Love Me

by Olivia Cunning

  After several measures, Chad laughed quietly, then asked, “Does Owen know you listen to country music?”

  His breath warmed her belly and made butterflies dance inside her.

  “I mostly listen to Sole Regret,” she said. “They’re my favorite band, but there is a definite country influence in their music.”

  “I can’t say I noticed that. Not even a little.”

  She continued to stroke his forehead. “I guess it’s a blues influence, actually, but blues is a foundation for both country and rock.”

  “Blues?”

  “Complicated guitar riffs in all three genres. The main difference between rock and country is the drums.”

  “And the twangy singing.”

  She laughed. “Fact.”

  “Gabe and Shade will be glad they kept the band out of country music territory.”

  “Adam’s guitar work is all blues inspired. He’s hardened the sound considerably, but if you listen to blues at all, you’ll hear it in his playing.”

  “I haven’t listened to much blues.”

  “Me neither,” she said. “I read that in an interview of Adam’s.”

  He laughed again. “You had me going there. I thought you were some sort of music expert.”

  “A Sole Regret expert, yes. Music expert, absolutely not.”

  “So the situation that got you pregnant? That was a Sole Regret expert kind of thing, wasn’t it?”

  “Do you really want to know?”

  “Probably not, but tell me anyway.”

  She was quiet for a long moment, not wanting him to think she was trash. Enough people thought of her that way already, but she supposed if he couldn’t handle the truth, he had never liked her much anyway.

  “My friend and I were at a benefit concert the band performed in my hometown on Christmas Eve. When we were leaving the venue, we spotted the tour bus pulling out and decided to follow it. It was snowing like crazy, so the bus had to pull over in the mountain pass outside of town. I stopped to meet the band and one thing led to another and another and another . . . We were just having fun.”

  And if she could do it all over again, she wouldn’t change a thing. Not even getting pregnant.

  Chad was silent for a long moment, and she was glad she couldn’t read minds. He must be thinking horrible things about her.

  “Did you sleep with all of them?” he asked.

  Her hand stopped moving against his skin, and her stomach dropped. She didn’t want him to be like all the other people who knew what had happened on that tour bus. By the time she’d left home for good, everyone in town had known, and so had a lot of people on Facebook that she didn’t know. Lindsey didn’t want Chad to think she was some whore who’d fuck around with any man. She’d been starstruck that night, and the encounters had been fun, frivolous, and wild. She’d never done anything like that in her life, but her one night of wanton behavior had come with more responsibility than she’d bargained for. And she hadn’t thought anyone besides the guys and her partner-in-orgy, Vanessa, would know about their crazy adventure. Lindsey hadn’t told a soul about that night, but Vanessa had gotten drunk at a party and thought bragging about their wild night with the band was a good idea. When Lindsey had found out she was pregnant, it didn’t take long for the news to spread to her family, her boss, and her coworkers. That was when her life had gone to shit.

  “Yes,” she said flatly. “I slept with all of them.”

  His arm tightened around her waist. “Don’t stop.”

  She crinkled her forehead. “Don’t stop, what?”

  “Touching me. It’s . . .” He released a shaky breath. “Nice.”

  “I’m surprised you want me to touch you at all now that you know I slept with six men in one night.”

  “Six? Sole Regret has five—”

  “Tex too,” she blurted.

  “Tex . . . The bus driver?”

  “Yeah.” She steeled herself for his disdain, but he just laughed softly.

  “Lucky bastard.”

  The baby chose that moment to kick him in the head.

  Chad’s hand slid from her back to her belly, where a tiny foot was repeatedly trying to kick itself free. He spoke to the suddenly active little one growing inside her. “Easy there, tiger. I’ll behave myself. I have nothing but respect for your beautiful mama.”

  Lindsey snorted. Respect? Yeah, right. No one who knew she’d gone “total groupie” on Sole Regret respected her. Thought she was a slut and an easy lay because of it? Oh yeah, she’d run into that with a number of men in her hometown.

