Sugar and Sin Bundle

by Stacey Joy Netzel

  She saw the smile on his face as she struggled to catch her breath. Not tonight, but soon it would be her turn to play the seducer, and then she would take her sweet time with him. When he got to her stomach, he smeared the sticky liquid instead of lapping it up. Then he sucked at the soft skin with wet open mouthed kisses. Violet had to clench her teeth to keep from crying out. He continued his assault till he was between the points of her hip bones. She was desperate for him to get to her more sensitive spots, but she didn't want this to end either. She groaned, "I'm going to be all wet and sticky."

  He looked up at her from near her pelvis and smiled. When he looked back down he rubbed his mouth against her mound. "I can smell how wet and sticky you are."

  Violet sucked in her breath. Part of her was shocked at his words. This was not the genteel man she thought she knew. This was something earthy with rougher edges. Something that promised abandon, and she wanted all of it. "Oh, please . . . Michael . . . touch me, dammit!" His laugh against her mound made her breath catch in her throat.

  He loved the smell of her arousal. He wanted to crow with satisfaction. He had made this beautiful woman quiver for release from him. He sensed her startle at his blunt words and saw the moisture drip from her labia. She might not say it, but she liked not being treated like a porcelain doll. Slowly he brought his lips to her pussy and kissed her deeply there. He parted her with his fingers. She was so warm and wet. He eased two of his fingers deep inside her. He heard her gasp and kissed the inside of her thigh to let her get used to the sensation. His fingers were long, reaching deep inside her. He curled them to massage the spot just behind her pelvic bone. He buried his face in her thigh to hide his smile when she started panting softly. He gave her thigh a little nip, and she moaned his name. He thought he'd roar his conquest of this desirable woman.

  Now he wanted a taste. He gave her clit a hard lick with the flat of his tongue, and she almost jumped off the bed. With precise movements, using just the tip of his tongue, he traced her folds. He explored everywhere but her sensitive nub till she was panting and clutching at the sheets. Suddenly she began to keen. If she was having an orgasm, he would know. This was not a climax. Her legs shook. Oh God. What had he done?

  "Violet, tell me what’s wrong."

  "Michael, my legs! My hips! Everything is seizing up. Oh, shit, it hurts bad."

  Damn, he'd been so single-minded in wanting to get his hands on her he'd forgotten about the effect all the tension would have on the fragile nerves trying to reknit themselves. She would’ve had charlie horses anyway, but everything he'd done just made it worse. "Violet, I'm so sorry. I forgot myself. I'll try to stretch you out. I'm so sorry."

  He moved to the side of her and pulled her knees toward her chest to stretch out her hamstrings. "Can you roll the small of your back down to the bed? That will help release your back." She did as he asked, and he could see some of the pain leave her face. "Let me know when your hamstrings relax." She shook her head. "Better now?"

  "A little," she said through clenched teeth.

  "Where?"

  "My hips."

  He threw the gown over her body as he pushed her knees apart to stretch her psoas.

  "I know it feels odd, but is that better?"

  "Yes." She was covering her face. He wished he were dead. He'd wanted her to be awash in pleasure because of him, and all he had given her was pain. He'd compromised her most basic trust in him as a doctor. Her body shaking broke his chain of thought. Now, she was crying. He could hear her trying to cover it up but...

  "Violet, I'm so sorry. I won't ever touch you again. If you want to bring me up before the patient advocacy board, I completely understand." At that she pulled her hands away from her face, and he stared at her. She was . . . laughing. "What the hell?"

  "Oh god, Michael, I'm sorry. I shouldn't make light of it all, but if I don't laugh, I swear, I'll start screaming. I finally find a gorgeous man who can do amazing things to me, and my goddamn body acts like it is having some kind of freaking allergic reaction."

  "You're not crying?"

  "The only reason for me to cry is you didn't finish. Michael, are you okay? Really, I'm fine, damn disappointed, but fine. Please say something. You're scaring me. Really. It’s okay to laugh when something as insane as this happens."

  "Violet, if I hadn't . . . you never would have had those muscle spasms. This is all my fault. I should just leave."

  Violet grabbed his arm. "Don't you dare. Look at me. I mean it, look at me now!" He turned his head, and Violet would swear she saw tears in his eyes. She pulled him closer and raised the bed so she could sit up and look at him eye to eye. She took his face in her hands, sweeping her thumbs over his closed eyes and down his cheeks. She pulled him to her shoulder and wrapped her arms around him. "Michael, I loved how you touched me. I have never felt as beautiful as when you were making love to me. Please don't think that the charlie horses were something you did. You told me after the surgery I would have more of them while the nerves were getting function back. Let's face it, as physical therapy goes, having a stunningly handsome man work over my body in the most intimate way possible was not the worst thing to ever happen to me."

  She turned his face to hers and kissed him, staring into his eyes, trying to convey all the love she felt for him. "Really, I should be thanking you or demanding a raincheck, since at this point I am going to be frustrated as hell till you touch me again. You better come back tomorrow and finish what you started, or I'm going to have to hunt you down." Then she nipped his ear to let him know she was teasing. She started laughing at his shy smile. He was so different again, back to being formal and stiff, obviously appalled at his previous behavior. "Michael, I'm serious. That was hot as hell, and I don't really have words to describe how it made me feel. But I will not let you apologize for making me feel like that."

