A Conard County Homecoming

by Rachel Lee

  But the words slipped past his guard. “Ashley... I want you.”

  “I want you, too,” she breathed. “So very much. I’ve been arguing with myself, but it won’t go away.”

  He nodded, swallowing hard. “Are you sure you want to deal with this?” He patted his useless leg. “There’s nothing graceful, nothing...”

  She squeezed his hand hard until he stopped speaking. “I’m sure if you could you’d want to just close the door behind us and leave everything to the imagination.”

  Surprised, he almost laughed.

  “However,” she went on, clearing her throat a little as her voice grew rusty, “I’d rather not close the door. I’m not asking for grace. I’m asking for you. Do you trust me enough?”

  Nobody had ever put it to him that way before. Did he trust her? The tables were turned.

  He knew how awkward this could be. With his saintly girlfriend, he’d had to go alone and get undressed and into bed before she wanted to have sex. She didn’t want to see his disability laid out before her in all the complications it created with a simple thing like dressing or undressing.

  For her he’d been fine in his wheelchair. Then she could smother him. But at points in between...

  Hell, why was he thinking of that woman now when here was Ashley telling him she didn’t care about all that? She wanted him the way he was. Well, he was damn well going to find out right now.

  He backed out from the table and around to her side. “Sit on my lap?” he asked.

  She didn’t hesitate, rising from her chair and sliding into his embrace. Her arms wound around his neck.

  “I can feel you,” he murmured, closing his eyes, savoring the sensations, treasuring them. “In important places, I feel you.”

  “I feel you, too,” she whispered. “I love it. I’ve been thinking about this for so long...”

  It felt like forever, though it hadn’t been. It was as if this moment was destined and he’d just been waiting. “Hang on,” he said gruffly. Then he started rolling them toward his bedroom. That wasn’t graceful, either. He hadn’t widened halls or doors, but he’d gotten pretty good at three-point turns. As they bumped around, Ashley gave a little laugh but never loosened her hold on him.

  “I like this,” she said.

  “Clumsy.”

  “No, more space needed, that’s all.” Then she set him afire with a kiss to his cheek that trailed to his lips. For a few moments the wheelchair stopped in the hallway, and as impatient as he was, he didn’t care.

  Her tongue sought his, tasting of chocolate, warm and enticing, promising greater wonders to come.

  “Slow down,” he said as he pulled his mouth away at last. “Or we’ll be done before I get us to the bedroom.”

  “Then we’ll just have to do it again,” she answered. Her voice had grown husky with desire, a sound that pumped his passion even higher. Do it again? Oh, yeah.

  * * *

  The bedroom was a revelation to Ashley. A steel contraption rose from the floor and reached over the bed. Her first thought was monkey bars, but that wasn’t it at all. As she surveyed it, she realized they were bars to help him get into and out of bed, to lift himself up and move around a little. Probably he used them to help him dress and undress.

  Movement would be important, she thought. Until Mikey she’d never understood, but his mother had confided one of the reasons they wanted a better wheelchair was because of pressure sores. Mikey couldn’t stay in one position too long.

  It must be the same for Zane. He needed to get out of his chair, to get into a position that didn’t put all his weight on his buttocks and legs. If he got a pressure sore, he’d probably never feel it. Later she’d ask him how often he needed to move.

  “Ashley?”

  She stopped staring at the apparatus and turned her head to kiss his cheek again. More important matters to think about right now, and desire that had quieted for a minute now began to hammer at her again. Screw the bars, screw everything—she wanted this man with every cell in her body.

  “This will be awkward,” he murmured.

  “Stop worrying about it. Want help undressing? I wouldn’t mind that at all.” A quiet little giggle escaped her at her frankness.

  He laughed briefly. “I like hearing that, but...” He paused. “If I’m going to dash cold water on this, I want to know now. So let me do it. You can see it all, the way it is for me now, okay?”

  She understood his point. If she was going to have any problems with his reality, it was better not to even get started. She didn’t think she would, but there was only one way to prove it.

  So she slid off his lap. Her legs felt a little rubbery, and part of her just wanted to brazenly strip and fall into his arms. But he had to be ready, and he was determined to let her see it all for herself.

  Her breaths became shallow as anticipation filled her. She couldn’t imagine that anything was going to make him less desirable to her. Not one thing.

  He wheeled over until he was sideways beside the bed, then reached up to grab an overhead bar. Then, with powerful arms, he hand walked himself until he was fully on the bed.

  “I couldn’t do that in a million years,” she remarked.

  “I’ve always been able to do it. This is one of the few things I didn’t have to learn. Upper-body strength was always part of my training.”

  But then he didn’t seem to want to talk anymore, and she heartily agreed. Watching him held her attention, and watching him was making her entire body feel like warm syrup. She gripped a handy bar to steady herself.

  He pulled his legs around, leaving them slightly splayed as if for balance. Then, sitting upright, he tugged his shirt over his head...and revealed the reason he could sit like that without propping himself: his abdominal muscles rippled and flexed, a perfect six-pack. She’d never seen one before in real life and felt her cheeks warming. Dang, he was gorgeous.

