“I left a message.” His eyes shifted to look over at the Lamborghini.
“You left it with Jimmie? He’s not good with verbal messages.”
“So, you thought…Damn. I knew I should have made sure I spoke to you, but you were in a meeting and I had to leave. The U.S. military waits for no man.”
“Are you trying to impress me? Because it’s working.”
He rubbed his hands together with a sly chuckle. “Soooo. About that date?”
Her father’s words about doing the right thing nudged her. It would be an opportunity to apologise properly. “All right. Where abouts?”
“I thought a restaurant.”
“Is it accessible? For a wheelchair I mean.”
“Of course. I do my research.”
“And when?”
“Tomorrow. I was hoping to come for another swim, but I’ll be a fraction late. Meetings until at least five.”
Lucas in his swimsuit was not to be missed. “I have a spare card, so I wouldn’t have to buzz you in. You could meet me at the pool.”
Harriet was in the pool when he arrived, the dark reddish bikini contrasting with the paleness of her body, lit by the underwater lighting. The rest of the pavilion remained dim apart from the half a dozen circles illuminated by the overhead lights. She swam strongly with her arms but from this angle he saw how her legs dragged below the knee joints.
He could see Jack’s point about amputation maybe being the better option. His expressed opinion that eventually she may have to consider it if her condition worsened had haunted his dreams ever since. At this moment he was glad she hadn’t lost her legs. Even if she would never dance for him the way she’d done in those months together.
He’d never understood the meaning of the word grace, until he’d met Harriet. The way she moved, smooth and elegant, he’d could have watched her forever. Even a simple thing like walking up the stairs had him mesmerised. Because she never really walked anywhere. Not in the way he understood walking. Putting one foot after another. She skipped, she waltzed, she dazzled. She been so alive, not like new Harriet with the fixed smile, awkward painful gait and calloused palms from the wheels of her chair.
Dumping his towel beside hers, he dived into the water, careful to keep to the side away from Harriet’s trajectory. He had a feeling she paused but when he emerged and glanced back, she still moved up the pool steadily. Disappointed, he kept swimming, until he felt the water change as she halted up near the stairs. He joined her, drifting the last few meters until he touched the tiled surface.
Propping himself on the edge of the pool on his elbow, he watched her twist her long hair to remove the water. The water trickled down her chest to gather in her shallow cleavage. He swallowed with a noisy gulp and dragged his gaze up to her face. “Are you finished?”
“I’m not sure. I lost count somewhere along the way.”
He pushed away from the side and floated to where Harriet was standing, her weight supported by the water that came to just below her breasts. “How come you don’t use flippers?”
Harriet edged away slightly. “I do, but only a couple of times a week.”
He let his legs brush against hers as he dropped them to the bottom of the pool to bring himself to a standing position directly in front of her. “You haven’t grown much in seven years. It’s hard to tell in your chair.”
She smiled ruefully. “I believe I’m actually a couple of centimetres shorter, truth be told.”
Lucas looked down at the delicate face tilted to look up at him as he towered over her, almost but not quite touching. “I’ll have to test that out.”
She licked her lips nervously, her eyes on his mouth. “How are you going to do that?”
“Easy, by doing something I used to do when I knew you before.” He sank down in the water, his knees barely touching the outside of her calves before coming to rest against her knee braces. “Is that okay?”
“It’s fine. The braces stop them flexing too much.” Her words came out breathless and husky. She was just as affected as he was, her eyes darkening to purple as her pupils dilated. He was still trying to adjust to the new and volatile emotions that surfaced under the impact of learning the truth about what happened after the accident. That raw sexual need tempered by the urge to guard her, protect her. The anxiety that tightened his chest when he thought about her pain then and now.
Here, in the water, they were equals again, not separated by the metal framework of the wheelchair, by his height compared to her stature. It would be the same in bed. The thought burned through his body, sparking electrical impulses that pumped adrenaline and blood to his extremities, feeding the ache in his gut.
