Soaring on Love

by Joy Avery

  He pushed himself up onto his elbows. “What’s that?”

  “Chicken-and-rice soup.”

  He really didn’t feel like eating, but she’d gone through so much trouble. To show his gratitude, he could surely get down a few swallows. “It smells delicious.”

  Tressa took a seat on the edge of the bed, scooped up a spoonful of the fragrant liquid, blew it to cool it down, then fed him.

  “Mmm. Woman, you do have some major skills in the kitchen.”

  “Just in the kitchen?” A mischievous grin spread across her face.

  Oh, if he had the energy—and a cootie-free status—he’d have taken her right there. “Tease.”

  After he’d got his fill, Tressa placed the bowl on the nightstand, butted her back against the headboard and directed his head onto her lap. She stroked a hand over his cheek. Why did her touch soothe him so much?

  “Just rest.”

  Relaxed, Roth allowed his eyes to close. In his adult life, there had only been one woman he’d allowed his guard down around, and she’d hurt him. He’d sworn to never allow himself to be in that position again. And he’d managed to stick to his vow. Until now. Until Tressa. She’d become the exception to his ironclad rule.

  With his ex, the connection had never been as strong as the one he felt with Tressa. Not even after the two years they were together. A part of him wanted—knew he needed—to pull away from this thing blooming between them. But the part of him that liked the way she looked at him, liked the way she touched him, loved how he felt when he was with her, beckoned him to stay, to risk.

  “You’re supposed to be resting, Mr. Lexington, not stewing in your thoughts.”

  “Huh?”

  “I’ve noticed that whenever you glide your thumb back and forth across my skin like that, you’re in deep thought.”

  Damn. He hadn’t even realized he was doing it. He shifted to eye her.

  Tressa smirked. “You’re not the only observant one around here. I told you I see you. In vivid color.” She winked.

  Overwhelmed by the emotions storming inside him, all he could say was, “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  Well, since she saw so much, did she see how hard he was falling for her?

  * * *

  The following morning, Roth was still fast asleep when Tressa snaked from the bed. She didn’t readily move away. She watched him sleep. He looked so adorable.

  Mr. I Don’t Get Sick.

  The nighttime elixir she’d prepared and given him—a mix of bourbon, because he had no rum, honey, lemon juice and cayenne pepper—had put him out cold. Recalling the expression on his face when he’d tasted the concoction nearly made her burst out laughing. It definitely wasn’t the best-tasting remedy, but it worked wonders. He would feel like a new man when he woke up. Well...better than he did before he’d taken it, at least.

  Moving away, she headed downstairs to prepare them some breakfast. Before making her way into the kitchen, she threw a few more pieces of wood on the fire. A glance out the window revealed the snow had finally stopped. God, this place was gorgeous in the snow. Probably even more beautiful in the spring when everything was in bloom. The idea of returning brought a smile to her face.

  She’d got her wish to spend the week at the cabin. The only problem...Roth was sick. She shook her head at the quirk of fate. Actually, that wasn’t all bad. Well, bad for him, but she actually enjoyed his relying on her. That built trust, which was the foundation of any relationship.

  Collecting a few items from the fridge, she laid them out on the counter. They could remain at the cabin for several months and never run out of food. Mr. Glen’s wife had stocked the place as if she’d been expecting a famine and didn’t want Roth to suffer the fallout.

  Nettie. Tressa laughed to herself. For a split second at the general store, she’d thought Nettie had been the woman Roth was supposed to spend the weekend with. That conjured another question. Who was the woman she’d replaced? And what had been their status? A friend with benefits? A booty call? An on-again, off-again lover?

  Well, whatever was taking place between them was not just a passing fling. She was all-in and needed to know that Roth was, too.

  Coffee. She needed coffee. Without caffeine, she never thought clearly. Abandoning the bacon and eggs, she brewed a pot of the morning roast. Once it was done, she poured herself a cup, leaned against the counter and trained her gaze through the window.

