by Wild, Cassie
After a good, hot, ten-minute shower, I decided that while I didn’t feel particularly better, I definitely didn’t feel worse.
I guessed I’d have to chalk that up as a win.
I might have done better, though, if I hadn’t let thoughts of Cormac drift through my mind as I dried off.
I glanced at the shower as the memory of our time in there came out to taunt me.
I’d done a pretty good job convincing myself that I just didn’t want to see him anymore.
Then he showed up at the ED, and all of that fell apart.
I’d definitely wanted to see him again.
And then I’d done it, and now I wished that not only had I not seen him again, I wished I hadn’t met him. It hurt to think about him.
It hurt enough that I’d spent the past week or so lying to myself.
Furious with myself—and him—I wrapped a towel around my body and stormed into my room. Instead of pulling on my pajamas, I just threw myself face down on the bed and buried my head under one of the pillows.
Twenty-Six
Cormac
From the beginning, I hadn’t trusted Jerrel all that much, but after the events of the past hours, I decided it wouldn’t be a good idea to trust him even in the slightest.
I’d been using his van since I got into the city, but that wasn’t an ideal situation anymore. I used the bus to get to the hospital, something that probably hadn’t been a wise decision, considering I left some blood behind me on the seat, and I could feel more oozing from me as I made my way inside.
I couldn’t have looked that bad, though. When I signed in, I asked if there was something I could do about the blood, and the woman at the desk gave me a double-take, then stood and looked me over.
I was in the back on a bed quicker than I could blink, although it was possible I’d blacked out.
I figured it was understandable.
I’d been hurting, and in response to the pain, I’d stopped by a liquor store. Sure, I’d made the decision to stop with the booze, but that had been before Jerrel tried to gut me like a fish. I needed some sort of anesthetic. Before boarding the bus, I guzzled some of the Irish. To say that I was buzzed would probably be understating the fact.
Between the blood loss and the booze, I wasn’t feeling all that steady, or in control.
One thing would make it all better, and that was Briar.
Naturally, she’d all but turned her pretty little nose up at me when she saw me, claiming she had a surgery or whatever.
By the time the big guy had stitched me up, I was good and pissed. It was probably pretty obvious, too, by the way I told the doctor he could suck my dick when he told me he wanted to admit me for observation.
I’d been hurt worse and not even bothered to see a doctor for it, so I figured I could get by this time without hanging around the place any longer than necessary.
If I hadn’t been hoping to see Briar, I might not have gone at all.
My heart tugged at the thought of her.
None of this shit should have happened.
Me falling for her.
Me hurting her.
Me hurting because she didn’t want to waste any more time around me.
None of it should have happened.
But it had happened. It wasn’t like we could put it all back in the box, either. Things weren’t finished between us. I wasn’t going to let the last time she saw me be tied to my drunk ass lying in a bed, bleeding like a stuck pig.
It took me until almost nine to sober up and deal with certain immediate needs—like buying some clothes that weren’t covered in blood. And that was just the starting point.
Once I no longer looked like a horror movie reject, I made a quick visit to one of the local banks from the national chain I used so I could withdraw some cash. From there, I used my phone to surf the local Craigslist ads until I found what I needed.
I happened on a used Camry that wasn’t likely to catch much attention and contacted the owner, asked if it was available.
Two hours later, I had a car, and thanks to a quick stop at a local convenience store, I also had food in my belly and plenty of water. The prescriptions the doctor had ordered for me were folded up in my wallet, but I wasn’t going to mess with them unless I had to. One was an antibiotic, and that one, I might get, but I’d pass on the painkillers.
Especially for the time being. I had something to take care of, and if I knew much of anything, I’d need a clear head for it.
I found my way to Briar’s cute little house easy enough and parked my newly-acquired Camry behind her red Ferrari. The two cars couldn’t have looked more opposite if they had to, but at least I didn’t have to worry about Jerrel trying something stupid like calling the cops on me and claiming I’d stolen his ride.
I didn’t think he was that stupid, but then again, I hadn’t thought he’d be dumb enough to pull a knife on me either.
Climbing out of the car, I took a minute to brace myself and take a deep breath.
It didn’t help the pain abate.
Jerrel hadn’t cut me deep, but the surface laceration along the skin just below my ribs was tender, and I couldn’t move too much without making the skin pull.
My head was the worst of it. I didn’t have a hangover, exactly, since I hadn’t bothered to get any sleep after imbibing all that booze, but between the alcohol and the drug cocktail I’d gotten at the hospital, my head was definitely letting me know it wasn’t happy.
I belatedly thought that I could have bought something for the headache when I grabbed some fresh clothes, but it was too late now.
Setting my jaw, I started toward Briar’s house.
I had no idea what I was going to say to her.
But I wasn’t leaving until I’d said…something.
She didn’t answer on the first knock, or the second. Just as I went to bang on the door a third time, though, she yanked it open, glaring at me.
“What in the hell do you want?” she demanded.
