough—no point breaking the last spindly straw of his pride. As much as he hated leaving her, it was better if he crashed in the guest room. That way he could set his alarm early, be showered and dressed before she woke. Before she could see.
He pulled away, jaw clenching as she let out an unconscious whimper of protest. How many people had ever missed him when he’d left their beds? No one. That had always been his goal with women. Use them and let them use him in turn. A physical release was fine. Emotions? Hell no.
He sat and, in the distance, the waterfall laughed. Go ahead, let the water have its fucking snigger. It wasn’t as if it would get to run wild and free to the ocean. Soon it would be rerouted, sucked into some aqueduct to feed the insatiable, thirsty millions in Southern California. In a week this water would be irrigating a rich man’s putting green, then who’d be laughing?
He scrubbed his face.
Is this how hermit madness began? Talking to inanimate objects?
He fumbled for his cane, wincing as it scraped the floorboards, but Quinn must be a sound sleeper. A good thing because it wasn’t as if he could tiptoe. At first he’d balked at the idea of a two-bedroom cottage, thought one room would suit him plenty. He didn’t plan on having company and didn’t want to give Archer or Sawyer any excuse to stick around and play nursemaid.
But it came in useful tonight.
He got to the spare room, turned on the lamp and stripped off his sweater, t-shirt, and jeans. His cock poked like a hard and insistent bastard against his boxer briefs but he wasn’t going to be able to get any relief with his own poor hand tonight. Loneliness took hold, made it hard to breathe. For once, he didn’t crave release. What he wanted was connection.
He’d gotten the prosthetic and compression sock off when the floorboards creaked. Quinn had ten toes perfect for quiet movement.
“What are you doing?” he snarled at her outline in the doorway, acutely aware he was exposed, his stump on display to ruin everything.
“I rolled over and you were gone,” she whispered. Her eyes weren’t fixated on his leg. For some reason she stared at his chest.
His back muscles tightened as his ears grew hot. “Go away.”
Instead she came closer.
“Dear God, do you bench press sequoia logs or something?”
“Huh?”
“Seriously.” She licked her lips. “How do you have such an amazing body? You’re like a statue or something. I used to keep a D encyclopedia under my bed, to check out Michelangelo’s David and—”
“Please, go. I can’t stand it.” He sank his hands into the blanket, a freight train running through his head.
“You are beautifully made, don’t you know that?” She bent, bracing her hands on his thighs and lowering herself down to her knees.
He made himself well acquainted with the area where the opposite wall met the ceiling. “You’ve got a sweet-looking mouth for a liar.”
“I speak the truth. I don’t want a one night stand,” she said, “but I also can’t deny that I want you. Badly.”
His muscles coiled as tightly as springs.
“Can you please look at me?” she whispered.
“Can’t.” It was all he could say with his throat in a vise.
She was quiet a moment. From this room he couldn’t hear the falls, but the memory of the laughing water echoed in his skull. “What are you so afraid of?”
“I’m not afraid.”
“Wilder. You’re trembling.”
Shit. He was. Toss another log on the pyre. Tonight this woman was going to burn him alive and he didn’t mind a bit.
“Is it this?”
He jerked as she touched his leg, stump, whatever you wanted to call the useless appendage.
“Your injury isn’t an issue for me,” she murmured. “You survived a terrible accident. I’m sorry for what you suffered. But that doesn’t subtract anything from who you are, the man I see.”
He snorted. “Man? I’m not a man anymore.”
She reached, her fi
ngers tracing his chest hair. “You look plenty manly from where I sit, just saying.”
Her damn hand kept moving, down over his chest, his gut tightening as she reached his navel, the place where the hair began again, the thick arrow, an unsubtle guidepost.
She reached the elastic of his boxers and stopped. “I won’t go further unless you say it’s okay.”
“Isn’t that supposed to be my line?”
“Right now I feel like the seducer.”
He seized her with a groan, lifting her easily, falling back on the mattress and carrying her with him. It was short work to get off her shirt. Her jeans were a little trickier. They were tight, which was good and meant she had to shimmy her hips to get them lower, which was better.
He groaned and clasped her ass, the little scrap of lace doing not much more than framing the high perfect swell of her ass.