  Enjoying how the first sip of the hot liquid pleasure warmed her nicely, she closed her eyes and moaned in delight. This would certainly help with clarity.

  “I’m jealous.”

  Tressa opened her eyes to see Roth propped against the wall, watching her. How had she not heard him come down? His voice was raspy and his usually brilliant eyes weak. He still wore his pajama pants. Instead of a shirt, a thin blanket draped his shoulders. “What are you doing out of bed, young man?”

  “I feel better. Not 100 percent, but much better than I felt last night.”

  He sneezed into the crook of his arm, paused, then sneezed again.

  “Bless you.” Nope, definitely not 100 percent. She felt so bad for him.

  “Thanks,” he croaked. Ambling to the sofa, he snagged a box of tissues and collapsed down onto the cushions. “My esophagus still burns from that poison you forced me to drink.”

  “I’m about to cook breakfast. Any special requests?”

  He coughed, sneezed, then blew his nose. “I’m not really hungry.”

  “You have to eat something, Roth. Even if it’s only a couple of bites of toast. It’ll help you get your strength back.”

  “Yeah, I need my strength.”

  If she could see his face, she knew there’d be a roguish grin spread across it. She hated not being able to at least kiss him, but she didn’t want the cooties, too, though her training told her she probably already had them. Maybe she’d better double up on the orange juice. They both couldn’t fall ill.

  “Okay. I request a couple of bites of toast,” he said.

  It sounded as if his face was buried in a pillow when he spoke. Even sick, he still found a way to make her smile. “A couple of bites of toast it is. And some orange juice,” she added.

  “And some orange juice.” He peeped over the back of the sofa, then collapsed out of sight as if he didn’t have the energy to maintain the position. “I’m supposed to be taking care of you, remember, beautiful?”

  Tressa dropped four slices of bread into the toaster. “You are taking care of me, handsome. You have been taking care of me since the moment you found me in your SUV.”

  Roth lazily chuckled. “I’m glad you chose my SUV to stow away in.”

  A smile touched her lips. “So am I.”

  After a hearty breakfast of bacon, egg, toast and juice for her—half a piece of toast and several sips of OJ for Roth—he fell asleep with his head in her lap. She used this time to continue the book of Maya Angelou quotes and poems she’d started.

  Love is like a virus. Tressa snickered to herself. Maybe Roth didn’t have a cold virus; maybe he was falling in love with her. Wishful thinking. With thoughts like these, she obviously hadn’t had enough coffee. In her defense, the text did state love could happen to anybody at any time. But after only a few days? Nah. She wasn’t buying it.

  Then it dawned on her. This thing between her and Roth hadn’t just grown wings at the cabin. It’d been soaring for months; she’d just chosen to ignore it. Had to ignore it. Her gaze lowered to Roth. “It took flight the moment I first laid eyes on you,” she said in a whisper.

  “What took flight?” Roth asked, his eyes still shut.

  “Um...nothing. Just something I read in the book. Go back to sleep. You need your rest.”

  “And what do you need?”

&nbs
p; Besides forever with you... “For you to get better.”

  Chapter 10

  A day or so later, Roth felt almost back to normal. However, Tressa was still making a fuss over him taking it easy. He’d never had someone make such a big deal over his well-being. It felt...good.

  The worst part of being sick hadn’t been feeling like the tennis ball in a match between the Williams sisters; it was not being able to kiss Tressa in the deep, passionate manner he craved. He shot a glance toward the stairs. She’d been up there for an awfully long time. What was she doing? Taking a nap?

  Pushing off the sofa, he climbed the stairs. When he heard Tressa on her cell phone, he stopped.

  “Fine. I’ll meet you. I have to go.”

  Her words were low but sharp and cold. That had to mean only one thing. It’d been her ex on the line. By her own words, they were done. So why had she agreed to meet him? A ping of jealousy rippled through him, followed by mounds of concern.

  Taking a deep breath, he tried not to jump to conclusions. Continuing the climb, he said, “Hey.” Tressa flinched at his words. He noted the look of distress on her face when she turned to him.

