by Maine, Miley
Very carefully, I helped her tug the scrubs off that the hospital had given her. Her own clothes had been soaked through by the time we got to the hospital.
Do not get turned on. This is not a sexy situation. She’s injured.
My libido did not get the message. The sight of her in a matching set of white bra and panties had my cock hard again in two seconds. I’d barely had a break since we’d gotten home.
However, the bruising on her upper arm had me rethinking my arousal. I ran my fingertips across the top. “You’re all banged up.”
“Yeah. I don’t even remember that part. Everything’s kind of blurry now.”
Once again, I was bombarded with thoughts of what could have happened to her. “That’s probably a good thing.”
“Will it always be fuzzy?”
“It depends. Some people never remember an accident or a trauma, especially when they’d had to take some pain meds. But you didn’t hit your head. So it all might come rushing back.” I held onto her waist and helped her sit down in the warm water. “You might get nightmares too.”
“It wasn’t that bad.”
“It would have been scary for anyone.”
I didn’t have a fancy removable spout in the tub so that I could wet her hair, and I didn’t want her trying to lie down. “Hang on.” I left and came back with a plastic bowl. I filled the bowl with water and gently poured it over her hair.
She closed her eyes and tipped her head back. “That feels amazing.”
I dumped some of my own shampoo onto the top of her hair and started scrubbing.
“Ooh, that feels tingly,” she said.
I looked at the bottle. It said it was infused with charcoal and peppermint. Huh. I’d had no idea. I scrubbed her hair, doing the best I could. I’d never washed anyone’s hair before, and mine had always been fairly short, compared to a woman’s long hair.
She kept her eyes closed, and she kept moaning, so once again, my erection was back. “I think I’ve soaped it all.”
“You did a good job,” she said with a blissful smile. “Felt like a massage.”
Now it was my turn to groan. That made my cock throb. I managed to get her hair rinsed out with the help of the bowl. “I don’t know how you deal with all this hair.”
I clumsily wrapped a towel around her head. It was wobbly, but maybe it would absorb the water. “All done.” I handed her a bar of Irish Spring soap and a washcloth. “Can you do the rest?”
She blinked up at me. “Can you do it?”
Fuck.
Was this a come on? Or was she still physically impaired? I’d watched her use her right arm all day. Surely she could use it to wash herself.
She made no move to take the wash cloth from me. “Are you sure?”
“Very sure.”
Okay. She was definitely flirting with me. I wasn't going to tell her no. I inhaled and steeled myself. I washed her shoulders and back with feather light touches, making sure I avoided all the bruising. Did women wash their breasts? It seemed like I had seen them soap them up in the shower a time or two. I was just going to do it and not be awkward about it. I wiped the washcloth down the hollow of her throat and then over her breasts.
She pulled her shoulders back, pushing her breasts forward.
I could tell she was doing it on purpose. Her nipples tightened. I continued like this was just business as usual. I moved the washcloth over her stomach and then down her legs.
“Would you like to wash between your legs for yourself?”
“I'd rather you do it.”
Stifling a groan, I did the best I could.
I carefully slid the washcloth between her thighs. Not surprisingly, she spread her legs open, letting me see her sweet pussy.
As I dragged the washcloth over her folds, she sighed. “You're good at this,” she said “Just like you’re good hair washing.” She let her head loll back. “This is like a massage too.”
No one giving her a massage better be touching her like this. If they did, I'd have ripped their head off.
Her hand came up to touch my cheek. “Why are you making that face?”
“Because I was hoping you weren't getting an inappropriate massage. Where someone takes advantage of you.”
“No nothing like that. I've only been to spa days with my friends. All the employees are women.”
“Good. Let's get you dried off.”
“But the water feels so good.”
“We can take another bath later,” I promised.
I was going to have to take care of my physical reaction. Before I could stop her, her hand came up and brushed over the front of my pants.
“Want me to take care of that?”
I didn't want to hurt her feelings. But she was not in her right mind either. “Later.”
“How much later? Tonight?”
“We'll see.”
“Why not now?”
“Because you had morphine earlier today, and it's a very powerful drug. When the only thing you've had is Tylenol for several hours, then we can talk.”
She stuck her lips out in a pout.
Unfortunately for me, the only thing I could think about was how she could still use her lips on my cock. It was not helping with the persistent ever-present throbbing of my cock. My erection had gone from nagging to demanding attention.
If I didn’t get her dressed, I was going to come in my pants, something that I hadn’t done since high school. My primal instinct was shouting at me to lift her out of the bathtub and take her right there on the rug of the bathroom. I could have her impaled on my cock in ten seconds flat.
But that would not be right.
She protested, but I lifted her out of the water and dried her off. I guided her into the bedroom and pulled her pajamas out of her bag. I nearly laughed at them. But I could not suppress my smile as I helped her button up the top and pull up the pants.
Her pout got bigger as she stuck her lower lip out even further. “What?”
“You look cozy.”
“Are you making fun of me?”
“Of course not.”
