Touch Me (2 page)

He pictured himself walking in the door and seeing her. She’d freeze and stare up at him with glazed eyes, whisper his name in a pleading tone.

Wincing as the stitches in his shoulder pulled, Alex rolled gingerly to his right side and fisted his swollen cock. He held on to the mental picture of her, the sheets falling away from her full breasts as she sat up and reached for him. Her nipples were hard, rosy points, begging for his mouth. He sucked them gently, allowing a moan of relief to escape when she murmured in pleasure and took hold of his rigid length to caress him. Her hand was so cool, so silky on his hot skin. Tonight he didn’t even make it to the part where she leaned down to take him in her mouth.

His fist tightened around the slick head along with her hand in the fantasy for those first delicious strokes, and the building orgasm suddenly crashed over him. It burst through him in wrenching pulses that went on and on, and when they finished he collapsed against his pillow, breathing hard. Christ, he’d never come that fast before. Had the images been more vivid because he knew she was just across the hall, in the guest bed?

With a groan, he sat up and rubbed his tired eyes. His internal clock was already thrown off—the last thing he needed was to be tormented by fantasies of her that could never come true.

And it was only going to get worse, because he had to endure sharing the same roof with her for the foreseeable future.

Tia glanced up from her paper when she heard footsteps on the stairs the next morning. Her heart was already beating fast when Alex came into view, short black hair damp from a shower. He wore a pair of dark jeans and a snug navy T-shirt that molded to his muscular torso. He moved with a power and grace that came from an ample supply of self-confidence and years spent in the military. But when those golden brown eyes met hers and his lips curved in a sexy grin, her heart seemed to stop altogether for a moment.

“Morning.” His deep voice rolled over her senses like a physical touch.

“Hi. Sleep well?” He looked amazing, despite the bandages on his left arm.

“Great. You?”

“Fine.”

He helped himself to the fresh pot of coffee she’d made. “I still feel bad for booting you out of my room. My mother would kick my ass if she found out.”

“Don’t worry about it.” She’d only slept in there in the first place because he’d told her to, and because of the convenience of the ensuite. “Hope you’re hungry. I made waffles earlier.”

“You’re spoiling me.”

“I’m trying.” She pulled the warm platter from the oven and set it on the table while he sat across from her.

“This looks great.” He stabbed a crisp vanilla-and cinnamon-scented waffle with his fork, and she couldn’t stop staring at his hand. Long, strong fingers, the nails clean and trimmed to the quick. Capable, masculine hands. Would he know how to use them on a woman the way she’d imagined? Hold her down, control her while he forced her past her inhibitions and into pure pleasure? Something told her he would. Spectacularly.

Stop it. He’s been wounded, just got home, and all you can do is think about what he’d be like in bed?
She pulled herself back to the present and focused on his injuries. His skin was a deep golden brown, the back of his other hand nicked with little cuts. Without thinking, she grabbed it gently in one of her own.

He stilled and met her eyes. A tingle ran through her. God, he was gorgeous.

He frowned when he saw the newspaper and the rental ads she’d circled. “You don’t need to do that yet. I’m not gonna kick you out or anything.”

“I don’t want to get on your nerves, and you’ve already let me stay here six months.” Six months of respite from the grim reality she couldn’t hide from anymore: she was thirty-one, her marriage had ended in an epic failure and now she had to start over. No getting around that one anymore.

“You won’t get on my nerves.”

Well, he’d get on hers, though not in an annoying way. The man was so sexy it hurt to look at him. Tidbits of info she’d learned from friends over the past couple years about his reputation in the bedroom kept her awake at night, wondering if he was even half as good in bed as she’d made him out to be in her fantasies. She knew he’d be dominant. But what kind? Was it the kind of dominance she’d always craved but had been made ashamed of wanting? Strong but tender, and not afraid to take what he wanted or push a woman’s boundaries when she needed him to?

What kind of sick freak are you?

Her ex-husband’s disgusted voice rang in her ears. She forced it aside and examined Alex’s muscular forearm. Lots of cuts and bruises, but there had to be more shrapnel buried deep in the skin. No doubt he’d be pulling tiny pieces of metal from his skin over the next few months as they worked themselves toward the surface. She’d seen it a lot with patients suffering shrapnel wounds. “How much longer until the stitches come out?”

“Anytime now. I was going to head into the clinic later on.”

“Can I see them?”

He pulled back the tape securing the gauze bandage, revealing three half-inch-long gashes stitched up with black thread. The edges were red and a bit swollen, but they looked pretty well healed and didn’t show any sign of infection.