  But then came the difficult part. He reached for the snap on his jeans then fell backward so he could unzip them. Man, she wanted to go help, to pull that packaging away and see the entire gift of him naked. But she stayed herself, licking her suddenly dry lips. Oh, man, had she ever felt a hunger this strong? What was it about this man?

  “Now’s the fun part,” he muttered. He gripped the overhead bar with one hand and pulled himself up until his hips left the bed. Then with his free hand, he pulled his pants down below his hips on one side. Then he switched hands and repeated for the other side.

  Ashley grew aware of only one thing. His erection was now fully revealed. Her heart hit top speed like a racehorse, and her knees nearly gave way. Her center began to throb in an ancient rhythm. She couldn’t wait. But she had to. Must.

  She closed her eyes briefly, then snapped them open, unwilling to miss even a second of filling her eyes, mind and heart with him.

  He repeated the process several times until he’d pulled his jeans and shorts down below his knees. Then, in the most amazing way, he jackknifed his body until his hands reached his ankles, and tugged strongly until the last of his clothing came off.

  “Told you it wasn’t pretty,” he said, looking at her at last, almost as if he expected to see rejection.

  Ashley shook her head stiffly. “I’ve never seen anything more amazing in my life. I couldn’t do that if I tried. I’m stunned that you don’t just give up and wear loose jogging pants.”

  He smiled. “The more I give up, the more I lose. Come here.”

  That was easy enough to do. She was already weak with desire, and she fell onto the bed effortlessly. Maybe because she couldn’t stand another moment. She kicked off her shoes before moving her legs to the bed.

  Zane twisted, propping himself on his elbow, smiling down at her. “Now you,” he said.

  She reached for the hem of her sweatsh
irt, ready to pull it over her head, but he surprised her by helping. When he at last tossed it aside and looked at her, she felt the touch of his gaze like tongues of fire.

  “Oh, Zane,” she murmured, then gasped as he ran his palm down her side and across her midriff. He lowered his head, kissing her deeply, as if he wanted to reach her very soul. She felt herself beginning to float on the hot tide of passion, leaving the rest of the world behind.

  Then his hand cupped her breast through her bra, and she arched into his touch, a small cry escaping. A spike of need drove through her.

  He lifted his head at once. “You okay?”

  “No,” she said flatly. She pushed him a little so she could sit up, then she dispensed with her clothes swiftly. “You can advertise your disrobing skills some other time. I. Can’t. Wait.”

  He laughed, but somehow it didn’t dispel the rising heat that built between them, a blaze about to ignite into a firestorm. He tried to run his hand all over her, along her moist petals, but she hadn’t been kidding about not being able to wait. Somehow he had brought her to the very peak of passion, and she didn’t want to risk anything shattering the moment. She clung to his head as he sucked at her nipples, first one then the other, and soon she was out of her mind. She pushed him back while simultaneously gripping his shoulder.

  “Now,” she gasped. “Now.”

  As far as she was concerned, they could try the whole Kama Sutra. Later. Right now she wanted only to feel him deep inside her, answering the empty ache he had planted between her legs.

  “I can’t move my hips, so...” His voice was husky, rough. She didn’t need him to finish.

  Pushing him onto his back, she mounted him from above, her hair hanging around her face, her eyes feeling heavy. “Take me,” she whispered.

  Nothing in her life, no other lover, had ever made her feel the way Zane did. He reached down and he took her. Filling her with a satisfaction so deep it permeated her. She needed him deep inside. She ached for it.

  His hands clamped on her hips, guiding her movements as she threw her head back and gave herself up to the miracle of being human.

  He took her, all right. To the stars and back. She felt him jet hotly inside her, and then she shattered into a million glorious pieces.

  Zane...

  * * *

  She lay curled against him, her head on his shoulder, his arm around her. The scents of lovemaking filled the room, but so did scents of Ashley. He fingered her beautiful hair gently and stared at the ceiling, giving thanks that war had seen fit not to take moments like these from him.

  There’d been that girlfriend, the one who had been practicing for sainthood by smothering him, but sex with her hadn’t struck him the same way sex with Ashley had affected him.

  Maybe because it hadn’t been just sex? He shied away from the thought, not wanting to head into those places. He looked at himself and often thought only a Mother Teresa wannabe could be happy with him.

  But he’d escaped the one who had, and now he’d wound up holding a woman who didn’t try to give him one ounce of help he didn’t ask for. She made him feel competent, capable. She even made him think he could do useful things, like helping Mikey with a service dog, like talking to her class. Like looking into other things where his chair wouldn’t be a problem.

  Which left his PTSD. That worried him, because he knew how bad it could get. Once it had gotten him evicted. What if he went over the edge like that again?

  But Nell... Nell had so often called him back that he was beginning to wonder if she could prevent him from falling off the cliff. Even if he did...

  Well, Ashley had so far not seemed disturbed when he went away, only concerned that he was all right. She’d sat through several episodes already, and said very little about it, leaving it to him to decide if he wanted to talk.

