Damaged

by Jeanne St. James

  Mace limped across the den toward her wearing a pair of cut-off denim shorts. And nothing else. “I told you it wasn’t pretty.”

  “Who did this to you?” she whispered. She reached out when he neared, wanting to touch, but unsure.

  Without hesitation, he stepped into her touch, his eyes sliding closed. “Be gentle with me.”

  Colby glanced up to see if he teased. He didn’t. Pain etched across his face, muscles flexed in his jaw, and she returned her attention to his leg, pushing the denim higher to get a better look. His thigh looked like little more than hamburger meat. Half of his inner thigh muscle was missing, and she could see the outline of his thighbone under the skin. Red seam-like scars remained where the doctors had sewn the skin together.

  It must have been a hell of a big gun. She bit her lip, wondering how he could have endured the pain. “You’re lucky it wasn’t amputated.” Colby didn’t realize she spoke out loud until she heard his snort and bitter words.

  His dark eyes opened to bore into her. “I’m lucky the gun wasn’t pointed a few more inches to the left. I would have been missing something a little more important than a thigh muscle.”

  He gritted his teeth and a bead of sweat appeared on his forehead when she cautiously, but lightly, stroked the angry red skin with her fingertips. It seemed even the softest touch bothered him. Surprisingly, he didn’t pull away or tell her to stop.

  “Sorry if I’m not very receptive to your touch right now. Normally, I’d be at full attention.”

  Colby immediately glanced at the V of his shorts before looking away, heat crawling up her neck. She had fallen right into his trap. “What I see you popping all the time…Are they painkillers?”

  “Do you blame me?”

  “No. But there are other ways to ease pain. Natural ways.”

  “If you’re talking about holistic medicine, forget it. I’ll stick to the good ol’ American way of popping a pill for every ache.” Mace dropped on the couch beside her, dislodging her hand. He propped his leg on the table and picked up the remote control. “What are you watching?”

  Colby snagged the remote out of his hands and shut the television off. She tossed it out of his reach onto the recliner a few feet away. “No way. You’re not getting out of this so easily. I want to know who did this and why.”

  “Well, the why is easy. I’m sure a rocket—I mean, biological—scientist can even figure that one out. He was trying to kill me.”

  “Who? Why?” Why would anyone be trying to kill this man?

  His hand dug harshly through his hair, leaving it mussed. “I can’t tell you the details, Colby, even if I wanted to.” He grabbed a random magazine from the coffee table and thumbed through it before tossing it restlessly back onto the table.

  “Are you a cop?”

  Mace shook his head and glanced longingly over at the remote.

  “Are you in the armed forces?”

  “No.” He gazed up at the ceiling and blew out a long breath.

  “Am I going to have to play twenty questions with you?”

  “No, but I can tell you this.” He twisted toward her and pinned her with a stare. “I work for the FBI.”

  “Do you go undercover? Is that why you haven’t had contact with Maxi for two years?” Maybe he was undercover now. Who was he really? Was she in the middle of some sort of sting? Her heart raced.

  Mace groaned. “Colby, please don’t ask details. I can’t tell you, and it’s better if you don’t know, anyway.”

  She turned to study his face. “Are you really Macen Walker, or is this some kind of alias? Are you really Maxi’s brother?”

  He rolled his eyes and snorted. “Yes, I’m who I said I was. I thought we went through this the first night.”

  Colby suddenly felt horrible about the way she treated him in the beginning. “I thought you were a criminal! And here you are risking your life—”

  He placed a finger over her lips. “Shhh.”

  She jerked her head away and narrowed her eyes. “No, don’t shush me. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for thinking you were a…a…”

  “Colby, it’s all right. I’m a big boy; I can take a little ribbing.”

  “No, it’s not all right. You’re in constant pain. And don’t lie and say you aren’t. I wondered why you limped every once in a while. Why you struggle to do something as easy as walk up the stairs.”

  Tears stung her eyes. But she wouldn't cry. No. She didn’t want to appear like an overemotional baby.