“These go right up your arm?”

“A few more, yeah. The ones on my shoulder are the deepest.” He said it like it was no big deal.

She wanted to kiss them all better but didn’t dare. “I can take the stitches out if you want.”

“You sure?”

“If you’re comfortable with it,” she added hastily. “I’ve done it lots over the years.” Both in her job and with her ex. Thinking about him made her stomach tighten. She hated that he could still affect her after all this time away from him. Releasing Alex’s arm, she sat back and perused the rental ads while he ate.

“Aren’t you eating?”

“I did already.” Some low-fat yogurt and fruit about an hour before. Now the smell of those waffles was making her stomach growl.

“You’re not on a diet, are you?”

At his disapproving tone, she glanced up. He was frowning.

“No, just watching what I eat.”

He chewed thoughtfully for a moment. “Is it because of something he said?”

The knot in her stomach drew tighter, and she pretended to be interested in the classifieds. The silence stretched out between them. She could feel him watching her. “It didn’t take him to point out that I could stand to lose a few pounds,” she said finally.

Alex’s fork clattered against his plate and before she could look up, he’d reached across the table to grasp her chin in his big hand. He tilted her face up as she stared at him in surprise. The anger tightening his jaw shocked her. “There was nothing wrong with your figure before,” he said in a low voice. “Not. A. Thing.”

All she could do was blink. As the male appreciation in his words registered, a tendril of forbidden heat trailed through her, ending up deep in her sex. Her body heated, need unfurling in a painful rush. Tearing at her cruelly. Alex wasn’t for her. Never would be, because he’d never see her as anything besides Brian’s sister. And because he could have his pick of women far more attractive than her.

“Men like women curvy and soft, you know,” he said matter-of-factly.

His sweet attempt at boosting her self-esteem made her smile. “Not all men.” And it still cut her when she thought of the hurtful remarks David had made after his injury. He wasn’t an evil man, but his verbal abuse had destroyed their marriage. By the end it was impossible for her to tell how much of the anger was due to his injury, the psychological toll of the PTSD or plain resentment over his situation.

“All the smart ones, then.” With a wink that made the walls of her sex clench, Alex released her chin and sat back.

Heart beating hard and fast, she got up and tidied the kitchen while he finished his waffle. When he was done he groaned and set his cutlery down, giving her a smile that made her toes curl. Would he have that same satisfied look on his face after a round of really good sex? “That was so good. Thanks, Tia.”

“You’re welcome.” So polite, when all she really wanted to do was crawl into his lap and press into his chest, feel his strong arms around her. She wanted him to take her face between his hands and kiss her with even half the heat that filled her now. God, how pathetic was she to pine over him?

He rinsed his plate and brushed past her to put it in the dishwasher, his hip grazing hers. The jolt of sensation that rocketed down her leg made her take a quick step back to put some space between them.

“So…is this a good time to look at my stitches?” he asked.

If she could stop her hands from shaking. “Sure. Here?”

“I’ve got some stuff in my bathroom.”

She followed him upstairs and couldn’t help stealing a guilty peek at his ass while he took the stairs. Tight and firm beneath the denim, she knew it would bunch and flex beneath a woman’s ankles as he rode her.

What’s wrong with you?
If Alex knew what she was thinking he’d be embarrassed, maybe horrified, flattering compliments about her figure aside.

From the medicine cabinet he pulled out some rubbing alcohol, small gauze pads and a little pair of scissors. Before she could say anything he grabbed the hem of his T-shirt and peeled it over his head, leaving her staring at his broad, muscular back. Even with the left side of it marred by nicks and bruises, the sight of all that smooth, naked skin made her bite back a groan. He had tan lines at his neck and upper arms, but even the paler skin was a warm caramel color. She clenched her fingers into her palms to keep from smoothing her hands over him.

Half turning, he smiled slightly, handing her the rubbing alcohol and a cotton ball. “Go easy on me.”

She felt herself flush and hoped he hadn’t caught her staring. “I won’t take them out if they’re not healed up.” When he turned back to face the mirror, she kept her eyes on her task and buried the sexual awareness beneath her professional demeanor.
Pretend he’s just another patient,
she told herself as she examined the scattered clumps of stitches in his arm and wiped them with the rubbing alcohol. “They look okay. Can I have the—”

A pair of tweezers and the scissors met her outstretched fingers.

“Thanks.” The stitches in his forearm came out easily enough. He didn’t flinch when she snipped the threads and carefully pulled the ends out with the tweezers. The sight of the wounds bothered her more than they would have on another patient, because this was Alex. He’d suffered these injuries in the confines of an armored vehicle, while wearing body plates and a helmet. Without them, he might have been killed. That scared her.

