Damaged

by Jeanne St. James

  Okay, then. Most women dreamed of their own home and filling it with family, right? Why not her? She didn’t seem to care about the family part. Maybe she was too independent. Though that “now” part really nagged at the back of his mind. But he didn’t want to push his luck and make her clam up.

  After packing up the cooler and collecting the garbage, she pushed herself to her feet, wiping her hands on her overalls. “Ready to help me finish painting the kitchen?”

  To be honest, he wasn’t. His leg ached. He’d rather sit back and watch her body move as she swept the walls with bright yellow paint like an artist on a canvas.

  And his painting wasn’t nearly as neat as hers. After the first few smears, she insisted on him rolling the center of the walls while she brushed the edges. He admired her though; she worked hard and never complained. He wanted to complain but kept his mouth shut, determined to stick it out as long as she did.

  The receding light in the kitchen signaled that the sun was falling below the horizon. Colby stood in the center of the now bright yellow room, studying their efforts. Mace found much better things to stare at, like her fiery hair spattered with yellow paint. Her body was reed-like even though she had matched his appetite bite for bite at lunch, and her delicate wrists and long, slender fingers had been fascinating to watch while she’d been applying the paint. It amazed him she wore no jewelry except a very small pair of gold studs in her ears. Though her hair was the best accessory she could have. Jewelry couldn’t do her justice next to that mass of crimson fire—fire he wanted to burn all over his body.

  The thought of stripping her naked and fucking her hard on the drop cloth engulfed him. He turned away so she wouldn’t see the noticeable bulge in his jeans. Normally, he could control his urges, but it had been a while since he’d been around a female like Colby. Sort of innocent, unjaded. A woman not involved in illegal activities, not shady at all.

  Refreshing.

  And best of all, she didn’t make the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

  “What do you think? I think it looks great.” When Mace didn’t answer, she continued. “Just wait until the new appliances come in, and the new counter tops. I hope yellow was the right choice.”

  Insecurity laced her voice. For some reason, her life seemed to depend on something as simple as whether she made the right choice in paint color. If sunshine yellow wasn’t the perfect match for the new sink and countertops, she would be devastated.

  “If it’s not, we can repaint it.” Not that he really wanted to volunteer for that, but— Complete silence enveloped him. He turned to glance at her. Her expression of horror concerned him; it was almost as if she took it as a personal attack. He moved behind her to place his palms on her shoulders and rubbed them softly. “The yellow looks great,” he assured her, then trailed his hands up her neck, his thumbs stroking the slender muscles under the soft skin.

  Her smile returned as quickly as it disappeared, but she pulled away from his touch and walked out of the room. She chattered away about the wall colors of the other rooms. Mace shook his head and sighed. She was either oblivious or trying to ignore the fact some spark existed between them.

  But one thing was clear; she was burying herself in this house for a reason. Probably the same reason she added the “now” to her she could take care of herself declaration. There was a fresh wound there somewhere. Physical, mental, he couldn’t tell yet.

  Of course people took pride in their homes, but she seemed a little too fixated. And he wanted to know why.

  3

  Mace ended up sleeping through most of Sunday morning after finding a note, during an early morning bladder relief run, that Colby left on the bathroom door. The message stated she went to an estate sale with a friend, and they were hitting some yard sales on the way. Oh, and she hoped he didn’t mind her borrowing his truck. Well, hell. That was pretty ballsy of her

  At the same time, Colby absconding with his truck gave him an excuse to crawl back into bed. Now, a couple hours later and still feeling lazy, he remained buried under his covers. If she had been smart, she would have slept in, too. Hell, if he was smart, he would have woken up with her in his arms, preferably naked, and started the day off right. But no. Instead, he lay in his bed by himself; his only company his morning, or more like mid-morning, wood.

  He slid a hand down past the elastic of his boxer briefs and straightened out his hard-on. Damn. Doing it himself just wasn’t the same. It was like settling for an after-dinner mint when you really wanted a piece of chocolate silk pie.

