by Lila Ashe
He wrapped his arms around her, sliding his hands down so that he could cup her deliciously soft derriere. Then Grace shocked him. She lifted one leg, then the other, wrapping her strong thighs around his waist. He held her there, by her bottom. Climbing up him like that, she never even broke the kiss.
“Behind you,” she said into his mouth.
He tried valiantly to take his lips away. “Wha …”
“Don’t stop,” she pleaded, her hands pulling his head back to hers. “The bedroom’s behind you. Go,” she said.
He went.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Grace woke in a happy tangle of legs and sunshine.
It felt good.
She straightened her legs, pushing them against the wall, pressing her toes onto the cool lemon-colored paint.
It was the two extra-long legs that were wrapped with her own that she was concerned with. Heavy, muscular legs.
Screwing her eyes shut tightly, she tried to block out the ray of sun that lit up not only her own face, but Tox’s. His chin was covered with what looked like a three-day beard growth. The hair on his bare chest ran downward, curving in at the sloping muscles of his stomach, headed under the sheet …
No, she had to focus on herself. Take inventory of her mental and physical states, just as she’d trained herself to do. From bottom to top. Calmly.
Her legs felt … weak. Still a little weak. It was a good thing he’d carried her into her bedroom.
The middle part of her body? Well, that had been a workout she hadn’t expected. She was glad she’d been doing crunches. At least her core was strong enough. She grinned to herself at the thought.
Her heart? Oh, no, she couldn’t think about that right now. She knew intuitively that she wouldn’t be able to trust whatever she told herself. A guy like Tox? Last night had been … No one had ever touched her like he had. He’d made her feel like a kitten and a sex doll and best of all, like she was someone he could never get enough of. No matter what she’d done, he’d wanted more. And she’d felt the same way about him. She’d wanted him harder and deeper, and then again. She blushed as she remembered the third “again” she’d wanted. And gotten.
And then, as dawn had broken as rosy as she’d known her cheeks must have been, he’d kissed her to sleep. Quite literally, she’d gone to sleep with his mouth on hers. Breathing each other in.
She’d never known such tenderness.
Yeah, so she just wouldn’t think about her heart. Whatever.
Her head. That was the problem. Her brain. Tox wasn’t good for her. She knew that. In the logical area of her thoughts, she knew that he shared nothing in common with her pursuit of health. He didn’t sleep. He ate fast food, fried food, and way too much sugar. He drank too much coffee. He didn’t take care of a simple injury, making it worse.
And worse, he couldn’t cultivate relationships. Or, in his words, he didn’t really do them. That meant he broke women’s hearts. She wouldn’t be one of them. No way.
Still, she felt her resolve slipping. Was it that he couldn’t cultivate relationships with women? Or was it that he wouldn’t? Was it something he could fix? With help, maybe?
She regretted the thought as soon as it flitted through her mind. This. She flipped back the sheet only to realize that she, too, was naked as a jaybird. This was why she got into crappy relationships with men. Because she let them get away with it.
No more. She’d promised herself that. But she let her eyes crawl over Tox’s sleeping body one more time, as she reached slowly for her robe hanging on the back of the bedroom door. Oh, his legs, so long under that sheet. His feet hung off the end of her bed. The perfect naked chest … Those amazing sea-green eyes.
She gave a squeak as she realized his eyes were wide open, staring at her with amusement.
“Good morning, gorgeous,” he drawled, pushing himself up on one elbow.
“Your hair is crazy!” The words were out before she could stop them. “I mean …”
He ran his fingers through his mop of hair slowly. “I do have mad scientist hair in the morning. What are you doing up?”
“Coffee!” she exclaimed. “I like coffee.”
As she ran out of the room, she could hear him laughing behind her.
<>
She thought that maybe by the time she got it brewed and had poured them both cups he would have been dressed and ready to get on with his day. After all, she had to get to the clinic to post that she would be closed for the day and get to the hospital as soon as possible. She wanted to bring Samantha home and watch over her, fussing over how many blankets to pile on and making her take anti-inflammatories until she was strong enough to answer all the questions Grace had stored up for her.
Yeah. Maybe when she brought Tox coffee, he’d be dressed. Ready to head out.
No such luck. When Grace ventured back in the room that still smelled like warmth and sex—their sex—he was sitting up, leaning on her headboard as if he’d been born to do it, flipping through a Yoga Journal magazine.
He held it up. “You know about this kundalini stuff?”
“I’ve heard of it.”
“Shoot.” He let out a low whistle, which she thought was related to his thinking about the Svadhistana until she noticed his eyes weren’t on the magazine anymore. Instead, he appeared intently focused on the way her yellow silk robe parted when she leaned to hand him his cup.
“So,” she said briskly. “Do you have to work today?”
“Nope. I’m on my four-day.”
Well, so much for that method of getting him out of her house. She did have to get him out, right? She couldn’t let him stay. No. She couldn’t. For a moment, though, she couldn’t remember why not. The X-rated images that danced in her mind, both of what they did last night and what she still wanted to do to him, made her feel like she should just let the robe slip open a little more.
