He winced when she sniffed back tears. "I can't have you, Shannon." The admission blurted from him on a hot wave of bitterness. "I can never have . . . someone like you. You're everything . . . I'm not." Releasing a ragged breath, he ignored her startled gasp. "I'm poison, Shan. I would ruin you," he vowed." And I . . . care too much about you to do that."
"Why? How can you say that?" Her watery voice held a reserve of strength Curt knew he no longer possessed.
"Shannon—years ago, I was in an accident-"
"Is this about your leg?" Hope flared in her eyes. "Because I don't care about that."
Jesus—could this get any more difficult? Closing his eyes to the pain shimmering in hers, Curt jammed a hand through his hair. "No, it's not about-" Swallowing around the hot, bitter lump in his throat, he felt the memories strangling him as the truth built up in his chest. "I killed someone, Shannon." His shout reverberated through the kitchen, the silence only broken by the rinse cycle on his dishwasher. Unable to bear witnessing the horror he would find in her eyes, he dropped his head. "I hit someone . . . and she died. And I went to jail. And now I'm here . . . but this-" Still avoiding her gaze, he raised an arm, balancing on his crutches. "This is the best I can be now. Thirteen years ago, I killed someone. I destroyed a family and I ruined my own life. Thirteen years ago, I prayed . . . I would die, too."
"No-" Her startled cry made him flinch.
"But, that didn't happen," he ground out, his jaw clenched so tight it hurt to speak. "So, every day, I wake up and I live with what I've done. I endure the knowledge of my actions. And every day, I get through it. But—this is all that's left of me. I can't have anything else."
"Curtis-"
He waved off the soft, breathy plea. God—what was wrong with her? Didn't she get it? He was too messed up for anyone—never mind someone beautiful and strong and kind-
"Don't ask me for something I can't give, Shannon." His voice shook with misery. "I want you . . . in every possible way. You've made me feel happiness—something I never thought was possible. But-"
"Then why-"
"I will ruin you," he warned, acknowledging her widening eyes. "I can't give you anything. Except pain. All the joy I see inside you—will wither up and die. I can't forgive myself for what I did," he admitted, shocking himself with the truth. "And the anger you saw tonight . . . the disgust I feel for myself—would only end up spilling over on you."
Her eyes huge, Shannon raised a fist to her lips. Tears spilling from her eyes, she slowly nodded. About three minutes away from puking his guts up, the vicious cymbals clashing in his head made him wince. His heart threatening to punch a hole in his chest, he waited as she crossed the room to where he stood—hanging on to his crutches for dear life.
When she slid her arms around him, his heart stopped beating. Hot emotion searing his chest, he steeled himself to her softness. Rigid with shock, he wondered what the hell she was doing. Hadn't she listened to a word he'd said?
"Thank you for telling me." Raising herself up on tiptoes, her whispered words tickled his ear and sent a jolt of miserable, scorching desire forking through his torn open chest.
"YOU MUST BE EXHAUSTED after that." Her arms still clasped loosely around his rigid frame, Shannon gently kissed him. His eyes haunted, anguish seemed to shimmer from him in waves. Witnessing such unbearable regret, she felt her own anger dissolving into sadness for him. For his suffering. For his self-imposed exile from the human race. As though he truly believed he were somehow inhuman. "Let me help you down the hall. I think we both need to get some sleep."
Still not speaking, Curt allowed her to guide him to his bedroom. Helping him into bed, she gently stripped off his shirt. "Sweats on or off," she asked, uneasy with his silence, but unwilling to challenge it.
"Off." His voice was flat, devoid of any trace of humor or desire. He accepted her assistance without comment, either too exhausted by his confession or too distraught to care anymore. It was his stillness . . . his quiet despair, that broke her heart. And her acknowledgment of how utterly wrong she'd been about him. Guilt lancing through her, Shannon again wondered whether her teenaged desire for revenge had added another agonizing layer to his overwhelming self-loathing. Her notes. Please, God—don't let him have read them. But—there'd been so many. Over so many years. She'd been so cruel—lashing out at him. Blaming him for anything that went wrong in her life. He'd been a convenient scapegoat. She'd treated him as the monster he believed himself to be.
