“So do you.”
She nibbled his neck, sending shivers cascading down his spine. He took her to his bed and laid her down. Retrieving the condom from his wallet, he thanked his lucky stars it was still there. “Are you sure about this?” One last chance to pull away, and then he’d be all over her like green on grass.
She nodded.
He worked his way out of his clothes and lowered himself beside her. “Um, what about...does the prosthetic bother you?” God, he’d never been so exposed, or so vulnerable. He held his breath.
“Nothing about you bothers me.” She ran her hands over his shoulders and drew him to her. “I think you’re gorgeous. Let me see those scars.”
“Wait, if you’re going to do a physical, Nurse Lovejoy, I get to play the doctor.”
Her giggle was all the encouragement he needed. He removed her clothing one piece at a time, tasting and kissing every inch of her body with all its intriguing dips, swells, and curves. He reveled in each new discovery. Every adorable freckle was cause for celebration. Perfection.
She flipped their positions so that she straddled him. Gently, she ran her hands over the tightness of the scarring along his side. “It looks like you were sandblasted.”
He swallowed hard. “Essentially, that’s what happened. Superheated bits of sand blasted into my skin after I was already burned from the explosion.”
“Oh, Noah, these scars are a part of you, part of what you’ve lived through. I don’t see anything here that isn’t a turn-on to me.” She leaned over and kissed the puckered skin all along his side. Straightening, she twisted around and unfastened his prosthetic and slipped it off, placing it on the floor beside the bed. Her touch on his stump was gentle but sure.
Her acceptance brought tears to his eyes. She ran her hands over him like he wasn’t scarred and broken. No part of him went untouched, unkissed. He couldn’t move, the pleasure was so great, so healing to his battered soul.
The urge to touch her back, to be in command, soon overrode everything. He slipped the condom on and rasped out, “My turn. Dr. Langford is on the job.” Her throaty giggle nearly had him plunging into her. Too to the houses . His soon. He sat up, bringing her with him, and put his arms around her until every inch of her torso was tight against his. He kissed her hard, his tongue delving deep inside the softness she offered up without hesitation. Moving her beneath him, he started a deeper exploration.
He flicked his tongue over one pebbled nipple, watching the way it tightened even more to his touch. Her skin, so warm and soft under his hands, nearly unhinged him. He forced himself to slow down, but she was ready, slick with heat for him. The sounds of pleasure she made when he touched her, the way she moved beneath him, urgent and hot—in her arms he was whole. Whole and all male—confident, decisive, in charge. Until he entered her—then he surrendered control for sensation. He felt her come around him and soon followed, coming apart in her arms.
This is heaven. This is home.
He didn’t want to leave her body, but his weight had to be too much for her. Noah rolled to his back and tucked her up beside him, too sated and spent to say anything. He stared at the ceiling while trying to figure out how he’d gotten so lucky.
Her breathing soon took on a steady, slow cadence. She’d fallen asleep, and he didn’t want to disturb her by getting up. Did she always fall asleep after sex? He couldn’t wait to find out. Grinning at the thought, he ran his hand up and down her arm. Her hair, a riot of soft, gold and copper curls, tickled his skin. He could get used to going to bed each night with her beside him and waking every morning to see her sleepy blue eyes gazing at him, filled with...
She stretched and sighed. He ran his fingers through her silky hair. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”
She kissed his chin and smiled. “I gotta go soon anyway.”
“Not yet.” Noah swung himself up and put on his prosthetic. “Stay for a while longer,” he said on his way to clean up and dispose of the condom. Why wasn’t he one of those optimistic bastards who kept several condoms in their wallets, or a boxful in the drawer of his bedside table? Once was not enough with her. He stood in front of the toilet, and then he noticed the tear. “Aw, hell.” He blew out a breath and shored up his nerve. “Ceejay, honey?” he called.
“Hmmm?”