So she did. Really, it was an experiment. Grace was kind of required to see if what they’d had last night wasn’t just a product of too much heightened fear and emotion after her sister’s crash.
So she twisted as she reached for her cup, tugging the clip out of her hair at the same time. Her hair tumbled around her shoulders. When she turned to meet Tox’s gaze, she made sure she twisted back a little too far. The silk of the robe was slippery. It never did stay together the way it was supposed to.
She bit her lower lip and then wet it with her tongue, never letting go of his gaze.
Something in his eyes—he reminded her of something … an animal of some sort.
As he launched himself at her with a roar she realized what it was. He was a huge jungle cat, ready to take down its quarry.
And he took her down, hard. She was flat on her back on the bed, robe thrown to the floor, condom in his hand and then on, and he was in her, without preamble or discussion. And as he moved in her, so fast, so hard, and his eyes stayed on hers. Mine, his eyes said. Mine, mine, mine.
She knew her eyes said the same thing back to him.
She also knew she’d regret it later. She’d probably regret nothing more.
But now, for this moment, as her fingers dug deeply into his back, moving to match his thrusts, she was his, and he was hers, and nothing had ever felt so right. Ever.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The next time Grace got out of bed, she was more determined. The hospital. That’s where she had to be.
She showered, and by the time she got out, Tox was pulling on his shirt. “I gotta go see a man about a dog. Literally.” He stood. “Walk of shame time, I guess.”
She smiled. “At least you’re not in heels.”
He stuck out a leg and examined his boot. “What? I could pull that off.”
Grace had no doubt he could. “I like a man in drag,” she said. “It’s hot.”
Tox said, “I’ve seen some pretty men. I won’t argue with you on that,” and Grace felt herself fall a little further.
She put in her silver hoop ear
rings, the ones Samantha had given her years ago. At one point, she’d wondered if Sam had stolen them. Or bought them with money made in a way that could get a person jailed. Or worse.
She fingered them gingerly. She loved them, no matter where they came from.
“You look incredible.”
Surprised, Grace looked down at herself. “Me?” Her voice felt high and nervous, as if she were speaking while crossing a tightrope. She was only wearing a black t-shirt and jeans with old yellow cowboy boots. Her favorite comfort outfit. “I thought I looked kind of … not that good.”
“One,” he pulled her back into the wide circle of his arms, “You do look that good. And two, I wasn’t looking at your clothes.”
He kissed her, and Grace came perilously close to forgetting why she had her keys in her hands.
“No,” she said, pulling away with difficulty, ignoring the heat that rose inside her. “I’m going.”
“I want to see you later,” Tox said.
“Okay …” she said. The word was easy, but it fell into the space between them awkwardly. “I mean … when Sam is better, and when you’re on your time off again, you go in for a couple of days tomorrow, right? It’s just …”
“Grace.” He tilted her head up by touching her chin. “We had a good time, right?”
A good time. Is that what people called it now? Was it that easy for him? “Yeah.”
“Then maybe you’ll think about giving me a call later today.”
“Sure.”
“Or come by the station tomorrow.”
“Sure.”
He nodded and released her. “Seems like that’s the best I’m going to get out of you, then.”
“You got the best out of me last night, I think.” She wanted to sound bold and brazen, but instead, she just sounded shy.
He laughed.
Grace didn’t like the confusion she felt inside. What was wrong with her? She was scared to see any more of him, in case she really did fall, and at the same time, she hated the thought of not being around him.
They left the house together. It felt strange to turn and lock the door behind them. Like any other couple on a Wednesday morning. They walked down the steps, their arms brushing. With a salute at the edge of her walkway, Tox grinned as he turned right to head to his truck.
Walking toward her car, Grace wondered how in the world he could be so casual. Maybe he was that used to leaving the house of a woman in the morning? The thought made her feel faintly ill. But she would ignore it …
Behind her came fast footfalls. A large hand at her elbow. Tox spun her, pulling her into his arms.
“You fit here, you know that?”
Grace’s mouth dropped open.
“I love the way you fit in my arms. This could be good. It might actually be good,” said Tox. Then he kissed her once, hard. “I just wanted to make sure I told you that.”
He let her go. Grace watched him walk away, her fingers on her lips, trying to swallow the smile that just wouldn’t go away.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
In the hospital, Samantha said, “It’s about time!”
Grace pulled out her cell phone and glanced at it. “You said you would call me, though. Oh.”
“I’ve been calling since last night. They said I could go home at seven this morning, but you never came.”
“I’m sorry,” Grace said. “I didn’t see the messages. I had my ringer off, I guess. I’m so sorry. How are you feeling?”
Sam stretched one arm in front of her and then the other. “I hurt. I feel muscles I didn’t even know existed. Ever.”
“You look amazing,” said Grace, touching the side of her sister’s face softly.
Samantha winced and pulled away. “I saw. I look like an alcoholic ex-prizefighter.”
“Who got in a car wreck after losing his last round.”
“After being hit on the head with a frying pan by his wife when she found out he was cheating on her,” said Samantha.
“Something like that,” Grace said.
