by Desiree Holt
Ouch!
“Shit!” Jake growled the word.
“Oh my God!” She yanked her leg back, pain shooting through her heel. She opened her eyes. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I think you got the worst of it.” He stroked his palm over her face. “Close your eyes again. I’ll take care of this.”
“But—”
“Close your eyes.” He nipped the lobe of her ear. “That is a damn mood killer. Let’s see if we can get it back. In a second, you won’t even think of your foot. I promise.”
It didn’t take too much effort on his part, since not even nearly breaking her heel could erase the raging need consuming her. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and let herself fall into his touch.
He nudged her legs apart to give him access and cupped her with his palm. She loved the feel of his hand as he brushed the inside of her thighs, the heat of his fingers as finally, finally, they moved to her pussy. He slid one digit through the length of her slit, stroking up and down, circling her clit with each caress. The walls of her sex spasmed and a whimper of need rose up from her throat.
Jake closed his lips over one nipple and bit down gently on it just as he slid two fingers into her wet, waiting channel. He licked her tormented nipple and then slid his tongue over the other one.
“God, I love how wet you are,” he breathed. He worked his fingers in and out of her, setting up a rhythm, pressing her clit with his thumb each time he thrust completely into her. “I love the feel of those slick walls around my fingers. If I wished for anything, it would be that it was my cock inside you instead.”
“Me, too,” she whispered.
She was having a hard time talking now as sensations raced through her body, everything so much more intense with her eyes closed. She trembled as heat consumed her and tried to push down on Jake’s hand.
“Slow, Erin. Real slow.”
But she didn’t want to take it slow. She wanted it fast. She wanted it hard. She wanted it now. Jake, however, seemed to have his own agenda, because he never varied the tempo of his strokes, adding a third finger and dragging the tips over that very sensitive spot inside her channel.
The tremors began and her entire body focused on what was happening. Her pussy clamped down on Jake’s fingers, and she hitched her hips, riding him as her climax roared up from deep inside her. The tremors became spasms and the spasms became intense shudders, her entire body shaking. Jake took her mouth in a deep, hot kiss, his tongue probing and searching while he drove his fingers in and out of her again and again and again, riding her through the sensual storm.
Slowly her body relaxed, her limbs leaden, her pulse returning to a normal rate.
“You can open your eyes now,” Jake murmured.
When she did, his face was right there and his coffee-dark eyes were looking directly into hers.
“I love to feel you come. I just wish I was inside you.”
She gave him a lazy smile. “I’m not complaining.”
He gave a low, rumbling laugh. “Yeah, but I am. This damn cast is a pain in the butt.”
She studied him for a long moment. What on earth had she gotten herself into here? How was this going to work going forward? She might be intensely attracted to this man, cast and all, but she still didn’t trust his ability to sustain a relationship. If she ever got her life back on track, she wanted to find that one right man to build a future with. She was pretty damn sure Jake Russell wouldn’t be that man.
Besides, while he might have been Mr. Hot and Sexy today, focused on her pleasure as well as his, there was no guarantee that tomorrow he wouldn’t revert to the same grouch she’d been tending to every day.
“I can smell your brain burning.” He brushed his lips softly over hers. “Give it a rest, Erin. Let’s just see what happens, okay? Can you do that?”
Could she? She guessed she was about to find out.
Chapter 9
Never have sex with a man in a cast.
Erin sighed as she rubbed cream into the abraded areas on her arms. The heel could wait until she got ready for bed. Being acrobatic in any way when one of the participants had a full length cast on his leg presented more problems than she wanted to remember. Even though what she referred to in her mind as “the incident” had happened four days ago, her body still carried reminders of it. At night in bed, it was all she could think of.
And dream about. Oh, yes, the dreams came nightly now.
Well, she’d gone and done it again, only now she had no place to run. She was stuck here with a man she was so strongly attracted to she wanted to jump his bones every minute of every day. The memory surrounded them, the sexual tension crackling and filling the room. It was impossible not to be aware of it and it complicated everything.
Okay, smartass, what if he doesn’t feel the same way? What if he’s just playing with you, waiting for his leg to heal? Could she take a chance again, knowing disaster might lurk?
He’s different than Trace. You know that. In so many ways. Pay attention to that.
After taking her cell from her pocket, she checked to see if there was a new text from Ivy. There were certainly plenty of old ones, checking on Jake’s condition and dropping little bits of information.
Jake likes this special coffee cake.
Jake likes fresh bagels.
Erin had to stop herself from texting back.
How about stopping to pick some up when you come by to see him.
Jake needs to be reminded to answer his e-mail.
It was a blatant cue to Erin that she had yet to approach this subject with Jake. That ought to be fun.
But the text she sent tonight? Not even a one-word answer. Nada. Zip. Zippo.
No different than when she called the office. There someone answered, but she got such a runaround she felt like she was on a merry go round.
“No, sorry, she’s on an appointment.”
“Oh, I apologize but she’s in an all-day conference off site and can’t be disturbed.”
“No, I’m sorry. I have no idea where she is.”
