Whimpering, she arched against him. "Say my name again." Her plea was released on a moan as he thrust up into her again and again. Whispering her name, he repeated it like a vow, watching her face as her breathing grew sharper, more ragged. Too soon, he felt her luscious body begin to tighten around him. His mouth against a perfect breast, he drew her nipple into his mouth, drawing a startled shriek from her as she stiffened with pleasure. By the time his orgasm roared through him, Curt's vision had reduced to tiny points of light. Groaning her name, he barely managed to catch her when she collapsed against him.
He didn't know how long he held her, stroking her back, sifting her beautiful hair through his fingers as she curled into his chest, her heartbeat slowly returning to normal. Each shuddering breath pushed her down on him again, sending tremors of sensation through his body. Still embedded inside her, he was in no hurry to leave. Her hot, tight core continued to tighten around him, the shivery aftershocks of one of the most intense sexual experiences of his life. Her lithe body clamped against him, he felt every quiver, each twitch as her body squeezed him. Startled, Curt released a ragged groan, stunned to realize he was coming again, helpless to stop the slow, sweet bliss rolling over him. Shannon's gasp of pleasure heated his blood as he mindlessly moved inside her. Her eyes widened with surprise as her climax seemed to blindside her, too.
Though his heart was pumping erratically, Curt fought to find his way back to normal. Sex was always pretty good, no matter who the partner was, but this . . . was nothing short of dangerous. An electric arc dancing wildly out of reach. Burning anyone in its path. He liked Shannon. A lot. And he wanted to continue whatever this thing was they were now exploring. But, how good could it get after tonight? After mind-blowing? What would 'normal' feel like now? Despite the niggling worry in the back of his brain, he was unable to stop touching her. Trailing his rough hands along her silky thighs, he felt her tighten where she still straddled him. Her skin was pure softness, yet he could feel the strength of the taut muscles just below the satiny surface. He would have been content to have her stay right where she was for the rest of the night.
She raised her head from his shoulder. Gazing into his eyes, he noted her confusion, her wonder over what had just occurred. A sated smile crossed her lips before she lowered her mouth to his. Her kiss was long, slow and languorous and dangerously addictive. She kissed like a dream. Her lips were content to rub against his in a way that was impossibly good, as though there was nothing else on earth more important than kissing him.
"I should probably let you get up." Her breathless voice crawled through his system. Startled by the strange uncertainty settling over him, Curt nodded, suddenly edgy to regain a little space. A little perspective. Some much-needed distance. Yet, when she lifted off him, he experienced a sudden sense of loss. Isolation. When he should have felt relief— at being unencumbered. Free. Except this time, it was different. Instead of comforting him with the familiarity of a long lost friend, his one-ness suddenly felt lonely. Exposed. Naked in a way that went far beyond his skin.
"Yeah . . . I'm a little stiff." Still searching for her bra, her eyes flared with concern. It was hard to watch her there, her beautiful body still half-naked, her gorgeous hair draped over curves he'd just stroked and kissed, and not want to make love to her again. Heat licking through him, he abruptly waved her off, conscious of his own naked state and the obvious desire stoking through him. "Not my knee, Shan."
"Okay." Her uncertain tone pricked his conscience. Jeez—was she going to act hurt now? If he didn't clue her in on every stupid thought running through his brain? Shaking his head, he hoisted himself up on his crutches. Avoiding her gaze, he accepted the shirt she'd scooped up from the floor. And how awkward was that? Crutching down the hall to the bathroom—limping, his ass hanging out, dragging his sweats behind him. Christ, he probably looked pathetic. When Shannon would have spoken, he cut her off.
"Before you ask, I don't need your help." Her indrawn breath confirmed his tone was much sharper than he'd intended. His back to her, he winced. Damn it, now he'd hurt her feelings.
"I was just going to say . . . I'm going to jump in the shower before bed."