Samantha made a buzzing noise and stood, slowly. “Not what you tell the lady getting sprung. You tell her she’s pretty.”
“You’re pretty.”
Margarita, the head nurse poked her head in. “Yes, lovey, you’re pretty.”
It was true—even bruised and swollen, Samantha’s delicate features inspired a take-care-of-me vibe that every person who popped in and out of the room seemed to feel. Each nurse smiled, touched her somewhere, wished her the best.
“That makes me feel better. That’s what a girl needs to heal.” Samantha said, tossing her hair. “Ow. Dang it. I can’t do that right now.”
“So don’t do it. Come on. Let’s blow this dump.”
In the hospital corridor, Grace put her arm around her sister’s shoulder. Samantha wrapped her arm around Grace’s waist. Together, they went home.
<>
Grace gave her sister an hour.
Then she went in her room. “So.”
Samantha sighed and flopped backward onto her pillow. “I hope you’re here to bring me more tea.”
She knew better than that. “Who is he?”
Sam raised her hands and let them flop onto her stomach. “Just a guy.”
“What’s his name?”
“Justin.”
“What does he do?”
“Why does that always matter so much to you?”
Grace sat on the edge of the bed, conscious that if she said the wrong thing now she could erase the careful trust that had built between them over the last year. “It matters because it says a lot about a person.”
“Fine. He doesn’t have a job, as it happens.”
Drug dealer. Pimp. Gambler. It didn’t help that Grace had accidentally dated all those guys, too. “What does he want to do?”
“He’s an environmentalist.”
“Oh, yeah?”
Samantha sighed. “He has money from his parents. I guess, like, a lot of money.”
That would explain the car at least.
“He does something with cleaning water.”
“What?” Grace tried to keep the skepticism from her voice, but found it impossible. “So you’re dating a mob boss.”
“Jesus, Grace.”
“A mob boss wannabe?”
“Why can’t he just be a guy? A normal guy?”
“Where did you meet him?”
Her sister crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t have to tell you.”
Awesome. Had Samantha fallen off the wagon again? Was she at the bar while Grace was at work? “How’s your drinking doing?”
Samantha took in a loud breath. “You know what? You always ask me things like that. How’s my drinking? How’s my using? Why not ask the more accurate question. How’s my sobriety going? Today?”
“Your defensiveness makes me worry that I’m going in the right direction.”
Samantha stood, wincing as she did so. “I’m getting out of here.”
“Where are you going?” Grace watched as Samantha shoved clothes into a duffel bag. “You can’t just go.”
Samantha didn’t say anything. She just moved into the bathroom and began collecting her toiletries into a plastic case.
“Come on. Talk to me. I’m only concerned about your well-being.”
Pausing, a bottle of eye-makeup remover in her hand, Samantha turned to face Grace. “I don’t think you are.”
Pain knifed through Grace. “Of course I am. I’m never anything but concerned about you.”
“That’s the whole problem. Your concern isn’t flattering.”
“But …”
“I’m not a junkie.”
“You—”
“I had a problem with drugs. I was an addict. But I’m not anymore. I’m clean. I’m sober. I’m healthy.”
“But this guy—”
“Is none of your business, Grace.”
It felt like a sucker punch. How many times had Grace heard this from h
er sister? How many times had Samantha said she was fine, only to call a month later from a bus stop in an inland state, needing fare money home? And then never arriving?
“You have to tell me at least something. What his last name is. Where he lives. Where you’re going.”
“I have a place to stay.” Samantha threw an eyelash curler into the bag.
“With him? Isn’t he still in the hospital?” Grace had tried to check on him in the hospital but the nurses hadn’t let her go inside the ICU. No one but family.
“Gracie,” Sam said in a soft voice. “You should call that guy.”
“Who?” Grace tried to keep her face blank.
“Please. I know why you were late this morning to get me. It was obvious. Call Tox and have a good time.”
“No. You’re the most important thing in my life.” It was true. It would always be true.
Samantha said, “But you have to let me make my own mistakes.”
Not when you’ve already made so many. “Are you in love with him?” She followed Samantha through the living room and out to the porch.
“Of course I’m not. I just met the guy. But I know where his key is, and he’d already asked me to stay. I talked to him in the hospital and he said I could crash at his place.”
Grace threw her hands in the air. “Why not? You already crashed with him once.”
“Oh, come on, Grace.”
“You can’t do this. You’re better than this.”
“I know,” said Samantha. “You did an amazing job of teaching me that, okay? But I can’t handle you anymore.”
“What do you mean?” Grace would agree to anything at all, if Samantha would just stay here, where she could keep an eye on her. Where she could check on her at night. Make sure she was fed. Safe. Healthy. “I’ll back off. I know I can be pushy.”
“Pushy?” Samantha dropped the bag at her feet and faced her, hands on her hips. “If I make hot chocolate at night, you get up to check whether I’m doing it right.”
“The two-percent is just better for you.”
“I like whole. Just like sometimes I stay up too late and I’m tired the next day. Sometimes I eat the whole pint of ice cream. In one sitting.”
Grace flinched.