  But since Colby was gone, he wasn’t left with any other option. Rolling toward his nightstand, he came face-to-face with the photo of his late parents. He cursed and slammed the framed picture facedown. Just what he needed: his parents watching him relieve some sexual tension. As a teen, he’d worried enough about them catching him. Though never quite caught in the act, there had been some close calls. Too many to count.

  Thankfully for his cock this morning, it wasn’t a concern anymore. He yanked open the drawer and shoved his hand deep until his fingers bumped against a small box. He pulled it out—condoms—and turned it over and read the expiration date. Hell, these were so old, not to mention probably so dry, they would break just trying to roll them on. Useless. He’d need to stock up next time he ran errands. He planned on needing fresh ones. Maybe he could just add them to Colby’s grocery list, the narrow pad of paper attached to the fridge by a magnet. Milk, eggs, bread, condoms. Yeah, that might be a tip-off.

  The box ended up tossed next to the picture frame, and he continued his search. Ah, success.

  With a sigh of relief, he lifted out the tube of water-soluble lube. He smirked. Relief was what he needed and relief was what he would get. He swore he’d had a perpetual erection since returning home the other day and coming face-to-face with a redheaded woman.

  What was worse, every time he tried to touch her, even innocently enough, she pulled away. He was getting nowhere fast. He thought maybe volunteering to help her out at that horrendous house would soften her up to him a bit. And he guessed it had somewhat, but not enough. Not quickly enough for his liking, anyway.

  He lifted his hips and slid out of his underwear, tossing it over the fallen picture frame. No risk of peeking for the parents. After plumping his pillows behind him, he sat up to lean against the headboard. That was more like it.

  With a flick of his finger, the lip on the tube popped open, and he squirted a healthy amount on his palm. His cock bounced against his lower belly in anticipation. He threw the tube aside in his haste, grabbed his cock with his slick hand, and squeezed.

  The head turned deep red, and the vein running down his shaft throbbed. He squeezed harder until the crown turned almost purple and then, only then, did he slide his hand up. He ran his thumb around the crown until it was well lubed. He fisted it, sliding his tight grip all the way back down to the base of his shaft.

  Holy shit. A slight shudder rolled through him. He couldn’t remember the last time he jerked off.

  Closing his eyes, he leaned his head back against the headboard, blowing out a shaky breath. He’d only stroked it once. Just one stroke and he wanted to blow his load already. He adjusted his grip, making sure every finger encircled his girth, before stroking slowly once again.

  It was Colby he wanted on top of him right now straddling him, pressing her tight, plump, wet lips around his cock. Sliding up and down. Up. Down.

  Gliding his hand faster along his length, he kept a steady, smooth rhythm. Even though his fist felt slick and warm, he rather it be her riding him, slamming her ass cheeks against his lap, taking every inch of him and asking for more. Fuck.

  Tightening his fist, he quickened his pace. Up to the edge of the crown, a squeeze, then a solid stroke back down. His balls tightened with the urge to come in her pussy. Her ass, her mouth, hell, he didn’t care.

  Repeating his stroke, over and over, he lifted his hips with each downward motion and pushed against th
e mattress with each upstroke.

  His chest heaved, trying to catch his breath. He was close. So close. He grabbed the root of his cock harder and squeezed all the way to the top. Then down once more. On the last upstroke, a throaty groan escaped his lips while hot cum spurted all over his stomach and chest. He leaned back, panting, unable to move, his cock twitching with release. Squeezing it one last time, he milked it of any remaining fluid.

  A soft chuckle escaped him. He’d needed that and would have to do it again sometime soon. He padded to the bathroom naked, only a slight limp hindering him due to his self-indulgent actions. Sometime soon became there and now. While he showered, he soaped himself up and gave himself another hand job, a little more leisurely this time.

  He finally dragged himself out of the shower when the water turned cool. With a large towel wrapped around his waist, he stepped out into the hall—and smacked right into Colby.