  “What are you snorting about?” Chad said.

  “You don’t respect me.” How could he?

  “Of course I do, angel.”

  “You can’t possibly. Not after I—”

  He shifted so that they were eye to eye. It was too dark to read his expression clearly, but she could feel a change in his intensity.

  “So you had a good time one night with some guys in a band. So what?” His hand slid over her belly. “You were given this precious gift as a result.”

  “Precious gift?” No one referred to her baby as a gift. The little guy had been called a burden, a mistake, a complication, a huge responsibility, and even a bastard, but never a gift.

  “All babies are a gift,” he said. “Josie and I had always planned to have three . . . Never mind.” He settled back onto her lap again. “Hum some more to us.”

  She did her best but, considering that she suddenly couldn’t breathe due to the emotions choking her, the Sole Regret ballad she attempted became unrecognizable. He’d had dreams for his future that would never be because of a chance occurrence, and so had she. They were both teetering on the edge of an uncertain future. But now was nice. Now didn’t feel overwhelming. Now felt safe.

  Her terrible humming didn’t matter, apparently, because the baby settled down immediately and a moment later Chad went limp, his breathing slow and regular. As she continued to hum and stroke Chad’s forehead rhythmically, his words played through her head.

  . . . nothing but respect . . .

  . . . beautiful . . .

  . . . this precious gift . . .

  Did he truly feel that way about her? About the baby? Chad didn’t seem like the kind of guy who lied easily. Josie was a fool for tossing him aside.

  Maybe Lindsey had been focusing on the wrong brother. Maybe the rock star wasn’t the Mitchell she should fangirl over.

  *~*~*

  Something hit Lindsey in the stomach, and for once the blow came from the outside instead of the inside. Still resting his head in her lap, Chad was thrashing about in his sleep, apparently caught up in a vivid nightmare.

  She grabbed his shoulder and shook it. “Chad, wake up. You’re dreaming.”

  “Jawa?” A sob ripped lose from his throat. “Jawa?” He wrapped his arms around his chest, and then twisted his body violently, almost hitting Lindsey in the face.

  “Chad?”

  He went still. She took a relived breath, glad that was over, but then his entire body went rigid. “Emerson!” He reached down toward his amputated leg and pressed the foot of the opposite leg against the sofa arm. “Emerson, hold on!” He grunted as if trying to lift an enormous weight. “I can’t . . . My leg is stuck. Just hold on.”

  “Chad!” Lindsey shook him even harder. “Wake up!”

  He gasped, his body jerking as he regained consciousness. “Where am I?”

  The house was dark and completely silent now except for a clock clicking on the mantel and Chad’s harsh breathing.

  “You’re at Owen’s house. On the sofa.”

  “Angel?”

  “Yeah, it’s Lindsey. It’s okay. You’re safe here.”

  He curled into her belly, his arm tightening around her. “Thanks for waking me,” he said. “Before he . . . before . . .”

  He went quiet, his arm so tight around her that she wanted to pull away, but she didn’t. She held him and stroked his arm where her
hand was resting until his biceps finally relaxed.

  “You can talk to me about it if it will help,” she said.

  His face rubbed against her abdomen as he shook his head. “I don’t want anyone to have to imagine the things I’ve seen, especially not you.”

  “I can handle it.” Maybe.

  “Apparently, I can’t.”

  She hugged him closer, not knowing how else to comfort him. After a moment he relaxed completely, and his breathing settled.

  “Thanks for helping me sleep,” he said. “You should probably go up to bed. The sex sounds have finally stopped.”

  “I like being here with you.” She probably shouldn’t have admitted that, but it was true. She hadn’t felt like a worthwhile human being in months, and maybe she was fooling herself by thinking she was any help to Chad, but holding him helped her too. It made her feel strong. Maybe instead of seeking help for herself, she’d could cope with her own problems by focusing on someone else’s hardship.

  “You need your rest,” he said.

  “So do you.”

