by Dale Mayer
A quiet voice asked, “Can’t sleep?”
She walked to the couch. “You’re still here?”
He reached up a hand, grabbed hers and tugged her down until she was sitting in his lap.
She smiled. “I wasn’t sure if you meant that. I’m sorry I left so abruptly earlier tonight. It got to be too much.”
His hand moved soothingly up and down her arm. “It was getting too much for all of us,” he said quietly. “I wasn’t in very good shape after I heard the news about my sister either.”
She sighed. “I can’t imagine the level of ugly that’s touching our lives right now.”
Just then the noise outside increased for a few loud screeches and yells of joy.
She chuckled. “At least somebody is having fun.”
“This is what makes the world go round.”
She looked around the living room. “I didn’t even think to give you a blanket and pillow. Do you want anything?”
“I want you.” He chuckled. “But you’re not ready for that.”
She glanced down at him. “I guess we’ve had what amounted to three meetings.”
“We’ve had more than three meetings and at least two of them could be classified as dates.” He chuckled again. “Breakfast and then Chinese tonight.”
She smiled. “The thing is, I don’t do short-term relationships,” she said. “I found I care too deeply, and, when people move on because they don’t care enough in the first place, I get hurt.”
“That’s good to know. Because I wasn’t looking for a short-term relationship.”
“Honestly you weren’t looking for a relationship at all,” she joked, keeping the atmosphere light. She wanted him too but wasn’t sure she should take that step. And how real were the feelings coursing through her? That he was sexy and magnetic and caring were all good things, but this was a very strange set of circumstances, and she wasn’t sure that being thrown together during a crisis was a good way to start a relationship. What if this sizzle between them was just fueled by the adrenaline of this drama? What if the dull and boring parts of life weren’t enough to keep them together?
“Maybe we did fall into it. Or maybe the events have accelerated the normal path to a relationship,” he said. “I gave up working out the vagaries of life a long time ago. I’m perfectly happy to just go with the flow in this situation.”
“And what about all the craziness going on around us?”
He raised an eyebrow.
It was hard to see his face in the shadows. She realized he’d opened the double French doors, and a cool breeze wafted in. She glanced outside. The noise had calmed down, and now the moonlight shone inside. “I’m never out here at this time. It’s beautiful.”
“It is indeed.”
His voice was thick, gentle. But there was an air of waiting to him. A stillness. And she understood what he was asking. The fact he was asking was nice, but she hated that she needed to make a decision. She would rather just have passion take them over. It was never like that. There was all this preamble that had to happen first.
She sighed and stretched out across his chest, her head on his shoulder, her nose against his chin. “Going with the flow is one thing,” she said. “But in the morning the flow comes to an end.”
A rumble moved up his chest and his throat. He chuckled, his voice warm and hot against her face. “True enough. But that same flow can happen again and again. Daylight might change what we have to get done. It doesn’t necessarily have to affect the base of the foundation we’re building.”
“I’ll bet you say that to all the girls,” she teased.
“I haven’t had a relationship since before my accident.” He reached out his ungloved left hand and wrapped it around her back, and she felt the metal through her bathrobe.
“Does it make you self-conscious?”
He nodded. “Of course. There is nothing pretty about my body.”
“A lot of scars, huh?”
“A lot of scars. A lot of injuries. A lot of surgeries. A lot of recovery. And, of course, there’s a missing lower leg and foot and a missing arm.”
She sat up slowly, turned on the light on the end table and said, “I want to see.”
He looked at her in surprise, but he sat up obediently.
She helped him out of his shirt and was amazed to see the prosthetic where it met skin.
Then he removed it to show her what was left of his arm.
She reached out to touch the stump. And then looked at him, as if asking permission.
He nodded. “I’m not breakable,” he joked.
She smiled and touched the end of his arm. “Does that hurt?”
“No. By now it’s fairly stabilized. There’s a built-in padding for cushion and support in the prosthetic.” He pointed to it on the back of the couch.
“You use the arm really well.”
“I do. But it took a long time to get to this point.” At that, he put on his prosthetic hand once more.
She glanced down at his artificial foot.
He pulled up his pant leg, so she could see where the prosthetic leg and foot came off. But his jeans were not cooperating. He shrugged. “Sorry. If you want to see the rest, you’ll have to take off a piece of clothing too.”
That surprised a laugh out of her. She dropped her bathrobe and tossed it over the back of the couch.
He chuckled, shifting her off his lap and onto the couch, so he could stand. Unbuckling his jeans, he dropped his pants. There, standing in front of her in gray boxers, he kicked the jeans off to the side. And then he sat back down again, stretching out both legs.
She could see the cuff where his stump went into the artificial leg. It was a different kind of attachment than what she had seen on his arm. She ran her fingers over the top. “Doesn’t it get sore when you’re on your leg all the time?”
“No, but that’s one of the reasons why Badger is in the hospital. He was having a lot of trouble with his. I’ve been lucky.” He reached down, popped the button on the prosthetic and then released the gel sock that was at the bottom of his leg, showing it to her.