He had to smile at the satisfied purr in her voice, even though the shit was about to hit the fan. “The condom tore.”
“Not funny. Don’t even joke about something like that.”
Noah flushed and called back, “I’m not joking.”
“No. You have to be. Do you have any idea what happened the last time a condom broke?” she cried. “Lucinda happened. That’s what.”
A thumping noise came from the bedroom. He finished washing and returned to find her jumping up and down in place. “What are you doing?” He couldn’t take his eyes off her bouncing breasts.
“I’m a health care professional.” She glared at him. “I know full well this doesn’t work, but I’m doing it anyway.”
He frowned. “Doing what anyway?”
“I’m trying to make it harder for any of your escaped swimmers to reach their destination. Why are you smiling? This is serious.”
He shook his head. the carriage house?”anNoah
Her eyebrows rose. “And why are you doing that?” She pointed to his growing erection.
“I’m a guy. You’re naked.” He shrugged. “What guy wouldn’t do this”—he gestured to his groin—“with a beautiful naked woman jumping in his bedroom?”
She stopped and turned her wide-eyed gaze on him. “You think I’m...really?”
“Absolutely.” He swept her with a look. “The damage is already done, right?” His hands itched to touch her again, and he stepped closer. “No reason why we can’t go back to bed and do it again.”
“You did not just say that!” She raked both hands through her curls. “How long has that condom been in your wallet, anyway?”
“Um...” No way in hell was he going to admit how long it had been since he’d needed a condom. “A while.”
“They do expire, you know.”
“Didn’t think about that before we—”
“I can’t believe you’re being so calm about this. What if—”
“If you’re pregnant, I’ll marry you.”
She sent him a mutinous look.
Hell. Wrong answer?
“Well, isn’t that the romantic proposal every girl longs to hear.” She put her hands on her bare hips. “What makes you think I’d marry you, anyway? You don’t even have a job.”
“I’m worth millions, Ceejay. I have a trust fund my grandparents set up for me the day I was born. I can’t touch the principal until I’m fifty-five, but the interest provides a very nice living. I don’t have to work, and neither would you.”
“I like working, and besides, the job thing isn’t about the money.” She threw her hands up in the air and paced around in a circle. “It’s never been about the money.”
Confusion clouded his brain. “What is it about, then?”
“It’s about finding your passion in life. It’s about doing something that takes you out of yourself and out of your PTSD.”
No doubt about it. He’d forgotten all about PTSD, the scars, and his missing leg while he was inside her. Best therapy ever. He wanted more. “I’m passionate about you.”
“It’s not the same thing. Sexual passion isn’t enough.” Her eyes held a pleading look. “I don’t want that kind of dependence. I want a partner who has something to share at the end of the day. It’s about having your own life. I want that for you. Don’t you see?”
He did see. Noah swallowed hard. He had to get a life before he had a life to share. Ceejay watched him. What did she expect him to say? “You said you were willing to give me a chance.”
She nodded.
He blew out a breath. “Ted wants to go into the home repair business together.”
“Is that what you want
to do? Are you excited by the prospect?”
“I don’t know.” He rubbed the back of his skull. “Maybe.” and forced himself to concentrate aA4
“You’ve never once talked to me about the work you’re doing on my aunt’s house.”
“I’ll figure something out.”
“I hope so. I really, really hope so.”
“Promise me one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Don’t get one of those morning-after pills or...” He watched her eyes narrow. Oh, shit. Wrong thing to say. Again.
She made a growling noise and stomped out of the bedroom. He followed. “Wait.”
Her hand was on the doorknob.
“Ceejay, wait!”
“What now?” She glared at him over her bare shoulder.
“You might want to put on some clothes before you leave.”
“What difference does it make?” She shoved past him on her way back to the bedroom and snatched her things from the floor. “We live in the middle of nowhere right next to nothing.”
She slammed the door behind her as she went, and Noah was left standing in his living room—naked and grinning like a fool.
