Did that make her a slut? Probably not, since he was the first guy she’d been with in over five years. It did, however, force her to seriously question her own intelligence.
It wasn’t your brain doing the thinking, a snarky, yet sultry voice piped up. Yeah, that was the problem. She couldn’t summon any regret, though. He had been a fabulous lover, and missing out on that would have been a damn shame, even if it had been a one-time thing.
He was watching her expectantly, waiting for her to respond. It took her a few seconds to rewind and remember what it was he had asked. Something about him staying and causing her a problem.
“Um, no. No problem. I can make other arrangements.”
It was disappointing, though. This was the perfect setting for spinning tales of erotic romance. And, bruised ego aside, he was the perfect muse. Even if she hadn’t mapped out all those ripples and dips with her fingers and tongue, her creative juices would be flowing just by looking at him.
“Why would you do that?” he asked.
Her eyes met his briefly, turning away against the intensity of his gaze. He wasn’t serious, was he? Clearly, he didn’t find this morning-after scenario nearly as awkward as she did. To his credit, though, the sight of her chair no longer seemed to bother him. If anything, he seemed curious. His eyes kept flicking over her legs, as if he was trying to figure out what was wrong with her. She was half-tempted to lift her skirt and show him, but decided against it.
“I thought, well, ...” she cleared her throat. Just say it, Mallory. “To be honest, I came here to get away myself, to get some work done.”
That was true, at least. She did have an unhappy agent and a looming deadline, and this week was supposed to be all about writing. She’d gotten a lot done yesterday, but still had a long way to go before it could be considered complete. And thanks to him, she was ready to start on the next one.
Of course, said that wicked, trouble-making voice as a series of muscles flexed and bunched with every lift of the fork to those firm, male lips, hands-on research totally counts as work.
Shut the eff up, she told it, and squeezed her thighs stubbornly together.
Warring emotions churned within her. Was he really considering sticking around? And if he was, would she be able to handle it? Just the two of them, in a remote cabin, tucked away from the rest of the world in a scenic mountain paradise. Even now, his presence swirled around her like some kind of invisible aphrodisiac, crafting wicked, steamy scenes in her mind’s eye.
It was official. She was pathetic. On top of that, she was horny again.
He was one hell of an inspiration, though. As long as she kept her distance – observing him from a purely professional point of view only – this might actually work. Lord knew, just sitting across the table from him was filling her mind with all kinds of possibilities. Steamy ones that had the heat pooling between her thighs and would make her stories burn up the pages in the best possible way.
* * *
Johnny was fascinated by the range of expressions that flitted over her features. They’d gone from unreadable, to annoyed, to worried, to aroused, and finally, determined. What was going on behind those expressive silvery-gray eyes of hers?
He didn’t know, but he looked forward to finding out. Because he wasn’t going anywhere until he did. One taste wasn’t enough. He wanted more. He had to be smart about it, though. Stacey wasn’t the typical bar bunny he was used to.
Forcing his gaze away from her and toward the laptop perched on a table by the windows, Johnny tried to focus on something other than her breasts, which looked phenomenal in that tank top.
“I see no reason we can’t both get what we came here for,” he said easily, keeping his voice light, while a much darker voice spoke within him. He knew exactly what he wanted. Her. Naked. Now.
She appeared to consider this, tapping one finger lightly against the mug. Johnny held his breath, mentally preparing a list of reasons to support his case in case she balked.
“Okay,” she said slowly, drawing out the syllables as a slight smile graced her lips. Johnny was pretty sure she didn’t even realize it was there, and once again, couldn’t help but wonder what was going through her mind. “I promise, you won’t even know I’m here.”
Fat chance of that.
“Great. That’s settled then.” From across the table he heard her stomach growl. He cast a meaningful glance down at her untouched plate. “Your breakfast is getting cold.”
“Oh, right. Thanks.” Now that they’d settled that, she apparently felt more inclined to eat. She tucked in, savoring each bite as he watched behind half-lidded eyes from across the table. God help him, he wanted to put something else in that wicked mouth.
“This is delicious,” she said.
“Thanks,” he grinned. He wasn’t about to tell her that scrambled eggs was the only edible meal he could make, but he was willing to broaden his repertoire if it made her smile at him like that.
Chapter Nine
After breakfast, Stacey insisted on doing the dishes. If they were going to share space, she was going to nip any preconceived notions he might have about her self-reliance right in the bud. Yeah, it was kind of nice that he wanted to do things like cook meals and clean-up, but he needed to know that she was perfectly capable of doing those things on her own. It was a lesson taught best by action, not words.
Clearly, he wasn’t too happy about it. More than once, Stacey had to bite the inside of her lip to keep from smiling at his grumbles and put-out looks when he offered to do something and she turned him down. Proving that he did have a brain beneath all that fineness, though, he kept his protests to himself (mostly). Unfortunately for her, the man was no less sexy when he was pouting.
She settled herself in front of her laptop and pointedly ignored him. Johnny made himself scarce. Or at least he pretended to. Every now and then she’d catch him out of the corner of her eye, puttering around here and there, fixing things that didn’t really need fixing. It was kind of cute.