  He started to smile again.

  "You don't hate me?"

  "God, no. Hate you for making me feel… amazing? That was the kind of sex that makes an old lady smile thinking about it forty years later. I'm not going to let you take that back."

  "Violet, I swear I have never done anything like that before. I..."

  "Okay, now you are just bragging. You expect me to believe that you are some kind of sexual savant? You can just lay your hands on a woman, and she comes undone?"

  "You’re the only one who has ever had that kind of reaction, or that I have tried to make come undone.

  "And you say the sweetest things. You should have a warning label that you are addictive. You better get out of here, or I’ll make you finish what you started. You'll come back tomorrow though? I was kidding about the sex part. We can play twenty questions again. But you need to think up some naughty ones because yours were seriously boring."

  He laughed outright now. He took a deep breath and stared at her. "You confuse the hell out of me, Violet."

  "I'm supposed to, silly man. That is how you know I’m a girl. Now get. I don't want you in trouble. At least not with anyone but me."

  He shook his head and kissed her lips. "I'll see you tomorrow at rounds."

  The next morning, when he arrived at Violet's room with the residents, her brother had just arrived. He shouldn't have been angry, but he was. He didn't want to share her with anyone. But she seemed so glad to see her brother he couldn't stay angry. He and Allyn Bellows made idle chitchat while Violet was helped to the bathroom.

  "How did you get in? I had heard Logan was still closed."

  "It is. The storm had already moved through New York so I flew there, got a car, and drove up. Frankly, I expected her to be in much worse shape. Actually, she seems to be doing great. The whole way up I kept thinking she was going to end up sedated or in restraints. I can't believe how relaxed she is. I can't thank you enough for what you have done for her. Beyond the surgery, I mean."

  Michael tried not to turn ten shades of red. If this man knew the things he'd thought about and and done with his sister, he'd be beat
ing him senseless instead of thanking him.

  "The worst of the storm is over, so hopefully you'll be able to take her home tomorrow." Why did that depress him so much. He could never say it out loud, but being trapped in the hospital with Violet had been the closest thing to a relationship he'd allowed himself. Now she was going home, and he'd only see her for follow up appointments. He'd see her drift away from him until they only had a professional relationship. That was what he had wanted last night before she had let him seduce her. Now that he had a glimpse of what life could be, he couldn't bear to see her look at him as just another doctor, or worse, just some poor man in a wheelchair.

  Her brother evidently had pull at the hospital, or the nurses were just thrilled to have another man around, because the visiting hour rules didn't seem to apply to him. Michael never did get to see Violet alone again before she was discharged. It was maddening having her so close and not being able to touch her or wait beside her bed till she woke up and he could kiss her. While he finished signing her discharge paperwork, he was starting to hate hospitals himself,.

  He had made his decision, and rationally he knew it was for the best. Emotionally it meant his life would be utter crap till he got her out of his system, but there wasn't any other way. It wasn't as though his life didn't feel empty before her, but after her, well, it seemed to be a black hole now. Nothing left to do but to tell her and get the hell out of here.

  "Well, discharge paperwork is all done. I see you are packed. That's good. Hopefully they'll be around with a chair to take you downstairs in a bit. I don't know why, but that always seems to be the hardest part, getting an orderly with a chair." Violet looked like she wanted to say something, but she kept glancing at her brother and would stop. Just as well. He didn't want any heartfelt disclosures that would complicate what he had to do now.

  "Violet, I think you are doing quite well in your recovery. I am going to have my office transfer your care to one of my associates. Tom Waters is very good, a nice guy. I think you'll like him. He'll set you up with any physical therapy you need. You don't need to come back to the office to have the staples removed. A visiting nurse will be in touch and set up a time in the next week or two. I've enjoyed having you as a patient." He'd run out of things to say, but he still couldn't look at her.

  "Why?"

  He heard her anger. He'd expected disappointment given that her feelings wouldn't have receded yet, though he knew they would. But he hadn't thought she would be angry. When he looked at her, her eyes were almost black with anger. There was that steel he always seemed to find in her. Part of him wanted to smile. He did like that unwillingness to let disappointment back her into a corner.

  "I think it is for the best, for now, if someone else attends to your care. I’m sure I will still see you at the office, and I will make sure to tell Tom to CC me on any notes."

  "Fine," she said as cutting as any stiletto. She moved to collect her things as the orderly brought the wheelchair in. Michael fought the urge to close his eyes. He wondered if there were a bar nearby already open, because right at this moment he'd like to be blind drunk. If she had looked hurt he could have at least comforted her, but she didn't. She pulled her walls up and disappeared behind them. He hated himself, but there was no other way.

