by C. C. Snow
“Thank God.”
The bitter-sour taste of bile coats my tongue at the thought of what would have happened had I come a minute later. What if I had not gotten off my ass? What if I hadn’t been so desperate to see her that I ran a few yellow lights? What if I hadn’t found a parking space right down the street?
I’m not a religious man, but I send a prayer of thanks up to the heavens for making sure I was at the right place at the right time.
“I ran as fast as I could when I heard the scream.” I swallow with difficulty, thinking about the fear and terror she must have felt when she was on the ground under that psycho.
“He had his hand over my mouth, but I kneed him and he let go for a second. I screamed as loud as I could, but then he covered my mouth again.”
I kiss the top of her hair and say fervently, “Smart girl.” Smart, brave, beautiful angel.
We arrive at my car and I set her gently on her feet, keeping my arm firmly around her small waist. After I open the door, I settle her into the seat and buckle her up, making sure the strap isn’t pressing on her injured shoulder.
“Do you think Hannah will be okay?” she asks when I sit down in the driver’s seat.
This woman’s heart is as big as the sky. Even as she’s hurting, she’s still thinking of her friend. “We’ll check in with the hospital tomorrow.”
“Can we go tonight?” Her eyes get watery. “Sean…”
I hold her face in my hands, careful to avoid the scratches on her cheek. “Shh…she’s most likely going to be in surgery for hours. We won’t find out anything tonight.”
Sniffling, she slowly nods and in the next instant cries out, “I have to call Cory!” She takes her phone out of her pocket.
At the mention of him, I clamp my teeth together. How serious are they?
“Cory, it’s Maggie.” In a quavering voice, she gives him a rundown of the night.
I grit my teeth in aggravation when I hear about how she charged into the situation, heedless of her own safety. This woman needs a keeper and I’m appointing myself to the position.
To my relief, she doesn’t say anything that indicates a more intimate relationship with frat boy. She hangs up and looks at me. “He’s going to the hospital right now.”
From the glassy look in her eyes, I know she’s running out of gas. Then it dawns on me that I need to let Cael know what happened. “Fuck, I need to call Cael.”
Maggie looks at me with a look of longing mixed with alarm. “No! Don’t call him.”
I stare at her in disbelief. “What? Are you crazy? He’ll string out my guts if I keep this from him.”
“Please don’t, Sean!” she begs. “It’ll activate his Superman complex. He’s going to freak out.”
“Maggie, I can’t hide this from your brother,” I argue.
“Please! I’m okay and Cael’s not going to be able to do anything all the way from Chicago. It will just cause him unnecessary worry.”
Unconvinced by her reasoning, I take out my phone and she blurts, “If you call him, I’m never going to talk to you again!”
Exasperated, I ask, “Maggie, don’t you think your brother will see it on his news feed?” Knowing Cael, he would have an alert for anything to do with the university. Hell, for anything to do with the whole city.
“They don’t have my name. I haven’t given my statement yet,” she points out triumphantly.
“And when you do?”
“It won’t be news by then. Cael can’t find out about this.” She looks at me beseechingly, a hint of desperation in her eyes.
Eyes narrowing, I ask, “Tell me why you’re so reluctant to let Cael know about this.”
She looks down at her laced fingers. “I don’t see what good it will do to tell him.” Lifting her eyes back to my face, she begs, “Please, Sean. Don’t tell him. I already had a hard enough time convincing him I’d be okay in New York by myself.”
Keeping this a secret from him goes against my every instinct, but I can’t resist that sad pleading expression. “Fuck!”
Sensing victory, she smiles. “Thanks, Sean.”
I mutter another curse and then sigh in defeat. Stubborn brat. I stuff my phone back in my pocket. “Fine! But you’re going to stay with me for a while.” At her nod of agreement, I feel the knot loosen in my stomach. After everything that’s happened, I just want to keep her as close to me as possible.
Both of us are quiet on the ride to my place. I’m still trying to process the fucked up night and I can’t imagine what is going on in Maggie’s mind.
