Nightingale (10 page)

“So, who’s your favorite band?” I asked.

“Green Day,” Talon said.
 

I liked Green Day too. My heart beat a little faster.

“The Pretenders are good.”

I was cool with The Pretenders. So far, so good.

“And—” He cut himself off.

“And who else?” My eyes narrowed. “You were going to say somebody else’s name. Whose?”

Talon turned away. He hadn’t exactly been looking at me anyway; he still couldn’t see, but now, the superhero totally averted his face. “It’s sort of embarrassing …”

“Come on. Out with it. Who is it?”

“John Denver,” he mumbled.
 

I snickered.

“Hey, hey,” he admonished. “Quit laughing.”

“John Denver?” I asked. “You, Talon, the rough and tough superhero who gives bad guys a hard time, likes John Denver? The sensitive, soulful singer-songwriter?”

“Yeah, I do.” His mouth lifted into a smile. “Besides, chicks dig sensitive stuff. But don’t tell any of the other superheroes. I don’t want to ruin my rep as a bad-ass.”

I snickered again.
 

So, we listened to some Green Day and some Pretenders. I even dug out my CD of John Denver’s greatest hits to appease the superhero’s softer side.
 

“Why don’t you sing something?” Talon asked after we’d finished listening to the CD.
 

We were sitting side by side on the couch now.

“I don’t know,” I said, fidgeting. “I don’t really sing for other people, unless I’m drunk enough to do karaoke.”

“You were singing before when you thought I was asleep. What was that song?” he asked.

“‘Time After Time’ by Cyndi Lauper.”

“Sing that.” Talon grabbed my hand and turned his head in my direction. “Please, Wren. For me?”

I stared at him, looking at his visor-covered face and scarred body that was more than a little visible beneath my robe. I wished I could have seen his eyes, seen what was in them, seen how he was
really
looking at me. Because I knew how I was staring at him—with my heart and with all these new feelings he stirred in me painted on my face.

“All right.”
 

Against my better judgment, I sang it for him, once with the CD turned down low and once a capella.
 

“Wow!” Talon said when I finished. “Whatever it is you do, you should quit your day job and be a singer. You have a tremendous voice, Wren.”

“Thank you,” I said, glad the superhero couldn’t see how impossibly red my cheeks were.

“No,” he said. “Thank you. That was a musical treat.”

He grabbed my hand and squeezed, his rough, calloused fingers dwarfing my own.
 

I squeezed back. This time, I didn’t let go.

#

That afternoon, I made a dinner of tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. Not the most glamorous or complicated of meals, but it was warm, filling, and soothing—just like being with Talon.

Afterward, the superhero and I sat together on the couch. SNN droned on in the background as Kelly Caleb did another story from Paradise Park. To my surprise, the power had stayed on, despite the wet, heavy snow blanketing the lines outside.
 

“You know, this has been the most relaxing day I’ve had in a long time,” I said, sighing and sinking lower into the sofa.

“Really?” Talon said. “Why’s that?”

“I don’t get much time off from work, but it’s my own fault. I’m a raging perfectionist.”

“What kind of business are you in?” Talon said.

“No details,” I chided. “Remember?”

“Of course,” he said. “But let me help you relax a little more. It’s the least I can do after everything you’ve done for me.”

Before I could ask what he was up to, Talon reached over and fumbled around until he laid his hand on my neck. His hard, warm fingertips sank into my skin, gently kneading.
 

“Why are you doing that?”

“Because you’ve been cracking your neck all day,” Talon said.
 

He kept right on massaging, his fingers pressing on the vertebrae in my neck. I sighed and leaned into his touch like a puppy. If I had a tail, it would’ve been thumping a hundred times a minute. My neck cracked in the most wonderful way, my bones popping from top to bottom. Pleasant tingles flooded my body, traveling from my spine into my arms and legs.

“You really are tense,” he murmured.

Talon’s hand slid lower, and he pressed his thumbs deep into the muscles of my back, loosening, soothing away my knots. I sighed in pleasure again, and Talon kept right on massaging me with his good arm.

I blinked. He’d stopped for some reason. I turned my head, and there he was next to me. I’d been so entranced by the massage I hadn’t even felt him move closer.

“Nightingale,” Talon whispered.

I opened my mouth to tell him my name was Wren, but I stopped. Instead, I lifted my fingers up to his face, laying my palm against his cheek. Stubble darkened his chin, and his sharp whiskers bristled against my sensitive skin. But I didn’t mind the rough, prickly sensation. All I could think about was touching my lips to his, of giving in to these feelings, this rush of emotions I felt for the superhero.

So I did. And it was—
perfect
.

The kiss was perfect. Not because I’d planned or plotted or even imagined it—it just
was
.

Talon responded with just as much feeling. Maybe more, because he didn’t stop there. He wasn’t content to just steal a sweet kiss. Evidently, there were some things a man could do even when he’d been shot and temporarily blinded. Like put his hands up a woman’s shirt.
 

He pushed aside my long, loose, flannel shirt with no problem or fumbling of any kind. My silk camisole confused him for a moment before he managed to slide his hand up under the band that bound my breasts. His fingers closed over my nipple, and I almost bucked off the sofa, the sensation was so strong.

“Do you like that?” Talon whispered, rolling the stiff peak between his fingers.

Like it? If he kept doing that, I was going to have an orgasm right then. I shuddered and tried to get a grip on the tingles racing through my body—tingles that turned into surges of hot, electric pleasure.

Talon pressed his lips to mine again. I grabbed his head with my hands and opened my mouth, my tongue meeting his. Somehow, despite the soup we’d had earlier, the man still tasted like spearmint, which was rapidly becoming my favorite flavor
ever
.