She bent down to study the end, her fingers gently stroking. “To think of the damage done to your body …” She shook her head. “I can’t imagine what you went through initially. But even after that, all that you must’ve gone through to get to this point today.”
“It doesn’t matter what I went through now because I’ve recovered. But, like I said, I’m not very pretty.”
She sat back into the couch and studied his chest as he put the prosthetic leg back on.
He glanced down and winced. “Yeah, my chest is another good example. My back is too.” He shifted on the couch so she could see his back.
At the touch of her finger stroking it, he winced.
Immediately she froze.
“No, don’t do that. It feels great.”
Again she stroked his battle-roughened skin. Normally there were hills and valleys in a perfectly healthy male form, but, in his case, there were dents where muscle should be, and scars crisscrossed his back.
When she got to his hips, he pointed out a particularly pitted place. “There was a big chunk of metal in my back there.”
She gasped. “You’re very lucky. I imagine you would have been paralyzed if it was over even a little bit.”
“I know,” he said. “And I do remind myself that I am very lucky.”
She swept her hand down his back and around to his front, easing over some of the heavy pink scar tissue. “Will these fade?”
“With time. With more time.”
She glanced at his thighs, what she could see below his boxers, and traced a finger across one particularly nasty scar that went through his knee and back down again. “That looks very painful.”
“That one wasn’t painful though. And it was my good leg, which is a good thing because I abused that leg trying to get the other one working.”
She nodded and stroked her hand up his thigh
until it rested at the lower edge of his boxers.
He shook his head. “Now you’re living dangerously.”
She chuckled. “Am I?” She could see his erection through the thin soft cotton. She knew, in her mind, what she was doing was a risk—aren’t all relationships?—but she couldn’t seem to resist. And, even knowing it would take her down a road where she may not be able to get off, she still couldn’t stop herself from sliding her fingers across his thigh and up over his shaft.
He gasped, his hips coming up off the couch, as if pressing deeper into her hand.
She closed her fingers around him and whispered, “At least you didn’t hurt this part of your body.”
He groaned. “Hell no. That’s always worked just fine.”
She smiled, leaned forward, her lips just a hair away from his and said, “Prove it.”
Instantly she was crushed against his chest as his lips claimed hers with the fierce kiss of both passion and possession. A heavy rush of heat flew through her, stunning her with both the speed and the potency of it. She moaned against his lips.
He released her.
She shook her head. “No, don’t let me go. And definitely don’t stop.”
He searched her gaze for a long moment, then crushed her to him again. Just before his lips claimed hers once more, he said, “No problem. I won’t let you go all night.”
Overwhelmed by the unexpected emotions cascading through her, Faith found herself caught up in a storm. She was incapable of doing anything but reacting. Her body shifted and twisted in response to his every hand stroke, to every touch of his lips, to every kiss as he trailed his lips down, then across her chest, stopping at the tip of her breast to softly suckle it with his mouth. She moaned and arched, her hands reaching up to grasp and hold him close.
She didn’t know how to respond to these crazy emotions. She hadn’t expected to feel anything like this. She shuddered as he lifted his head and blew gently on the wet tip of her breast, her body clenching in desire. He moved over to her other breast, giving it just as much attention. But she wanted his mouth on hers. She wanted more of those drug-inducing kisses.
She lifted his head, but he wasn’t having any of it. His hands stroked down her long lean form. Caressing, stroking, highlighting the hills and sliding into the valleys. He stroked down her thighs, gently touching the back of her knee.
Instinctively she pulled her leg away. His touch was so sensitive that it was almost ticklish but not.
He reared up suddenly and kissed her lips, catching and holding her as a willing captive.
She wrapped her arms around him and held him close, straddling him on the couch. She didn’t know how he had managed it, but she wasn’t wearing a stitch, and neither was he. She’d had relationships before, but none where she’d been so mindless—so unaware of what was going on that all she needed was his next kiss, his next touch, his next breath as it mixed with hers.
He tilted her chin to look into her eyes.
Her legs were only half open, her knees clutching his hips, yet she wanted more. “More please,” she whispered, the corner of her mouth tilting up in a smile.
His gaze deepened, darkened, and he lowered his head to her lips again, turning her so she lay on the couch, his body lowering onto hers.
Her fingers went through his curls, gently stroking, gently caressing, massaging down his back, holding him close, loving the heated skin against skin, the slide, the movement. Everything about this moment seemed so special. Caught in a bubble that hopefully would never burst.
She knew reality was out there, but, for just this moment, the escapism was beyond anything she’d ever experienced. She couldn’t get enough of it. She let her hands trail down his back, coming up against his ribs—so much muscle, so much damage. She let her fingers gently slide across the scars, the tips, the pits, the injuries she didn’t care about except for what he’d gone through. He lifted his head gasping for air, shuddering in her arms.