  “Um, hey. Everything okay?” she asked.

  “Yeah. Everything’s fine.” When his eyes briefly slid to the cell phone in her hand, she tossed it on the bed. “Everything okay with you?” A part of him wanted her to tell him she’d been on the line with her ex, while another part of him simply wanted to ignore what he’d heard and trust that there was no reason to be concerned. For him, trusting was far more easily considered than applied.

  “Perfect, now that you’re here.”

  Tressa closed the distance between them, wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest. Her grip was snug, as if something had her rattled. What in the hell had Cyrus said to her? Anger tightened his jaw, diluting the emotions he’d previously felt. All he experienced now was that insistent need to shield her. He cocooned her in his arms, giving her the comfort he suspected she sought.

  “Mmm. Your arms feel so good.” She tilted her head upward. “How do you feel?”

  “Like a new dollar bill. Thanks to your TLC.”

  “You know what would make you feel even better?”

  Yes, he did. Making untamed, insanely hot love to her. But he decided to get her answer first. “What?”

  “A hot bath.”

  Oh, he liked her suggestion even better.

  Taking his hand, she pulled him toward the bathroom. As the tub filled, she poured several capfuls of rubbing alcohol into the water. This woman loved her rubbing alcohol. Since he’d got sick, she rubbed his chest down every night in the stuff. “Something my mother used to do,” she said.

  He didn’t know if her home remedies actually worked, but between the rubbing alcohol and the potion she’d made him drink, he’d experienced very little chest congestion. Guess he couldn’t discount them completely.

  Stripping and climbing into the steamy water, he protested when Tressa said she wasn’t joining him. Instead, she sat on the edge of the claw-foot tub, lathered a rag and began to wash his back. He hummed in satisfaction. “That feels amazing. A brother could get used to this kind of treatment.”

  “And a sister could get used to giving it to him.”

  When silence filled the room, he toyed with the idea of mentioning he’d overheard her conversation. Okay, eavesdropped, if one was being technical. Instead, he went a different route. “Have you talked to Vivian? You know she likes you to check in. I guess she wants to make sure I haven’t fed you to a bear or something.”

  Tressa swiped the rag over his shoulders. “There’s not a bear in North Carolina that can handle me.”

  Well played, he thought, considering how she’d craftily deflected his question. Maybe he was being a fool, but something deep inside him said he had nothing to worry about. He just hoped that something was right. “Really?”

  “Yes, really.”

  “Well, this chocolate bear can handle you.” In one swift motion, he had her in the tub with him. Her arms flailed as if she’d fallen into shark-infested waters.

  “Roth Lexington! I can’t believe you just did that. I’m soaked.”

  He closed his arms around her, causing her back to nestle against his chest. “Quit fronting, woman. You know you wanted to be in here with me.”

  “Whatever.”

  He could hear the smile in her voice. Tressa cooed as he pressed a kiss to her shoulder, the crook of her neck and the edge of her ear. “Thank you,” he whispered softly. “Thank you for taking such good care of me.”

  Growing up in the system, he never got the luxury of homemade soup, specialty elixirs or back washes. And he sure as hell hadn’t encountered anyone as selfless as Tressa. She was unlike any woman he’d ever bedded.

  Bedded? That sounded so cold. Tressa wasn’t just warming his bed; she was thawing his damn heart.

  He honestly couldn’t recall the last time anyone had shown him such compassion without wanting something in return.

  Tressa glanced over her shoulder. “You are very welcome. Plus, I feel partly responsible for you being sick. It was my idea to play in the snow.”

  Now that she mentioned it... “Partly?”

  “Ah, yes. Partly. I mean, you are a grown man. You could have said no.”

  Roth pinched her playfully on the thigh.

  “Ouch,” she said through laughter.

  “As if I could have said no once I saw the way your face lit up. ‘Ooh, snow,’” he mocked.

