Still the One

by Jill Shalvis

  Damn. Why did the way he said her name always give her happy nipples? “Well, you’re not sleeping with me.”

  “It’s a big bed,” he pointed out.

  She crossed her arms over her chest, confused by how she could feel both pissy and aroused at the same time. “It’s not that big.”

  He stared at her and she had no idea what he was thinking. She rarely did. AJ kept his own council. But clearly he’d decided on one thing—he didn’t mind keeping them on par with their normal relationship, which was to say competitive and combative.

  He smiled. “You’re afraid you can’t control yourself.”

  God help her, she knew she couldn’t. “You wish!” And with that brilliant comeback, she strode into the bathroom, shut the door, and stared at herself in the mirror. “You will not jump his bones, you hear me?” she whispered to herself. Then she hauled the door open and strode back out there carrying a bath towel. This she rolled up and placed in the middle of the mattress before pointing to one side of the bed. “Stay,” she said.

  He arched a brow and crossed his arms over his chest, making his biceps bulge.

  Stupid sexy biceps.

  “Stay?” he repeated in disbelief. “I’m not a dog.”

  “Hmm.”

  He looked amused. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means the jury is still out. What about pj’s?” she asked. “You packing pj’s?”

  “I don’t wear any,” he said.

  Oh boy. Now she had that image in her head, AJ all sprawled out in her bed wearing nothing but what God had given him, and God had been generous. And if that wasn’t just perfect, now her heart was pumping but good, and judging by his smug expression, he knew it, too. Rat-fink bastard. “A toothbrush,” she said desperately. “You don’t have a toothbrush.”

  “You’re stalling the inevitable,” he said. “You must really be worried you can’t control yourself.”

  Dammit! “Just … don’t touch my side!” She stormed back into the bathroom because she needed a moment to find her composure. She took her time, slathering on lotion, combing her hair, doing everything she could think of to stall, hoping he’d be asleep when she ventured out there. When she finally did, the lights were off.

  Good sign.

  She tiptoed to her side of the bed and stared at the vague outline of one damn fine and damn annoying man.

  He didn’t speak.

  And she wasn’t about to. Near as she could tell, he’d left the rolled towel in place and was on his side facing away from her. Not moving. Steady breathing. Hopefully dead to the world. She gingerly climbed into the bed still wearing the only pj’s she’d brought. A man’s large, beefy tee.

  AJ’s.

  She’d stolen it from his office locker at the wellness center because it was soft. And okay, because it smelled like him. Luckily he’d never noticed, and she really didn’t want to explain why she had it. She could just remove it, because honestly? Being naked seemed a lot less revealing than him finding out she’d stolen his shirt.

  But getting naked again seemed like tempting fate.

  And she was done with the tempting-fate portion of her life.

  She tried to calm her mind but her mind didn’t get the memo. Did he really sleep naked, or had he been just teasing her? She couldn’t tell but this was suddenly an issue bigger than world peace. She needed to know.

  He seems like he’s deeply asleep, a little voice said inside her head. You could take a teeny, tiny, little peek …

  Bad idea. No way would she do that. Nope. Biting her lip, she stared at AJ’s still form. Very still. Ah, damn. She was totally going to peek. Carefully she shifted and … lifted the covers.

  Too dark to see anything.

  She rolled to her back and tried to fall asleep, but the alcohol had juiced her up a little bit and her thoughts raced, making her toss and turn.

  When the light suddenly came on, she squeaked.

  AJ had sat up and hit the bedside switch. The covers slipped and pooled at his waist, revealing his bare chest and a set of ripped abs that made her want to drag her tongue from his chin to his belly button and beyond—way beyond.

  Not a single sign of clothing, either. Which meant she now had her answer to the burning question.

  Gulp.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, sounding fully awake and alert.

  She didn’t know if this was because he could come awake in a blink, or if he’d never been asleep. Hell, maybe he didn’t need sleep. Maybe he wasn’t even human. That would explain a lot. “Nothing’s wrong.”