The pajamas were a mint green flannel, with little blue lamas wearing Santa hats. They were ridiculous, and yet she looked perfect wearing them. Her red hair curled all around her shoulders and her green eyes were sparkling again, which I was glad to see.
“Even your pajamas are Christmas-themed.”
“I love Christmas. It's my favorite time of year.”
I wasn't expecting her words to be a punch to the gut. Shouldn't I be getting better by now? I'd seen a damn therapist for months. Then I had gone off into the wilderness. But just a word or a phrase sent me right back there.
I never knew when it was going to happen either. I could look at her Christmas pajamas and be amazed. But when she said it was her favorite time of year my heart nearly stopped.
“Are you okay?” she asked. Even half drugged, she was perceptive enough to realize that I had reacted.
“I'm fine.” Bethany was in my home. She was staying with me because she was injured. I didn't have time to wallow in the past and feel sorry for myself.
“Let’s get you back on the couch.”
She looked around my room and her eyes settled on my mantle. “It's only a few days before December 25th and you don't have any Christmas decorations.”
“No I don't.” I didn't have any and I wouldn't have any. Never.
“We could get some while I'm here,” she said cheerfully.
And just like that my vision tunneled. I was back in Prague. One year ago.
I met Isobel during training, on the very first day we started. I was recruited from the Air Force. She was recruited from the Navy. There was never any attraction between us. We shared a birthday, and we were insanely competitive with each other.
A year into our service, we met up in Helsinki for a quick vacation. I had Cameron with me. I’d finished dinner alone, because as soon as they saw each other, they were smitten. They’
d gotten married four months later.
The CIA allowed them to be married, but they weren’t allowed to be partners. But it worked out great for me. My best friend and my work partner were married. I had an instant family. I had stepped away from my own biological family because my father was furious at me for my career in the Air Force. He was an orthopaedic surgeon and wanted to pass his practice down to me. I always made good grades and scored really high on standardized tests. No one doubted that I could get into an Ivy League college or any med school that I wanted.
But I wanted to attend the Air Force Academy. I wanted to be a pilot. The CIA was never on my radar. But once I joined the air force it was clear to someone higher up that I was good at intelligence work.
My dad did not care about that. All of his friends who were doctors were able to get their sons and daughters to go into medicine. My father wanted something to brag about at the Country Club. The Air Force wasn't good enough for him.
Isobel became like the sister I never had. I had a brother, but he sided with my father.
For years, the three of us were a family unit. We had other friends, and Isobel still talked to her biological family, but I didn't need anyone else.
At Thanksgiving, Isobel found out she was pregnant. The three of us had celebrated in Munich. She was going to retire in January. She had already planned to name the baby Logan, whether it was a girl or a boy.
In late December, I had a mission in Prague. The mission started out normally enough. Cameron and I have been working together for years.
Our information leaked. We were discovered. But we had no idea. We invited Isobel to join us in Prague for Christmas. The city was a festive place during the holidays and we’d been out enjoying the nightlife until Isobel got tired.
But a terrorist cell had been tracking us. They broke into the apartment we were living in. When we were working, I was always armed. But that day, I’d put my weapon away and I’d started drinking, because we were off duty. When they broke in, my gun was too far from me.
They grabbed Isobel. She used every technique in the book to try to get away. But there were just too many of them. They slit her throat. Cameron and I watched her bleed out, right in front of us.
He lost his wife, and his baby that day.
Before they got to us, I wrestled a gun away from one of them, and shot them all in the head. Maybe I should have let them kill me and Cameron too.
I lost my best friend, and my niece or nephew. Nothing could ever change what had happened. I resigned the next day.
Later, I found out the leak had encompassed more than we’d thought I had not only lost my friend, but I’d lost three assets as well.
That was the day I resigned from the CIA.
* * *
Cameron pressed his hands to his wife’s neck, but it was too late. He dropped his hands, and then he grabbed her and held her close, rocking her.
In the distance, I heard cars honking. The smell of turkey cooking drifted through the air vents. Somewhere in the building, a phone rang.
None of it mattered. All that mattered was the woman who lay in front of me. She was dead.
I dropped to my knees next to Cameron. I stared at the blood on his hands.
“Isobel,” I said.
There was nothing else to say.
Her eyes were closed.
I dropped my head to hers. My friend. My sister in all but blood. “I am so sorry. I love you.”
Now Cameron’s hand was on her stomach.
My chest heaved. The baby. The baby was gone too. Along with Isobel.
“Logan.”
Someone was saying my name, over and over.
“Logan. What can I do?”
I felt a hand on my arm. I almost shoved the person away, but at the last second, my brain turned on and I realized it was Bethany’s small hand touching me. I could barely hear her for the ringing in my ears.
It had been a flashback. I hadn’t had one in six months. Fuck. I’d thought I was past them.
I looked at my hands. There was no blood. They were clean. I’d just washed Bethany’s hair.
I jerked away from her. I’d almost lashed out at her. That was unacceptable.
“Stay back,” I said.