“I don’t have a condom,” he rasped.
“I’m on birth control.” She kissed him again. “But we’re barely acquainted.”
“Never mind, I can make you feel good in other ways.” He ran his thumb down the center of her panties. No hiding the wetness. No hiding anything. Her entire body was a live wire. She trembled against him and he shuddered once.
“Wait.” She jerked up, shoving hair from her face. “I forgot. I have a condom in my purse. For emergencies.”
“Emergencies?”
“I was a Girl Scout—always come prepared. It’s stashed in my first-aid kit. I have a pocket-sized one.”
“In case you get a cut, need a Band-Aid and then a fuck to make things better?”
She narrowed her gaze in mock ferocity. “Listen, buddy, I saw this whole survival show on cable. Condoms can hold water. You can even make slingshots.”
“Slingshots?”
“Or a blow-up friend if you’re stranded. Draw a face on it, you know, like Tom Hanks did with Wilson during that one island movie.”
“Jesus Christ.” He groaned. “Now I’m hard and thinking about Tom Hanks with that beard.”
“Hey now.” She gave his chest a shove. “He was pretty great in The Shawshank Redemption.”
“You mean The Green Mile?”
“Yeah, yeah.” She waved her hand as if flapping away pesky details. “Still a movie about prison and sads, right?”
“They are nothing alike.”
“I’m really messing this up, huh?” She scrubbed her face. “We’re supposed to be having hot monkey sex and instead I’ve got us discussing Tom Hanks. Need to share any deep thoughts on Big? Splash?”
“When you get back . . .” He gave her a long lingering kiss. “We’re talking less, deal?”
“Got it.”
Another kiss, short this time, but deeper. “Not that I don’t like talking to you.”
“No, no. Right, I get it. I like talking to you too. But this is about getting down.” She waggled her brows. “Got a one-way ticket to dirty town.”
He picked her up and deposited her onto the ground, giving the side of her ass a playful slap. “Go on, trouble-maker.”
“Going, going.” She fled the room.
Fuck. He was laughing. When had he ever laughed? Especially with a woman?
His dick throbbed. He was more turned on than he’d ever been and as much as it was disturbing, it also felt disturbingly right.
She came back and looked around. “Is it gone?”
“What?”
“The mood.”
“I’m not sure what we had could be classified as mood.”
“Atmosphere?” She jutted her hip.
His cock twitched. “Let’s get you out of what’s left of those clothes and see how much oxygen is left over.”
She climbed up on the bed, passing him the condom. “Want to know a secret? You’re sort of fun.”
He clapped a hand over her mouth. “Don’t tell anyone else.”
“I’m glad Kit stranded me,” she said through his fingers.
“We can send him a dozen roses.” His eyes rolled back in his head when she skillfully sucked his finger.
She took one more down before pulling back and biting her lower lip.
He tore open the foil and sheathed himself. “I haven’t done this in a while. And not since . . .”
“Hey.” She settled a hand on his bicep and squeezed. “Hey, be with me. Right now all I see is your face. And all I feel is this.” Her other hand encircled him at the root, guided him home.
He didn’t even have to push. She was more than ready and, fuck, so was he. Too ready. One thrust and he had to close his eyes, stop, and breathe. “Need a second.”
“Take your time,” she gasped, rocking a little from side to side. “You’re a lot more than what I’m used to.”
He had a fleeting moment of hating anyone who’d ever been there before, touched this woman, heard her make this same gasp. But then she leaned up, her soft lips brushing his, and nothing more mattered because for once he existed fully in the present. No past. No future. He wasn’t even a fucking hermit. He was here buried inside this gorgeous woman and while it was a little awkward and his balance needed some adjustment, his arms were strong and he could keep his weight off her to concentrate on the in-and-out slide. She clenched those long legs around his waist and it was like a little slice of heaven was served with a fucking cherry on the top.
Her fingers raked down his back and he jerked, plunging deeper, spreading those long legs wider. Shit. The world was dissolving to this single point of contact, the hard rhythmic breaths. Their gazes locked and he was lost, hypnotized. He dragged his tongue over her neck, the pulse echoing in his cock. It had never been this way, rough yet soft. Tender even. Shit, he was going to get there too fast. He ground against her mons and she bowed too. Thank God. He wouldn’t go alone. He did it again, increasing the friction. “Like that?”