  “Then why aren’t we sleeping?”

  “No reason. Shh,” she said. “Let’s go back to sleep.”

  “Did you want to try to get another peek at me first, now that the light’s on?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I knew you were awake, you big faker!”

  “Whatever, Peeping Tomina. And what were you hoping to see anyway? Or should I guess?”

  She felt herself flush. “Don’t flatter yourself, I don’t need to peek at you. All guys look the same in the buff.”

  “I can promise you that’s not true,” he said.

  Oh boy. If she’d ever needed a subject change, it was now. “If you must know,” she said. “The truth is I can’t get comfortable.”

  He didn’t blink. “And?”

  She sighed and admitted the real truth. “And I stiffen up at night and get all achy. I can’t fall asleep unless I take something. Which I didn’t do tonight.”

  He did blink at that. His jaw got all bunchy, too.

  She lifted her chin. “Not like you think,” she said. “Not the pain meds.”

  “Darcy.”

  “I don’t take them, AJ.”

  God, the concern in his gaze just about did her in. Which was the only reason she spoke the hard-to-admit truth. “I don’t take them,” she repeated. “I keep them, yes. It’s a comfort. Like mac and cheese. Because at one time they were as important to me as that. And sometimes, I still want them and I pull them out and look at them and remember. I remember how shitty I feel when I take them, and how little they help. I keep them around because looking at them makes me feel sick, and I …” Dammit. She cleared her throat. “And sometimes I just need to look at them, that’s all.”

  He didn’t express disbelief. Or pat her on the head and tell her that her craving for them would pass. He didn’t blow off her feelings. And she was grateful because it meant she didn’t have to kill him.

  “What do you take to sleep then?” he asked.

  “Benadryl or melatonin. Something non-addictive.”

  “Every night?”

  “A lot of them.”

  He scrubbed a hand down his face, and the sound of his palm brushing over the stubble on his jaw made her remember that he was maybe, quite probably naked.

  He twirled his finger in her direction. “Lie down. On your front.”

  “Why?”

  He went brows up at her suspicion. “Didn’t we already play this game? I’ll work on your tight muscles.”

  “Oh,” she said. And what was that flowing through her? Disappointment? No, that couldn’t be.

  He was looking amused again. “What did you think I was going to do?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Uh-huh. Keep that up and you’ll be a boy made of wood answering to the name Pinocchio.” He tossed aside the covers and she didn’t even pretend to look away.

  He wasn’t naked but nearly. His black boxer briefs covered his goodies in a disturbingly impressive way. She swallowed hard. “How are you going to give me a massage without crossing the great barrier reef?” she asked, pointing to the rolled-up towel between them.

  He tossed the rolled-up towel to the floor.

  Okaaaaaay.

  “Facedown,” he said.

  To her dying day she would totally deny the fact that his authoritative voice turned her on. Some things needed to be taken to the grave. Still, she followed his directive and
rolled over, pressing her face into the crook of her arm. “It’s mostly in my—”

  “I know where you hurt,” he said, and proving it, put his big, warm hands right on the spot at her lower back that always caused the most pain.

  She shouldn’t be surprised. He’d been taking care of her body for eleven months now. He probably knew her every single inch better than she did, especially since she still hadn’t gotten the hang of using her legs again and they often felt like appendages that didn’t quite belong to her in the first place.

  His hands stilled. “Is this my shirt?” he asked, a tone of disbelief in his voice.

  Face still buried, she grimaced. “No.”

  “Seriously,” he warned, “your nose is going to start growing.”

  She opened her mouth to retort to that but then he straddled her thighs, carefully keeping his weight off of her and on his knees.

  He shoved the beefy tee up as high as it would go, baring her back to his gaze.

  She sucked in a breath and was thankful she’d put on panties, though she was seriously wishing they didn’t say CHEEKY across the ass.