Once she forced herself to focus, her author’s brain took over and everything else faded into the background. She lost herself in the story; the only voices she heard were those of her characters. Images flooded her mind, her nimble fingers flew over the keyboard in an attempt to keep up. The scenes took on a life of their own, and it was all she could do to try and capture the feel through words, to instill each page with the emotion she felt as keenly as if she was living it herself.
Stacey had been so engrossed in the story, she hadn’t even realized the power had gone out until the little blinking red battery light flashed ominously at her. Quickly, she saved off her file and copied it to the thumb drive attached to the side port.
How long had they been without electricity? She glanced around, blinking until her eyes were able to focus beyond her laptop screen. It took a few seconds to adjust; the natural light coming in through the windows was practically non-existent. The deep, natural colors of the furnishings were barely distinguishable in the shadows.
A glance through the window panels revealed dark skies growing darker by the minute. The familiar anxiety that always accompanied a strong thunderstorm began to build, along with the tell-tale heaviness in her head that signaled a sudden drop in barometric pressure.
Oh, no.
A flash of bright light followed almost immediately by an ear-splitting crack of thunder made her jump and cry out.
Johnny was there in a heartbeat. “What? Is everything okay?”
“Yes, sorry. It just startled me, that’s all.” Stacey willed her heartbeat to slow. Where had he come from? Had he been hiding in the shadows, just out of sight? Another flash and crack made her jump again.
* * *
Johnny knew there was more to it than just a case of being startled. She was trembling all over.
“Stacey...” He spoke her name softly and went to his knees beside her. For a moment he saw the terror in her eyes before she shuttered them, locking him out.
/> “It’s okay. It’s just a thunderstorm. We’re safe here.”
“I-I know. I’m fine. If you’ll excuse me.” She pulled on one wheel harder than necessary, spinning her chair in the opposite direction. Then she made for the far end of the room, disappearing in the shadows through the archway leading into his bedroom.
Johnny flexed his hands at his sides, resisting the urge to go after her. She was spooked, he had seen that, felt it as keenly as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over his head. But why? Did it have anything to do with why she was in a wheelchair?
He stalked upstairs, closing Michael’s door behind him. Whipping a cell phone out of his pocket, he pressed the number one on his speed dial, pacing impatiently as he heard, one ring, then two. Pick up, he willed, only a second or two before someone did.
“Tell me what happened to her, Lina.”
“Johnny?”
“Yeah.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m up at the cabin.”
“The cabin? What are you - ”
“I crashed here last night,” he said, cutting her off.
A pause, then, “Is Stacey still there?”
“Yeah. Listen, I know this is going to sound weird, but we’re getting some big storms up here and she started acting strangely. Is there something I need to know?”
Lina was silent for several long moments, the line cracking occasionally just before each crack of thunder. “Is she okay?”
“I don’t know. She took off for the bedroom like a bat out of hell. What do I need to know, Lina?”
“Stacey... doesn’t like storms.”
No shit. “Yeah, got that,” he said impatiently.
“They’re kind of a trigger for her,” Lina said hesitantly.
“A trigger? For what?”
“The accident. The one that put her in a wheelchair. It happened during a bad thunderstorm.”
Son of a bitch. That was exactly what he’d been afraid of. Another loud crack sounded, rattling the windows. “I gotta go. I’ll call you later.”
“Johnny, wait. You shouldn’t - ”
Johnny didn’t wait around to hear what he “shouldn’t” do. Disconnecting the call, his feet couldn’t carry him back down the stairs fast enough.
He forced himself to knock on the bedroom door, but when he didn’t receive an immediate answer, he opened it himself and walked right in anyway. It took a minute to find her. Stacey was curled up in bed, nothing but a lump underneath the covers.
Johnny peeled back the comforter, only to find she held the pillows tightly over her head. Her back heaved in sobs muffled beneath it all. He pulled the pillows away and drew her into his lap. She clung to him, burying her face in his chest. He stroked her hair, caressed her back. He might not know the details of what had happened, but he knew she needed him.
“It’s all right, Stacey,” he murmured over and over. “You’re okay. I’m here. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
She didn’t answer, but she did curl into the safety of his arms.
The storm raged throughout the afternoon. Rain pounded relentlessly against the windows. Brilliant flashes of lightning lit up the room; the accompanying thunder rattled the ground beneath the cabin. He kept her close, his heart breaking a little more with each strike, wishing he could do something. At least the silent, racking sobs had stopped.
Eventually the storm passed, leaving nothing but blessed silence in its wake. The power had yet to come back on, though the last rays of the sunset brightened the room slightly as the clouds moved away.
“Oh, God,” she sniffed, her voice little more than a whimper against his chest. She’d been still and quiet for so long he’d thought she was asleep. “I am so sorry. You must think I’m a total basket case.”
He lifted her chin to him, looking deep into her eyes. Eyes that last night had been filled with so much passion now begged his forgiveness, filled with a shame she should never feel, not around him. He placed tender kisses around her eyes, her nose, her mouth.