Blinking back a sudden rush of tears, Shannon was thankful for the darkness—and the misery consuming Curtis. His stony, unwavering gaze refused to meet hers. She should confess what she'd done. Who she was. What she'd done to him. Curtis had pried himself open, risking her scorn . . . revealing all the wounds he'd never allowed to heal. He'd confessed his secrets to protect her. To prevent her from being hurt—never knowing how badly she'd hurt them both.
Yet, caution made her wary. He was exhausted and miserable. Another upheaval tonight would only damage him further. Her confession could wait until his strength returned. Until he could return to managing his business without her help. When he could decide whether he still wanted her around. Whether he was disgusted by her presence.
Reining in her careening emotions, Shannon slipped on her professional mask. Elevating his knee; offering water when he silently downed his pain medication. Returning to the kitchen, she prepared his icepacks. Entering the darkened room, she settled them around his knee. Curt's silence weighed heavily. She hated the thought of leaving him alone after such a huge confession. But, he'd been pretty clear on wanting to keep his distance. Releasing a sigh, she moved to the head of the bed. His eyes averted, she reached behind him to fluff his pillows. Cupping his head with one hand, she allowed herself the pleasure of sifting his hair through her fingers. In the silence, she heard his indrawn breath. Felt how rigidly he held himself. Tossing her pride out the window, she leaned over him, forcing him to look at her. "Can I stay with you, Curtis? I don't want to be alone tonight."
His eyes blazing with heat he couldn't contain, he stared at her for endless moments. Would he fight her? She held her breath as he battled himself. "No," he choked out.
Her heart plummeting, she nodded. "Okay. I . . . I'll be back at three."
"Shannon-"
The roughened sound of her name on his lips sent a shiver whispering over her. "Yes?"
"I want . . . I can't . . . sleep with anyone. I thrash around too much," he admitted, his voice hoarse. "I have nightmares."
"I know." Reaching for his hand, she didn't care anymore that he might reject her. All she wanted was to take away his pain, if only for a moment.
He startled against her. "You know? You . . . heard them?"
Giving his cold fingers a squeeze, she nodded. "I was with you that first night . . . I had to wake you."
He released a pent up sigh, if possible—more defeated than he'd been before. "You know."
"And nothing about it scared me." Raising his hand to her mouth, she felt the strength in him. The resistance. "If you really want me to go, I will. But . . . if you let me stay, I promise to keep your secrets safe."
"Shan-" His voice a painful rasp, he pushed himself up in bed, surprising her when he caught her face in his hands. His mouth moving over hers, he kissed her, his passion exploding as he moved from her lips to rain kisses on her cheeks and nose and eyes, before returning to ravage her mouth. "Stay. Please . . . God, stay. I swear . . . I swear I'll try not to hurt you."
Her heart tumbling to the floor, Shannon kissed him back, leaning over him as he fought to pull her closer. When they finally broke apart, she stared at him, at the twin flames in his gorgeous eyes. He was stripped bare to her, his need, his desire revealed, his guard dropped, perhaps for the first time. Slowly, she peeled her shirt off, reveling in his quickened breath. "I want you so much, Curtis. I need you tonight."
Reaching for her, he tugged her closer. "I'll take care of you, Shan. I swear it." D
rawing her down to him, he suckled her breasts, first one then the other. Still standing next to the bed, she moaned, feeling her knees begin to weaken. His warm, capable hands holding her steady as his tongue sent waves of heat through her system, his rough callused fingers sent shivers over her sensitized skin.
A shudder tearing through him, he whispered all the things he wanted to do to her. "You make me crazy, Shannon. The sounds you make . . . I can't wait to be inside you." Pulling away from him, she dragged in a few dizzying breaths. Rounding the bed, she climbed in on the other side. Curtis reached for her. Stymied by his braced leg, he growled his frustration. "I want to move. I need to be over you. I want to taste you everywhere."
Heat rushing through her, Shannon was grateful she didn't need her legs to support her anymore. "We will, Curt. We'll have everything, but for now . . . let me lead."