  Damn it. She tried to catch a runaway tear, but it escaped before she could brush it away.

  Mace caught the tear on his finger and stared at it. He had to admit, Colby’s emotion touched him. No one but his sister had really cared about him in a long time. Or cared what happened to him. An unfamiliar ache swelled in his chest.

  But he didn’t want to do this right now. He couldn’t do this. He didn’t want to open up an emotional Cracker Jack box. He’d only known this woman for a few days. He really needed his sister. She was the reason he’d come home. He needed an emotional and a physical Band-Aid.

  “Don’t cry for me, Colby. I survived. Otherwise, we’d never have met. For some reason, I feel we can help each other right now. I’m trying to heal, and I think you are too, in some way.”

  Colby shook her head but avoided his gaze.

  Mace grasped her chin and turned her to look deeply into her eyes. “Yes, you’re dealing with something. Some kind of pain of your own. I think it’s the reason why you’re so involved with your house. Every little thing about that house seems to be a crisis needs solving.” He stroked his thumb over her cheek. He caught her teary gaze before lowering his voice to just above a whisper. “Why? What happened to you, Colby Parks?”

  “N-nothing.”

  He didn’t believe her. She had been hurt—maybe not like him, physically—but possibly mentally or emotionally. Not just hurt, but hurt badly. He had been hurt by people who hated him, couldn't care less about him. He assumed she had been hurt by someone she loved. Or cared for. Someone close to her.

  Her reddened eyes matched the tip of her nose. A couple more tears ran unchecked down her cheeks. He desperately wanted to lean over and kiss those tears away. He wanted to haul her against him and take her into his arms, to hold her until the demons were squeezed out of them both. He wanted to lose himself in her and just feel, forget everything else but the two of them. But he didn’t want to overwhelm her either since he was so desperate for her touch. He didn’t trust himself if he reached out first. She had to make the first move.

  And, surprisingly, she did.

  Colby brushed the back of her fingers along his whiskered chin. Tilting her head, she followed her hand with her eyes.

  Mace reached up and grasped her fingers, bringing them to his lips. “You promised to kiss it and make it feel better. I can understand if you don’t want to. It’s pretty hideous.”

  She shook her head slightly. Then, she stared at his misshapen thigh for a few seconds before leaning down and placing her warm lips gently against his skin.

  Mace leaned back, closing his eyes. His hands dug into her hair, gripping her braid firmly. As her lips fluttered to different areas of his thigh, he released a groan. She turned her face and rubbed her soft cheek against his scarred skin.

  “Oh, God, Colby. Don’t stop,” he whispered brokenly. “Please don’t stop.”

  She turned her face again until her other cheek rested on his leg. She gazed up at him. Mace opened his eyes, staring back. Her tears had stopped, and she looked and felt so good lying across his lap. He wanted to stay that way forever, but his body had other ideas.

  He took her hand, which gripped his good thigh, and moved it over slightly until she could feel how much he wanted her. Damn, did he want her. He wanted to plunge deep and hard into her softness and just lose himself within her.

  Colby’s fingers closed around him through the soft, worn denim of his shorts, and he thrust upward. His breathing deepened
, and his head fell back against the couch. “Colby…” He swallowed hard. “Let me go if you don’t want this to continue. It’s been a while since—”

  “For me, too.”

  Her words caused hot lightning to shoot to through his body. He hooked his hands behind her elbows and drew her up, though she carefully avoided his bad thigh.

  Mace rolled the elastic band off the end of her French braid and released the strands of hair one by one. Her breathing shallowed, and her nipples pebbled, ready for his touch—by his tongue, his lips, and his hands. With her hair free, he spread her deep-red mane around her shoulders and held a few strands to his nostrils, inhaling the sweet scent he now recognized as hers. “Fuck. I want your hair draped all over my body. I want to feel the silkiness against my skin.”

  He slowly unbuttoned her blouse until it hung open, exposing her white, lacy bra. Her large, dark nipples were visible through the delicate fabric—just enough to drive him mad. He drew a finger along the edges, barely touching her skin. And when she arched her back, he couldn’t resist releasing them and unclasped her bra. Perfect. Round and full, puckered with need.