I pull into the garage and park in my spot. “Don’t move,” I tell Maggie and I get out of the car, but by the time I reach her side, she already has her seatbelt off and her door open. “Didn’t I tell you not to move?”
“Sean, I’m not going to break.”
I scowl, finally getting a taste of what Cael puts up with. At the thought of her brother, guilt rears its head, but I won’t go back on my promise to her.
I cup her elbow and lead her to the elevator. As soon as we walk into the apartment, she turns to me and says, “I…I need to shower.”
A fresh surge of rage rushes through me when I contemplate what that fuckwad did. I swallow back the need to howl with wrath. “Maggie, did he…” I search her eyes, frantically looking for clues as to how much damage he had done before I arrived. She was still fully clothed at the scene, but that doesn’t necessarily mean nothing happened.
I don’t realize how tense I am until she shakes her head and my muscles unclench in relief.
“No, you got there before he could had a chance to do anything,” she says.
At her sniffle, I pull her into my arms. “Thank God!” I whisper.
The hug is meant to be comforting, but soon something else builds up in my lower body and I silently curse myself out for being such a sick bastard. I gently push her away and direct her toward the stairs. “You can shower upstairs.”
She walks ahead of me, but I keep my gaze on her feet. The last thing she needs right now is another overgrown male leering at her.
Taking her to the bedroom across from mine, I point to the bathroom. “There are clean towels in there. I’ll dig up something for you to wear.”
“Okay.”
She makes a beeline for the bathroom and I go back into my bedroom. It takes me two seconds to realize I don’t have anything that would fit her. Pulling a large t-shirt and a pair of shorts with drawstrings out of my dresser, I go back into the guest bedroom and place it on the duvet. The sound of the shower conjures up an image of Maggie, wet and naked, under the water spray.
“Fuck me,” I mutter and leave the room.
Being without sex for this long has seriously twisted you, an inner voice taunts.
To dampen my libido, I take a nice cold shower. I pull on some sweats and a t-shirt, and head downstairs to the kitchen. Deciding I need something to calm my nerves, I pour myself a glass of scotch.
I hear her coming down the stairs just as I take my first gulp. When I see her, I can’t suppress my smile. My blue t-shirt looks like a giant poncho on her. The sleeves reach past her elbows and the hem covers her knees. Her hair is damp and clinging to her scalp. I steer my thoughts away from how cute she looks, half-dressed and barefoot.
Maggie glances down at herself ruefully. “It’s kinda big.”
“Kinda,” I tease and my smile grows bigger when I see her mouth curve.
“I don’t even need the shorts.”
Don’t think about it. Don’t, Rowan.
Too late.
The image of her naked under my shirt has an instant effect on my dick and I force myself to turn away from her, wrestling my body under control. Stupid fuck. I drain my glass in one gulp before I glance back at her. “Do you want anything to drink?”
“No. I’m fine.”
“Are you hungry?” I try to think if I have anything in my cupboards and fridge. As a bachelor, I eat out most of the time, but maybe I can scrounge up
something for a sandwich.
She shakes her head, her untamed curls dancing around her shoulders.
“How are your shoulders and hips?”
She circles her shoulders and I watch her expression closely to detect if she’s in pain. At her wince, my face tightens.
“Much better after a hot shower.”
“Have a seat. I’m going to grab some ibuprofen. It’s going to hurt worse tomorrow.” Guiding her to the living room, I wait until she sits down on the sofa and then I run to the upstairs bathroom to grab the painkillers and the first aid kit. When I return, her eyes are already at half-mast with exhaustion. I hand her a glass of water and two pills.
“Here, take these,” I say gently, seating myself next to her. My weight indents the sofa and she slides closer to me.
She no longer smells like cinnamon and sugar. Her naturally sweet fragrance is overlaid with the scent of the shampoo and shower gel I use. Our combined scent stirs something primal in me and my thoughts take a dangerously possessive turn.
