Untouched

by Lauren Hawkeye

  He’d been stabbed with a goddamn shiv, and in that moment, rather than thinking that he’d deserved it...he was fucking pissed.

  * * *

  Alexa positioned a rickety kitchen chair under the ceiling trapdoor that led to the attic and climbed up onto the cracked vinyl seat. She lectured herself as she stretched up to brace her hands inside the hole, thinking that this really was a good hiding place for things, because it was so frigging hard to get up here.

  A whisper of thought told her that maybe it was a sign—that she should leave well enough alone. But she hadn’t been able to get the book out of her mind all day. The more she thought about the book, the more she felt like she was on the cusp of catching hold of her own memories of the accident.

  Bracing her hands, she prepared to swing herself up into the darkening attic. She’d grab the book and hurry back down—a thunderstorm had started up outside, dimming the late afternoon light, and she knew that the attic would not be a most welcoming place.

  The shrill chime of a bell made her jolt and shriek, and the chair slipped, sending her crashing to the floor. Her heart pounded wildly, adrenaline making her see stars, as she gained her bearings and realized that the unfamiliar sound was that of a doorbell.

  She hadn’t come across one at any other entrance, so she assumed that the ringing was coming from downstairs, outside the shop. Picking herself up off the floor and wincing at the ensuing stiffness in her limbs, she limped down the stairs, through the cooler, and to the front door of the flower shop.

  “Come in, come in.” Undoing the deadbolt, she ushered him inside, then shut the door against the storm outside. He wasn’t wearing a jacket and was soaked to the skin. “What the hell are you doing out there without a coat?”

  He didn’t answer with words, instead holding up a white plastic bag from which wafted the scent of Chinese takeout. As she set the food aside on the counter, she discovered that it wasn’t what had her mouth watering.

  She hadn’t seen Nate without his uniform before, and now he stood before her in faded blue jeans and a white T-shirt that was plastered to his skin with rain. She did her best not to ogle, but the thin fabric made it very clear that what she’d suspected was a nicely formed body was even better than she could have imagined.

  Her attention wandered over that nicely formed torso, and she felt her body tighten in response. When she noted the hint of pink bleeding through one shoulder of the shirt, she moved to press her hand to it without thinking.

  “What happened?” Her fingers tugged at the fabric of his sleeve, peeling it back to discover a bandage, once white, now stained from the hint of blood that the rain had teased out. “Nate. You’re hurt.”

  His hand caught hers around the wrist and she pulled back from the wound sharply, afraid she’d hurt him. But when she looked up into his face, she found that it wasn’t pain on his face.

  It was grief. It was desire. It was so many things that she too felt, too many for one person to face alone.

  “I need you.” This was all he said, and then those strong arms of his had clasped her around the waist, lifted her until her bottom was settled on the counter. One of his hands splayed flat over her back, pressing her closer and closer until there was nothing between but the heat they created. The other hand tangled in her hair, and Alexa swore that she could feel the air around them crackle with whatever it was that hung between them.

  His lips came down on hers with an intensity that spoke of a need that went far beyond the physical. They were strangers still, and yet each soul recognized, yearned for, needed the other.

  It was in no way rational, and yet it still was.

  Nate’s mouth slanted over hers, hungry and hot and not a little bit desperate. Alexa felt her head tip back under the onslaught, and he took advantage of the exposed column of her throat, kissing his way down to her collarbone and yanking her hips forward until her core cradled his hardness.

  She didn’t know him well enough to know his mannerisms, his habits, but in that moment she was certain that he needed some kind of solace that, inexplicably, she was the only one able to provide.

  She’d be a cruel woman to turn him away. A stupid one as well, because when she was pressed against him like this, she felt safe in a way that she hadn’t since the moment she woke up in that hospital bed, a chunk of her memory gone.

  Alexa waited for his hands to move to the expected places, eager for the touch, which anchored her in the now and kept her from worrying about the past or the future. But even as her legs clamped around his hips and she moaned in surrender, he pressed a finger to the pulse beneath her jaw and then placed one final kiss on her forehead before drawing back.