  They both jumped back in surprise, Colby squealed an “oh” at the same time Mace apologized.

  “Sorry, sorry. I didn’t see you there. Are you okay?” Fuck! Had she heard him whacking off in the shower?

  If so, she showed no signs of it. She stepped back and gave him a shaky smile, her hand over her heart. “I’m fine. I should have been more careful.”

  “No, my fault.” Lack of oxygen to the brain. More like lack of blood.

  She turned slightly and stepped back again, pinning herself against the hallway wall. Was she uncomfortable because he only sported a towel? He checked it to make sure it wouldn’t slip off. Yes, he wanted her, but not enough to just drop the thing in the middle of the hallway and offer himself up.

  He cleared his throat, and his thoughts before the towel rose at attention. “How was your bargain hunting?”

  “Oh, uh, good. We had fun. I found a couple of nice small tables at the estate auction and picked up a few kitchen items at the yard sales.”

  “So, the truck came in handy?”

  Color rushed up her chest to her throat. “I’m sorry. I should have asked. The keys were down by the front door, and I didn’t want to wake you. I filled up your tank.”

  “Hey, no problem. At least you left a note.”

  Colby tried to avoid staring at Mace’s chest. It was just like she imagined it would be. Sculpted, but not too hard. Just right. He had small, dark nipples peeking out from a dusting of dark hair. A trail of hair circled his belly button and disappeared into the towel. No six-pack but damn well close enough.

  His damp hair, long enough to almost brush his shoulders, curled slightly around his face. She clenched her fingers into fists, fighting the urge to comb through it.

  She studied the angle of his jaw, the curve of his upper lip, and the edge of his brow before meeting his eyes. She realized he just stood quietly, waiting for her to finish checking him out. Shit. How long had they stood there without saying a word? The heat, already licking at her throat, rose into her cheeks.

  When he reached out, she automatically flinched. He hesitated a long second, then brushed his knuckles over her cheekbone. Even though his expression stayed neutral, she caught the quick curiosity in his eyes before he schooled that as well. Her face became even hotter. She couldn’t believe her own fear of a touch that ended up being so gentle.

  “No reason to be embarrassed.”

  She opened her mouth to tell him she wasn’t, but instead, she said nothing. He couldn’t know her blush wasn’t from the physical contact but her humiliating instinctive reaction to his sudden movement toward her instead.

  When he moved closer, only a breath away, she backed against the wall, wishing she could disappear into the drywall. He wore a towel. Only a towel. Even though it was long enough to cover him practically to his knees, one little slip, and he would be totally naked.

  She licked her dry lips, and the motion drew his gaze. With lowered lids, he ran a thumb along her jawline, then over her freshly moistened bottom lip.

  His face lowered until just inches away. “Can I kiss you?”

  Colby swallowed hard, but the lump in her throat remained. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Why not?”

  His hot breath mingled with hers. As if their life breath was already intimate, kissing each other. “We don’t know each other that well.”

  “A kiss might remedy the situation.”

  She shook her head slightly, still captivated by how close he was. If she shifted, their lips would touch. “I don’t want things to be uncomfortable between us. We share a roof right now. A kiss might…complicate things.”

  “It’s just a kiss. A simple, quick kiss. Two people putting their lips together.”

  Somehow, she didn’t think it would be so simple. Or quick.

  She reached out to push him away; she needed some breathing space, some clarity for her boggled brain. But when she did, her fingers encountered his heated skin, his muscles, the light, wiry hair along his chest.

  The contact made her suck in her breath, but when she did, he closed the infinitesimal space between them. His lips brushed hers lightly, then pulled back a breadth. He breathed her in, and she did the same with him. He grazed her lips again. So soft. No pressure at all.

  On the third sweep, he grabbed her shoulders and crushed his lips to hers. She opened her mouth to protest, but he slanted his against hers, dipping his tongue in, searching.

