Guilty as Sin (Sinful, Montana Book 1)

by Rosalind James

If he thought that was whiny, he sure didn’t show it. “Mm,” he said. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll go do the animals, give those meds a chance to work. Then I’ll come back and work on the leg for you.”

  “Yeah,” she muttered. “That’s going to help.”

  He looked startled. “Pardon?”

  “Oh.” She put a hand to her head, which was throbbing like there was a vise around it. “Sorry. Fuzzy. I mean… you asked how I’m feeling? Way out of my comfort zone.”

  “Ah. Because you told me the truth. Because you cried.”

  His eyes, which could be so hard, weren’t that way now. Neither was the hand on her face, and her mouth had gone dry. “Yeah,” she said. “I don’t do that. Cry, I mean.”

  “Could be you did it because you knew I’d get it. And you were right. If Tobias could talk, he’d tell you how many times he’s brought me out of a flashback. Reckon he could be a service dog if he cared about that. Luckily, he’s the humble sort.”

  She tried to smile, but it hurt. “Well, see, that’s the other part. You look too good without your shirt on. You’re too… appealing to me, and you keep getting better. Last night…” The tears were there behind her eyes again. Stupid tears. “Anyway. You do. And I’m not Lily.”

  “You’re not… Lily. Yes. I think we’ve established that.”

  “You don’t get it. Those aren’t my clothes. I don’t wear that much makeup. My hair… well, I’m sure it looks pretty bad right now, but normally, it looks worse. You saw Lily’s hair. This is good for my hair. And we won’t even go into my clothes.”

  “Which is why I came in to talk to you that day when I never had before. Because you’re not Lily. And I thought you were identical. Why would hair matter anyway?”

  “We’re identical, and we’re not. And Lily’s great. She’s kinder than I am, sweeter than I am. And she’s definitely more feminine than I am. By a mile. Also, she didn’t lie to you.”

  “And yet I like you better. Even though you lied to me. Could be I understand wanting to protect your sister, and I reckon there’s no accounting for taste, because I like your hair. I like your face, too.” He ran his hand lightly over her uninjured cheek, smiled into her eyes, and everything in her melted. “Normally, anyway. I like your pretty body, and I love to watch you work out. I like you in lingerie, yeah, and if you want to borrow some more of that from your sister, I promise to know which twin I’ve got. I’m not choosy about the makeup, though, or the clothes. I’ll take you naked. I even liked you in that stupid apron.”

  She started to laugh, then stopped. “Ow. I know. It was the least frilly one I could find, and she didn’t have any work pants.”

  “Made your arse look brilliant, though. That pink bow…” He sighed. “And those leggings. It’s what I said. All of it works for me. And we haven’t even talked about my brother. Could be I don’t want you to meet him. And I know I should be keeping this on a more elevated plane, what with your injuries and all, and our crime wave. You’ve distracted me, it seems.”

  “No,” she said, “you’re distracting me. I know what you’re doing. Making me feel better. It’s working. And I’ve seen your brother on screen a million times. I know which one you are, and I know which one I like. But my animals.”

  “Yeah.” He stood up, went to his dresser and got out another black T-shirt, and pulled it over his head, and she watched him do it. Arms, chest, abs, tattoo. The man really did have it all. “I’ll go by the gym as well, get them to open your locker, so you have your keys and your phone. Do you know which one?”

  “One-fifty-five.”

  “You remember that. With a concussion.”

  “It’s training. It’s the way I work.”

  “I know. I get it. I’ll be back soon. Sleep, if you can.”

  He left, after telling Tobias to stay. She knew why. That he wanted her to feel safe, so she could relax. She levered herself out of bed, went to the bathroom, borrowed his toothbrush for the second time, sparing a moment to think, through the throbbing discomfort of a body that had been hit way too many times and a jaw that ached too much to make tooth brushing a pleasant activity, that she couldn’t have imagined borrowing a toothbrush from anyone else but Lily. And then she took off the scrubs and took a look at herself.

  Fairly gorgeous, yep. Livid red bruising across her cheek, a swollen upper lip, and her left shoulder and forearm looked worse.