She smiled, caressed his cheek and whispered, “You are something.” And she kissed him, dropping tiny kisses on the corner of his mouth, gently taking his bottom lip in her mouth and sucking it. He shuddered, and she realized his movements, as practiced and as experienced as they were, were more about a steely self-control. But a self-control that was breaking. There was a wildness in his eyes, and she could see how much he held back. But she didn’t want him to hold back. She wanted it all. She wanted every ounce of his passion and his need right here with her.
She tucked him closer, determined to make him lose control, and thrust her tongue deep into his mouth, her hips moving, opening her thighs, wrapping herself around him, and her pelvis pulsating against him in a slow, steady, erotic movement.
He reared back, a cry ripping free of his throat. Without warning, he plunged deep.
She arched her back, a cry of her own escaping, then she froze.
They paused at the top of a hill, both of them testing, waiting, caught up in the experience. His voice was guttural as he asked in a low tone, “Are you okay?”
She laughed, but barely a whisper came out. “I am for the moment. But I won’t be if you don’t start moving soon.”
As if even talking was too much effort, he rose above her on the couch and started to move. Her body welcomed and softened around him with each stroke, letting him in deeper and deeper. Her heart slammed against her chest as she opened her arms to accept him in all ways into her body.
Just as his body tightened and arched, she watched, her eyes open, loving to see that she had brought on this passion, this joy.
And then he surprised her and slid his hand down under her hips, parting her more, as he changed his angle a degree and drove one last time, seating himself right against the heart of her. What started as tiny tremors cascaded into a massive explosion as her own body succumbed to the climax rippling through her. Words were beyond her. She could hear whimpers from somewhere in the room, and, in a dim part of her mind, she realized they came from her. But it was beyond her to control them until the waves stopped crashing on the shores, and she collapsed on the couch, her body never again to be the same.
He wanted to ask her what had just happened, but it would sound too stupid to be believed. His body still thrummed with sexual passion simmering beneath the surface. Then that was kind of the way he’d felt ever since he had first met her. That they lay entwined on the couch was already more than he could have hoped for. But what they had just experienced blew everything he’d ever felt before out of the water. He was collapsed half on top of her, both of them out of space on the small couch, but neither wanting to move.
He heard her murmur, “The bed would be so much more comfortable.”
He nuzzled the top of her head and whispered, “Yes, but I will always look at this couch fondly.”
Laughter bubbled up from her throat.
He smiled and held her close, but, realizing he would get very heavy, very soon, he gently disengaged himself and stood. She smiled, reached out a hand and gently stroked his hip and his thigh. He held out a hand and said, “Shall we move to the bedroom?”
She sat up and nodded. “Good idea. It’s either that or eat more Chinese food.”
“There isn’t any more. Once Talon called to say he wasn’t coming, we finished it all, remember?” he said with a big smile.
“Darn,” she said. “We’ve worked up an appetite, or at least I have.”
“Are you still hungry?” He waggled his eyebrows exaggeratedly.
She chuckled. “Maybe in a few minutes.”
He grinned. “I can’t wait.” Wrapping her shoulders gently in his arms, they walked to the bedroom, the bed covers still disturbed from when she’d gotten up. He pulled them back, waited until she got in and threw them back on top of her. “You do need sleep for tomorrow though,” he said, as he got in beside her, tugging her into his arms.
“So do you,” she said sleepily. “And I know I need to rest, but, at the same time, I don’t want this ni
ght to end.”
“We could look at it as being the first of many nights,” he said, cuddling her close. “Just sleep,” he whispered as he watched her eyelids fall closed.
He held her until her breathing evened out and deepened into relaxing sleep. For himself, he felt invigorated. His body alive. It had been more than two years since his accident and even longer since his last relationship. A part of him had wondered if he’d ever get to this point again, if any woman would ever accept the broken pieces of him to get to the man he now was. But Faith didn’t seem bothered. He wasn’t even sure she would have noticed if he hadn’t deliberately pointed out all his flaws. As far as he’d been able to see, she didn’t have any—she was perfect.
In the other room, he could hear his phone. He checked the bedside table to see it was two-thirty in the morning. He gently disengaged himself from her arms and slipped out from under the covers again. In the living room, he pulled out his phone to see Talon’s message. Warren Watson has agreed. He’s communicating with his contact now.
He sent him a message back. Why are you awake?
Because I’m outside your apartment. Enjoying your night?
Cade smiled. No way would his friends not know of the change in his relationship with Faith. But he also knew they’d be happy for him, particularly after Erick and Badger had found two beautiful women, both inside and out, to share their lives with, and Cade was absolutely ecstatic to realize he’d found a third such woman. Somebody who apparently would accept him as he was. He didn’t know for how long, he didn’t know how deep her feelings ran, but he’d take what he could right now.
He sent back a quick answer. Absolutely. Thanks. Then he sat down on the couch for a long moment, wondering if there were any other messages.
As there was nothing else he could do right now, he picked up his phone, grabbed hers and returned to her bedroom. She lay as he had left her. He smiled, placed the phones on the night table beside them, and gently, so as not to disturb her, crawled back under the covers.