I’d had something in mind to say…sort of.
But the sight of her standing in the doorway wearing nothing more than a robe, from what I could tell, made my brain go blank.
She shifted unconsciously and reached up to clutch the lapels of the robe together over her neck.
She was wasting her time. It wasn’t that the robe had been gaping on her or showed excessive skin. It was just the mere thought that only that thin layer of fabric separated her body from me.
“Well?” She tapped her fingers on the door.
“Um…” I cleared my throat, reaching for the words.
“That’s all you can come up with?” She curled her lip in a delicate little sneer and went to close the door.
I caught it before she could. “Wait,” I said. I refused to let myself think how desperate my voice sounded.
“In case I didn’t make it clear over the past week, or earlier today at the hospital, I don’t want to talk to you,” she said, her voice low and tight.
The words came out thick, and my heart felt like it had been caught in a vise, especially once I looked into her eyes and saw how they looked suspiciously wet.
Fuck. She wasn’t going to cry, was she?
I hated it when women cried.
It was one of the reasons I went out of my way to make sure things never got to the point where a woman might even want to cry over me.
“Briar…”
She looked pointedly at my hand. “Will you let go, please? I’m tired.”
“I’m sorry.” The words came out almost on their own, but I didn’t try to take them back.
Her gaze fell away.
“Let me come in…please?”
I thought she’d say no.
I deserved it. There was no denying that. But to my surprise, she stepped aside and let me enter. She was careful to keep distance between us, something that bothered me more than I wanted to admit.
But I couldn’t blame her.
The door clo
sed behind us, but I didn’t turn to look at her. Not yet. As seconds stretched out into a minute, Briar said crossly, “I’m tired, Cormac. I was up working all night. Can we get this over with?”
“I wasn’t supposed to fall for you.”
She didn’t say anything, but I somehow sensed that I’d surprised her. Slowly, I turned.
She was still clutching her robe shut with one fisted hand, and her knuckles were white. I had a strange feeling it had little to do with an attempt at modesty, though.
“You, me…” I gestured back and forth between us and shook my head. “I just came up here for work. Falling for you…that just wasn’t supposed to happen. But that doesn’t give me the right to hurt you. And I’m sorry.”
Twenty-Seven
Briar
I’m sorry.
His words echoed in my head as he stared at me with bleak eyes.
Don’t be so stupid as that, my common sense railed. You can’t just let it go all because he looks at you with big, sad eyes!
Maybe I shouldn’t. I didn’t know. But I was tempted.
I was so tempted.
Turning away from him, I took a deep, slow breath and tried to school my thoughts.
“You were an asshole,” I said softly.
“I know. I’m very often an asshole.”
I crossed my arms over my chest even tighter, as if I were protecting myself from the sincerity beaming from his eyes. “That was the first time you were one to me.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, voice gentle.
Don’t fall for that…
My pride had been wounded, and other, softer parts too. But the urgency and sincerity in his voice was undermining my desire to protect myself.
“Briar?”
Maybe if he hadn’t touched me, I might have been okay. I didn’t know.
But he did touch me, and I could feel my resolve melting away like ice on a hot summer sidewalk. As his fingers curled over my shoulders, I closed my eyes. He moved up to stand behind me and once more, the feel of him, of his heat, blanketed me.
“Are you going to send me away?”
The vulnerability he showed in that simple question pretty much ended me. Without even thinking about it, I reached up and covered one of his hands with mine. “I should,” I said, trying to force some steel into my voice. If steel came out sounding all low and sexy, I succeeded. But I didn’t think that was the case.
He was closer now, and I groaned as he slid his arm around my waist. “That’s not really an answer, though…are you?”
“No,” I whispered as he kissed my shoulder.
I could feel his lips searing my skin through the robe and had to fight the urge to turn and press myself up against him.
Cormac rested a hand on my belly. He rubbed it in a slow circle, widening it on every pass until the edge of his palm rubbed up against my pelvic bone.
He made a low sound in his throat that rumbled against my ear.
It wasn’t until that moment that I realized I was rocking against him, moving my hips back and forth as I sought to deepen the contact between his hand and my already aching cunt.
So far, he’d been ignoring that part of me, but that hadn’t stopped me from seeking it out. And as I moved against his hand, I was also rocking my butt back up against him. He groaned and caught my hip, holding me still as he thrust the heavy ridge of his cock up against me.
He did that twice more, then spun me around in his arms.
He moved as if to pick me up, and reality intruded on me at the last second. “What are you doing?” I said, shoving against his arms. “You’re injured.”
He gave me a sleepy look. “Hurts more not being inside you.”
Those blunt, heated words turned me into a little puddle of wax, soft and molten. But even as he went to reach for me again, I smacked at his hands. “My way,” I said sternly.
“Does your way involve putting my cock inside you?”
I inclined my head. “It does.” Not the way he was thinking, but he didn’t need to know that.
“Then have your way with me, Dr. Downing.”