“I know this is crazy, that we don’t even really know each other. But I want you, Nightingale,” he whispered against my lips. “I want you so much. You make me smile and laugh and just
feel
.”

I wanted him too. More than I’d wanted anyone in a long time. Ever, really. And I wasn’t going to deny myself this. Not tonight. But I had to ask him one question first.

“Are you sure you’re up to it?” I rasped. “Your shoulder—”

“Is feeling much, much better now. Let me show you what I can do with my hands,” Talon teased, his fingers closing over my breasts and massaging them just as he’d done to my neck a few moments earlier. “See? I’m perfectly fine now.”

If I should be a singer, then Talon needed to open up his own massage parlor. A whole chain of them. The man was that good.

“Then, hold on a minute,” I said.

I scrambled away from him, crawling toward my vest, which I’d thrown on the floor in front of the TV last night. I yanked open one of the zippers and drew out a condom. Always prepared, that was me. I took birth control pills already, but it never hurt to have extra protection. Besides, you wouldn’t believe how many times I’d had bridesmaids and other members of a wedding party come up to me and ask if I had any condoms they could have. So I’d taken to carrying them with me at every wedding—one for each bridesmaid and groomsman in attendance. It wasn’t just limited to weddings. Recitals. Business conferences. Potluck dinners. I’d even had a soccer mom corner me at her kid’s birthday party because she was getting back together with her ex—at least for the afternoon.

“What are you doing?” Talon asked.

“Getting a condom.”

“Good idea,” he said in a light, easy tone. “We’ll get to that in a few minutes.”

“And what are we going to do in the meantime?” I teased.

Talon stood, opened the robe he was wearing, and let it fall to the floor. Then, he put his hands on his hips and struck a pose that even showboat Swifte would have had a hard time copying. “I have some ideas,” he said.

My eyes trailed down his body, stopping at his erection. “It certainly looks like you do.”

“First things first,” Talon said, holding out his hand.

I gave him the condom, and he tore open the packet and slipped it on. Evidently, that was something else a blind man could do quite easily. When Talon finished, I moved back into his arms. I thought about kissing him or running my hands up and down his chest. Instead, I just stood there. Hesitating. Truth be told, when I stopped to think about it, I always felt a little awkward and self-conscious during sex, because it was one of the rare times when a man’s attention was focused squarely on me. And Talon was right. This was crazy, insane really. Lust at first sight gone out of control.

Talon didn’t kiss me or try to undress me. Instead, he just stood there, running his hands up and down my body. His touch was light, surprisingly so, given how rough his hands were, but every soft fingertip he trailed up my shoulder and down my chest burned into my skin, making me ache inside. Overpowering all my awkward fears and doubts.

Finally, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I grabbed his hands and held them tight against my chest. “What do you say we get naked?”

“I’m already naked,” Talon replied, smiling. “But I’d be more than happy to help you.”

He slid my camisole straps down one at a time, pressing sweet kisses along my arms and shoulders as the silk slid away. Then, he pushed the fabric down, exposing my breasts. His hands covered them again, kneading them as before. I couldn’t stop the low groan escaping my throat. Talon leaned down, his mouth just brushing my nipple, his tongue just flicking out to tease it.
 

By this time, so many tingles ripped through my body I felt like I’d been electrocuted again. It was wonderful, but my skin was too sensitive, and I was too impatient. I drew back, unzipped my pants, and stepped out of them. My panties followed a moment later, then the camisole.

I put my hands on Talon’s face and crushed my lips to his. He responded by yanking me toward him and pressing his fingers into my back, sliding them down my body, even as our tongues drove together. His shaft brushed my inner thigh. His fingers did too, before retreating. Again and again and again.

Exquisite torture. And I loved every second of it.

But I was in a frenzy. Too much pressure. Too much pleasure. Too many sensations.

“Talon,” I said, my voice low and husky with need.

“I know,” he said. “I know.”

Talon picked me up. I locked my legs around his waist and buried my face in his neck, drinking in his minty aroma.

“Wall,” he rasped into my hair. “Couch, table, chair, something,
anything
.”

“Couch back and to your left,” I murmured.

Talon swiveled around and took two steps forward. He reached out and touched the back of the couch. He laid me down on it. The fabric felt cool and scratchy against my bare back, but I didn’t care. There was only one thing I wanted to feel right now—Talon.

He steadied himself, then slid into me. I opened my legs, taking him inside.
 

I’d had sex since my accident, so I knew what to expect with my supercharged skin and heightened senses—knew I’d feel everything more now. Feel his stubble scraping my cheek. Hear his voice rasping out my name. Smell his scent spreading over my skin. Taste his tongue in my mouth. See him moving over me.

But this pleasure was more intense than any I’d ever experienced. And it wasn’t just physical. Hot emotions rushed through me as we kissed and caressed and moved back and forth together. I thought my supersensitive, supercharged body would explode as Talon thrust deeper inside me.
 

Then, it did, and we both did—together.

#

Afterward, we remained cuddled on the couch, wrapped in a blanket. I had my head pillowed on Talon’s chest, while he drew small circles on my shoulder with his finger.

“I like being here with you, Nightingale,” he said, his chest rumbling with every word. “You finding me in that alley was one of the best things that’s ever happened to me.”

“Why do you keep calling me that?” I asked. “I’ve told you a dozen times now my name is Wren.”

“No it’s not. Nightingale is your name,” he said in a firm voice. “You’re no drab wren. You could never be that.”

Sure I could,
I thought.
That’s what I really am. You’d agree, if only you could see me.

I closed my eyes as a horrific realization struck me. Talon
would
be able to see me, sooner rather than later. A few more hours, another day tops, and he’d get his sight back. He’d told me as much.