New mission. Find his passion in life.
He hadn’t had nearly enough sleep last night, but considering the reason, he couldn’t complain. Noah yawned while his coffee machine spit dark liquid into the glass pot. Before he found his passion, he had to get his laundry done. Hauling it into town was not his idea of fun. He looked at his kitchen sink for a moment, mentally tracing the path of the plumbing. The kitchen wall butted up against the carriage bays. Was there running water in that part of the building? He’d never looked.
If the carriage bays were already wired for electricity, and if there was water, maybe the Lovejoys would let him install a washer and dryer. Noah filled a mug with coffee and headed out of his apartment to investigate.
Each of the two bays had its own set of double barn doors opening out, and a single entry door stood off to the left. Noah tried the handle of the regular door to see if it was locked. It wasn’t. He’d noticed long ago that he was the only one on the place who locked anything. Habit. Paranoia. He flipped a light switch he found inside the door, and a low-watt bulb overhead came to life. Great, there was electricity. Once his eyes adjusted to the dim interior, he started to explore.
On the wall meeting his kitchen, he found a huge steel and concrete utility sink. An antique wringer washing machine gathered dust beside it. Ceejay’s voice rang through his head. Generations of Lovejoys stretching all the way back to the Civil War have washed their clothes in this very spot. He grinned, and his mind drifted to the possibility of being a father. Odd. The thought didn’t freak him out nearly as much as he thought it would.
The outlets weren’t grounded, but it wouldn’t take much to update the wiring. He turned to survey the rest of the area. Large timber beams supported the structure, including the ceiling joists. The Lovejoys didn’t mess around. The carriage house had been built to last. South-facing windows would provide good light if they were cleaned, and if the bay doors were open, there would be ample ventilation. and forced himself to concentrate aA4
A pile of lumber partially covered with a tarp caught his eye, and he went to investigate. Pulling the tarp back, he sucked in a breath. Black walnut two-by-fours, six-by-eights, and wider planks had been stacked for who knew how long. He ran his hand over one of the pieces. Man, what he could do with such a treasure made his hands twitch.
He glanced around and found an old, scarred workbench with a few vises of varying sizes fastened to the edges on either side. A dusty miter box sat next to a mason jar full of rusty nails. He lifted one of them and found it had a squared head like the handmade nails used in the nineteenth century.
Excitement thrummed through him. He already had a table saw. He’d need a jigsaw, a lathe, mallets, and chisels. He longed to shape the wood into something useful and lasting. He wanted to turn the pile of black walnut into furniture.
His mind spun. He’d have to ask Jenny about the lumber. Maybe she’d let him buy it. Would Ceejay be willing to rent the space to him? The partition between the bays had been torn out years ago. He’d get an electrician in here to update the wiring and add more overhead lighting. He’d build shelving to hold his tools and equipment.
If he was going to be a dad, he wanted to make something for his child with his own two hands. It had to be heirloom quality and built to last for the generations of Langfords to come. An image formed in his mind. He knew what he wanted to make.
A cradle.
What if Ceejay isn’t pregnant? Hell, it didn’t matter. She would be one day, and he would be the father.
Noah froze. A fine sheen of sweat broke out on his brow, and his heartbeat surged in retaliation to the flip his stomach did. “Damn.” He’d fallen hopelessly, irrevocably in love with his tiny, freckled, adorable little mess of a woman.
He glanced at his watch. Only 0700 hours. Too early to beat on the Lovejoys’ door. What had Ceejay said last night? The biopsy was scheduled for midmorning, so her aunt wasn’t going in to work. Jenny was an early riser like him. Maybe she’d be on the porch with her air pot full of coffee. Did he want to bother her with this while she had so much on her mind? If nothing else, he could offer support. He flipped the light off and headed for the big house.
“Morning, Noah,” Jenny greeted him from her place at the wrought-iron table. She had a cross-stitch project on her lap, and the table had several twists of thread strewn across the surface. “Come on up for coffee.”