  She swatted him playfully. “I don’t believe those were my exact words, and I definitely don’t sound like that.” Easing her head back against his shoulder, she smiled. “Snow reminds me of my grandmother. My father’s mother,” she clarified. “Gram used to make snow cream every snowfall. Never the first snow. The first snow washed away all the germs.” She frowned as if the memory ushered in a great deal of sadness. “I miss her.”

  “How long has she...?”

  “Almost six years. Old age. She was ninety-seven.”

  Roth whistled. “Ninety-seven. She lived a long life.”

  “A long and vibrant life. After my grandfather’s death, she didn’t sit around depressed and withdrawn. She traveled, she explored, she adventured, she fell in love over and over again. Though she once said she’d never love a man the way she’d loved my grandfather.”

  He kissed the back of her head. “Tell me about your grandfather.”

  She perked up. “My grandfather was as royal as a king to me.”

  She said it with so much passion Roth envisioned a Coming to America scene.

  “He spoiled me and my brothers, but not with just material things. He spoiled us with knowledge and wisdom. He was a family and a community man. My grandfather was the man any and everyone in the neighborhood knew they could come to if they needed anything. Help with their mortgage. Help with utilities. Food for the dinner table. Clothing. School supplies for the kids. Anything.” She sighed. “He’s the reason I love to cook.”

  When Tressa blinked rapidly, he knew she was blinking back tears. He tightened his grip around her. “You’re lucky to have grown up surrounded by so much love.” He kissed the back of her head again. “You’re so lucky. The only l-word I’ve ever truly known is loss. My mom died when I was three. My dad gave me to his sister to raise, then disappeared. When I was seven, my aunt died in a car crash. That’s how I ended up in foster care. No one wanted me.”

  Tressa turned around to look at him. Tenderness blazed in her adoring eyes. “I want you,” she said in a delicate voice.

  “Why?”

  She straightened and rested against him again. “Because this feels right. Us. We feel right. Things for me haven’t felt right for a very long time, but this...this feels right. My
life is not picture-perfect, Roth, but I really want you in it.”

  “The last time I...” He stopped short of saying fell in love in fear of spooking her. “I was hurt once. I’ve had my guard up ever since.”

  “What happened?”

  “She cheated on me.”

  “Oh.”

  “From the start, I knew we hadn’t been right for each other. But I wanted someone to love. And someone to love me,” he added. “I entered into the relationship for all the wrong reasons. I wasn’t the man I should have been. I was closed off and sometimes cold. She sought comfort elsewhere.”

  “And now? Are you still closed off and sometimes cold?”

  “That was five years ago. I’ve done a lot of growing since then. I’m still a work in progress, but I’m here.” Allowing his hands to glide up her body, he cupped her breasts and squeezed. “Don’t you feel me?”

  Tressa moaned a sound of satisfaction. “Yes,” she said in a sultry tone. “I feel you all through my system.”

  Pinching her nipples through the wet fabric caused her to shiver against him. When he rolled them simultaneously between his fingers, she moaned. “Woman, I want to kiss you so badly I can taste it. But since I can’t right now, I’ll find pleasure in making you come. Can I make you come?”

  “O...kay.”

  After a couple more minutes teasing her taut nipples, he peeled the shirt from her body and dropped it into the water with them.

  “You’re not wearing any panties,” he said, his tone laced with desire. “I like that.” His hand snaked between her legs, gliding between her folds. When he started to massage her clit—first slowly, then with much more gusto—she gripped the sides of the tub.

  “Yes, Roth. I want to come. Make me—”

  She cried out, her body jerking forward. Water sloshed as if they’d activated jets. By the quickness of which he’d brought her to a climax, she’d wanted this. When she settled, her hand slinked into the water, her fingers wrapping around his painful erection.

  “Shit,” he growled through clenched teeth. She pumped up and down. Slow, then fast. Her grip tightened and a lightning bolt of pleasure sparked through his entire body. When her thumb swiped back and forth over the head of his shaft, he exploded.