“No,” he whispered. “I could never think that.”
Her hands reached up around his neck, cupping the back of his head, then tangling in his hair. She brought her lips against his, her intent clear. He resisted at first, but she persisted, and it didn’t take long for him to be swept away with her. Her kisses were desperate, needy, pleading, calling out to him with such raw hunger he could not help but respond. He would be anything she needed him to be, and right now, she needed this. He knew it, just as he knew he could deny her nothing.
“Don’t leave me,” she begged, in between his ravaging kisses.
“I won’t,” he assured her. As if he could.
“Make love to me.”
Any other time he would not have hesitated, but she was so vulnerable. “Stacey, just let me hold you.”
“No. I need this. I need you.”
When he still did nothing, she slid her hand down his body and cupped him. His cock stiffened under her bold touch, having none of the reservations his head did. “Please, Johnny. Don’t make me beg.”
No, he would not make her beg, not for this. In the span of a few breaths, she was beneath him, her clothes strewn haphazardly across the room, and he was naked and sheathed, sliding his erection smoothly into her. There was no foreplay, no gentle rise of desire. This would be fast and hard, with no time to think. In just a few quick strokes she came around him, and he cursed under his breath when he followed an instant later. It had not been nearly enough. He wanted more. Needed more. Almost as much as she did.
He rolled onto his back, pulling her on top of him without breaking the connection. Even though he had come, he remained hard inside of her. He draped her legs over his and grasped her hips as if she weighed nothing, pounding into her from beneath. Her hands splayed across his chest, her nails curling like talons against him, her head thrown back in sheer bliss.
It was brutal and carnal and desperate. She came again, collapsing onto his chest.
He rolled them both to the side with the intent of spooning her against him, but she cried out in protest when he pulled out. “Not yet.”
Johnny growled and curled her back against his chest. “I’m not going anywhere, baby.”
He pulled off the used condom, quickly tied it off, and reached for another. He lifted her thigh with his knee and entered her from behind with smooth, deep, even strokes that left her gasping for breath. His hand reached around and fingered the sensitive bundle of nerves there, driving her past the point of sanity as he joined her.
So it continued, until neither of them had the energy to do little more than breathe.
Johnny held her sleeping, sated body in his arms. He had quite literally fucked her into oblivion, driven out the demons that haunted her, at least temporarily.
Things would be different in the morning, he was sure of it. She’d shown too much spunk, too much pride earlier to assume otherwise. Once she was well-rested and back in her comfort zone, she’d try to distance herself again, but the only thing that mattered was that she was here now.
He didn’t know what was going to come of it, but what he did know was that he’d never been so drawn to anyone. No matter what she thought, the fact that she was in a wheelchair made no difference to him. She was beautiful and passionate, with glowing silvery eyes that had a way of reaching down into his soul and...
Whoa. Where had that come from?
Tucking the blanket around her, Johnny slipped out of bed to take a quick shower and get his head on straight. Lina was the one to wax poetic about that kind of shit, not him. She was the one who read all of those romance novels and believed in the fairy tale happily ever afters. He had a much more realistic approach: enjoy life and avoid drama.
So far, it had been working out pretty damn good for him. He was his own boss, his own man. He had the cash and the balls to do what he wanted, when he wanted. No unnecessary strings. Work and family were more than enough in the way of commitments. W
hy complicate things by tying himself down unnecessarily?
Lina said it was because he hadn’t met his croie yet. Croie was a form of the Celtic word for heart, and in his family, it was the equivalent of a soul mate. They believed that everyone had one, that there was one person who would complete them in every way.
Johnny wasn’t sure he bought into that whole “other half” concept. Sure, his parents had one of those rare, special kind of marriages where they were still madly in love after twenty-five years. Lina and Kyle seemed to be on the same track. But just because they were fortunate enough to find each other didn’t mean that croies were real, and even if they were, they sure as hell didn’t apply to everyone. Until two nights ago, he hadn’t come across anyone that warranted more than a passing interest.
But Stacey... He had to admit, she intrigued him. She was so different than the women he was used to. Smart and sassy, confident and vulnerable. Sweet and salty, he thought with a smile. Two days weren’t nearly enough to get to know her.
It didn’t mean she was The One.
Glad he’d worked that out, he slipped back into bed and curled himself around her, then drifted off to sleep.
Chapter Ten
Stacey’s eyes squinted against the bright light boring through her lids. Was it morning already?
Strong arms held her close; a hard, male chest rose and fell against her naked back. For the second morning in a row, she had woken up after a deep, restorative sleep in Johnny’s arms.
It was definitely something she could get used to.
He’d come to her when she’d needed him and hadn’t let her suffer alone. She’d forgotten what that felt like. She’d lost herself in his warmth and strength; insulated herself from the nightmarish sights and sounds; from her brain’s memory of the ripping, crippling pain. Maybe she would hate herself later for her weakness, but for now, she could only feel grateful.
Johnny (Connelly Cousins #2) Page 7