  She was, in short, amazing. And she did it so easily. Maybe it came from dealing with kids for so long. Maybe she was used to seeing them struggle with something and used to not stepping in unless they absolutely couldn’t get it.

  She was certainly hands-off with him. She treated him as if he were just any other guy.

  Which, he supposed, he was. Just any other guy. Sure, he couldn’t walk. Sure, he had moments when he slipped in time, but everyone had problems, right?

  He sighed quietly, wondering what he was trying to do here. Rationalize it all? Absolve himself in advance if he somehow hurt Ashley? Because it seemed to him that he was bound to do that. He didn’t trust himself not to, not after all that had happened.

  But in a very short time she had opened him up in ways he had thought he’d never feel again. He liked having her around, even though he’d decided he never wanted anyone around him again. He’d told her things that he’d never shared. He’d even told her how he felt about his medals, which except for one conversation was something he’d kept strictly to himself. In fact, she was the first person he’d ever shown them to.

  And, in her wonderful way, she didn’t try to argue him out of his feelings about them. She probably qualified as the most accepting person he’d ever met.

  Sure, she’d ridden him about being able to call for help if he fell, but that wasn’t out of bounds. She’d gently suggested he might be able to help Mikey if he got over himself a bit. She’d asked him if he wanted to participate in Halloween. And her suggestions about a kitchen remodel hadn’t been pushy. She’d dropped it as soon as he said he might not be staying.

  Then there was Nell. He suspected if he gave Nell free rein, she’d be knocking at Ashley’s door all the time. The dog knew she wasn’t supposed to leave him, but, well... Nell had a mind of her own. And sometimes she let him know what she thought of his isolation.

  Nell, his personal live-in psychiatrist, apparently thought he needed his own pack. Heck, she’d probably like to see a few other dogs from time to time herself.

  Maybe that was the key. Neither dog nor man was designed to live alone.

  Ashley stirred. Her arm moved on his chest, rubbing gently. “You are the most beautiful man I’ve ever known.”

  “Beautiful?” The word stunned him. He saw himself as all busted up and broken in every way. Not beautiful.

  “Beautiful,” she repeated. “Physically beautiful, and mentally beautiful. Your heart is bigger than you give yourself credit for.”

  “Oh, really...” His mind began to rebel.

  “Hush and just listen. You wanted to help Mikey. Much as you said you needed to avoid people, you helped that child. First with a big check to help get him the wheelchair he really needs, and then by going out to Cadell’s to help with the dog. You can try to convince the world, Zane, but you’re no Scrooge. Not in any respect. You’re innately generous. You’ve just been dealing with too much baggage to realize it.”

  “Ashley...” But he wasn’t really protesting. She’d planted a kernel of warmth in his heart, a place that had felt cold and empty for too long.

  “Anyway,” she said, “you don’t have to believe me. I’m cold and hungry, so can we make love again later, after we eat?”

  That surprised a laugh out of him. “Absolutely.”

  “You don’t need me to help you dress, right?”

  “I do it every day.” Even though he might have taken great delight in her assistance this once. Passion was renewing its flow through him. But still...

  She kissed his shoulder. “I thought so.” Then before he could stop her, she kissed his shoulder again and popped out of bed. As she pulled on her clothes, she said, “I’m going to run next door and get those sausages and buns. Make us some coffee when you get to it.”

  Then she darted out.

  She left him smiling. He had his orders: get dressed and make coffee. Just like a normal guy. God, he loved the way she treated him.

  Chapter Twelve


  The entire weekend passed in a haze of lovemaking and mostly idle conversation. Ashley felt as if they were hunkered together in a private world, and she was perfectly willing to forget everything else. All of it.

  Being with Zane was a constant delight and surprise. Occasionally they got serious, and she talked a bit about her past and her failed relationships.

  “It was always easy to get a date,” she admitted.

  “I believe it,” he answered, stroking her bare arm with his fingertips as they lay face-to-face in bed. “You’re a stunner.”

  “Maybe. All I know is I never lacked for a date...if I wanted one. Which doesn’t mean anything worked out. My mother once said dating is like trying on clothes. You look and say no, no, no until finally everything is right and you say yes. I came close to saying yes only once, and it wasn’t the time I found out I was the other woman. That wouldn’t have turned me off to relationships.”

  “What happened?”

  She smiled faintly. “I woke up. I don’t know how else to phrase it. It happened nearly overnight. I decided that I didn’t really like the guy enough to spend the rest of my life with him. I’m sure he was okay and that he made someone else happy, but he wasn’t for me. You know how you like your independence.”

  He spoke with a little humor. “I rather insist on it, don’t I?”

  “I do, too. His ideas about women...well, they clashed with mine. Not terribly, but enough to jar me. I like working. I love teaching. I wasn’t going to give it up so he could be the breadwinner. I realize that was part of his self-image as a man, but as a woman...”

  “What?” he prodded.

  “I don’t ever want to be economically dependent on a man. A million things could happen that would leave me needing to support myself and maybe a child or two. So, while he never made a big issue of it, never brought it to a head and a big fight, he was constantly nudging me into a more traditional role. I’m not built that way.”