Banged Up (10 page)

He raised himself up on his elbows when she said, “It’s a lot to remember.”

He wanted to erase the uncertainty from her expression, but he knew his PT was daunting at first. “Between Robin’s notes—and me—it won’t be a problem. I know this is asking a lot of you.”

“Don’t be silly. I want to help.” She gave him a tentative smile. She ran a hand down his arm and squeezed his fingers. The gesture reassured him.

“There will be other exercises we can do also, ones which won’t be in Robin’s notes.”

“Oh, like what?” Colby looked down at him, still lying on the table. A fraction of a second later the blush returned in full force. “Oh.”

“Those exercises are much more fun.”

“I’ll bet. Mace—”

He already knew she was regretting them fucking the other night. It was too obvious not to notice. Not to mention, she had avoided any intimate contact since. But he wasn’t going to give up on getting her underneath him again. Or on top. He wasn’t choosy. He just wanted to feel her hot, wet, tight pussy sliding over his cock. Slowly at first. Slow and teasing. Then hard and fast and desperate. He imagined their bodies connected, slapping together hard. Over and over. Until his balls tightened and convulsed and…

Robin was suddenly standing over him again. He threw his damp towel over his lap.

Colby’s ears were almost purple from embarrassment. Christ, she must have been imagining it too.

She put a shaky hand against her throat, and it took three attempts before she asked, “Is it really necessary for him to take those painkillers? Aren’t they addictive? I would like to try some herbal remedies on him.”

Just her asking those questions was enough to cool his ardor. “You are not taking my pills away,” he warned. He wanted to fuck her until she screamed. Hell, until
he
screamed, but he would not tolerate her controlling his life. She was not his mother … or his wife.

“Mace, you can try the herbs without getting rid of your Vicodin,” Robin assured him. “And to answer your question, Colby, yes, any painkillers with hydrocodone can be addictive. But pain has a way of bringing someone’s self esteem down. We think it is more beneficial for healing if the patient feels better. Getting rid of the pain does wonders for people, it rids them of the constant reminder they are ill or injured, it gives their body a chance to really heal.” Robin indicated to Colby they should switch places.

Robin continued, “Painkillers are his choice. You don’t have to take them, Mace, you know that. Colby, if you can help him with herbs or whatever, more power to you. I like to keep things natural myself. But it has to be Mace’s decision. As long as you continue your rehab, Mace, that’s the most important thing, redeveloping your muscle tone and keeping it flexible.”

Mace lay back on the table and smiled. “I think I like having two women’s hands all over me.”

Robin rolled her eyes. “Take your pants off; it’s time for your favorite part.”

Mace grinned when Colby’s face turned the same color as her hair once more.

———

Colby could feel the heat in her face. She didn’t need to look in a mirror to see she was beet-red. But she had made a deal with Mace. More like a deal with the devil. He had kept up with his part so far, now she had to stick with hers.

Mace had helped her all day at her house, not complaining once. Well, maybe once.

But he had worked hard beside her. They had accomplished more than she had ever thought they would. They had pulled and scraped all the old wallpaper off the walls upstairs. She had hoped to get one bedroom stripped and prepared for paint. They ended up doing all four.

Now she had to do the things Robin had taught her yesterday. Like it or not.

They were both damp with perspiration. Mace’s sweat was more from pain than exertion. They had worked through his exercises using his bed as a make-shift PT table, and were now at his “favorite part.” He had removed his sweats in anticipation and lay there on the sheets in only his boxer briefs and a T-shirt.

As she leaned over the bed, Colby was trying not to zero in on areas she needed to keep her eyes—and hands—off. But she was going to be working so close to the area her eyes kept flicking back to. And it wasn’t as if Mace hadn’t responded to her closeness.

The long, hard line of his cock against the cotton was unmistakable. She swallowed hard.

“You don’t have to do this, Colby. You worked hard all day too. I’ll understand if you don’t want to.”

Colby realized she was chewing on her lower lip and released it. “No. I … I’ll do it. Robin said it would help relax the muscle and keep it from cramping.”