  “I’m sorry. I need to eat something.” He grimaced, gesturing to the wound on his shoulder. “I’d like to play the big tough guy for you, but if I’m honest, I’d tell you that I probably need to sit down too.”

  “Can you make it up the stairs?” Alexa was instantly concerned, and even tried to pull back as Nate clasped her around the waist and helped her off the counter. He cast her that mysterious little half smile that made her insides do funny things, and laced his fingers through her own.

  “Physically, it’s just a cut. It’s not that deep. Didn’t even need stitches.” His face was cast in shadows from light made dim by the thunderstorm outside. “I just... I have a thing about blood. It’s been a long day.”

  Alexa’s gaze raked over his face—it was on the tip of her tongue to make a teasing comment about such a big guy being afraid of a bit of blood. But there was something in his tone that stopped her, had her tightening her fingers in his own and pulling him towards, then through the cooler, and up the stairs into the apartment.

  “I can throw your clothes in the dryer, if you’d like.” Alexa offered this shyly. It must have been hellishly uncomfortable having the wet clothing pulling at his skin, but it might be even more uncomfortable for them both if he took her up on her offer, because she had nothing for him to wear in the meantime.

  He studied her face for a long moment, and Alexa felt her heart thud with anticipation when he finally nodded.

  “I’d appreciate that. If you have a blanket or something, I’ll wrap that around myself.” Eyes on her, he reached for the hem of his sodden T-shirt, pulling it up and over her head in one breathtaking move, and Alexa swallowed hard at the sudden view of dusky skin pulled tight over planes of muscle. He was thinner than he should have been, given his height and frame, and she wondered if the reason he’d lost weight was the same reason that he carried that haunted look in his eyes.

  As she stared, his hands moved to the waistband of the jeans. The sudden charge in the air arcing between them told her in no uncertain terms that, feeling well or not, if she stayed put, this was going to move to the next level now.

  While part of her wanted that more than she’d wanted anything in her life, Alexa found herself spinning on her heel and retreating to the bedroom to get the duvet.

  Her life was in a state of flux. While she was incredibly drawn to him, there was still a tiny corner of her brain—the area that housed common sense—that told her to slow down.

  Alexa kept her eyes fastened to the floor as she held the quilt out to Nate. Still, her imagination didn’t seem to need a visual—it was flooding her mind’s eye regardless.

  Face flushed, she hurried to the kitchen and busied herself opening the containers of take-out that he’d brought over, dawdling over it until she was certain that he’d be well covered. Only then did she carry over the cardboard boxes of cashew chicken and of something else with vegetables and noodles that she couldn’t quite identify, holding both out to him to choose.

  He took the unidentifiable one.

  “What is that?” Alexa asked, sitting down next to him on the couch. His body shifted so that he was facing her, and the tight wrap of the quilt opened up as he did, revealing a slice of hard male torso.

  Alexa kept her gaze firmly fixed on his face, even as her hormones w
ent wild.

  “Tofu.” Nate scooped up a large bite, groaning as the taste hit his tongue. The sexual sound made Alexa warm—very, very warm. “I’ve been a vegetarian for several years.”

  Pinning Alexa with a wry smile, he winked before taking another bite. The food was definitely doing him good—more color was appearing in his cheeks. Alexa knew hers were flushed too, but it had nothing to do with bringing her blood sugar up.

  “This is the part where I say something hugely original like, where do you get your protein, right?” Alexa took a bite of her own dinner, though just being around Nate had her so excited that she didn’t have much of an appetite. Still, he’d taken the trouble to come here to see her, and had been thoughtful enough to bring a meal, so she’d damn well eat it.

  Nate barked out a laugh. “Yes, that’s usually the reaction.” He studied her intently with those storm grey eyes. “Aren’t you going to ask me why, or make some joke about getting some meat in me?”