She didn’t answer but the way her jaw tightened, that low shallow whimper, told him she did.
“Say yes.”
“Yes.” She moaned the word.
His balls squeezed with hot, tight pleasure, edging him closer. “Say my name.”
“Yes, Wilder. I love it.”
The pleasure sharpened, took on a dark edge, and she began to contract around him, pulsing, milking, and everything was too good. Fuck it, incredible. His abs flexed, ass clenched, and with a primal groan and one last mad kiss, he joined her on the other side.
Afterward, he rolled onto his side, clasping her close, not wanting to sever the lust-drunk connection, not when everything felt exactly right. “Jesus, I didn’t even have enough time to bust out any big moves.”
“Wait. You’ve got bigger moves than that?” She cocked a brow, pushing a damp lock of hair off her forehead. “I guess the rest of you is big but whoa. Go on, pray, share your big move.”
“What I really want is to go down on you, savor every goddamn glorious inch.” Even as he said it his mouth watered. She’d taste amazing, strong, bright, and tangibly addictive as the rest of her.
She traced a bead of sweat trickling down his chest.
He cupped her cheek. “You aren’t impressed?”
“Don’t get me wrong.” She rolled, nestling closer with a grin. “I’m sure I’d like it, correction—love it. One teensy problem though, I’m not sure if I’m in a great position to get into a relationship with anyone.”
Despite her words, she still threaded her fingers through his hair and drew him in for another kiss, one that started to harden his exhausted cock. Her tongue was sweet but tasted of falsehoods.
“That’s good,” he muttered before deepening the kiss. “Because I don’t do relationships myself.”
At last she broke away, breathing faster than she had a few minutes ago. She pressed her cheek against his and gave a tentative grin. “This is a big mistake, isn�
�t it?”
“Huge.” One that felt like it could change his whole world, and just maybe for the better.
Chapter Ten
TWO THOUGHTS COLLIDED in Quinn’s head the moment she woke up: (1) It felt damn good to be wrapped in Wilder’s big strong arms and (2) the fact they had used up her one emergency condom was a national tragedy because she wanted more, more, more, like Susan Sarandon in The Rocky Horror Picture Show. How could she ever get enough of this man?
She stretched her legs, smiling at the delicious soreness radiating between her legs before a third thought wandered in, late to the party.
Today is test day.
Great. Thanks, third thought. Way to ruin the moment.
Stupid brain.
She had to get to the hospital lab by nine-thirty for a blood draw, the one that would reveal if she too would develop Alzheimer’s at a young age, just like Dad. Fifty-fifty odds meant she didn’t know where to place the bet. All red? All black?
It wasn’t mandatory. She didn’t have to find out. But the Virgo in her wanted to plan, needed to know because even if this was a worst case scenario, maybe she could live her life to the fullest without being plagued by nagging uncertainty. The exhausting what-ifs that slithered in when she was almost asleep or relaxing under a hot stream of water in the shower or brewing a pot of morning coffee.
Wilder responded to her stirring by nuzzling the side of her neck, his stubble prickling her flesh in a pleasant way. God, he felt good, but her instincts last night were right. This was a mistake. She was set to sail off into an uncharted ocean and no one else deserved to go along on that voyage.
“Morning,” she said, lifting his arm and wiggling away to freedom.
“Morning.”
Her feet hit the cold floor as her stomach sank at his stiff tone. There was a wall between them again. As much as she hated that it was there, this screw-and-scram behavior no doubt gave him ample cause to ramp up his defenses. Her throat tightened but no matter how fabulous last night was, leaving was for the best. Chalk this encounter up to a little one-time fling that helped provide much needed distraction.
“So I have to get going,” she said, tugging on yesterday’s clothes. Yeah, it was dodgy as heck to avoid his eyes, but if she didn’t, he’d see in her gaze that leaving was the last thing she wanted. Last night she rambled about making a Wilson condom and he still wanted to have monkey sex. If she let him in, they might spend the morning doing sock puppet shows interspersed with fellatio. Then he might go ahead and bust out that big move he kept alluding to and she’d never want to do anything but live life with her legs wrapped around his shoulders.