  “Appealing,” she muttered, turning to see the mottled stripe of red across the middle of her back. “Nice hair, too.” She got in the shower, limping too much along the way, held onto the wall with her good right hand, and let the hot water ease some of the stiffness. Then she dried off, finger-combed her hair, pulled the scrubs back on, and drank a glass of water.

  That’s enough, she thought as she crawled back into bed with her last bit of energy. That’s all I’ve got.

  She came back to consciousness slowly. The smell, first. Bacon and coffee. It smelled good. The light outside was brighter, the full-body ache gentler now.

  Beside her, Tobias put his head on the bed, and she reached her hand out and petted his ears. They were soft. That was nice. He stayed a minute, then headed downstairs with a click of toenails, and she stayed where she was. It felt so much better not to move.

  Another minute, and she felt the vibration of a light tread on the stairs, then Jace came into her vision, set a mug on the bedside table, and sat on the edge of the bed again.

  “You walk softly,” she said. “And is Tobias that smart?”

  “Yeah, he is. And you had a president who said, ‘Speak softly and carry a big stick.’”

  She closed her eyes and sighed. “Sounds dirty.”

  He laughed. “Could be. I’ll let you decide, when you feel better.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Nine.”

  “I should call Hailey.”

  “Your phone’s charging. She’ll hear anyway. I’m sure you’re news. Give it a bit longer. If you want to trust me enough to take off those scrubs, I’ll see if I can help with your leg, get you more comfortable.”

  She should check her phone. She should call Hailey, and she should call her lieutenant, too. He needed to know that she’d just set herself back. But maybe Jace was right. Maybe it could wait an hour.

  “I’d act all modest,” she said, “except that I looked in the mirror. I’ve got a fat lip.”

  He laughed out loud. “Yeah. You do. We’ll wait a while on the gymnastic sex. Want some help getting your things off?”

  She sighed. “Why not.”

  His hands were gentle on her as he helped her pull the top of the scrubs over her head, the bottoms down her legs, and she asked, “Did you date soldiers?”

  “Sometimes. Go with what you know, maybe. Or go with what knows you. I can’t put you on your left side or your stomach, because of your shoulder, so I’m going to keep you on your back.”

  “Sounds dirty again,” she said. He draped the sheet across her torso, and she said, “Too bad. And ‘go with what knows you?’ You mean that civilians don’t get you.”

  “I do. Pity, as they tend to think you’re sexier. Helps make up for the no-money bit.” She was still trying not to laugh, because it hurt, when he got up and said, “Hang on. I’m getting some lotion.”

  When he was back and stroking his hands over her thigh, not going too deep at first, sliding easily over her skin, and she had her eyes closed at the pleasure/pain of it, she said, “I thought you’d be angrier. You’re a black-and-white thinker, like me. You have to be to write like you do. Good guys and bad guys. I thought honesty would be too important to you.”

  Silence for a moment, and she should open her eyes and look at his expression, but his hands felt too good. A little deeper now, his thumbs starting to dig into her quadriceps, and her attention was there. Finally, he said, “It is. But there are all sorts of honesty. A soldier has to deal with what is, not what he wants it to be, and I was a soldier for a long time. I thought about a
few things last night. About how I kissed you, and you broke it off. About how I touched you, and you told me it would be for one night. About how I wanted that night anyway. That was on me. And then I thought, do I want to throw that away? And got my answer pretty bloody quickly. So you don’t have a lingerie shop. You still have access to the stock. And so you don’t have goats. I can live without goats. Can live without chickens and bees, too.”

  Her eyes flew open. “Bees? What bees?”

  “Your beehive. Sorry. Lily’s beehive.”

  “My… I don’t…” Her head was still fuzzy, but that wasn’t why her brain had stopped working.

  “What, you didn’t know? Yeah. Over to one side of the chicken coop. Those three stacked boxes in the different colors. We practically barged into it the other night, I reckon, there in the dark. That would’ve given us another nasty surprise.” He shook her thigh gently. “You’re tensing up. Breathe in and out. Let this go.”

  “I thought that was an… incubator or something. Storage. But there aren’t bees in it.”