After she swallows the pills, she tilts her face to me, her green eyes huge and shadowed. My thumb brushes against her left cheek. The other side is slightly swollen and I ache looking at it. “I’m going to put some antibiotic cream on your face and hands, okay?”
“Okay.” Like a trusting child, she holds out her hands, palms up, to me.
The sight of the red scrapes sends renewed fury through my blood, but I hold myself in check and carefully apply the cream to the abrasions. Then I wrap her hands lightly in gauze to protect her palms, leaving her fingers free. Taking a dab of the antibiotic, I smear it on her cheek, trying to be as gentle as possible.
“All done,” I say, throwing the tube back into the kit. “Are you ready to turn in?”
“Can we talk for a little bit?” she asks shyly.
Seeing her tired eyes, I want to argue, but I recognize the need for human contact in her face. After not seeing her for weeks and then witnessing her attack, I need it as badly as she does. Without giving it a second thought, I pick her up and place her on my lap and my whole body sighs in relief.
Maggie doesn’t fight me. Her head nestles into my shoulder and her curves soften into my body. Like two pieces of a puzzle, we fit perfectly. I close my eyes, savoring her sweet weight. This is where she belongs. In the background, desire simmers, but I hold it off, wanting to enjoy her warmth, needing to know she’s safe in my arms.
I touch the back of her head, mindful of her sore scalp. “How’s your head?”
A soft nod against my chest. “It’s okay. Tender, but no lasting damage.”
“Want to talk about tonight?”
Negative shake.
“What do you want to talk about? BDSM?” I tease.
At her giggle, I feel like I’ve climbed Mt. Everest. Her finger plucks at my shirt and she asks, “Why did you want to see me tonight?”
I glance down, but she’s examining the fabric of my t-shirt like there’s a secret code hidden in the fibers. I dip my head until our eyes lock.
“Are you dating Cory Michaels?” I hold my breath, wondering what I would do if she says yes. After the call earlier tonight, I felt like I was going out of my mind at the thought of her being with another man.
“Why are you asking?” she mumbles, her eyes dropping under my steady gaze.
I tip her chin up. “Are you?” She hesitates and I feel pressure build up in my chest.
She shakes her head, and whispers, “No. We’re just friends. We went out on one date, but that was it.”
My breath releases in a long sough. Thank fuck. “You said you were going to the theater with him?”
“It was going to be a group of us. Cory and I…I don’t feel that way about him.” Her gaze is unwavering, green eyes like bright gems. “Why does it matter to you?” she asks, a demanding tone in her voice.
Buying time, I raise my hand and brush my fingertips across her freckles. The words are on the tip of my tongue, but they don’t want to drop from my mouth. When her eyes lower self-consciously, I tap on her chin to draw her gaze back to me. I take a deep breath and take the first step on the tightrope, knowing there’s no safety net below. “It matters. I don’t want you to date anyone else.”
She sits up straight, her weight shifting on my thigh, causing my groin to tighten, and stares at me with wide eyes. Pink washes over her cheeks. “What are you saying?”
“I can’t stop thinking about the night of the party, when we kissed. Have you thought about that night?” I ask.
Instead of answering my question, she scrutinizes my face and says carefully, “I thought you said it was a mistake.” Her breath hitches.
The echo of my thoughtless words, uttered in her soft voice, is like a slap—a well-deserved one—to my face. I close my eyes in remorse and press my forehead against hers. “I’m sorry. I panicked…” All the reasons I should stay away from her reprise in my head, but I thrust them away. “The reasons don’t matter now. Are you…do you feel anything...” Shit! I sound like a stuttering teenager asking a girl out for the first time. “Are you interested?”
Caution creeps into her eyes. “Interested in what, exactly?”
I bite back a groan of frustration. Everything about this conversation is a first for me. I’ve never had to talk about my intentions before. Usually, it’s only about sex and no discussion is necessary before the main event, but everything is different with Maggie. I’m not looking for a purely physical relationship with her; she deserves more than that, but I also can’t make her promises I can’t keep.