Sliding closer, she reached out to stroke the hot, hard length of him. He was huge and more than ready. The thought of him inside her was doing crazy things to her heartbeat. Lengthening her stroke, she smiled when he nearly leaped from the bed. "Your knee-"
"Screw my knee." Hauling her against his chest, he buried his hands in her hair. His mouth closed around her breast, hot, wet and urgent, his lips and tongue pulling her into a vortex of sensation that had Shannon gasping. Helpless to move with his hands anchored in her hair, she could only stare into his fierce eyes. His mouth making her crazy, she arched into him. Still flat on his back, she tried to reach down to stroke him, but Curtis wouldn't comply. Tightening his hold on her, he hauled her up his body. Startled, she found herself straddling his chest.
"What are you-" His hands clutching her waist, he dragged her higher until his mouth found her essence. Stunned by his strength, she gasped with surprise when he pulled her against him. "Curtis-" Thrown into a vortex of pleasure, Shannon could form only fractured thoughts. Riding a wave of sensation, she concentrated on feeling. His teeth gently biting. His tongue licking into her. Shock and an exquisite, smoldering heat exploded down her spine. Too fast, she felt the intense buildup of sensual tension. With only the touch of his mouth, she was overwhelmed by the urgent need for more. Always more. Writhing against him in a helpless onslaught of sensation, her hips took over as rational thought ceased. "Please . . . Curtis. I can't-" She moaned her plea, as she clutched his hands for balance. Touching his hands as they held her in place—as they controlled her every movement sent a thrill of heat through her.
"You can take it," he whispered. "You're strong."
Helpless to her own pleasure, Shannon gave herself over to it, sensing the glorious pressure building. His rough beard teasing her thighs- "Curtis-" His name torn from her throat on a husky cry, she surrendered to the inferno sweeping her.
Moments later, her body was still boneless as she slid from him. He pulled her down beside him, her head resting against his thundering heart. "I can't believe I lived through that."
"I can't believe I made you scream like that." His answering grin revived her. "For weeks—I've wondered how you taste." His whispered confession sent another rolling shock through her system.
Her body still tingling, she felt languid and drugged. Propping herself up on one elbow, she stared at him, her thoughts dangerously scrambled. Though his body was still tense with desire, his smile was arrogant. Her mouth curved in response. Two could play at this game. Driving each other crazy.
Careful of his propped up leg, she straddled the other one, holding him down when he would have stopped her. "Shan—get back here. I seriously need to be inside you."
Ignoring him, she trailed her tongue along the length of his thighs. His body jerked against her. "I'm this close to the edge," he warned, his raspy voice sending pleasant shivers down her spine. "I won't be able to-" His voice cut off with a wrenching groan when she drifted to his hard, flat belly.
"You can take it. You're strong." His eyes narrowed as she threw his words back at him. Trailing wet kisses along taut muscles, she moved lower, smiling over his suddenly ragged breathing. Staring into his blazing eyes, she dipped her head to lick the tip. Salty and male, she wanted more. When she latched on to him, he shuddered against her, thrilling her with the revealing slip in control. Curtis was so unbelievably strong. Yet, with her, he would soon be helpless.
When she trailed hot kisses down the length of him, his tortured moan broke the tense quiet. "Baby, don't-" When she took him into her mouth again, he shouted, giving in to the need to move against her. Falling back against the pillow, he muttered his passion, his big hands clutching the sheets as she quickened the pace. A moment later, lost in the unrelenting sensation she built in him, he shuddered his release.
"GOD—SHANNON." PLEASURE stampeding through him, Curt gave himself over to the wonder of it, his brain disconnected from everything except the vortex of heat spinning through him. Still dizzy, he used what little strength he had left to tug her up to his chest where she promptly collapsed against him, her head resting against his wildly beating heart. Christ, he'd never lost it so fast before. But her gorgeous mouth on him, her amazing eyes . . . staring into his as she tortured him. Her silky hair spilled over his stomach, tickling his ribcage as she curled up against him. Sex with Shannon was about as near to a religious experience as he would ever get. Each time, he swore it couldn't get better. And each time, she proved him wrong.
"You feel so warm." Her sleepy yawn tickled his chest, making him smile.
"Don't tell me you're ready to sleep."