  He looked at her quizzically. “Yeah, there are. Why? Honeybees, not hornets. I wondered why you didn’t make cheese with all that milk, by the way, and why you left all those eggs sitting in the fridge. I’m guessing Lily bakes. Cooks. And bottles her own honey.”

  “Honey,” Paige repeated faintly. “I take it back about how sweet my sister is. I’ll kill her.”

  Jace had started to laugh. “Sorry.” He tried to compose himself, and failed. “Your face.”

  He was laughing harder, and Paige started to, too. It hurt, though, and she gasped, “Ow. Ow. I can’t laugh. Stop it.”

  It took him a while. “So if Rocky Mountain Apiaries is looking for a security guard, you’re not available?” He was still smiling, but he’d started to work on her thigh again, digging the fingers of both hands into the hamstrings now, separating the muscles and working out the knots, and she had to sigh.

  “No,” she finally said, as severely as a woman could who was being given that much physical relief. “Hey, everybody gets a phobia. Bees want to sting my eyeballs.”

  “No,” he said patiently, “they want to bring nectar back to the hive and make honey. Very focused, bees. Wasps, now…”

  “Says you. They’re after my eyeballs. And don’t talk about wasps.”

  He was smiling again. She said, “I’m only this relaxed about it because—oxycodone. Otherwise, I’d be running for the door.”

  “Nah. You wouldn’t. I’ve got your leg. No running for you. How’s that feel?”

  He’d moved up higher, and she sighed again and said, “That’s not my leg. I should be embarrassed, but it feels too good.”

  “Got to get my hands on this gorgeous arse of yours some way. A bit pervy, taking advantage of a woman in pain, but there you are, we take what we can get.”

  “So what’s your phobia?” His fingers dug in harder, and she relaxed around his hands and felt the relief all the way to her toes as the muscles let go. “Tell me you have one. And that feels so good, I may orgasm. You could politely not notice, if it happens.”

  “Mm. I’ll notice. Really?”

  “Yeah.” She wriggled a little under his hands. He had both of them under there now, had pushed her thighs apart. “It’s not sexual, it just feels that way. It shouldn’t. But… wow. Make me even happier. Tell me your phobia.”

  One of his hands stayed where it was, and the other one went to her adductor muscle and began to work on that. Which was a nice way of saying that he had his hand on her inner thigh, way up high, and that it felt great. “Giant worms,” he said.

  She should have opened her eyes. She should have smiled. But he was making her feel too good. “Giant…”

  “Another Australian wonder.” His right hand was still rubbing deep, hitting that release-spot, the left one digging deeper now, too. “A meter long, and thick as a garden hose.”

  “Like a… snake.”

  “No. Like a worm. No eyes. Huge. Rubbery. I stepped on one once, barefoot. Screamed like a little girl. Rafe laughed, the bastard. Put one in my bed once, too. I didn’t sleep in there for a week. I reckon sisters are kinder.”

  Another time, she might have answered. But his hand had gone just that tiny bit higher, was stroking gently over her, still exploring. “Feel good?” he asked. “Or stop?”

  “Don’t… stop.” She hurt, and she was boneless. Liquid. Lying back against the pillows, her eyes closed, and his right hand was on the front of her thigh, working her quadriceps now, and it was strong enough to get all the way to the deepest knots. “Hurts so good. Hurts… so…” Her back arched, her good leg tightened, and he… didn’t rush. He kept going, nice and slow, until she said, “Now. Please. Now.”

  She could hear him swearing, long and low, and she knew she was turning him on so much. That he was watching this, that it felt wrong to him, and that it was so hot.

  She said, “Tell me. I want to know. Tell me.”

  His voice was dark, and it was deep. “I want to fuck you. I shouldn’t, and I do. I want to fuck you hard.”

  She was rising off the bed, calling out, and his other hand went behind her back to support her, to hold her there for endless shuddering seconds, while she shook and gasped and moaned. While she came undone.

  “Bloody hell,” Jace said. He was throbbing. He was aching. “I reckon I won’t do your back.”

  She laughed, and then she winced. “Ow. Yeah. Sorry. How nasty was that?”

  “Pretty bloody nasty. Pretty bloody wonderful.”