Noah tossed the cooled contents of his mug in the grass before he joined her. “Thanks. I don’t know why, but your coffee always tastes better than mine.” He filled his cup from the air pot and took a seat. “I was hoping I’d find you here.” What could he say to the woman who’d come to mean so much to him? “Ceejay told me about...”
“The biopsy?”
He nodded. “Anything you want me to do, or if you need anything, you let me know.”
“Help Ceejay. That would go a long way toward easing my mind.”
“That goes without saying.”
She studied him for several seconds. “If you don’t mind my asking...”
“I’m crazy about her,” Noah blurted. “I mean...” He s back to her daughter. t ccrubbed his hands over his face. The revelation still buzzed through him like a live wire, and the energy wanted an outlet. “Maybe that’s not what you were going to ask. Sorry.”
“Oh, that’s quite all right.” Jenny chuckled. “It is what I was going to ask, and I’m glad to hear it. You’re a good man, Noah.”
He fought the urge to squirm in his chair. How did being messed up in the head and clueless about what to do with his life add up to being a good man? “Thanks.”
“I love this old place.” Jenny sighed and stared out toward the orchard. “I’ve been meaning to thank you for all the work you’ve done. The porch is gorgeous. Can’t wait to put some wicker furniture up there.”
“You’re welcome. Working has been good for me.” His gaze went to his camper, still parked in their driveway. “I was snooping around in the carriage bays this morning.”
“Oh?”
“I found a pile of black walnut under a canvas tarp. I was wondering if you might be willing to sell it to me.”
“What do you want with that old pile of wood?” Her brow furrowed.
“I plan to make furniture with it.”
“You can do that?”
Noah nodded. “One of my uncles does antique furniture restoration and replication during the months when the construction business is slow. I started working with him when I was fourteen.”
“In that case, help yourself. You can have it.”
“I’d feel better if you’d let me buy it.”
“Consider it barter for some of the work you’ve done on the house.”
“All right. I will. Do you think Ceejay would let me rent the bays?”
“I don’t believe she’ll have any objection. Your lease is for the carriage house, and you could always argue that the bay area is part of the carriage house.”
“Great. I want to get the electrical updated, so I can install a washer and dryer.”
The door opened and Ceejay walked out. She wore her blue bathrobe. God, he loved that ratty old robe. She sent him a shy smile that lit up his insides. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. It was all he could do to keep from leaping up, grabbing her around the waist, and kissing her breathless. “Good morning, honey.”
Her cheeks turned a delightful shade of pink, and her eyes darted to her aunt and back to him. “Morning.” She filled a cup with coffee and doused it with cream and sugar before she sat down.
Noah cleared his throat. “Would you mind if I turn the bay of the carriage house into a workspace?”
“Nope. It’s a registered historical landmark, though, so you can’t make structural changes.”
“I won’t. Anything you want me to help you with today?”
A thoughtful expression crossed her face. “I was going to bring Lucinda with us to the hospital. Would you mind watching her for a couple of hours?”
“I’d love to. Maybe the two of us could visit the Offermeyers’ foals again.”
Jenny smiled hand shielding her eyesk. His at him. “She’d enjoy that. Their phone number is on the list tacked up by the kitchen phone.”
“I know you wanted me to store my camper in one of the bays, but is it OK if I leave it where it is? If not, I can rent storage space somewhere else.”
“It’s fine for now.” Jenny rose. “I’m going to go make myself some breakfast. You two want anything?”
“I’ll fix myself something when Lucinda gets up,” Ceejay said.
“I already had breakfast.” Noah watched her leave, and then turned to Ceejay. “Am I forgiven?”
“Not entirely.” She fussed with arranging the edges of her robe so that they overlapped. “Sometime today one of us has to make a drugstore run for condoms that aren’t expired.”
Far from Perfect (Perfect, Indiana: Book One) Page 17