I went to the front door and opened it. I stepped out, letting the icy blast of air cool my face. I sucked in the cool, clean air. My heart was still pounding.
I was only out there for about two minutes when I heard the door creak open behind me. Godammit. This girl could not live well enough alone. What the hell did she want from me now?
“I thought I told you to stay back.”
She stood there in her Christmas pajamas with the outlandish lamas wearing Santa hats. “You rescued me. I thought I might return the favor.”
She needed to understand there was no way to rescue me. It couldn’t be done.
I turned around and herded her back into the cabin. Her face was far too pale. I picked her up and took her back to the couch. “Don’t get up again.”
I expected her to say that I couldn’t tell her what to do, but she didn’t. She was silent.
I moved away, intending to put more wood on the fire, but Bethany grabbed my arm. I sat back down next to her.
“What? What’s wrong?” I asked.
I hoped I hadn’t scared her too badly by zoning out. It never happened when I was flying or driving. My therapist insisted that was important, but she wouldn't tell me why. If I’d stayed in the CIA, I’d still be going every week. But as a civilian, I never had to see another shrink again.
She didn't say a word. She just leaned in and pressed her mouth against mine.
For a moment I gave in to the impulse. Her lips were soft and warm and she felt so good in my arms.
But then I had to pull away.
This could not happen again. I couldn’t kiss her. I couldn’t fuck her. I was no good for her. I was no good for anyone.
17
Bethany
“I'm going to shower,” Logan said.
With that announcement he was gone from the room.
I had to admit that I felt a little hurt by Logan's rejection. Based on how things had been between us two nights ago I had not expected to be rebuffed.
But Logan was obviously going through something difficult. I hadn't missed the faraway look in his eyes. He had obviously dealt with some pretty traumatic events. I knew better than to ask what happened. But I couldn't stop my concern.
When he walked out the door I was worried. I wasn't sure if he even knew where he was. Honestly, it scared the shit out of me. I knew from Emma that her brother had flashbacks and nightmares but I didn't know the details.
And I didn't mean for Logan to give me any details either. I just wanted to know that he would be okay. He had given his whole day, two days in a row, to help me. I might even be dead if it wasn't for him. Or if I’d survived on my own, I might have hypothermia or frostbite.
Of course maybe it was simpler than that. Maybe he didn't want to have sex with someone or even make out with someone wearing silly Christmas pajamas. I wouldn't apologize for my pajamas. I loved them. And I wouldn't change them not even for the hottest guy I've ever met. Or maybe it was that I was still semi goofy from the pain medicine. There is no telling what I'd said while I was out of it.
I was a little more clear headed now that I had been when I was in the bathtub. My face flamed as I remembered how I asked him to wash me. Of course I could have done it myself, and he knew that too.
I’d been able to feed myself and use the restroom with one arm, swiping a cloth around was no big deal.
But I’d felt brazen. I had liked pushing my chest out for him to touch. I’d liked spreading my legs for him. He’d tried to be nonchalant, but I’d seen his eyes darken when he looked at my pussy.
I wanted his hands on me, and I thought he wanted that too. I could see the outline of his massive cock through his jeans. He was aroused. But he’d put me off. He’d said I was too high
on pain meds. I respected that about him; he wasn’t willing to take advantage.
But the morphine was starting to wear off. My arm was beginning to ache.
I was going to take some Tylenol, and make my offer again.
He might be done with me, and think I was too immature. After I insisted on skiing a mountain I clearly wasn't prepared to handle. Or maybe he'd only wanted one night with me. One night would have to be enough.
I hoped it wasn’t. I needed another night with him. Just thinking about the way he’d commanded me made my panties wet all over again. I wanted to see his cock again. I hadn’t worked up the courage to ask, but I wanted it in my mouth too. And of course, I wanted his thick cock in my pussy.
But even if he rejected me again, I still hated the idea of him not having any Christmas decorations. He said he just moved here recently, maybe he hadn't had time to decorate yet. Or maybe he thought it wasn't a macho thing to do. I briefly considered calling a taxi so I could buy some decorations, but I was in no state to go shopping.
He had obviously been through some shit. I wanted to make it better. I could start by making his cabin a little more homely.
While he was in the shower, I could go outside and gather some natural decorations. My mother had done it often enough. We put twigs and berries and greenery on the table and heard compliments galore. My uncle, who didn’t care for spending his considerable wealth on frivolous decorations, had said, “Well, I’ll be. It does look nice in here!”
Yes. That’s what I’d do. But there was no way I was getting dressed. It had been difficult enough to get these pajamas on even with Logan’s help.
I found my ski coat hanging by the front door. It had finally dried out.
I didn't want to take my arm out of the sling so I pulled the coat over my shoulders and held it closed with one hand. I stepped into my ski boots which were also dry thankfully. Inside Logan's kitchen I found a pair of scissors and a few paper bags.
I looked around, but I did not see an alarm panel. I unlocked the front door and stepped out.
The temperature had dropped again. The wind howled. The moonlight over the snow was beautiful. I took a moment to just appreciate the peaceful quiet of the mountain forest.