Great. Now, she was pissed. Nice job, idiot. How did he manage it? Turning a mind-blowing sexual experience into an argument in under five minutes? "Okay . . . I guess I'll see you when you get out." Not turning back, he slowly made his way to the hall bathroom. The amazing interlude clearly over, Curt acknowledged the throbbing ache in his knee. He was overdue for pain meds. For a few, brief minutes, he'd been whole—in his mind. He'd been happy . . . completely in the moment with a beautiful, sexy woman. Now, it was back to reality. But, he didn't expect the pain meds would do anything for the sharp ache of regret currently lodged in his chest.
WHAT HAD JUST HAPPENED? Shannon scrubbed her body in the shower, trying to decide whether she was angry or disappointed over his strange reaction. Her skin was still tingling from his touch. They'd just experienced the most amazing sex of her life. Okay—so, clearly from the pile of condoms in his bedside table, Curtis had way more sex than she did, so maybe he had a higher standard for amazing. But—it had been damn good. He'd been right there with her, of that—she wasn't mistaken. Raising her face to the stream of water, she rinsed shampoo from her hair.
Like a light switching off, Curtis had gone away. Retreated inside his head. With a sigh, she shut off the water. Part of her wanted to slink away, go home and finally sleep in her own bed. Stick to managing his business—and stay out of his private life. Unlike the heat in his eyes only minutes earlier, his expression now held resentment. Of her. Of her very presence. Biting her lip, she blinked back a sudden wave of tears. The overwhelming fatigue returned with a vengeance, crashing over her. The sad thing was—she understood what he was feeling. Frustrated. Confined. Trapped. She was part of the problem, because she was always there. Helping, but encroaching in his space. If she stayed much longer, he would end up resenting her. Possibly the only thing worse than having sex with the boss, was becoming a nuisance to him. If his frustration with her carried over to Four Seasons, it would impact their working relationship.
"Tomorrow," she vowed. Once she was safely at work, she could call MaryJo and make up a reason why Curtis needed someone else. Someone different. Someone who wasn't her. She and Travis could find a replacement to cover the remaining nights. By the end of the week, he could safely stay on his own. He was getting around well, gaining confidence in his own movement. Hell, his follow-up appointment was tomorrow. The doctor might upgrade his condition. Maybe he'd be bending it a bit—or putting a little weight on it.
Either way, Shannon knew it was time for her to bow out. Relieved to have a plan worked out, she hung up her towel. Her eyes still watery, she splashed them with cold water, telling herself it was her fatigue acting out. Ten days of sleepless nights. The stress of being a burden to him. Her tears were absolutely not about the sex. Or the crazy, comforting sense of rightness she'd felt with him. It wasn't about his annoyance with her. "Then why are you stalling in here?" With an exasperated sigh, she jerked the door open.
Two could play this game. She could act normal. Hot sex? What sex? She could play it cool. She could nod and pretend she hadn't just revealed her soul to the closed-off guy on the living room couch. Hell, she'd survived walking in on Brad and his hot, young waitress in her bed. On her sheets. Feigning normal with Curtis should be easy. Especially since he was suddenly going out of his way to ignore her.
Releasing a gusty breath, she summoned her courage and poked her head out into the hallway. Hearing the television in the living room, she steeled herself and headed toward the sound. Curtis was back on the couch, propped up against his pillows, his gaze glued to the baseball game he'd turned on. A paperback clutched in her hand for diversion, she skirted his couch and headed for the chair in the corner. Though she doubted she'd be able to concentrate on a word of it, she wanted something to hide behind.
"If you're tired, yo
u should go to bed. I can make it to the bedroom on my own later."
She froze in her tracks. There was no way he could swing his bad leg up into bed and prop it up on the pillows and carry ice from the freezer while crutching down the hall. But, it was revealing that Curtis would rather try to handle it all himself than rely on her for anything. "I think I'll stay up a while, if that's okay."
"Suit yourself." The resignation in his voice twisted the knot cinching her stomach. Mortified when her eyes filled with unwanted tears, she panicked. Turning her face to the shadows, Shannon waited, praying her lost composure would miraculously return before he summoned the courage to glance her way. Or before she started making undignified noises in an attempt to smother her tears.