  Alexa raised an eyebrow before eating another bite of chicken and cashews. “I figure if you want me to know, you’ll tell me.”

  Shutters lowered over Nate’s eyes and Alexa sank her teeth into her tongue until she tasted the tang of blood. What had she said? She’d been trying to be sensitive.

  For several minutes they ate in silence that had thickened with tension, Alexa dying to look up, to examine this fascinating creature in front of her. Then he cleared his throat, and when her eyes met his, she understood that what he was about to say carried heavy weight.

  “I used to be a cop,” Nate started, setting his empty container aside. “Worked in animal control for a while. Some of the things I saw… I started to have a hard time eating anything that had once been alive.”

  “Wow.” He cocked his head to one side at the softly spoken word, and she continued. “That just makes my heart hurt. I don’t think I could do a job like that. But that just makes me appreciate the people who do it all the more.”

  “Takes all kinds.” Nate shifted on the couch, and Alexa’s attention was again drawn to the hard muscle of his chest. Tearing her attention away, she forced herself to focus on what he was saying. “I could never do what you do, for example.”

  “The flowers or the art?” Alexa raked a hand through her hair with frustration. She was still trying to find her way around the shop, and she hated the sense of disorientation. “Because I won’t be able to do the flowers for very long.”

  “Isn’t it a kind of art?” Nate took Alexa’s now empty container for her, and the slight brush of fingers made her pulse race. “It seems like it, at least when you do it.”

  The compliment made her tingle. “That part, I could do. It’s the rest—the dealing with people.”

  She smirked. “Too much time spent dealing with the public makes me twitchy. I don’t actually like people very much.”

  “I don’t know if I believe that,” Nate grinned, settling back on the couch. This was the most at ease that Alexa had seen him so far. “You were pretty friendly to me when I came in.”

  “I said I don’t like people, plural,” she replied primly, though in truth the back and forth banter, the flirtation, had her feeling like she’d drunk just a sip too much champagne—effervescent and giddy. “Certain individual people are exempt, of course.”

  Nate placed his hand on her foot, the movement again opening up the blanket, and when he pinned her with his stare Alexa felt her pulse begin to skitter. “Do I count as an individual, then?”

  “Of course.” Unable to hold the intensity of his look, she found herself looking down at her own intertwined fingertips. “So if you were a cop, why do you work at a prison now?”

  That same look of censure passed over his face, and Alexa could have kicked herself. Lord, but she was just useless at flirting. Hell, he hadn’t even told her where he worked, she’d just taken note of his uniform—was it creepy to pay that much attention? She had no idea.

  But instead of condemning her as nosy, he held her stare, then slowly spoke, turning the question back on her. “Why are you here?”

  “I’m here to remember.” She spoke on instinct, without taking the time to think about it—but now she wondered which memories, exactly, had become more important to her.

  Against the blanket Nate’s hand flexed, tightening before letting go.

  “I’d rather forget.”

  * * *

  The buzz of the dryer cycle finishing broke through the intense moment. Alexa bounced off the couch with relief evident in every muscle of her body.

  Nate watched with narrowed eyes as she scurried down the hall to get his clothes. What was her deal? His cop instincts told him that there was more to her than met the eye, but was she deliberately hiding something?

  His gut said no.

  Why did he even care? He shouldn’t—in fact, he should walk away right now before getting in any deeper. He couldn’t believe that he’d told her that he’d been a cop, had been on the verge of telling her about his partner—he’d tried so hard to leave the past in the past, and out of Florence.

  The fading light cast intriguing shadows on her curvy figure as she made her way back toward him, hands smoothing out wrinkles in his now dry clothes. When their gazes caught, he felt a funny little squeeze in his heart.

  He’d never been one to believe in those instant connections that people talked about. If it wasn’t real, wasn’t something he could reach out and touch, he tended to be skeptical.

  But Alexa? He’d wanted her from the first moment he’d seen her, in the diner, sketching away furiously on a napkin. It wasn’t just lust, though he had a healthy dose of that too.

