Untouched

by Lauren Hawkeye

  Alexa cried out when he parted her thighs, slid fingers through. Her knees buckled, and again he lifted her, balancing her weight in one arm while bringing his finger up between them with the other.

  ‘This?” He said, rubbing his fingers together before sliding them down to cup her bottom. “This is mine.”

  “Oh, God.” She’d never imagined this before—hadn’t given much thought to sex in the last year at all. But with Nate taking charge, all she had left to do was to do, to feel.

  She hadn’t known, but it was what she needed. To be in control—she was pretty sure he needed that, too.

  “Arms around me. Don’t let go.” Alexa had no intention of doing so, but still she tightened her grip as Nate carried her down the short hallway, and into the bedroom where she slept. His fingers kneaded her bottom, his arms holding her weight as he slowly, gently laid her down on the bed.

  The room was dark, the only light from the street lamps outside. Alexa lay still, remaining how he had placed her. The way his eyes moved over her was so intense that her instinct was to reach for the blanket, to cover up—but what was in those eyes kept her still.

  “Look at you.” His voice was... reverent. Yes, that was the word. Reverent, as though he’d never seen anything as perfect as she was, right in that moment.

  Alexa knew that she was anything but. She had scars from the accident, the spiked vine on her shoulders, her neck, more silvery lines on her torso, her thighs. Remembering, she twisted under his gaze, but when he approached the bed and slowly, gently placed the palm of his hand over her heart, Alexa forgot all about what she looked like, what he looked like—forgot everything but the emotion arching between them.

  This—she’d never felt anything like this before. She wasn’t sure that she ever would again.

  “Lie still.” The rough fabric of the denim pulling taut over his thighs created delicious friction over Alexa’s skin as Nate straddled her, mid-thigh. Settling back on his heels, he began to stroke his hands over her, the touches designed to explore rather than arouse, but accomplishing the latter regardless.

  One palm remained on her chest, counting the beats of her heart, while the other moved, tracing down between her breasts, under them, over her ribcage. Spanning her waist, smoothing the curve of her hips.

  Grazing the place she most wanted him to touch before gently tracing the lines of her spread thighs. All the while being careful not to touch her scars.

  “Nate.” His fingers had brought fire to her veins, and she shifted restlessly beneath him, no longer able to keep still.

  His eyes flashed when she said his name. Dipping his head, he took her breast in his mouth, and the surge of sensation made Alexa cry out, her back arching.

  She had so little experience that she’d thought she would be shy. But with Nate it was an exploration, almost a celebration, and because of that her nerves were gone.

  “I love the way you respond.” Pulling his mouth from her skin, Nate fixed his stare on her face, his other hand splaying over the curves of her breast to squeeze. His hands were hot, branding her skin.

  “This shouldn’t be all about me,” Alexa finally managed to pant, her hands sliding down his taut shoulders, the hard planes of his back. She tugged at the cotton of his shirt until he barked out a laugh and pulled the offensive garment up and over his head.

  “Ah, but when it’s all about you? That’s when it’s about me, too.” The corners of Nate’s lips turned up a hint just before he dipped his head, pressed a kiss to her stomach, made the muscles there quiver.

  He kissed his way down, swiped his tongue over her hipbone. Alexa reached for him, determined to do more than just take, but it was becoming quite clear that he was the one running this show. The weight pressing Alexa into the bed told her that, as he’d said, making it all about her was indeed arousing him.

  She tensed for a moment when his mouth found the wet heat between her legs. She’d never done that before, never wanted to. But with Nate’s hands holding her open, his murmurs working against her sensitive flesh, she could do nothing more than be carried away.

  “Oh.” Her hips arched against him; he caught them in strong hands, hauling her to the edge of the bed. “Oh!”

  She was… she couldn’t…

  His mouth sent her shooting past a glittering line that she’d never crossed with another person, and she cried out, her hands reaching out blindly. As she crested, he held her tight, anchoring her as she let go.