Her breathing quickened as his hands wrapped around her waist, his thumb stroking down to rest on her navel. She was so slender, almost boyish with square shoulders from the swimming and her small breasts. With one hand he reached up to undo the ties of her bikini top while the other cupped her behind, bring her hips into alignment with his. “Lucas…”
“It’s okay. We’ll hear the lift bell if anyone comes.”
He began at the sensitive point on her neck just below her ear, teeth and tongue tasting her chlorine tainted flesh while his hand rested gently on her shoulder, thumb drawing circles on the silken skin over her collarbone. Pulling away, he stared at her breasts, cupping one of them with his hand. He remembered the nipple as more of a pale pink, the tip slightly puffy and the nipple itself small, blending into the surrounding flesh. Now they were darker, the raspberry coloured nipple prominent and becoming more so as his fingers kneaded the smooth silky skin.
Dipping his head, he took the hard bead into his mouth, his groin tightening as his dick throbbed against her thigh. She gave a little moan and he thought for a minute he might explode there and then. It was no good. He couldn’t keep things under control.
Harriet whimpered as he released her nipple and he licked it apologetically before retying her top. “Sorry baby. I think we need to take this somewhere more private.”
He scooped her up and carried her to her chair, helping her dry herself before she sat. She said nothing, wide eyed and chewing her bottom lip as he pulled his tee over his head. If anything, she looked more nervous than he felt.
As the lift dropped down to her floor, his own stomach dropped at her distant expression.
She frowned suddenly. “Where are your clothes?”
“I dropped them in your apartment before I came up to the pool.”
“Oh…that was sensible.”
“Harriet…” She gave a hard push on the wheel as she entered the apartment and spun to face him. He closed the door and stood waiting.
“Lucas.”
“Harry, if I’m going too fast we can slow down.” It would kill him, but he didn’t want to stuff this up.
She blushed, a paler shade to her bikini. “I was wondering. Would you like to help me out in the shower? It might be quicker…”
Or not. He held the towels in front of his body as another rush of heat surged from the pit of his stomach to his chest and back again. “Sure thing.” Crap. He sounded like a mouse on steroids.
Harriet eyed Lucas warily. He looked like he was ready to jump her one minute and the next he withdrew. He’d seemed out of control in the pool but suddenly he backed off. This hot and cold Lucas was hard to gauge. His arousal pressed against her told one story, but his stiff demeanour in the lift made her nervous. What if he was having second thoughts? She wasn’t even sure how this would work.
“Well? Are we having this shower?”
We? Him, her, together. She didn’t dare look down, sure her nipples were sticking out like guns on a fembot. He’d brought her to aching excitement only to pull away. After seven years of sterile nothingness, her body was out of control, wet and wanting.
“If you like.” How inane was that. She hoped he more than liked or this was going to be humiliation central.
Without looking behind, she went down the hallway, into her bedroom.
She paused until he caught up and entered the bathroom. He’d followed her this far. That had to be good.
“What can I do?” He stood, leaning against the doorframe with the towels held against his stomach. His eyes scanned the white tiled room, lingering on the stainless-steel rails in the shower and then shifted to look at the ones around the toilet. “This is a pretty good setup.”
“We bought if off the plan, so it was done especially.” She moved over to the shower, wondering what he must be thinking. The room screamed disability. Emphasised her inadequacies. This is a mistake.
“It isn’t.” She jerked around to look at him. “It’s not a mistake, Harriet.”
She’d spoken aloud? Talking to herself? Next, she’d be adding mentally unstable to her CV. “It’s not exactly sexy.”
“You are.” He dropped the towels on the hamper and came closer, squatting down, balancing with one hand on her chair. “Harry. If you aren’t comfortable, I’ll leave you alone.” His hand stroked her thigh above the brace, his fingertips almost brushing the fabric of her bikini. “But I would love to stay.”