  She forgot her objection as Mace’s tongue invaded her mouth, skimmed along her teeth, and tangled with hers until she groaned and tentatively drew her tongue against his. Their tongues met, dueled and fought, twisting and pushing against each other. Her hands moved up his chest until one clasped his neck, while the other held his head in place, before pulling him even closer. She couldn’t get enough of him. He wasn’t close enough. Not nearly close enough.

  He tasted good. His minty freshness combined with his own flavor. Very male. She couldn’t put a finger on what it was, but she savored it.

  He slid his hands along her waist, one moving to her lower back, the other to her ass. He pulled her against him so she could feel his erection through the cotton towel, ready and heavy with need. A small sound escaped her, but it became lost within their kiss. When he tilted his hips slightly, his hardness pressed against her lower belly.

  Mace slipped his hand from the small of her back to grab her other ass cheek. He gave them a quick squeeze and lifted her without breaking the kiss, pulling her against him.

  Panic started to set in and cloud her mind when Colby wanted to rip the towel off and drag him to the floor. This was wrong. Wrong. She had only known him for a couple days at best.

  They needed to slow down. Take a breath. This shouldn’t be happening.

  Colby finally released her tight grip on his hair. She broke the kiss and gasped for breath. He nuzzled her behind the ear when she said, “Stop.”

  He did. Immediately.

  When he released her ass, her heels lowered to the floor until she stood on her own. He shifted slightly but didn’t back away. He tried to capture her gaze, but she turned her head away.

  “You didn’t enjoy that?”

  “No…Yes…Yes, it was fine. It was…very nice.” She couldn’t face him yet. Not yet. He remained too close. Too hot. Too tempting.

  “Nice?” He caught her chin with his thumb and tilted her head to face him. He wore a lopsided smile. He wasn’t being cocky; he actually seemed a little worried about her reaction. And his response alone made her relax.

  “Fishing for compliments?” She tried to laugh, but it fell flat.

  “Always.” He shook his head. “But seriously, I’m sorry if I came on too strong.”

  She didn’t answer. Even though she enjoyed every second, just as he did, she shouldn’t have. She shouldn’t have. She didn’t do these things with strangers.

  “Colby—”

  The house phone rang, making Colby jump. “The phone.”

  “Yes, I recognize the sound. Ignore it.”

  “What if it’
s Maxi?”

  “Unlikely, but if it is, she’ll call back.”

  On the fourth ring, she said, “It might be Martin.” She slipped past him and hurried into her room. She climbed across her bed to reach the one of the few phones remaining in the house. “Hello?” For a moment, dead silence greeted her on the other end. Absolutely nothing. Then she heard breathing. “Hello? Anybody there?”

  More loud breathing. The hair on her neck stood up, and she gripped the phone harder. Her heart frantically pounding, she shouted into the phone, “Who is this?”

  Mace snatched the phone out of her hand. “Hello?” A second later, he slammed it down on the receiver. He stared at the cordless phone for a long moment, a muscle jumping in his tight jaw, before turning to her. “Must have been a wrong number.” He blew out a breath and dragged a hand through his hair. “Why is there still a fucking landline in this house?” he muttered to himself.

  Though she didn’t understand his frustration about the landline issue, he was probably right about the wrong number. No one knew where she lived except for work. Even so, she couldn’t stop the tremors.

  Without a thought, she leaned past Mace to open the nightstand drawer and check for her gun. She removed it and yanked back the slide to make sure a round sat in the chamber.

  “What the hell? You had more clips?” Mace ripped the gun out of her hand and put it back in the drawer, slamming it shut. “Colby, answer me.”

  “Yes. Of course.” She glanced toward the closed drawer. She needed her gun in her hands right now, needed to feel the security it gave her. But a big man stood between her and her Glock.

  “What are you going to do? Shoot the phone? It was a wrong number, that’s all,” he said in a more soothing voice.

  He was right, he was right, he was right. She was being stupid. It could be as simple as a kid prank calling or just a wrong number. She was making more out of it than necessary. She focused on the man in front of her. “Sorry. You’re right. I’m just being…” Crazy. Paranoid. “Silly.”