by Kathy Love
“Elizabeth, is the bathroom upstairs?” he asked, in part to rouse her-her stillness concerned him. She didn’t reply. Not good.
He headed toward the stairs, assuming that was where he would find the bathroom with a shower or a bathtub. Elizabeth’s head lolled against his shoulder. He doubled his steps, taking the remainder two at a time.
Sure enough, he spotted the bathroom at the end of the hallway. He carried her straight to the small, tidy room.
He looked around, debating where he should set her. She couldn’t sit by herself, so he gently placed her on the floor, trying to get as much of her body as possible on the blue-and-green bath mat. He searched for a towel to cover her. Despite their past interactions, it somehow felt wrong for her to be naked now.
Hell, he hadn’t even had the opportunity to see her fully nude, and seeing her that way now just felt wrong. As he draped a large sea-green towel over her, he did assess her systematically for injuries. He didn’t think she’d been attacked, but he wanted to be sure. Her creamy skin was flawless-no signs of struggle.
He tucked the towel around her, feeling slightly better. Slightly.
Then he turned to assess the bathing situation. A shower/ tub combo. That was good. He turned the knobs, testing the water until it was tepid-not so cold that it would shock her system, but cool enough, he hoped, to bring her fever down.
While the tub filled, he turned to the medicine cabinet. She needed to get some ibuprofen or aspirin or something into her to help lower her temperature.
He opened the mirrored door to discover the shelves neatly lined with toiletries. He shifted a few around, searching for any type of fever reducer. There were nonethe only thing she seemed to have in abundance were hair-removal products. Waxes, depilatories, tweezers, razors. He stared at them for a moment, then heard Elizabeth moan.
He turned back to her to see she was struggling to sit up.
“Shh, darling,” he said, kneeling down to catch her around the back, cradling her against him. “You’ve got to just rest.” He was glad to see she was conscious.
She frowned at him. “Why are you calling me darling? I’m not your darling. Am I?”
He smiled at that, realizing she never would have asked that question if she was fully lucid.
And he took advantage of the fact that she probably wouldn’t recall much in the morning. “I’d like you to be my darling.”
He smoothed back her hair, noticing again how soft and thick it was against his fingers. Her eyes drifted shut and she sighed, seeming to like the touch.
“No, you wouldn’t,” she murmured, the soft words filled with conviction. And again, he wondered why one minute she seemed to want him and the next, not so much. But right now she was far too sick to provide any answers.
“Do you have any ibuprofen? Or acetaminophen?”
Elizabeth shook her head, her eyes already drifting shut. “Makes me sick.”
Jensen paused at that, glad she was lucid enough to tell him that bit of information. All he needed was to make her condition worse. He brushed her damp hair away from her forehead, studying her pasty complexion. Katie flashed through his mind. Helpless. Pale and hurting.
He blinked away the image, focusing his attention on the tub nearly filled with water. He reached over to test the temperature. Not too hot, not too cold.
“Elizabeth? Let’s get you in the tub.”
He glanced down at her to see she was again motionless, her eyes closed. He eased her off his lap and back onto the bath mat. She didn’t stir. He shut off the water, then tried to decide what he should do.
Her skin still burned his fingers-her temperature hadn’t gone down. Hesitating only a second more, he scooped her up. She didn’t rouse, which worried him more. The fever was raging.
Slowly, he slipped her down into the water. Her body seized up immediately, her arms tightening around his neck until she was nearly strangling him. Water sloshed over the edge of the tub, soaking him and the floor.
“Shh, darling. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he soothed. “We have to get this fever down.”
She gaped at him, her eyes wide but not focused. She shivered violently, but she allowed him to settle her in the tub.
“I–I’m o-o-kay,” she insisted. “W-will pass.”
“I know,” he assured her. “But this will make it pass quicker. I know it doesn’t feel good.”
She shivered, but closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the edge of the tub.
He looked around, spotting a washcloth hanging on the towel rack near the sink. He reached over, grabbed it, and dunked the cloth in the water. Gently, he brushed the wrung-out towel over her forehead and cheeks.
She moaned. “I like that.”
He watched her, her eyes remaining shut, her full lips parted. He forced his gaze away. He shouldn’t be noticing how lovely she was-not when she was so sick she had no idea what was going on.
“I like when you call me darling, too,” she murmured, her eyes still closed.
And if that wasn’t proof that she didn’t know what was going on, nothing was.
But he smiled. “Just rest, darling.”
She smiled slightly, then did as he asked.
He continued to dampen her face and head, keeping all his thoughts on getting her temperature down. He had no idea how much time passed, but eventually her skin grew cooler, the pastiness lessening until her coloring grew a bit pinker. Much better than the awful white/gray she had been.
He rolled up his already wet sleeves and dipped his hands under her slight frame. She curled into him, water seeping through his shirt. He ignored the oddly arousing combination of the cool water and her now normal body heat against him.
Wrangling a towel off the hook on the way out of the bathroom, he carried her down the hall, peeking into the rooms, trying to decide which one was her bedroom, which wasn’t too hard.