Prickles under her skin burned their way to the surface under his touch. A gush of moisture anticipated his possession. “Ahuh…All right. If you just leave me alone for a minute. Then I’ll be ready.”
She rushed to do what was necessary before he returned, seating herself on the fold down bench in the shower as his knock came on the door.
Bunching the towel around her, she drew a calming breath. “I’m ready.” He was ready too if the rigid shape in his swimmers could be believed. “Is that a sonic screwdriver in your pocket…?”
His chuckle at the familiar quip warmed her as his thumbs dug under the waistband and released his erection.
“I guess you could say that. On the other hand, I’m very pleased to see you.”
He dropped the togs onto the hamper with the towels and joined her in the large shower area, his skin pale gold apart from the narrow untanned strip across his pelvis. No shyness there, but he didn’t need to be shy with that kind of endowment. Her mouth was suddenly dry as he stopped in front of her, his penis right in her line of sight, upright against his stomach in its nest of black curls.
“What’s with the towel, Harry? Are you cold?”
“Just a little nervous. It’s been a long time for me.” She tilted her chin up, forcing herself to look at his face.
“It’s…” His lips compressed over the words and she wondered what he would have revealed. She didn’t want to know, did she?
Long fingers pried her hands away from their clutch on the towel. “Trust me, Harry.”
Trust. Lucas knew instinctively that was the big question. He’d lost her trust by walking when she’d pushed him away. She thought all she was offering now was sex, all he was wanting. He wanted a whole lot more. But it was a start and here was as good a place as any. They’d done so little before, been so cautious.
She’d been a good girl even back then, focused on her studies, her free time filled with dance classes and drama lessons. No time for a boyfriend. Her parents sent her to a religious school and for Harriet it meant something. For him, newly discovering the joys of a girlfriend after years of awkward interactions with the female of the species, the unwelcome restrictions had been less about some old-fashioned ideal of purity and more about keeping Harriet.
He’d known she would walk away if he made it about sex. She’d clung to the ideals her parents instilled in her. Nice folks, good people, but over-protective.
The towel came free and he hung it over one of the rails. “I like this bench. I can get closer.”
Her hand came up immediately, the slender fingers wrapping around his swollen shaft. It felt so bloody good. “How close do you want to be?”
God, he loved it when she smiled like that, wicked yet still sweet. There were no surprises with her body. He’d been afraid there might be hidden scars apart from those on her legs. A little bit skinny, her ribs showing under the pert breasts and her pelvic bones visible low on her stomach. The neat triangle of golden hair matched the darker brows and lashes rather than the silvery blonde of her hair. He glimpsed the shadowy depths at the apex of her slightly parted thighs and everything tightened down below.
She gripped him harder as he twitched, tugging him closer, bringing one leg between her knees and the other jammed against the bench. He watched, captivated as she licked her lips. “All right?”
He nodded, sucking in air as she pulled the foreskin back and licked the sensitive exposed tip. He wanted to watch but the pleasure as she licked the underside from his balls to his knob was too much. He steadied himself, winding his fingers through her hair as her other hand explored his sack, squeezing and pressing one finger on the receptive spot just behind. How the hell did she know so much? She took him into her mouth, the warmth moist cavern swallowing his dick down to where her hand wrapped around his shaft. He wasn’t going to last. Too much anticipation, too much need.
Opening his eyes, he sought out Harriet’s gaze. “I have to pull out.” Her eyes widened as she made a small negative movement of her head. Her knuckle pressed hard into his prostate and it was too late. His tangled fingers jerked in her hair as she swallowed him deep, taking him beyond control, beyond thinking as he fell into pleasure, his knees giving way, falling heavily onto the hard edge of the bench. The pain spiked him into awareness and he braced himself against the shower wall, taking deep breaths.
Harriet’s touch on his abs, delicate and warm brought him back. He dropped to his knees, searching her face. “I’m sorry.”
Her hand trailed across his left shoulder, fingertips tracing the almost invisible scars. “Was it so bad?”