I took his hand and led him into the spare bedroom off the hallway at the back of the house. Guiding him to the bed, I caught the hem of his shirt. He grimaced, but let me tug it off, although he went to shy away when I started to inspect his wound.
One hard look from me had him acquiescing.
I grinned to myself, although not while he was looking.
Moyes had done a good job on him, closing up a long, skinny gash with neat sutures. It would scar, but not badly.
“You seem to enjoy fighting,” I said, straightening up. I’d already seen his other scars and pushed back the curiosity each one inspired, but sometime soon, he was going to tell me about them. He’d come back to me. He’d told me he cared. I had a right to know.
“I enjoy you more.” He caught my head and brought my mouth to his.
As he kissed me, I fought with the buckle of his jeans, then the zipper. Once I could push them down over his hips, I eased away from him and nudged his clothes out of the way, then guided him backward until he lowered himself into the big armchair by the window.
I knelt in front of him and finished stripping him naked, boots, socks, jeans, underwear.
Once I had stripped him bare, I slid my hand up one hard, muscled thigh and closed my fist around his cock.
Cormac groaned and shoved himself into my touch. I remembered how he’d guided me before and tightened my grip.
He swore under his breath.
I looked up just as he lifted his lids, staring at me with hooded eyes. I gave him a slow smile, then bent over him, taking him in my mouth.
While I wasn’t a complete novice at this sort of thing, I wasn’t really experienced either. I’d done it before more out of a need to reciprocate than because I found it arousing.
But there was something powerfully erotic about moving on him like this, in feeling how he trembled and shuddered under me. When he caught my head in his hands and started to move, urging me on, I felt powerful.
It was…erotic.
It was hot.
It was so crazily intense, I found myself growing wetter, simply from what I was doing to him.
He started to talk to me, muttering under his breath, words that made little sense, they were so guttural and thick. From time to time, he’d get louder and arch up against me, voice practically breaking as he said, “That…just…again, Briar…again…”
I took him all the way to the back of my throat and started to suck on him, not moving until my need for air pushed me to pull back.
He immediately caught my head and began to arch up into my mouth again. I sucked in as much air as I could, then took him again.
He coaxed and guided me until I could go deeper, until I figured out the right way to breathe, and then he started to move with me, fucking my mouth and throat.
Abruptly, he tensed, then tried to pull me off. I sank my nails into his thighs.
“I’m going to…fuck, Briar, I’m about ready to come.”
Good. I moved harder, faster, hoping he’d understand.
He did.
It was a startling sensation when his semen jetted out of him and hit the back of my throat. I sucked and swallowed until nothing else came, then sat back on my heels to look up at him.
His chest rose and fell in a ragged rhythm as he said weakly, “I’m gonna need a few minutes before I can repay the favor.”
I stood and caught his hand, tugging until he rose. He swayed a little, and I waited to make sure I wouldn’t have to brace him. “I’m tired,” I told him, leading him over to the bed. “You’re tired. You can repay me later.”
“In a few minutes.”
I smiled but didn’t argue.
Cormac was asleep almost before his head hit the pillow.
Twenty-Eight
Cormac
I hadn’t meant to fall asleep.
My body hadn’t given me much choice, tho
ugh. It was as though the sleepless nights of the past week just caught up with me and sleep dropped down on me like a curtain.
I woke to the stillness.
It was almost completely silent in Briar’s house, something I was unaccustomed to, although I didn’t know if that was what pulled me from slumber.
It wasn’t dark out, although judging by the golden glow of the light coming in through the windows, it was getting late.
Rolling onto my side, I pushed up onto my elbow and studied Briar in the fading light. Immediately after, I regretted it, but I didn’t lower myself back to the bed. Despite the pain in my injured side, the view in front of me compelled me to stay where I was, staring at the beautiful woman beside me.
The sunlight gilded her skin, giving her an ethereal aspect and making her look even more like an angel.
I reached out and traced her lower lip with the tip of my finger.
She didn’t even stir.
Just looking at her made me ache. It soothed some raw part inside of me, while at the same time, it made me hurt in ways I hadn’t realized I could hurt.
I shouldn’t have come back here. I shouldn’t have even gone to the hospital. Sure, I’d been hurt, but I would have survived.
After that fight with Jerrel, I’d gotten shitfaced drunk, and my self-control had been more than a little questionable.
That, though, I could have handled.
I’d been stone-cold sober when I came to her house.
Maybe pain had impaired my judgment, but not enough that I hadn’t been able to think about what I was doing.
I sighed and lay back down, staring up at the ceiling.
What was I doing?
Besides being a complete ass, of course.
I couldn’t explain my actions even to myself. How could I explain them to anybody else?
I’d never be able to do it.
Not to Briar.
And definitely not to my employer.
Fuck, I never should have agreed to work for that two-faced, underhanded piece-of-shit.
It didn’t matter how much money he’d waved at me. He was trouble, and I’d known it for a long time. The job had seemed easy enough, sure. Watch Briar. See if I couldn’t get close to the family.