One room was totally empty, while another was piled with boxes; the third was very feminine with a white wrought-iron bed and floral quilt.
Not at all what he would have expected Elizabeth’s bedroom to look like-somehow he’d pictured dark colors and thick satin sheets. Not that he’d thought about her bedroom, of course. But this dainty room was the only option, so it had to be hers.
“Where are we going?” she asked, barely lifting her head from his shoulder, her voice thick with exhaustion.
“To put you to bed.”
“I can’t. I need to work.”
Jensen laughed dryly. “Darling, I don’t think you could work right now even if I tied you up at your lab table.”
She harrumphed, which got another smile from him. But she didn’t argue further as he set her on her feet just briefly, anchoring her to his side while he pulled back the covers. She tottered slightly, but did manage to stay on her feet.
“Darling, I don’t want to put you to bed still wet.”
“Okay,” she agreed willingly, and held out her arms to signal he could dry her. He nearly groaned again. Did she have any idea what a temptation she was?
Knowing the Elizabeth he knew, probably.
Then she began to weave again, and he had to tug her tight to his chest to keep her from falling. Or maybe not. Maybe she was just too out of it to know what she was doing.
Quickly, he patted the towel over her skin and lifted her onto the cushy mattress, pulling the covers over her nakedness before he could be even more of a pervert.
He tucked the quilt around her, then debated what to do next. He didn’t want to leave her, when she was obviously too weak to get something if she needed it. He spotted a chair in the corner and started toward it, when her low voice reached him.
“Even though you shouldn’t, please lie down with me, Jensen.”
He paused, looking back at her. Those peculiar eyes of hers watched him, drowsy yet so inviting.
His first thought was to deny her-he didn’t trust himself to be close to her, knowing she lay naked under the covers. Then he admon
ished himself. He certainly had enough control to lie with her until he was sure she was all right.
“Sure,” he agreed, not really sounding as confident as he should.
He crossed to the opposite side of the bed and sat down on the edge. He considered pulling back the covers and joining her underneath, but he knew that was too much temptation. The last thing this tired, ill woman needed was a man with a raging hard-on rubbing up against her.
He stretched out on top of the covers. Elizabeth immediately rolled over to curl against him.
“You’re all wet,” she complained, shivering.
That was true-and the cold, damp clothes were doing nothing for his growing arousal.
“You’d better take that shirt off, or you’ll get sick.” Her finger plucked at the button just above his navel. Altogether too close to the erection pressing against his jeans.
He sat up and undid the buttons, then shrugged out of the shirt, tossing it onto the floor beside the bed.
He started to fall back against the pillows, when she murmured, “Your pants are wet, too.”
He chuckled at that. “Even sick, you’re a seductress.”
She smiled, the curve of her lips far more sleepy and sweet than seductive. “Only with you.”
A pang of something like hope zinged through him, mingling with the longing in his body. Was that true? Was all this something rare and strange for them both?
“So why shouldn’t I lie with you, then?” he couldn’t help asking.
Silence greeted his question and for a moment he thought she’d dozed off. But finally she murmured, “Because I’m not good enough for you.”
Then Elizabeth shifted against him, her fingers splaying over his bare chest, her face nuzzling on the pillow against his. His body reacted, even as he warned it not to. Then she sighed, the soft sound followed by a very distinct snore.
He lay there for a moment, not sure how to react. This woman really had a way of surprising him, fascinating him and leaving him with lots of unanswered questions. And it didn’t appear there would be any answer for a little while longer.
He closed his eyes, prepared to wait.
CHAPTER 10
Once more, Elizabeth was surprised by the comfort of her bed. Soft, warm, scented like woods, and… male? She opened her eyes to see Jensen’s profile illuminated by the lamp on her dresser. Mellow light accented the cut of his jawline, the wonderful shape of his lips, the smudge of his thick, dark lashes against his cheeks.
What was he doing here? She reached out to touch him, as if she couldn’t quite believe he was here. Her fingers grazed over his lips, velvet soft, to the hint of rough stubble surrounding their fullness.
She sighed as her fingers strayed down to his chest. The skin there was smooth and velvety, too, but underneath was hard steel. Her fingers continued to stroke him, the desire that she’d been trying to keep at bay for two days roaring to life. God, she loved touching this man.
Her hands shaped over the curved muscles of his chest, trailing slowly downward over the ripples of his hard stomach. The hair around his bellybutton, and beneath, tickled her fingers, making her insides feel the same teasing tickle.
She rose up, watching her hands against his skin, the way she looked touching him. She loved all the textures of his body. Her gaze flicked to the fly of his jeans. Of course, there were some she hadn’t gotten enough chance to explore.
Without pause, her fingers honed in on the button and the zipper. Although she did stop, just for a second, confused as to why the worn material was a little damp. But she quickly dismissed it, more intent on what lay underneath.
He started as she slipped her hand inside and touched him, the tickle of more hair, the rise and hardening of his arousal.
“Elizabeth?” His voice was low and rough with sleep. She loved that sound.
Her fingers curled around him, moving over the length. He let out a slow, hissing breath and his hips rose into her touch.