  Not that it mattered after her earlier inadvertent show …

  There was a beat of utter silence and then a male snort. “True story,” he said.

  She opened her mouth to say something … well, cheeky, but then his hands began to move.

  And good Lord, the man had a set of hands.

  She couldn’t hold back her low moans of relief as he rubbed and pressed and stroked at every single spot that hurt.

  Leaving her a puddle of quivering goo.

  “Relax,” he murmured.

  Yeah, right. He had two powerful thighs straddling hers, surrounding her by testosterone and pheromones, and he wanted her to relax. “I am,” she said.

  Another snort. “Close your eyes, Darcy.”

  “No, I’m—”

  “Jesus, woman. For once just do something you’re asked without argument.”

  “Fine.” She closed her eyes. “And thank you. I mean that. It feels amazing and it’s helping the cramping, but I still won’t be able to sleep—”

  “Shh.”

  She blew out a sigh and shut up.

  And then, remarkably, fell asleep.

  AJ worked Darcy over until she was limp as a noodle and so dead asleep to the world that she didn’t so much as twitch when he finally slid off the bed.

  Her skin was reddened from his hands but he knew she’d gotten relief from his effort. His gaze locked on her tattoo and his chest tightened.

  She’d left the scar. Kind of like a huge, big fuck-you to the world, and it amazed him.

  And made him proud as hell of her.

  She was one of the most confounding, frustrating women he’d ever met. And the absolute bravest.

  He carefully pulled the shirt down over her back and ass.

  Cheeky.

  He shook his head as he tugged the covers up to her shoulders, tucking her in.

  She’d sleep now.

  Not him though. His hands had been one hundred percent professional while he’d worked over her but his brain not so much.

  He stepped into the bathroom, shut and locked the door, and cranked the shower. The hot water felt soothing, but there was no soothing his aching body. “You’re a dumbass,” he told his erection.

  His erection had no response.

  AJ bent his head, letting the water hit the back of his neck and shoulders as he wrapped a soapy hand around himself. His own form of sleep medicine.

  Ten minutes later he was back in the room, his body temporarily sated but his mind no more relaxed than before.

  Darcy hadn’t budged an inch.

  Glad that at least one of them could sleep, he carefully slipped into the bed and stared at the ceiling.

  You could go back to your own room.

  He had absolutely zero excuse for not doing exactly that as he turned on his side and studied the woman next to him in the dark.

  She was breathing deeply and evenly, and with the ambient light sliding in from the gap in the shades, he could see her expression was calm.

  Relaxed.

  An expression he didn’t get to see on her all that often. Seeing it now tightened his chest. He blew out a slow, careful breath and closed his eyes.

  When he’d been a soldier he’d been able to order himself to sleep. It was a skill born of years of military training and necessity, as was the ability to tell himself to wake at any given time or for any given reason.

  So that’s what he did now.

  Told himself to sleep until Darcy stirred.

  Darcy woke up at some point in the middle of the night and found herself lying on top of a big, still body that was radiating heat like a furnace.

  AJ.

  He was flat on his back, just lying there innocently sleeping. And she? She had literally draped herself all over him like a blanket.

  Damn.

  Holding her breath, she tried to pull back but his arms tightened and she stilled. “AJ?”

  “Mmmph,” he said and didn’t budge his arms of steel.

  “AJ!”

  His answer was to roll her beneath him and kiss her.

  Deep.

  Hot.

  And wet.

  And good God, her body helplessly rocked up into his because of that mouth.

  Letting out a groan of pleasure, he slid his hands inside her shirt and up, until the tips of his fingers brushed the undersides of her breasts.

  And then he went utterly still.

  “Shit,” he said.

  Thirteen

  “Gonna give a girl a complex,” Darcy murmured.

  AJ shook his head to clear it but that didn’t help. Christ, had he just basically molested her in her sleep? Given that his hands