  ***

  Six Weeks Later

  Violet leaned against the door frame, exhausted from her physical therapy and the last month and a half. She had given up trying to not think about Michael and was going with a more meditative approach. Of course, he would come up in her thoughts, and when he did she simply acknowledged the thought and set it adrift. She thought about him just as much, but at least she felt less guilty about it. The physical therapy was helping with some of the adhesions and pain left over from the surgery. The pain in her heart was a different story. She noticed the lights were still on in the therapy room, which was odd since she had the last appointment. She was about to go when she heard someone fall to the ground and a man's voice cursing. She knew who it was and it would serve him right if she left him lying on the floor or under a piece of equipment for not calling her. She just couldn't walk away though.

  She walked into the room to find Michael lying on the mat under the parallel bars. She thought back to when she had helped him across the street and how miserable he had been and steeled herself for an outburst. "Doctor, can I help you with something?"

  "Oh, fucking wonderful. No, just leave me here, with any luck I'll be dead in the morning."

  "So we've decided on morose rather than belligerent as the lesser of two evils. Michael, let me help you, for God's sake."

  "Just go away. I'd sooner be stuck here than to see you look at me with pity."

  "Well, then it is your lucky day because I had intended to look at you like you were a goddamned ass, if you want to know the truth."

  "That I can deal with. Unfortunately, it’s the truth. Can you bring my chair over here? And then I might need you to steady it while I get in."

  Violet looked around for the large chair with the hydraulics. "I don't see the Dr. X chair. Is it in the other room?"

  "The what?

  "Dr. X, you know the comic book hero in the wheelchair, has mental telepathy and X-ray vision, all the usual super hero stuff."

  Michael cocked an eyebrow at her. "Is that how you thought of me?"

  "Don't be an ass Michael. Oh, sorry. Too late! Where is the chair?

  "It’s the low-backed one right near you. I don't always use the other one. I was doing some exercises, and then I’m supposed to go play basketball with a friend."

  She pushed the wheelchair closer to him as he rolled to a sitting position. "I could see you were in good shape. I didn't really think about what kind of exercise program you would have to do. What were you doing with the parallel bars?"

  "If I tell you, you'll laugh at me."

  "Michael, I have never laughed at you. Well, unless you were being pompous. More likely I will end up yelling at you if past experience is any indication."

  He smiled. She was right, of course. She had never laughed at his deficits, only his lousy attitude. "Fine. I was practicing walking."

  "What? You can walk?"

  "No, actually I can't, but I keep trying. I hope it keeps the neural pathways open. I end up falling on my face most of the time. Stupid but true. I've had plenty of doctors tell me I am wasting my time, but I can't give up trying."

  She covered her mouth to hide the smile, not at his foolhardiness, but at his perseverance.

  "So you are going to laugh at me after all."

  "No, I was thinking how very much alike we are. I would do the same thing."

  He had no doubt that she would, too. God, it hurt to look at her. He missed her so much. The past six weeks had been hell He couldn't concentrate, didn't want to get out of bed. He'd slacked off on his exercise sessions to the point that his ol' buddy Cam was going to kick his ass up and down the court today. He knew he shouldn't, but he didn't want her to just leave again.

  "Violet? Would you like to go with... forget it. It’s a dumb idea, and you probably have plans anyway."

  He was in his chair now. She had never seen him dressed in sweats and a T-shirt. She wanted to peel his damp shirt off and lick the center of his chest. She took a deep breath to clear the image from her head. "I don't have any plans for this evening. What did you have in mind?" She tried to sound casual so she didn't sound desperate.

  Damn, she didn't want to want him as much as she did. Pathetic was how she thought of herself. She could tell him about her new project at the foundation. At least keep him talking till she figured out how to ask him out without sounding like a stalker.

  "After seeing what you did with your other chair, I've started researching groups that make wheelchairs out of discarded bicycles in different third world countries. The need is staggering and particular to each different area because almost nothing is paved. The designs are more along the lines of all terrain vehicles than anything you'd h
ave here. It has all been kind of fascinating. Tell me about the design of this chair?"

  He looked at her like she was turning green and growing horns before his eyes. "Um, it's just a regular sport model, low profile. It is designed to be self-propelled, not pushed. The center of gravity is lower so it doesn't tip when you get into tight turns." He spun in a pirouette. "Would you like to come to my basketball game? You'd have a chance to see what I mean close up." He was staring at his knees, preparing himself for her to say no.

  "I'd love to! We should take your transportation though, and you can just drop me off back here after. When do we need to leave?"

  He looked up in shock. He wasn't going to get his hopes up. It probably was just part of a research project to her, but he could at least pretend for a little while. He felt like a teenage boy asking the prettiest girl in school to watch him play ball, but he didn't care. She had said yes, and she at least looked happy to go.

  "I'll need to call Allyn to let him know I'm going to miss dinner. Can we get something to eat afterwards?"

  "Sure, though it won't be anything gourmet. The guys are mostly wings and beer types." He laughed at her grimace. He wasn't a fan either. "I have heard the burgers are good at the place we usually go to." They wandered down to the parking garage in silence. Michael wished he wasn't parked in the handicapped spot, which was dumb because it wasn't like she didn't know he was in a wheelchair. When they got to his car, she started laughing. Now he felt like an idiot.

  "I'm sorry," she said smiling. "I know it isn't a Masserati, but do you have comic books in there?" She said pointing to his small red Italian sports car.