“I don’t know how my muscles will relax with your hands all over me.”

Could she get any redder? She was probably turning purple now. “Not
all
over you.”

Boy, was she feeling lightheaded. Perhaps it was the ringing in her ears.

“Well, if you’re going to do it, do it. I feel—” Mace gave her an over exaggerated frown. “Exposed. Like a sitting duck.”

She laughed, feeling a little more relieved. So, she wasn’t the only one feeling uncomfortable about this. In more ways than one. “Okay. Tell me if I hurt you.”

Colby held her breath, timidly placing her hands on the remains of his inner thigh muscle, and began to massage. She had no problems putting her hands on his body the other night, but this felt different tonight. She felt differently. She was beginning to really …
like
the man, instead of just lust after him.

She liked his company and his sense of humor. She thought he looked really sexy with his shadow of a beard and long, dark brown hair. He reminded her of a renegade. A loose cannon, completely opposite to her staid, boring scientist self.

She needed to loosen up. Ever since that dark night Mace Walker had crept into her life, she felt a little bit freer, a bit more content. Maybe it just was her imagination, but those multiple orgasms the other night had released something in her, something she didn’t want to admit—

Mace groaned. Colby glanced down; her hands were way too high, too close. She had been desperately trying to ignore his hard-on. She pulled away in dismay. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You didn’t. It just feels good. You were massaging so intently.” He caught her hands in his. It was enough to emphasize how much more delicate she was than him. Her hands were half his size. Colby thought back to how those thick, masculine fingers had dipped into her, strummed her, made her body tremble and writhe in pleasure. She pressed her lips together to capture the groan which so wanted to escape.

Mace brought her hands back to his thigh, giving a slight squeeze before releasing them. “Keep going.”

Colby did so, tentatively. She would make sure she paid attention to what she was doing.

“What were you thinking about?”

“What?” Colby looked up to see Mace’s dark eyes attempting to peer into her soul.

His heated stare burned her, leaving a sensation of hot liquid flowing down to her toes, making her knees wobble. The words caught in her throat. “Work,” she tried again, “I was thinking of work. Martin and I are close to completing a project.”

Colby was surprised when the spark in his eyes suddenly flickered and died. She was boring him.

“Oh, how nice. Do you and Marty work closely together a lot?”

His muscle suddenly tightened. She kneaded a little faster. “His name is Martin and, yes, we always work together. I told you, he’s my assistant.”

“That’s about all you told me. Do you often work late on projects together? Like the other night?”

All of a sudden he was interested in her work? She kept her rhythm going even though her fingers were beginning to tire. Not to mention, the topic of work cooled the heat between her legs. “Not usually. We try not to do too much overtime. First of all, we’re both salaried and second, we don’t want to burn out.”

“Yeah, you need to keep your energy level high for those special projects. Is that right?”

His tone was hostile and Colby was caught off guard.
Once again.

She stopped massaging the tight muscles in his leg and stepped back from his bed. “I don’t know what you’re insinuating. But if you’re accusing me of something… Do you think … I… We…” Colby picked his sweat pants off the floor and whipped them into his lap. She sneered at him. “I think you need a shower. You stink!”

Colby had turned to leave his room when Mace caught her arm, spinning her back toward him.

“Colby.” He looked apologetic, but Colby was too angry to even think of forgiving him.

She ripped her arm from his grasp. “No, Mace. I think I understand now. Perfectly. Even
if
Martin and I are having a relationship or whatever…” She stabbed her finger into his chest. “It’s…”
Poke.
“None…”
Poke.
“Of…”
Poke.
“Your…”
Poke.
“Damn business.”

After a few more jabs for good measure, Colby stormed out of his room and down the hall, leaving Mace rubbing his chest.

Slamming her bedroom door, Colby asked it, “Who the hell does he think he is?”

The door didn’t answer her.

Chapter Seven

“You know, our deal was we would help each other out.”

Colby dropped the paintbrush, watching in dismay as it sank like an ocean liner into the can of forest green paint. She muttered a curse. She picked up a paint stirrer and used it to try to fish the brush out. Unsuccessfully.