Okay, so Ivy was avoiding her. Big surprise. Not that she had a lot of time to chat. All her time was spent waiting on Jake, sorting his mail, answering his landline as well as his cell phone, an instrument she was ready to pitch in the trash. This morning she’d started letting all the calls go to voicemail and sorting out the ones she thought might be important. Jake was no help. He still didn’t want to talk to anyone.
She had just started fixing the salad for dinner when the buzzer at the gate sounded. Who on earth would come by at mealtime unannounced? She checked the video in the hall, saw it was Jim DiMarco, and opened the gate for him.
“Good to see you, Erin,” he told her as she let him into the house.
“Ditto,” she said.
“How’s our patient today? Grouchy as ever?”
She gave a slight laugh. “Does night follow day?”
“Well, let’s see what’s going on.” He glanced into the kitchen. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize how close to dinner time it was. I was about five minutes away and thought I’d take the opportunity to stop by.”
“No problem,” she assured him. “It’s nothing that can’t wait. Come on, I’ll take you back to him.”
“Still hiding in the bedroom?” he asked, as they walked down the hall.
“Yes. If you have a solution for that, I’m open to hearing it.”
“We’ll see.”
As usual, Jake was lying on the bed, the flat screen television on but muted.
“Look who’s here.” She tried to put a cheerful note into her voice.
Jake waved at him from his semi-prone position but made no effort to get up.
“I’m just going to turn the oven down,” she said. “You two need a chance to chat.”
“No. Come back,” Jake insisted. And what was that all about? Was he afraid to be with the general manager alone?
>
“In a second,” she called back at him.
But she intentionally gave them several minutes, hoping DiMarco might have a fix for Jake’s mood. But when she returned, she could tell Jake had been something less than cordial. DiMarco still had a smile on his face, but he was already shaking Jake’s hand in preparation for leaving.
“I know you’re about to eat,” he was saying, “so I’ll let you get to it. But I’ll stop by again.”
“Yeah, thanks,” Jake grunted and turned his gaze back to the television.
“I wish I could find a way to pull him out of this funk,” Erin told the GM as she walked him to the door.
“I can understand it,” DiMarco told her. “His whole life has been turned upside down. His future is uncertain, and he’s having trouble handling it.”
“But other players get injured,” Erin pointed out. “They survive.”
“Jake’s more than just another player,” the man told her. “He’s one of the stars. He’s had a great career, and this was supposed to be his best year yet. Now he sees it moving forward without him.”
“If he doesn’t figure a way to deal with it, he’ll have a real problem.”
DiMarco sighed. “Don’t I know it. I’d like to get him some counseling but—”
Erin waved a hand in the air. “Forget it. Not with the mood he’s in. He’s not ready to hear anything like that right now.”
Saying the words out loud to DiMarco made her realize how right she was. Whatever was driving him, Jake was in no way ready for anyone to even hint that he wouldn’t return to the playing field. Whatever his fixation on football as his defining image, he wasn’t about to let go of it. Again she felt the enormity, and sympathy for whatever drove him engulfed her.
“I’ll just keep trying,” DiMarco told her. “He’s more than just another player to me.”
“I keep thinking I’m missing something.” She shook her head. “I get the feeling it’s more than just being out of action. It’s as if football is the only thing that defines him. Without it, he’s nobody.”
DiMarco frowned. “You know, I get that feeling sometimes, too. Coach just sees it as a tremendous drive to succeed, but I think it goes deeper.” He gave her a half smile. “I was hoping if there was something, he’d open up to you about it.”
“Oh.” She laughed. “Trust me. If Jake is going to open up to anyone, it certainly won’t be me.”
“But the two of you seem to have reached a sort of détente. I thought…”
Erin shook her head. “I think you can forget about that.”
“Too bad. Well, you’ve done great keeping his uninjured leg and wrist flexible, but now he has to start rehabbing that wrist.” He pulled a business card from his shirt pocket. “We use this clinic all the time. I’ve arranged for someone to begin work with him tomorrow afternoon. He’ll be here every day, except weekends.”
Erin twisted her lips in a wry grin. “That ought to be fun.”
DiMarco smiled. “I’m sure. I should have called first to let you know, but I didn’t want to give Jake too much time to pitch a fit. Will three o’clock work?”
“That’s fine.” She chuckled in spite of herself. “It’s not like he’s going anywhere.”
* * * *
She finished dinner preparations, then carried their food out to the patio off Jake’s bedroom. When it was ready, she walked into his room. Since their clumsy attempt at sex, he hadn’t shown an interest in a repeat performance. Had he lost interest in her? Was he frustrated by the situation with his cast? She could certainly sympathize with that. But dammit, now she wanted a repeat performance and had no idea how to let him know without backing down on all her principles.
Oh, yeah, Erin. Principles give you great orgasms, right?
Shut up, she told the voice in her head. Just. Shut. Up.
She helped him with the minor exercises every day, but that seemed to be the extent of his interest in anything. For whatever reason, he was retreating from her. The careful lack of expression on his face and the indefinable look in his dark eyes were signs to her that something was festering deep inside him. She just wished she could figure out what it was. If he had no interest in life, he’d have no life to get back to.