“Darling,” he managed, his voice raspy, sliding over her, “you are sick.”
She felt that hoarseness deep inside her, his voice making her womb feel heavy and ready. His use of that husky endearment making her sex moist. She wanted him, had to have him.
She didn’t know what he was talking about, though. Sick? She felt great. Now that he was here.
“I’m fine. More than fine.”
She crawled out from under the covers, prowling on her hands and knees like the animal she was. For the first time, that idea didn’t repulse her. She wasn’t thinking about her past, about what she was. She was thinking about what she wanted. Jensen. Her only thought was Jensen-being with him, feeling his skin against hers, feeling him deep inside her, filling her, stretching her. But first, she wanted to taste him. To please him, as he’d pleased her.
She tugged at his jeans, pulling at them until he lifted his hips and helped her work them off. His boxers, which she liked very much, joined the abandoned pants. Then she positioned herself between his legs, running her hands up his inner thighs, more tickling of hair. She smiled at the sensation, loving it.
Reaching the thick thatch of hair surrounding his penis, she lingered. The dark curls were coarse yet oddly soft, too. She explored him, feeling such possession over him, over what she was doing to him. Her mate.
For just a second, the part of her mind that wasn’t wolf corrected her. Her man-maybe. Not mate.
Then all thoughts were gone as his thick length pulsed under her fingertips. Mmm. She liked that. She liked feeling all his power.
She leaned over and pressed her lips to the broad underside, deeply breathing his musky, aroused scent. Her tongue flicked out, wanting to taste that arousal. Hot and tangy and more delicious than she could have imagined. She licked him again and again, until his fingers knotted in her hair. She heard his hitched breathing. Then she took him fully between her lips, swirling him with her tongue.
“Elizabeth,” he breathed, raising his hips as she took him deep. She hummed a response and that elicited a low groan. She smiled and repeated the sound. Jensen repeated his own.
She continued the game until he caught her under the arms and dragged her length up his body. The thrilling friction of skin across skin. Then his mouth caught hers, taking control of their touch. He rolled her, until he had her pinned onto the soft mattress, his hard body heavy and wonderful on hers.
His legs nudged hers apart, his erection hard and hot against the moist folds of her sex. She parted her legs wider, begging him silently to enter her. To bury himself so deep they were one.
He obeyed, angling back to penetrate her with one stroke. Deep, hard, and so, so right. Her aroused body reacted instantly, her vagina clenching him, pulsing and vibrating, her release a violent thing that she couldn’t contain. She cried out, her voice breaking at the height of her ecstasy. And still he moved inside her, his movements forceful, demanding. Rocking her toward another powerful release. And another until she couldn’t tell where one orgasm ended and another began.
Finally, he joined her, his own release spurting hot and deep inside, his penis pulsing in response to her body’s rhythm.
He collapsed on top of her, his breathing quick, his heart pounding. Matching her own. In the same way her body always perfectly matched his.
After a few moments, he rolled off of her, only to tuck her tightly to his side.
“Elizabeth, I don’t understand what you do to me.”
She didn’t understand, either. She just knew she had to have him. She closed her eyes, her last thought before she drifted off was that she finally felt sane. Calm. At peace.
The next time Elizabeth woke, gray light had appeared outside the windows. And with that pale light came the clarity of what she’d done. Again.
She could feel Jensen beside her, his heat, his strength. She could smell him and taste him on her lips, although she couldn’t say how he’d ended up here. But she did remember making love.
Which wasn’t supposed to happen.
She’d avoided him for this very reason, hard as it had been.
“Did you know you chew on your bottom lip when you are worrying?”
She started, turning her head to see that Jensen rested on his side, his head on his arm, watching her. He smiled, and her heart fluttered almost painfully in her chest.
“No,” she managed, still staring at his mouth. How was it that his smile could affect her so? It was just the curve of lips, just like everyone else’s. Except nothing like anyone else’s.
“Well, you do.” He reached over and brushed her hair away from her cheek. His fingers lingered. “You still feel a little warm, but nothing like last night.”
She pulled away, not sure what he meant. She couldn’t recall.
“I feel fine.” How did she explain that her temperature was always a few degrees higher than a human’s? Of course, he was a vet so he knew-say, a dog-had a higher temperature than a person.
“Okay,” he said easily, although she got the feeling her response didn’t please him. “So what are you worrying about?”
You. Me. Everything. The fact that I can’t remember how I ended up with you.
But she could hardly say that without encouraging more questions. But she couldn’t say nothing, either. He was too astute for that.
“My research.” She should be worried about that, but she hadn’t been thinking about it. Even though she’d been trying to concentrate on it for the past two days. With very, very little success. If anything, she was going backward. She tried to focus, to do the work that needed to be done, but mostly she’d obsessed about Jensen-and this strange, uncontrollable need to be with him.
And now that she was, it was as if the fierce, almost crippling ache that she’d fought for the past two days was gone. Not even real any longer.
She still felt attracted to Jensen-that never seemed to go away. But that feeling that she had to make love with him or die wasn’t there. She felt calmer, her attraction more rational, not driven by something she didn’t understand.