“Here. Let me help you.”

He had the nerve to stand there looking handsome and sexy in a snug black T-shirt, his dark eyes pleading with her to forgive him. She pushed his hand away. “No thanks.”

“Are you still mad at me?”

His voice was low, causing tingling sensations down her spine. He was trying to make her feel bad for being angry with him. It wasn’t going to work. Well, she was somewhat sure it wouldn’t. “Why would you think I was mad?”

Mace pulled his shirt up and showed her the small purple bruise on his chest. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe I had a good reason to.”

Colby admitted it to herself—she did feel bad. As much as she didn’t want to, she did. She was supposed to be helping him with his rehab, not injuring him.

“I’m sorry for being a jerk last night. You’re right; it’s none of my business. Your life is your own.”

“Yes.” Colby gave up on the lost brush and looked around for a new one.

“Yes?” He looked at her in confusion.

“Yes, you were a jerk. Yes, it’s none of your business. Yes, it’s my life.”

Mace smiled and gave her a sideways glance. “Do you forgive me?” He located another brush first and picked it up. He knelt down on one knee and brandished the brush like a jeweled sword, a peace offering for a princess. “My Lady, if I finish painting thy wicker furniture this lovely shade of green, will you forgive me? Or will it be off with my head?”

Colby studied him for a moment, wondering if she should let him off the hook. After all, he let her off the hook the other night when she missed dinner. Eventually.

She looked at all the pieces of wicker furniture which had been delivered earlier from the secondhand shop in town. They littered the living room. She wanted to get them painted so when the porch was done, she could put them outside. “I’ll think about it. Maybe if the coats are even and there are no runs.”

“Boy, you’re tough.”

She was. She’d be the first to admit it. Not out loud, though. But she had to be tough.

She wasn’t going to let this man walk into her life and turn it upside down and inside out.

She had had a relationship like that before. She had been the one on the losing end. She wasn’t going get burned ever again. Even if it meant she might never find someone for herself permanently. One of those “forever” type of men. She’d rather be alone for the rest of her life than be hurt again. It was too humiliating. Too painful.

She had been lucky to have secured her position at Malvern U. It had given her a fresh beginning and had put a good distance between her and her ex-boyfriend Craig.

Craig was truly a mean, mean man. He had been controlling. She couldn’t even believe she had wasted two years with him. Two years! It was that final time in the hospital which made her really wake up. She was tired of being blamed for things she didn’t do.

The day she walked out of the hospital, she had walked out on Craig. She got on a bus with a restraining order in hand, and headed toward Malvern. That had been over a year ago. She was sure he was too busy with his new girlfriend—the one he had been fucking while living with, and supposedly in love with, Colby—to care she had disappeared.

The more she thought about it, the more she felt the fool. She swept the memories out of her head like cobwebs.

As Colby watched Mace, involved in painting the chairs, she thought she could always get a dog to keep her company. A dog would be more faithful and love unconditionally. A dog wouldn’t be fucking someone else on the sly. At least, she hoped not.

“Hell-ooooo?”

Colby shook her head, clearing her thoughts. “What?”

“I just asked you where you’re going to put this furniture three times. If you haven’t decided yet, I suggest the porch. After it’s safe, of course.”

“The porch is exactly where it’s going to go. The contractor said it should be completely repaired and ready for paint by the end of the month.”

“Should I dare to ask what color, or is it going to be an awful shade of pink?”

“No one calls pink ‘pink’ anymore. It’s either rose or blush. Get with it! But no, it’s going to be cream.” Colby smirked at the obvious relief he didn’t bother to hide. “I’ve decided to paint the house exterior cream and accent with this forest green. And maybe some gold.” She brushed a piece of flyaway hair, an escapee from her braid, away from her face. “Or possibly red.”

“Not sunshine yellow like in the kitchen?”

“I know you hate that color. But I was looking for a bright color for the best and most used room in the house. A kitchen is where people gather. It should feel sunny. It’s where people meet and enjoy meals together or a late cup of hot cocoa on a cold winter night. I think it’s the center point of a home.”