She pointed to the patio. “Dinner’s waiting for you at the table. Time to eat.” Since he got his crutches, she’d bullied him into taking his meals on the patio. He still gave her grief about it, but she thought it had become more of a game than anything.
“Is that any way to treat a cripple?” His tone was still tongue-in-cheek, although she sensed the bitterness at his situation underneath it as he gave her his usual comeback.
She laughed at that one. “You’re getting to be less and less a cripple every day.”
And like that, the playful tone was gone.
“Do you see me on the football field these days?” Anger flared in his eyes. “If I’m not out there, I’m a cripple. The cast tells everyone.”
“You can’t let football define you,” she tried telling him, remembering her conversation with DiMarco. As she’d gotten to know Jake, she had to admit, albeit grudgingly, that he was so much more than that guy on the field.
“Yeah? Well, news flash. It does.”
“Okay, enough with the pity party.” She pointed to the patio. “The table’s set and everything is ready. Get your ass out of bed and come eat.”
Mumbling under his breath, he levered himself upright, grabbed his crutches, and maneuvered himself out to the covered patio. When he’d made it into one of the chairs, he leaned his crutches against each other.
“Looks good,” he told her, eyeing the food. “I didn’t think chicks liked to cook anymore.”
“I don’t know what kind of chicks you hang out with, but I enjoy cooking. It’s relaxing.” She paused. “Be truthful. Isn’t it better eating out here instead of hugging a tray in bed?”
“Maybe.” He said the word grudgingly.
She’d thought he might clump his way into the kitchen for meals now that he was more mobile. However, it seemed Jake was going to push every one of her buttons. Getting him out to the patio off the master bedroom was an alternative for her.
Over dinner, she told him about the physical therapist DiMarco had arranged for.
Surprisingly, he didn’t argue about it. Instead of biting back, complaining that his hand was no good when his leg didn’t work, he surprised her.
“It’s a beginning,” he told her. “I’m a running back. My ability to take the handoff of the ball is almost as important as my ability to run with it. First I get my hand to work, then my leg. Right?”
“Of course.” She smiled encouragingly. “It’s all good.” She hoped with the new changes Jake would be in a good mood.
After dinner, she got him settled for the night. She wanted to tell him he could fetch anything else he needed from the kitchen, but she reminded herself everything was baby steps.
“I have some things to do in my room,” she told him. “Do not use the intercom unless it is a vital emergency or I’ll break your finger.”
“But you’re supposed to be my caretaker,” he reminded her.
“For anything you can’t do for yourself,” she said. “You can certainly get yourself to the bathroom and the kitchen.”
Before he could say anything else, she headed down the hall.
With Jake settled for the night—she hoped—she was ready to carve out some time with her laptop and get back to job hunting. She had plans and a new determination. Four hours later, she’d found only a few opportunities worth exploring, but it was better than nothing. And she needed to get to bed. The day started early in the Russell house.
She came awake the next morning with a feeling of trepidation. In addition to ordering the therapy, the doctor had also pronounced Jake well enough with his wrist healed to shower and shave.
“He’ll need to wrap the cast completely in cling wrap,” Moline had
said. “You know, to protect it.”
Today the man who’d been helping him with his routine was going to show both of them how to do it. Oh, joy. The cast extended clear up his leg almost to the top of his thigh. And his balls. And his cock. Erin knew she’d have to be the one to help him. She could just imagine his grin as she did her best to avoid grazing them with the back of her fingers.
The smart thing would have been to never have sex with Jake at all.
That horse has already left the barn, Erin. Put it behind you. Get your head in the game. Forget those urgent signals every time you’re in the room with him.
She knew all the pitfalls of a repeat performance in Jake’s bed, but couldn’t stop thinking about it. Wanting it. She hadn’t had an attraction to a man this intense since…since… Well, just since all that shit happened in her life.
She kept glancing at the intercom, waiting for Jake’s voice to come bellowing from the little speaker despite her threat to him. It stayed strangely silent. By the time she finished dressing, she was edgy, wondering if something had happened to him. What if he’d fallen and hurt himself? No, he’d have shouted and called for her. What if he was still asleep? Well, too bad. He had people coming. And she had to learn how to be his handmaiden in the bathroom.
She detoured to the kitchen to get a breakfast tray ready. She was still bringing him his coffee in the morning, but today started a fresh chapter in his life. Yesterday, while Jake was getting his shower and shave, she’d run up to the nearest market and picked up a few things. She’d grabbed some fresh bagels and a box of pastries from a great bakery even she had heard of. This morning they’d eat out on the covered patio, where they took the rest of their meals. And maybe today she could sweeten his disposition with a fresh pastry.
His door was closed, but when she knocked, there was no answer. She rapped again, a little louder.
“Come.”
A bad choice of words on his part because she was sure he was ready to. She knew she was every time she looked at him, a very difficult situation. She opened the door and looked in. Jake was lying in his usual place against the pillows, covers thrown off, body exposed to her eyes.