Her shrug nestled her even closer, her gorgeous body making his come to life again. "What can I say? You were very satisfying."
Curt lifted his head. "Satisfying is a word you use for . . . pudding. Do you moan like that for pudding?"
Chuckling, she propped herself up on his chest to stare at him, her elbow poking his ribcage, her sexy hair still tangled from his hands combing through it. "Homemade?" Tracing a pattern on his chest, she appeared to be giving his question a great deal of thought. "Because I think I actually have moaned for homemade pudding."
Laughter rumbling through his chest, Curt realized he liked the way she touched him, sort of absentmindedly, as though maintaining physical contact was important to her. Usually, he felt the opposite. "That makes me feel special."
"Well, it was warm," she emphasized, as though the odd, little detail somehow made a difference. "And chocolate." Her eyes gleaming, she offered him a secret smile. "I moan for incredible, too."
"That's getting better." A hot burst of pleasure trickling through his chest, Curt tightened his hold on her, giving in to the sudden urge to keep her close. Closing his eyes, his sigh was deep and satisfied. Reluctantly, he realized his meds were kicking in. Another round of heart-stopping sex with the sexy woman sprawled over him would likely have to wait until later. Her warm, sleepy sigh against his skin made him smile. His last coherent thought before drifting off was that the one-legged sex he'd had tonight beat out anything else in the last decade.
TONIGHT, HIS DREAM was different. Surprised, Curt wondered how he could be aware of what was occurring in his own nightmares. Tonight, Elizabeth joined him. They were at his basketball tournament. She was on the court—holding the ball out of reach; the crowd beginning to protest. All the money he'd raised for literacy would have to be refunded. Failure weighed heavily, making him limp after her—pleading with her to return it. But, Elizabeth didn't seem to care. Her back to him, long, brown hair streaming over her shoulders, she laughed at him. When she tossed the ball to the far end of the court, Curt watched it dribble away. The crowd went silent as he hobbled after it, his fatigue thickening like concrete around his ankles.
The bright lights of the basketball court faded to night. Thick and black. Clouds scuttling overhead, instead of stars. Curt's breathing accelerated. "Going too fast." Cold. Dark. Icy patches under the tires. Cindy was laughing, grabbing his thigh. "Need to pay attention," he muttered, the words stuck in his throat as he pushed her hand away. Headlights appeared suddenly from the murky
gloom. Bright. Blinding. Cindy's scream filled his ears. They were skidding. . . "Turn the wheel-"
Chapter 8
His shout waking him from the panicked sequence, Curt flailed against the sheets trapping him. Drenched and panting, he realized his hand was trapped-
"It's okay, Curtis. It's a dream." Shannon's sleepy voice broke through the hazy web of fear. Clawing to the surface, he shuddered in the aftermath. As he returned to himself, he realized she was clutching his hand, stroking it . . . as though she could possibly lessen his torture.
"It's not okay." His voice hoarse, he shook free of her and bolted up, waiting for his heart to stop barreling through his chest. As his perspiration cooled, he shivered. "This is my life, Shan. Numb during the day and tortured at night. Every night—I relive it."
"Tell me what I can do." Her voice was calm, coaxing, in spite of his frustration.
"There's nothing anyone-" He stiffened when she slid behind him, tossing his pillows to the side. Not speaking, she pressed her body to his back—and simply held him, warming his chilled skin with her own. Slowly catching the heat she offered, his shivers dissipated. Her head resting against his back, her breathing was slow and tranquil as it ruffled the hair on his neck. Hers trailed over his shoulder where she leaned closer to press a kiss to his throat. Unable to fight the need building in him, he turned his face into the scented drape of her hair. Surprised by his own body's betrayal, Curt released a shuddering sigh as he relaxed into the comfort she offered.
"Shannon-"
"Sssh." Her arm slid around his waist, pulling him back against her. For several long minutes, she held him, not saying a word. When she finally slid around to face him, Curt stared into her eyes, uncertain what he might be revealing. No longer sure whether he cared. Latching on to her soothing gaze, he felt the pressure releasing, felt his heart rate slowing as the nightmare receded. Her presence . . . almost hypnotic.
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