  She was dimly aware of being lain back on the bed gently, of the cold when he stood up. She heard the rasp of a zipper, the sound of his jeans falling to the floor. The crinkle of a wrapper that made her breath hitch with anticipation.

  “Alexa.” Nate urged her up further onto the bed, so that her head was cushioned by the pillows. He followed her, covering her with his body, and when his lean, naked length was pressed against her she couldn’t hold back the shudder.

  He kissed her then, long and deep, before circling her wrists with his hands. Raising them above her head, he curled her fingers around two of the wooden bars in the headboard.

  “Don’t move. I don’t want you thinking about pleasing me. I just want you to take what I give you.”

  Oh, god.

  Alexa had never imagined that words could be as arousing as touch, but everything he said just added to the storm brewing inside of her. Above her he drank in her responses, his breath rasping in and out every time that she quivered.

  Only when her hands were securely clasped around the bars of the headboard did Nate press his hard length to her wet heat. He eased inside, and Alexa arched against him and cried out.

  “You’re so tight. Jesus. I can feel you, pulling me in.” Slowly, his eyes trained on hers, he continued to enter her body. “Can you feel me?”

  “God, yes.” Alexa shuddered when he seated himself, her body shifting restlessly.

  He wasn’t wrong—she was tight. Her flesh wasn’t sure whether to explode with desire or to ache, and when he started to move it was a combination of both.

  Though she wanted to reach for him, to pull him close, the look in his eyes warned her to do as he said. So she clung tightly to the bars, her hands slick with sweat, as his slow, sure thrusts became harder, deeper. Choked cries escaped her lips, groans from his, but neither of them spoke beyond that, communicating only through their locked stares and the movements of their bodies.

  He seemed to delight in her submission, and she found solace in the demands of his movement. As they moved, each of them fed the other until both were drunk off of the sensation.

  Alexa felt that beautiful tension again rising inside of her, filling her to the point where she thought she might explode. His skin became slicked with sweat, his pace increasing, hips slapping together, and she knew he was nearing the end too.

  She went over first, the world in front of her blurring as she found release. He followed immediately after, crushing her to him, burying his face in her hair as liquid heat warmed her from the inside out.

  Their eyes met, and though Alexa opened her mouth to speak, there were no words. She felt strangely near tears when Nate gently eased her fingers from their tight grip, massaged the soreness away, and kissed her forehead. Pulling her to him, he rolled, and they ended up with her half splayed across his chest, the reassuringly steady beat of his heart beneath her cheek.

  “I thought that I’d want you less, after having you.” When Nate finally spoke, his voice was raw, as though he’d shattered into a million pieces and been put together again. “But I think it only made it worse.”

  “What is this?” Alexa asked, lifting her head to look at him. Her heart thudded against her ribcage when she saw her own myriad of emotion reflected there. “What I mean is… I don’t have a lot of experience. But this… what’s between us… It isn’t usual. Am I right?”

  Nate’s hand played over her back, traced the wings of her shoulder blades in silence before he answered.

  “I wanted you the
second I saw you, sitting there in the diner, so absorbed in your art.” Beneath her cheek, she felt his pulse skitter. “But I thought it was because we were alike in a way. Survivors.”

  Alexa wanted to stiffen at the reminder, but found that her limbs wouldn’t cooperate.

  Nate continued. “I’ve never been afraid of commitment. I’m not one of those guys. But I’ve also never felt anyone who made me want to stay.”

  His eyes met hers, and Alexa sucked in a breath.

  “But now that I’ve had you in my arms, now that I’ve felt you tremble underneath me? I’m not sure that I’m ever going to be able to let you go.”

  Chapter Ten

  Nate woke up the same way he had when he was a cop, pulled from a deep sleep to silent, watchful waking in a split second. His pulse throbbed as he propped himself up on his elbows, wondering what felt strange.

  Alexa stood at the window, framed by sheer white curtains. Her back was to him, and as he watched the slight movements of her body as she breathed, felt himself relaxing as he remembered where he was, who he was with, he understood what was different—she was.