  She put her palm right on his groin. “Oh, yeah. You know what would be even better?”

  “You’re joking.”

  “Well, no.” She had a hand under his T-shirt, was stroking up his chest. “I love your body. Take this off and let me touch it. I want to feel you.”

  He spared a thought for what a gentleman would do, and then he kicked the gentleman to the curb. He had his shirt off in two seconds, and his jeans off two seconds after that. And when she trailed that one good hand up over his chest, circled delicately around a nipple, then brushed her palm over it? He thought he’d lose it right there.

  “If you don’t touch me,” he said, “I’m going to die.” He meant it, too.

  She didn’t smile, because it hurt. But there was so much satisfaction in those wicked brown eyes when she trailed her hand down the line of hair from his navel, closed her fingers around him, and squeezed just hard enough.

  “Remind me to heal up,” she said, “so I can take this in my mouth.”

  “Oh, God.” He had his eyes closed, and then he opened them again, because he needed to see her. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “You won’t hurt me. Be gentle, and you won’t hurt.”

  He got a hand around her left thigh and shoved it carefully up, so her legs parted more, and she moaned. He swore, put his right hand flat on the mattress, and pushed inside her.

  Hot. Tight. Wet. He held himself off her, both palms flat on the bed and his triceps rigid, shut his eyes again, and breathed. He needed a moment. But she was tightening even more around him, contracting and releasing, and he couldn’t help it. He had to move.

  Keeping it slow, keeping it gentle was about the hardest thing he’d ever done. He set his jaw and did it, and still, every stroke took him higher. He wanted to plunge. He wanted to go hard and deep. And he couldn’t.

  She was holding still, and he knew why. Moving would hurt. Her chest was rising and falling with her breath, and he asked, “All… right?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Yes. Oh, that feels good. Oh, that feels…” Her hips were moving just a little. Just enough. “Keep doing that. Just like that. Nice and slow. Please.”

  He did. It was torture, and it was bliss. She was rocking, and he was still holding back. He said, “Talk to me. Tell me what you like.”

  She said, “I want it… every way. I want you to take me over a chair. Against the wall. On my hands and knees. I want you to hold my head and .
. I want to… I want you to tell me. Please, Jace. Tell me.”

  So he did. He told her everything he couldn’t do to her now, everything he was going to do to her later. She wanted it dirty? That was good, because he wanted everything there was. And by the time he’d finished telling her, she was gasping, contracting around him, her spasms gripping him hard, and he was swearing again.

  Going higher. Going deep.

  And, finally… letting go.

  Oh, yeah.

  Oh.

  Yeah.

  She said, when he’d rolled to his back and she could talk again, “Pain pills have a… lot to answer for.”

  “I reckon,” he said, “that I’ve got the right sister. Bloody hell.” He was out of breath, too.

  “Ha. That’s me laughing, except I can’t.”

  “Mm. Want another one? Tablet, I mean, because I’m not giving you another orgasm. Not tempting fate like that again.”

  “Oh, I think that could be a very bad idea. On both counts. Would you help me get dressed?”

  “Yeah. Help you clean up, too. One sec.” He got out of bed, came back with a warm washcloth, cleaned her off with a touch as tender as those words of his hadn’t been, and got her dressed. Which hurt, but her body was definitely relaxed, and it definitely felt better. “And I know,” he said, “I should’ve used a condom. Put it that you drove it out of my head. I’ve never wanted it that badly in my life.”

  “Mm. I’m on birth control.” She was sleepy again. “Call it the triumph of hope over experience.”

  His low laugh was her answer. “Want breakfast?”

  “Yeah. In a little bit. And my… house.” She was falling asleep. “Clothes. Bed. Out of… yours.”

  The last thing she heard was, “Out of mine? Yeah, right.”

  The next time she woke, she knew she really had to get up. Except she still didn’t, because Jace heard her starting to try, brought her another cup of coffee to replace the cold one she hadn’t gotten to, and brought up her fully charged phone, too. “Breakfast for you in ten minutes,” he promised.

  “Can you make it nothing I have to chew?” she asked. When she took a sip of coffee, her jaw hurt. “Eggs?”