"Actually, I'm pretty tired." Noticing the tremor in her voice, she winced. Screw courage. She could admit defeat in the face of an unpleasant enemy. It was time to retreat. "I guess I'll go to bed. If you need me later-"
"I won't."
As she stalked from the room, Shannon's frustration with his attitude flashed over. "You don't have to be such a bastard about it." When his head jerked up, she continued. "I get it. You're sick of me being here. You know what? I'm not all that thrilled with you, either." Pausing in the doorway, she stared at him, uncaring that tears were spilling down her face. If Curtis could be so deliberately cruel, she could give herself permission to be a basket case. "Do you think I have nothing better to do? Do you think you're so great that I'm just dying to spend every night with you?"
"Shan-"
Her temper fully ignited, she stopped him. Ignoring the startled expression in his eyes, she couldn't have controlled the tumble of words even if she'd wanted to. "I have a life, too, you know." She nodded. "Not that you seem to care about anyone but yourself, but I'm moving into a new apartment in two weeks. With the ten hour days at Four Seasons and the night shift here, I haven't even had time to pack. So, maybe you could try to be a little tolerant of my presence, okay?"
His beautiful eyes stunned, Curt stared at her, likely wondering how to rid himself of the suddenly hysterical woman in his doorway. "It's not like that-"
"It's exactly like that," she corrected, swiping her cheek with the back of her hand. "You think I'm an annoyance? I'll be happy to leave in the morning," she announced, her heart sinking with the admission. Though she hated quitting on him, it would be for the best. Hopefully, by the time he returned to Four Seasons in another week or so, the awkwardness would subside. With any luck, they could forget the part where they'd had wild, amazing sex together and just move on as boss and flunky. "I'll talk with MaryJo and find someone new for tomorrow night."
"Shan, wait-"
Ignoring him, she took another step, determined to clean the kitchen in record time before she crashed in the guestroom. It wouldn't take long to pack her stuff in the morning. "No thanks, Curt. I've had enough of your one word answers for today." Shannon hesitated over her ultimatum. How would he get to bed? What if he had trouble? Would she hear him? Feeling herself starting to soften her resolve, she toughened up. "If you need help, you can ask for it."
HE'D MADE HER CRY.
Raking a hand through his hair, Curt swallowed a frustrated roar. Why? Why would he do that? And of all people to lash out at, why would he possibly act that way with Shannon? She was everything he wasn't. She was the bright, shiny, untouched penny and he was the dark, sludgy mud puddle she'd fallen into. Her intelligence, her beauty, her hope and kindness. He didn't deserve any of it. Yet, here she was. Volunteering her time to help him. Guiding him through an ugly surgery, buoying his confidence when he wasn't even aware he needed it. After all she'd done for him—why would he hurt her? When she'd just given him the amazing gift of herself—her beautiful body. Her delight over making him crazy for her. The sheer joy Shannon seemed to bring to everything she did. She was fearless and so damned fun to be around. "I don't want her to leave."
Voicing the truth sent a shiver of fear through him. He couldn't have her. He couldn't have someone half as great as Shannon. After all these years, Curt knew who he was. He knew what he could live with and what was out of his reach. After all these years, he knew not to dream. Not to wish for things he could never possibly deserve. Keeping himself in check required distance from most people. He didn't ever want to be in a position of wanting something he wouldn't allow himself to have. At first, his self-imposed exile had served as punishment. To consciously deny himself anything that might make him happy. A warped form of penance for that long ago night. Taking Jane Marshall's life had cost him his own. He'd made few exceptions in the last thirteen years. Contact with his brother had been the lone concession he'd made peace with. By extension, he accepted the love of Travis' family. There was nothing he wouldn't do for them.
But tonight, he'd caught himself wanting Shannon. Sitting across the table from her, he'd imagined himself needing her. Envisioning her in his life. Working together. Sitting on the deck. Cooking dinner. Making plans. Making love. How could he not want her when she embodied everything a man could ever want?
She was right about one thing. He was selfish. But, not in the way she believed. Selfish would be drinking in the joy she offered. Using her amazing body for his own pleasure as he slowly crushed her with the weight of his baggage. His guilt. His clouded half-existence. That would be selfish. What he was actually doing—was protecting her. From the real Curt. From the toxic, poisoned essence he lived with every day.