  A gentle brush of a finger over one dark tip made her squirm and whisper his name. She reached up and delved her hands into his hair, and then pulled his face toward her. And with that move, she showed him what she wanted, what she desired.

  Mace flicked his tongue over one peak, then the other. Slowly, he drew a nipple into his mouth, savoring the taste as Colby gripped his head tightly, holding him in place. She tilted her head back to give him unfettered access. And using the advantage, he sucked one deep into his mouth, then the other, over and over until she bucked against him and cried out.

  Her soft mewing sounds turned his cock to steel. He was surprised to find how shaken his control was. “Colby, I don’t know if I can—”

  She pressed her lips against his, stopping his words. He savored her sweet mouth, nipping her lower lip. His tongue dipped in, swirling against hers.

  His fingers dug into her hips. He wanted her on top, straddling him. He needed her hot pussy pressed against his cock, even if a layer of clothes separated them.

  As he eased her closer, he stiffened and cursed. “Damn it!” He leaned back, breaking their contact. Though he attempted to laugh it off, he failed miserably. His thigh cramping caused sharp pain to shoot through the rest of his body. He dropped his head. In regret. In embarrassment. In frustrating unmet need. Fuck.

  “I’m sorry. There’s one feeling which overcomes desire, and it’s pain.”

  Colby shifted away from him, her eyelids still heavy from need. “Are you all right?”

  “No.” He clenched his fingers into a fist, cursing again. “You don’t know how much I want you right now.”

  “I know, I know.” She brushed his hair off his forehead. “We’ve got to take it slow. Maybe it’s better this way.”

  “No, it’s not, believe me. I’ve got two places that ache. One we can ease. The other we can’t. The problem is the one we can’t rules my life right now.”

  “Should I get your pills?” She stood, refastening her bra and closing her shirt.

  Mace bit back a scream. Not from the pain, but from frustration due to the apparent hurt on her face. From having to give up, when he was so close to fucking the hell out of this beautiful woman.

  Damn the bastard who shot him. Hopefully, he rotted in Hell where he sent him—on a one-way ticket.

  He didn’t argue when Colby helped him up the stairs and into his room. He lay on his bed, clenching the comforter, his thigh muscle going into spasms. Trying not to shout every curse in the book, he ground his teeth instead. He didn’t like to lose control of a situation, and he’d be damned if he would let this pain control him. Control his life.

  He blew out a breath in relief when Colby returned with a glass of water. She grabbed the pills from his dresser and, after reading the label, gave him two. She sat down by his side and waited until the spasms subsided.

  A few minutes later, Mace unclenched his jaw enough to thank her. “Do you need me to help you undress?”

  “No. I think you’ve helped me enough,” he snapped. He instantly regretted his tone when she made a little wounded sound. He grabbed her hand, halting her escape. “Colby, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at myself. I appreciate the help you’ve given me. Believe me, I would love for you to take my clothes off,” and see you with your shirt off again; I would love to suck and lick your breasts, those nipples, “but not right now. I want us both to enjoy it.” He still felt like an ass and didn’t want her to leave him just yet. “Please. Stay with me a little while.” He patted the bed next to him. “Lie next to me.”

  Colby gave him a skeptical look.

  “C’mon. I’m harmless right now, and it’ll make me feel better.”

  “Maybe for a little while,” she said, carefully lying down next to him. She wedged herself against him, her head on his chest.

  This woman fit perfectly in his arms. Warm, soft. Perfect. His breathing deepened, and before he knew it, he was asleep.

  Mace jerked awake. A heavy weight pressed down on his chest. His hand automatically moved to push it off but connected with hair. And skin. Warm, smooth skin.

  He turned his head toward the alarm clock on the nightstand. 12:15. He wiggled his fingers into the plait of her braid, and Colby sighed in her sleep. The room was dark, but he didn’t remember turning off the light. Had she? Had she gotten up and turned it off and still felt comfortable enough with him to cuddle up next to him? She had to have gotten up at some point since her hair was back in the tight, controlled braid of hers.