  He didn’t have any desire for a drink. He had woken up with his head above water, with no weight pressing down on his chest.

  Knowing that it was because of her made his heart swell with feelings he never thought he’d feel. Feelings he still wasn’t sure he deserved to have.

  “Hey,” he said softly, so many feelings pressing against his chest that he had to reach out to her or explode. “What are you doing?”

  “I got up and I wanted to draw.” Alexa turned just enough for him to see her profile. Her lips curved in a half smile as she held up her sketch pad for him to see.

  It was a simple drawing, etched with charcoal, but every line showed her incredible talent. The subject… he arched his eyebrows at her.

  “That’s not how I sleep.” He choked out the words, not sure if he was flattered or horrified by the fact that he was now an Alexa Kendrick original. “I most definitely do not pose like that.”

  Alexa laughed, the sound low and enticing. “I figured I was allowed some artistic license.” Setting the sketch pad down on the windowsill, she turned fully. Her troubled expression pulled his attention from the sweet planes of her naked skin.

  “I… I want to show you something. Something I don’t quite know what to make of.” He nodded, noting the way her shoulder shook as she sucked in a deep breath.

  Bending to pick something up, she crossed the small room, perched on the edge of the bed, handing him what turned out to be a book.

  “What is it?” Nate sat up fully, the sheets pooling around his waist. Bending, he reached for the bedside lamp, blinking when it illuminated a small black book. “A journal?”

  “I… maybe. I don’t really know.” Alexa sank her teeth into her lower lip, worrying the soft flesh. “I’m asking… because you used to be a cop.”

  Alarm bells began to ring inside of Nate’s head. Wanting nothing so much as to throw the book to the side and soothe Alexa, he still forced himself to do as she’d asked and turned back the cover.

  He found himself instantly shifting into cop mode, analyzing the details of the page before he started reading. Photocopies on generic white paper, enlarged slightly. Probably photocopies of photocopies, given the poor quality of the images.

  A quick scan took him a bit deeper—the handwriting appeared male, though of course that was something that would have to be verified. There were quite a few grammatical errors, but not as many as there could have been, which indicated some schooling, but whoever had written it—and his gut told him it was a man—likely hadn’t finished high school.

  He went back to the beginning of the first page, this time paying attention to content as he read. The story that the words spelled out chilled his blood.

  “Alexa.” Setting the book aside, he reached for her hands. “This isn’t about you, is it?”

  “What?” She jerked her hands away, clearly shocked. “No. God no.”

  “Okay.” Nate was hugely relieved. “Then tell me more.”

  Alexa hesitated, her hands fisting in the quilt, toying with the worn fabric. “I found it in the attic.,. here, and I think… I’m afraid that this might be talking about Ellie.”

  “Ellie.” Nate frowned, trying to place the name, before realizing that Alexa was talking about her sister, the woman who owned Estelle’s Blooms.

  “Yes.” Alexa looked at him with wide eyes, concern etched on her features. “I told her I’d been in the attic and she got really defensive. Told me to stay out of there. This is the only thing strange up there. She was hiding it, and I think it’s because it happened to her.”

  Alexa paused, taking a deep breath. “I really don’t know my sister at all. I don’t know the story behind us. But she strikes me as the type of person who, if this kind of thing happened to her—she wouldn’t want many people to know. Wouldn’t want to seem weak.”

  “Right.” Nate didn’t remind her that victims of attack were no more at fault than anyone else in the wrong place at the wrong time. Instead he answered the unspoken question that he could see in her eyes. “Do you want me to look into it?”

  “It’s that simple?” Her stare searched his face, which felt as though it had been carved from stone. Only for her, he realized—only for her would he make contact with his past, with the connections that he still retained.

  “I like simple.” Reaching out, he pulled her to him, wrapped her in his arms. Her skin was cold, but warmed quickly beneath his touch.