The rueful quirk of her lips along with the warmth of her gaze made a nonsense of his anxiety. “You know it was pretty damn good for me.”
A delicate flush pinked her cheekbones. “I’m glad.” Her fingers still hesitated over his shoulder, the roughness of the skin the only obvious reminder of the gravel rash that left his shoulder bloody and raw after the accident. That and the broken arm had been quick to mend. Unlike Harriet’s wounds.
“You show me yours and I’ll show you mine.” He whispered against her ear and saw the pulse at the base of her throat flutter.
“You don’t really want to see them.” He moved his lips to the hollow at the base of her throat letting his tongue dip into the shadowed skin. “I want to find out all the things that have changed in the last seven years since I last knew you.”
He ran a hand over her bare skin. “But first we better shower and get you warm.”
“I need to get out of my braces. It would be quicker if you helped.”
“Your wish is my command”
She giggled as he bowed, his nudity and kneeling posture an odd contrast with the old-fashioned gesture. Memories of other times, other occasions when he’d made her laugh sobered her, but he wasn’t looking at her face.
He was studying the braces on her knees with interest, his long fingers probing and prodding until he finally started to pull the Velcro straps to release them. “Is there anything I should watch out for?”
Harriet nodded. “Try not to twist the knee.”
Carefully supporting each leg, Lucas removed the moulded braces and put them aside.
“What would happen if they twisted?”
“They could pop out of alignment or the ligaments could get stretched.”
He was adjusting the water temperature as he spoke, lifting the shower hose from the wall mount. “Is it painful when it happens?”
“A bit. But it’s very rare if I’m cautious. It’s why I have to strap them to the chair to play basketball.”
His fingers in her hair, lifting the long strands to make sure the warm water flowed through the thick layers, soothed her. She didn’t protest as he shampooed and rinsed but when he began to soap her body she wiggled uncomfortably.
“I’m not a baby. I can help you know.”
He plant
ed a kiss on her nose. “And spoil my fun?”
All the same, he let her wash herself, using the fixed shower rose on the other wall to bathe himself, distracting her with the sight of his body all slick with soapy water.
He dried her legs for her paying particular attention to her toes. “Here’s my favourite.” He tweaked the knobbly middle toe she’d broken in a fall at ballet rehearsal. He’d said he liked that she had something imperfect, otherwise he really would believe she was a Faerie escaped from the Elven lands. There was a lot more imperfection now.
He seated her on the edge of the bed, a towel swathed turban like around her wet hair. For a moment her body rebelled at losing the touch of his bare skin against hers as he unwrapped her head. When he began to towel her hair, it was a simple matter to slip her arms around his waist and steady herself by resting against his chest. As she lay her cheek against the steady beat of his heart a calmness seeped into her. It had been so long since she’d felt this way. Tingling alive right down to her fingertips yet harbouring a deep contentment.
It was the sex. It had to be. It couldn’t be more than physical. She wouldn’t let it be more. Friends with benefits he’d said and that suited her fine. Love was too painful. She had no intention of going that route again. All she wanted was to assuage this physical ache that had reignited when Lucas had come back into her life and presumably the same thing was driving him.
“This bed is higher than average. Is that deliberate?”
Harriet had to concentrate on his words as she lost focus, inhaling the warm scent of his body. Melting her like chocolate under the summer sun.
She stirred herself, lifting her head away from its smooth, velvet skinned pillow. “Yes. I find low beds hard to get out of.”
There was a low rumble of laugher that echoed through her chest. “That’s not such a bad thing, is it? But I can think of other things useful about high beds.” He pressed his thighs against her stomach and the visual images his words invoked brought out goose bumps on her skin. He finished her hair and his fingers combed out the tangles, running lightly over her scalp and down her back. Did every touch from this man have electrical impulses? Closing her eyes, she savoured the sensation of skin warming under the slight pressure of his fingertips.
Tell Me No Lies Page 9