  He released a breathless laugh. “Has anyone ever accused you of being stubborn?”

  She grinned. Just everyone who knew her well. “A few people.”

  “If I let you tuck me in, will you go up to bed?”

  “But what if you have nightmares again? I can’t wake you up if I’m upstairs.”

  “If I let you sleep beside me, will that satisfy you?” he asked.

  Satisfy her? Not exactly, but it might keep her from worrying over him. “Is there even enough space in your bed for two?”

  “If we cuddle.”

  Cuddling sounded nice. The stuff that often came before a man and a woman cuddled in bed sounded even nicer, but she wouldn’t bring those needs up with Chad. Any respect he claimed to have for her would vaporize the instant she told him she wanted him. Being close to him would have to be enough.

  “I’ll meet you in there,” she said. “I have to go to the bathroom again.” A constant need in her condition.

  “Good thing my brother widened that doorframe for you.”

  She poked him. “Is that a fat joke?”

  “This baby does take up most of your lap.”

  “And you’re taking up the rest of it.”

  “I should probably watch what I say, or I’ll be taking up the floor instead.”

  But she liked that he teased her. Until now, she hadn’t had anyone to share her joys and discomforts with. To feel comfortable enough with her “fragile condition” to joke about it.

  “Go climb in bed,” she said, pushing him to sit up beside her. She stood on wobbly legs—they’d gone to sleep without her realizing it—and hobbled her way to the bathroom, leaving Chad to navigate his wheelchair on his own. She hoped he didn’t have to wait much longer to get a prosthetic leg. She was certain he’d prefer the freedom the device would offer. She could tell he was already frustrated with the chair.

  After using the bathroom and washing her hands, she felt more than a little self-conscious climbing into bed with him. He’d scooted his back up against the wall, his injured arm resting on his exposed side, his other arm stretched in front of him looking like a welcoming pillow for her.

  “Not sure I remember how to do this,” he said.

  “Me neither.”

  She sat on the bed beside him and turned off the lamp before lying down. She tried leaving a few inches of space between them, but he was all in on the cuddling idea. He felt so solid behind her, so warm and so strong. And for the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel alone.

  Chapter Eight

  Chad was trapped. Not in the horrible way that plagued his nightmares. His shattered leg wasn’t caught under a Humvee while Emerson bled to death just out of his reach. Jawa wasn’t a dead weight across his chest. No, this morning he was stuck between a solid wall and a sweet, soft ass, which wouldn’t have been at all bad if he hadn’t been suffering with the most crippling erection of his life.

  “Uh, Lindsey?” he said, giving her arm a shake.

  She moaned softly and wriggled her hips, settling her delicious backside more securely against his predicament.

  God, she smelled good—reminded him of sweet peaches. She felt good too. Warmed his blood. Made him feel alive. And hungry. And sad. She’d never be his. He had nothing to offer her.

  “Lindsey?”

  “Chad,” she said softly.

  The way she murmured his name made his balls ache.

  “Lindsey, please.”

  “What is . . . ?” She reached behind her, sliding her hand down his hip toward the object poking her in the ass.

  Chad’s belly tightened in anticipation, but just before she touched him, she sat up abruptly.

  “Oh! God, what did I do?”

  He’d never seen a more beautiful woman in his life. The early morning sunshine streamed through the window and highlighted her golden hair. She was all sleep-tousled and rosy-skinned, her blue eyes wide and kissable lips parted. Jesus, was she trying to kill him?

  “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I was dreaming about you. I didn’t realize I was touching you for real.” She glanced down at his crotch, flushed, and glanced away.

  She’d been dreaming about touching him?

  “I’ve been so horny lately. I guess it’s the pregnancy.” She laughed softly. “That, or the complete lack of a sex life. Can you forgive me for molesting you in your sleep?”

  He sat up beside her and brushed her hair behind her ear. The strands felt like silk against his fingertips.

  “I’ve been horny lately too. For the same reason.”