  “Thank you.” Her words were whispered into the dark, hard to hear yet strong enough to pull at his heartstrings.

  “So… you think this happened to Ellie,” he started slowly, squeezing when she stiffened, then relaxed. “Then… what happened to you?”

  She didn’t bother to deny it. “That obvious?” Her voice was wry.

  “Former cop, remember?” His palm splayed over her belly possessively, and she relaxed into the touch, leaning against him, her back to his chest.

  “I already told you I was in a car accident,” she started slowly. Nate did his best to stay still, not wanting to interrupt her thoughts. “If I work really hard, I can remember fragments leading up to it—for instance, I know that I went for a drink beforehand. I was celebrating a big sale, of one my paintings.”

  Nate stilled at this, the reminder that she was a part of another world entirely, a classy, wealthy one in which he would never fit. But as she rubbed her cheek against his shoulder and he noted how perfectly their bodies fit together, he understood that it was too late to go back.

  “After that… it’s blank until I woke up in the hospital. Jesus, Nate, it almost killed me. My jaw, my cheekbone, my ribs were shattered, I was sliced and diced and nearly bled out. I almost died. Yet I have this great, gaping hole in my memory.”

  Nate remained silent, not wanting to interrupt, but his arms tightened around her to show his support.

  “I wasn’t at fault. Jesus, I don’t even know most of the details of the crash because I can’t stand to read about it. But I know that I lived, and others did not. Even though it wasn’t my fault, I still feel this… this guilt. This awful, dragging guilt, dragging me down every single day. Blocking me from remembering, I think.”

  Twisting, she looked up at him, and something clicked in his own memory. “This was in Phoenix? About a year ago?”

  “Yes.” Alexa nodded, her eyes questioning. “Why? Do you know something about it?”

  Nate winced with sympathy at the eagerness in her voice. “I just remember seeing a news report on it. That’s all. I’m sorry.”

  He did—a vague memory, hearing of a bad crash on the freeway just outside of Phoenix. He’d thought that there had been no survivors, but then, he hadn’t paid much attention, since he hadn’t yet been living here. Had been drowning in his own problems.

  “Ah.” Alexa sighed, as though the world was weighing her down. “Right.”

&
nbsp; “I’ve been floating along ever since. Not painting, living with my mother and keeping my head buried in the sand. Then Ellie showed up, and… it gave me a purpose, you know? Finding out things about a family that I never knew I had. It felt like maybe I was going to get my life back on track.”

  “Isn’t it, though?” Nate understood, oh how he understood. It wasn’t enough to just drift, no matter how badly you wanted to. Drifting allowed time for thinking, and thinking was bad for people whose minds housed demons.

  Alexa shook her head. “It’s stupid, I know. But I feel like… somehow I feel like, remembering my past will help me make peace with the accident. But then I found out my mother has been lying about things with my dad, and Ellie dumped the shop on me, and I found this book…” Holding up her hands, she let them fall in a gesture of helplessness. “I just don’t know what to do anymore. How to feel. Who I am.”

  “You are who you are in the here and now. The past might help shape you, but it doesn’t define you.” He could just as well have been talking about himself, Nate realized with a start. “I think that if you make peace with the present, with who you are now… that’s when you’re going to be happy.”

  “You’re a part of my present,” Alexa said mildly. Nate waited for the squeeze of a fist around his heart—weren’t men supposed to want to run and hide when women brought up relationship talks? Instead he found himself baring his teeth, ferocious at the thought of anyone or anything trying to separate them. “But how can you live in the present without wondering about the future?”

  Nate clasped his hands around her waist, turned her so that she was straddling his lap. Pressing her to him until their noses, their foreheads, their bodies were touching, he savored the warmth of her breath, misting over his skin.

  “Something brought us together, Alexa. And I’m not going anywhere. Not unless you tell me to.”

  * * *

  With the book in Nate’s hands, Alexa found that she was able to relax as she made her way down to the shop the next day. That, she realized, paralleled the dynamic between them the night before.