  There was something in her, some spark of life that drew the darkness inside of him.

  He wanted her, and he wasn’t a good enough person to let her go.

  She busied herself in the kitchen while he dressed again. He was amused and intrigued by the fact that she was so embarrassed at having him dress around her. If they headed where he wanted to go, she’d be getting over that mighty quick. But he found it sweet—the flush of pink that tinged her cheeks as she walked him down the stairs and to the door of the flower shop made him feel alive.

  Leaving her, knowing he was going home to the dark, was not a happy thought.

  “Why are you so sad?”

  Nate whipped his head around—she’d caught him by surprise. That he was often miserable wasn’t something he hid from people, but most people didn’t comment on it. Didn’t want to risk being pulled into something that took them out of their own self-absorbed worlds.

  That she’d commented… it floored him.

  Gently, he cupped her cheek in his hand, ran his fingers through the silky length of her hair, the scent of her shampoo wafting up to tease his nostrils—citrus and sugar.

  He felt her pulse jump beneath his fingertips, heard her little intake of breath. Dipping his head, he pressed his lips to her ear.

  “When I’m around you, I’m not sad.” He trailed his lips across her cheek, until they just grazed her own. Felt her tremor answered inside his own chest. “May I?”

  “Please.” Her voice was shaky, a plea that he felt too.

  The fingers that were threaded through her hair clenched; she gasped. His other hand came to rest on the sweet curve of her waist.

  “Last chance.” His voice was hoarse, and he felt the last dregs of his control slipping away as he pinned her with his stare. It was a warning for them both.

  No matter how insane it was to feel this connection, it was there nevertheless. They were at the point of no return—one more kiss, and that indescribable thing between them would become a link that couldn’t be broken.

  Nate’s mind screamed at him, reminding him that the noble thing to do would be to walk away. To keep her light far away from his dark.

  He wasn’t that strong. He didn’t know if he’d get very far, anyway, not with the determined spark in the eyes of the woman in his arms.

  “Kiss me.” Two simp
le words, and yet they sliced like a knife, severing the remainder of his control.

  He crushed her to him, savored the sensation of her softness against the hard planes of his own body. He swallowed her gasp, muttered a curse, and stroked his tongue over her lips, desperate for her to part them, to let him take them as deep as he could, as fast as possible.

  Beneath him she moaned, and an answering sound rose from his throat. His lips moved like quicksilver, stroking over the incredible softness of her skin.

  But even though she quivered against him, she was far from pliant in his arms. No, she was demanding, her hands roaming restlessly, her mouth taking what it wanted. The steel beneath the silk drove him crazy, in the best possible way, and he found himself, unbelievably, absolutely present in the moment. His entire being consumed with Alexa, and nothing else.

  “Oh.” The soft sound from her lips had heat flaring in his belly. Muscles taut with need, he stroked up with one hand, feathered it over the top of her breast, savored the sensation of her nipple pebbling beneath his palm.

  His touch moved up, light but sure. The tips of his fingers dipped beneath the hem of her T-shirt, finding the hard ridges of scar tissue.

  The idea that something had hurt her made him see red. He dipped his head, intending to run his lips over the wound, to soothe the hurt.

  As his fingers played over the odd raised pattern, Alexa stiffened in his arms. Stiffened wasn’t even the right word—her entire body went rigid, the warm, pliant flesh freezing into unyielding rigidity before he could even take a breath.

  “What is it?” The words were barely out of his mouth when her hands were planted on his chest, shoving. And for such a small woman, she had strength. “Alexa. What’s wrong?”

  “Off. Off!” Her voice was a full-on scream as she flinched away, cowering against the counter. In front of his disbelieving eyes, she dropped to the floor, curled into a small ball—defending herself against an unknown enemy.

  “Alexa.” His heart thudded against his ribcage as he slowly, deliberately stepped back. Shoving away the demands of his body, he crouched down beside her, careful to not even brush against her. “Alexa, it’s just me. It’s Nate. There’s no one else here.”