Releasing a ragged breath, he forced the images from his head. Hearing her in the kitchen, he listened to the comforting sounds of normal activity. Despite her fury, Shan was noisily washing dishes—cleaning up after dinner. Always doing the right thing. Although, if he had to guess, she was probably cursing his existence under her breath. Discovering there was a fiery temper lurking under her sunny disposition made her even more likeable. He'd provoked a flaw she'd likely admit with a grin.
His mouth curved in a sad smile that didn't come close to easing the hollow sickness in the pit of his stomach. He would have to tell her. It would be better for Shannon to learn what he was truly like. Elizabeth's words flashed before his eyes. You ruined everything. She'd haunted him for years . . . the teenaged granddaughter of his victim. I won regionals today. Gram wasn't here. Elizabeth Marshall had served as a constant reminder of all the ways he'd destroyed her family. For six years, she'd sent him snippets of her life. A persistent presence—she'd even managed to locate him in prison. A picture of a girl in a track uniform, her shiny, brown hair slung in a ponytail. A girl in a cap and gown, her back to the camera. Today, I graduated high school. Gram would have been so proud. She'd sent another when she graduated college. Always eager to remind him how his very existence had destroyed her own. My parents divorced this week. Now, I'm alone. Unable to forget her stark reminders, Curt had finally learned to embrace them. To live by them. The letters had stopped when he was twenty-six. But, in the unlikely event he could ever contemplate forgiving himself, Elizabeth's words remained etched in his brain, reminding him exactly what he was capable of.
Hoisting himself onto his crutches, Curt winced at his stiffening limbs. He'd been couch-bound for too long. Though Shannon was definitely better off without him, it didn't give him license to hurt her. Instead, he would tell her about the accident. About what he'd done. That story should be enough to repulse her. To decisively end any imagined interest on her part. And it would propel him back to his isolated existence. To the rut where hard work and exhaustion would suffice to fill any void he might be tempted to fill.
"Shan, can we talk?" Dreading the conversation he was about to start, Curt hesitated in the doorway to the kitchen. Her back to him, she bent to place a container in the refrigerator.
"Your meds are on the counter." She ignored his question. "I'll leave the next round on your bedside table. You should get up at three to take them."
"I know you're exhausted." Her slender shoulders looked so rigid as she stood there—not facing him. "I've been a complet
e jerk, Shannon. I will always be eternally grateful for what you've done for me. And I want you to know that I appreciate everything."
She raised a hand as if to dismiss his comments. "Whatever, Curt. It's fine. I'm sorry for what I said. I was happy to help."
His gaze drifting over his kitchen, he acknowledged it was spotless . . . the new norm since she'd moved in. Counters swept clean. Clean pots stacked in their new home in his previously unused cabinets. He liked the change. The lack of clutter. The new feeling of organization. Forcing his thoughts back to the subject he was avoiding, he plunged in. "Please turn around, Shan. There's something I need to explain to you."
"I'm listening."
His gaze was drawn to her expressive hands, suddenly clutching the countertop as though she needed support. God—why the hell had he upset her so badly? When all she'd done for him was . . . everything? Releasing an unsteady breath, he sensed his courage faltering. "I don't want you to leave, Shan. I want you to stay."
"Then why-"
"I wasn't angry with you. I'm angry . . . with me." Maybe talking to her back would be easier. He couldn't take staring into those gorgeous, tear-soaked eyes without wanting to hold her. Without wanting to kiss the tears away. Without wanting to swear he'd never hurt her again if she'd only stay. "You're . . . amazing. You're kind . . . and giving. And making love with you tonight was—incredible. It was probably the best night of my life, okay? You were perfect. And I've never . . . experienced anything like that before."
His voice died in his throat when she suddenly turned to face him, her beautiful eyes filled with tears. "Then why would you ruin it?" Her stricken voice lanced a hole in his chest. "It was amazing, Curt. And we could be down the hall right now . . . enjoying each other. But, you-"
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