“You’re frowning,” he said. “See something you don’t like?”

Something I like more than I should, you mean.
“You were right about the ones in your shoulder. They’re pretty deep—I think they could use another few days.”

“Okay.”

God, she wanted to bend her head and kiss the marks on his body away. Rest her cheek against him and nuzzle his warm skin. Unable to stop herself, she stroked the pads of her fingers over a barely healed wound in the back of his triceps. The defined muscles flexed in response. Goose bumps rose across his skin. Flushing, she glanced up into the mirror to offer an apology. And froze.

He was staring right at her, amber gaze locked with hers. Raw heat flickered in his eyes for a moment before he masked it. Her mouth went dry and her nipples tightened. She might not be all that experienced, but even she couldn’t mistake the desire she’d just seen on his face.

You’re crazy. He doesn’t think about you that way.

Her pounding heart cried otherwise.

Caught by the power of that intense stare, she couldn’t look away. He didn’t move, just stood there with the sculpted muscles of his chest and flat abdomen displayed in the large mirror. A thin line of black hair trailed down the center of his body, disappearing into the low slung waistband. Below that, a very evident erection pressed against the front of his jeans.

Swallowing a gasp, she jerked her gaze back to his. His hands gripped the edge of the vanity, the muscles in his arms corded with sudden tension. She wanted to press herself against his broad back and glide her hands over his arms, his chest, down that trail to the bulge in his jeans, but she wasn’t brave enough to risk the attempt. Was he really attracted to her? Or was his body merely reacting to her touch?

Her legs refused to move when he turned slowly, and faced her. His eyes trailed over her face like a caress, settled on her lips. The breath backed up in her lungs. He was so close she could feel the heat emanating from him, drawing her to him with an invisible pull.

Touch me.
The aching whisper stuck in her throat.

One large, bronze hand came up to cup her cheek. The touch was gentle, his palm cradling her almost reverently, but she felt it all the way to the growing wetness between her legs.

Alex studied her intently, as though trying to read her thoughts. His thumb brushed across her lips, and she gasped at the sudden bolt of heat that loosened her knees. The air all but crackled around them.

Mindful of his injuries, she grabbed the hard curves of his biceps to steady herself, her heart fluttering when they bunched beneath her hands. The heat inside her was already so intense, if he kissed her she might incinerate. Was he going to kiss her? Do things to her she’d only dreamed of? Surely he wouldn’t laugh at what she wanted or make her feel like there was something wrong with her. She wanted Alex, had for some time. Facing him now with the tantalizing possibility of being able to have him, her chest threatened to explode.

“Tia.” His thumbs swept back and forth across her cheekbones questioningly, that hot gaze dipping down to her mouth before coming back to her eyes.

Spellbound, unable to speak, she nodded.
Yes. Kiss me. Kiss me hard.
Her heart pounded against her ribs.

“This could change everything between us,” he warned softly.

Looking into his eyes, she swallowed and found her voice. “Promise?”

She couldn’t have shocked him more if she’d flat-out propositioned him. Never in a million years had he ever expected Tianna McIntyre look at him with that kind of sexual hunger in her eyes.

Her cheeks flushed a rosy pink, and her lips were slightly parted. Letting his gaze roam lower, he noticed the hard nipples pressing against the confines of her snug top. Fuck. The woman was a walking wet dream, but this was shaky ground. He would never just fuck her and walk away—she was a good friend. Brian’s twin sister. What the hell had changed to make her look at him like this?

He wanted to kiss her. Wanted to wrap his hands in her thick, shiny hair and sink his tongue into her mouth until she twisted and squirmed in his arms. Then he’d undo all those delicate buttons and cup the full breasts that had tortured him so many nights with the mystery of what they’d look like, feel like. He’d lick and suck them until she whimpered and fisted her hands in his hair. And he wouldn’t stop there. When he had her naked and begging, he’d pin her right here on the fluffy bath mat and bury his face between her thighs. Make her scream as she came against his tongue, around his fingers. Make her beg for more.

Nice. Because every woman wants to be pinned and taken on the bathroom floor her first time with a new lover.

Shit. He had to slow down, get a grip. His jaw tightened as he fought the lust flooding through him. She made him crazy. “Tia…”

The light in her eyes dimmed slowly then extinguished. He felt like he’d just kicked her. She lowered her eyes and stepped back. Damn, did she think he was turning her down because he wasn’t really interested? Or that he didn’t think she was sexy enough?