  “You’re pregnant?”

  She laid a hand on his belly, and his cock jerked in excitement.

  “What’s your secret for retaining your trim figure?”

  She lifted her head, and their eyes met. The teasing grin faded from her lush lips. He leaned in, his hunger for her driving him to boldness. He expected her to pull away, to push him aside, to laugh in his face for thinking he stood a chance with a beauty like her, but she leaned in as well. He meant for the kiss to be soft and gentle, but the instant his lips brushed hers, the heat between them ignited into an inferno. Her mouth opened to his tongue. He licked her lips and then nibbled them before running his tongue over them again.

  She pulled away, her eyes wide with shock. He opened his mouth to apologize for taking advantage of the situation, but she blurted, “My God, you’re a good kisser.” And then she came back for another taste.

  He could have kissed her all morning—maybe for the rest of his life—and he’d have been satisfied, but her hand slid down his belly and into his sleep shorts.

  “If you don’t want me to,” she said against his mouth, “tell me to stop.”

  He wasn’t sure exactly how far she planned to go or what she was going to do, but he’d take anything she was willing to offer. “I want you to.”

  When her small hand circled his cock, his breath came out in an excited huff. She stroked his length slowly and gently, her thumb doing things to his cockhead that made him forget how to kiss her properly. He just held his mouth against hers and drew shaky breaths into his lungs. He wanted to touch her back, peel her nightgown from her body and bask in the beauty of her naked body. He wanted to roll her onto the bed beneath him and claim her with deep thrusts as she called his name, but he wasn’t sure she’d want him to do any of those things. Had he been his whole self, he wouldn’t have hesitated. His confidence would have surged at her touch rather than withering. But he wasn’t his whole self. He was less.

  “Is this okay?” she asked, still stroking him gently.

  “Mmm hmm.”

  “Do you want more?”

  It was shameful that she had to ask. Of course, he wanted more. Why couldn’t he make a move on her? “Yes.”

  “I like it on top,” she whispered in his ear.

  When she meant more, she really meant more, and all he could do was nod and settle onto his
back as she stood and pulled her nightgown off over her head and slid her panties down her legs. He hadn’t been truly prepared for how exquisite her nude body would be. Unable to take his eyes off her, he worked at removing his shorts with his good hand, but was even worthless at that simple task. She leaned over to assist him, and he was very aware of her hand sliding down his right thigh toward his bandaged stump. When her fingers brushed the top edge of the bandage, he jerked as if she’d stabbed him.

  She drew her hand back, and her gaze moved to the injury. “I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”

  “No, I . . . just . . .” Don’t look at it. “Hurry, angel. I need you to hurry.”

  “Maybe it’s too soon for this. You need more time to heal.”

  “My dick was one part of me that escaped all injury.” Lucky him.

  He reached for her hand and threaded his fingers through hers, glad when she turned her attention to his face again. He knew that with all the scratches, fading bruises, and forming scars, his face didn’t look much better than the goddamned stump. “I need you. Not time to heal or you worrying about me. You. That’s all I need. You, angel.”

  She placed a knee on the bed next to his hip and straddled his lap. He shrugged the sling aside, his shoulder protesting only slightly as he rested his hands on her thighs. His breath stalled in the back of his throat as she used her hand to guide his flesh to join with hers. He sucked more air into his already full and aching lungs, lashes fluttering as she surrounded him in rapture.

  A moan escaped her as she sank down on him. “God, you feel good,” she said breathlessly. “I need this so bad.”

  This, she’d said. Not him. Any cock could have satisfied her needs, while only she could satisfy his. It would have to be enough for now.

  Chad arched into her and gave her another inch.

  She licked her lips and took his hands in hers, guiding them from her thighs to her chest.

  “My breasts have changed so much,” she said, “I’ve wondered if . . .”

  His thumbs rubbed over the darkened tips, and they hardened instantly. Her breasts were heavy and round in his palms as she released his hands to explore his chest and shoulders.