I search for the right words and when I find them, they come out haltingly. “I want to give this…” I swivel a finger between us. “A shot.” The last four weeks of having no contact with her have been…difficult. Lonely.
She tilts her head, her gaze demanding more.
My throat dry, I continue, “I love spending time with you, but I want more than friendship.” I trace her jawline with my thumb and my eyes drop to her parted lips. “I’m very attracted to you and I want to explore the chemistry between us. Beyond that, I have to be honest and say I don’t know. This is all new to me. I know you believe in love and I don’t know if I can ever offer that to you.”
Mentally, I make a face. What a fucking irresistible offer, you bastard. Yes, place your bets on an emotionally stunted loser who’ll likely break your heart.
I plow on. “I’m not sure I’m capable of feeling love and I can’t promise you Happily Ever After, but I do care about you and will do my best to not hurt you. I understand if that’s a deal breaker for you.” I wait for her reaction, my body tense.
“What do you mean, this is new to you? I know you’ve had many girlfriends.”
“Maggie, they weren’t really girlfriends.” At her skeptical look, I amend, “Yes, I dated them, but we always had an implicit agreement that it was purely physical. That’s not what I want with you.”
Tugging on a curl, she licks her bottom lip and I have to suppress a groan at the innocent, yet provocative gesture. “So would we be in a relationship?”
God yes. “Yes, we’ll be exclusive.”
To my shock and relief, she says shyly, “Yes, I’m interested.”
I grin. “No shit?”
At her nod, I swoop down and take her lips. She makes a whimper at the back of her throat and wraps her arms around my neck. My tongue slips inside and she tastes as good as I remember.
No better. Much better because I know she’s mine.
I groan when our tongues slide together, wetly and urgently. She sucks on the tip of my tongue like it’s her favorite treat and all of my blood rushes south. She turns to straddle me and clasps the back of my head, pulling me closer. I smooth my hand along her supple calf and thighs until I encounter the edge of her panties. My fingertips slide under the fabric, pressing into her soft flesh. Spearing my other hand into her hair to grip her head, I eat at her lips hungrily, greedily. No less ravenous, she twists her head and makes the sexies
t little moan at the back of her throat.
That sound is like a match to accelerant. All rational thought is incinerated in its wake and what is left is raw need.
Pressing on her lower back, I settle her weight on my pelvis. My cock is on a mission and he unerringly finds her heat through the barriers of my sweats and her panties.
Maggie’s knees tighten around my waist and she raises her hips so that the length of my dick presses directly into her slit. I can’t remember when I’ve ever been so hard. Tearing my mouth away, I suck in a mouthful of air. I grit my teeth against the urge to pull down my sweats, push aside her panties and sink into her sweet pussy without any preliminaries.
She tugs on the hem of my t-shirt and starts to drag it over my torso. I take over and throw it on the floor. Her hands roam over my chest, fingers grazing and pressing into sensitive spots. Her thumbs brush across my nipples and I close my eyes against the desire pumping through my veins.
I lean back and keep my eyes on her gorgeous face. The primitive male in me purrs in approval. Her eyes are hooded with desire and her lips are red and swollen from my kisses. Her chest is moving up and down, drawing my attention to her tight nipples poking against the soft tee.
Placing my hands at the top of her thighs, I slowly start to stroke upwards, lifting the material of the t-shirt pooling around my wrists. Her skin feels soft and delicate, almost too delicate for my rough, calloused touch, but I am beyond caring, especially when those sexy noises start streaming out of her mouth.
I watch, mesmerized, as her boyshorts are revealed. It’s plain and white, but the unadorned, cotton underwear looks more erotic to me than the sheerest lace and satin on any other woman. Underneath the fabric, I can make out a small dark triangle. I ghost my fingers over her mound and she feels soft and warm. Flipping my hand, I cup her between her legs and I groan at how wet she is. She’s soaked through the cotton panel and I feel a headrush knowing I’m the cause. I can’t resist pressing the tips of my fingers through the material until I feel her soft opening.