  Oh, yeah. Her remaining in his room meant she definitely felt more at ease around him. He didn’t mind the dark. Lose one sense and the others make up for it. He might not be able to see her, but he could feel her and smell her sweet scent.

  Her head was settled on his chest, her warm breath slipping in and out of her parted lips. It rustled the tiny hairs around his nipple, making it pebble and tighten. Suddenly, he became very aware of where the rest of her body was. Her shoulder was tucked under his armpit, and her breasts pushed into his left side. Her lower body curved away from his legs, probably to not cause him any further pain in his thigh.

  With one arm draped over his bare waist, her hand rested on his right hip. He stroked her arm from shoulder to fingertip. He grasped her fingers and slid her palm over his bare lower stomach, letting it settle on the V of hair inversely rising out of his shorts. When her fingers twitched in her sleep, he suddenly found himself very, very hard. And crooked. He adjusted himself, which brought the head of his cock closer to her fingers. So close.

  His left arm curled behind her, and he extended his fingers along the small of her back, dipping them into the gap between her shorts and her skin. He spread them until the tips skimmed the top of her ass cheeks. The temptation to stroke along its crevice until he found her tight hole was strong; he guessed it was untouched by any man. Instead, he traced the skin along the edge of her waistband to the front to her belly. He circled his thumb around her navel and, with the third pass, he stretched the rest of his fingers out. They were long enough to slide between her shorts and panties. His fingertips slid along the thin elastic band; he wondered if they were pink satin.

  Colby shifted, and her breathing quickened. Little puffs of steam crossed his skin. Either she woke up or her body thought she was in a really, really good dream. He rolled onto his hip, gently laying her on her back and folding her arms over her head onto the pillow. Unable to see if her eyes were open, he drew a thumb along her jawline and then over her parted lips. He swore her tongue licked the pad of his thumb. He dipped his thumb in and…She nipped him. His cock shifted in the tight confines of his boxer briefs, ready to come out to play.

  Mace drew one hand down her neck and traced her collarbone—one side and then the other—before he followed the outer curve of her breast. With his other hand, he popped open the
button on his shorts and slid the zipper down. After shoving his underwear out of the way, his fingers stroked the head of his cock, slippery with precum. He fisted the head and pushed hard into his palm, arching his hips off the bed.

  He stroked himself with long, languid motions while continuing to trace the curve of her breast, making smaller and smaller circles until he found the edge of her areola through her shirt and bra, then pinched the hard center. She gasped and placed a hand on top of his. She didn’t say a word. Instead of stopping him, she pushed his hand to her other breast. Her breath broke and a small moan escaped her.

  One hand encouraged him to continue his exploration while her other found his hand as it stroked the length of his erection. She worked her fingers underneath his to take control. Her hand might be smaller than his, but, damn, it was a much better choice. She circled the head, collecting the precum, using it to lubricate the rest of his shaft while she fisted his length from root to tip.

  Without breaking contact, he settled above her, catching her lips, her warm breath, and her whimpers as he twisted and plucked her hard peaks. Their tongues tangled and fought until they both gasped for air.

  He shoved her shirt and bra up over her breasts and replaced his fingers with his mouth on her exposed nipple. He suckled, nudged, and licked until she squirmed. The harder and faster she stroked him, the more precum beaded, making her fist slick like a tight little pussy. He was losing his mind. The more frantically she stroked, the harder he sucked her nipples, until his teeth raked against the hard tip causing her body to shudder against him. She fisted his cock so tightly, he thought the head would pop off.

  With a groan, he yanked away and quickly went to his knees between her calves. When he ripped her cotton shorts and panties down, she kicked them free. He shoved his shoulders into the backs of her thighs and pushed them up while spreading them wide, opening her up to him. He wished the light was on; he wanted to see her flushed, plump flesh. Just by feel alone, he could tell she kept herself trimmed, but not shaved; he really wanted to see the fire red hair framing all her glory. Soon, he promised himself.