Anna Leigh Keaton & Madison Layle - Incognito 04 - Healing Heather

by Anna Leigh Keaton

  “It’s okay,” she whispered as she lowered the shirt to cover herself. His touch hadn’t hurt, but it was disturbing as hell, the warm zing of...something...that skittered over her skin.

  Sirens sounded in the distance. “That’ll be the ambulance. We’ll get you to the hospital and checked out. While you’re there, I’ll call headquarters and get you two uniformed officers and a hotel room.”

  Grabbing hold of the edge of the counter, she pulled herself to her feet. He reached out as if to help her, but thankfully didn’t touch her. “I don’t need to go to the hospital, and why would I want a hotel?”

  “You need to be in protective custody until this bastard’s behind bars.”

  Her vision blurred slightly, and the thrum behind her eyes exploded throughout her brain. “I can’t. I have a life, a job, responsibilities.”

  He moved behind her, and his hands settled on her arms. Even though she clung to the countertop, she was thankful for his support.

  “Take some time off.”

  “I can’t. They’re laying off people right and left. I need this job.”

  “Shit.” His hands smoothed down her arms and back up again, almost as if he didn’t realize he was caressing her. But she knew. God, how she knew. If not for the pain radiating through every blasted nerve ending, she would definitely be enjoying it. Which was a dangerous thought, considering he was a Dom.

  “At least move to a hotel where he won’t know where you are.”

  And let the bastard cost her money? Run her from her home? “No. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Detective Baxter sighed. “Then I’ll get a couple officers assigned to you. One outside, one in here.”

  Damn the man’s persistence. Feeling as if she might be able to stand without falling on her face, she slowly turned around. He was right there. His chest almost brushing hers. He was tall, a bit over six feet. But it was his wide expanse of chest and shoulders that seemed to take up too much space. Suck too much oxygen from her lungs.

  “Whoa there, sweetheart.” He grabbed her shoulders to steady her. “We seem to keep winding up in this same position.”

  His sexy lips curled up into a beguiling grin on the left side. His mink-colored eyes sparkled with tiny flecks of gold. She wondered what the dark stubble on his chin and cheeks felt like. Was it soft or coarse? Would it make her fingers tingle the way his touch did? Damn, he smelled good, she thought as she took a deep breath, which in turn sent a sharp pain through her side. She winced.

  “I won’t be imprisoned in my own home.”

  “Heather, you’re not safe here alone. He could return at any time. He got in once, and he could do it again.”

  She raised her hands to his chest to push him away, but he was so warm under that thin T-shirt. So solid. “I won’t let him scare me into running, and I don’t want some strange man in my house.”

  “Paramedics,” came a call from the front door.

  “She’s in here,” Detective Baxter said, never releasing his comfortable grip on her arms.

  Chapter Three

  Paul handed the evidence bag back to the crime scene investigator. “With any luck, we’ll get some DNA off the cigarette butt.”

  “I collected a latent print off a back window, too,” the investigator said as he closed the trunk and pulled out his keys.

  “Keep me posted?”

  “Sure thing, Detective.”

  “Thanks.” He headed back inside Heather’s house, noting that she’d turned on every light.

  She was grumbling as she wiped the black fingerprinting powder off the patio doorframe.

  “Want some help with that?”

  “I’ve had all the help I can take, thank you very much.” She scrubbed harder, as if she intended to peel paint instead of clean it.

  He shut the front door and leaned back against it, ankles and arms crossed. “You called me tonight, Heather. I’m a cop. This is what we do.”

  She sighed. “I know. It’s just...at the hospital the last time, I decided I’d had enough. That whole thing is part of my past, but he won’t let me put it behind me.”

  “We’ll get him.”

  She nodded, made one last swipe with her washcloth, then tossed it onto a nearby table. Turning toward him with those deep emerald eyes, she asked, “They’re all gone?”

  “Yes.” He didn’t like the weariness that lined her mouth and eyes. “You should’ve let EMS take you in for a check up. A concussion is nothing to take lightly.”

  “I’ll be fine after a good night’s sleep.”

  He followed her gaze to the clock on the wall—five a.m. She seemed to deflate before his eyes. He pushed away from the door. As he neared her, she held out a hand.

  “Thank you, Detective.”

  He knew an attempt to dismiss him when he saw it. “You’re welcome,” he said as he reached past her hand and carefully swept her into his arms.

  “What? No. Stop. I—”

  “You’re going to relax, let me tuck you safely into bed, and get some sleep.”

  “I have to be in a meeting at work in three hours. I can’t go to sleep now,” she protested, but her arms circled his neck as he carried her into the bedroom, her head resting on his shoulder. “It’ll just make me groggy.”

  “You’re calling in sick.”

  She stirred. “I can’t. I told you—”

  “I know. I heard every word you said. I’ll take care of it.” And you. He left the last unsaid as he yanked the sky blue and white linens back and placed her gently on the king-sized bed.

  Her eyes closed, but as he pulled away, she grasped his wrist. “Please lock up when you leave.” When he just smiled, her grip loosened, and she snuggled into the plush bedding.

  He walked to the door but paused. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said softly before pulling the door closed behind him.

  * * * * *

  A sound woke Paul. Early morning light spilled into the room. He felt as if he’d just drifted off, having tossed and turned his six-foot-two frame most of the remaining night on a couch made for Lilliputians.

  The sound came again, and this time he recognized it as one of distress. He unfolded himself, got to his feet, and hurried to Heather’s bedroom. Peeking around the door, he saw her squirm and claw at the sheets, her eyes tightly closed. He moved to the side of the bed and sat, his hand held out but not touching her.

  “Shh... Heather? It’s okay, honey.” He settled his hand on her shoulder. With a shriek she went wild, kicking free of the sheets and going for his face with her fingernails. With a tight grip on her wrists, he pinned her to the bed, his body partially over hers, his thigh thrown over her legs. She was surprisingly strong for such a little thing, liable to cause one of them some serious damage.

  “Heather, wake up,” he said louder. “It’s me, Paul. Stop. Honey, you’re safe.”

  His words seemed to penetrate her nightmare-crazed mind, and she collapsed beneath him, her breathing ragged, a mix between pants and sniffles.

  “Detective Paul Baxter,” she said, as if reminding herself exactly who he was. His name sounded sweet in her gentle Irish lilt.

  “Yeah, that’s me. You’re okay.” He released her and sat up, ignoring his body’s hard, inappropriate reaction to her proximity. “It was just a nightmare.”

  She blinked rapidly, staring up at the ceiling. He figured she was fighting back tears. She rubbed her face. “God, it seemed so real. I’m sorry.” Then she peered at him. “What are you still doing here?”

  He gave her a teasing grin. “I’m an officer of the law, ma’am. Here to serve and protect.”

  She didn’t laugh as he’d hoped. Instead, she glanced at the clock and nearly leaped to her feet before cringing and falling back onto the bed, holding her side. “Bloody hell. I’m late for work. I’ve got to go.”

  “No, you don’t. I took care of it. You have the day off.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “How’d you manage that?”

  He shrug
ged. “I’m a detective. I called your boss and informed him of the break-in. I told him you were under doctor’s orders for at least one day’s bed rest.”

  “A doctor’s orders?”

  “Well, you would’ve been under a doctor’s orders if you hadn’t been so stubborn and refused to go to the ER.” He traced a fingertip over her insulted pout then tucked a stray curl behind her right ear. He longed to kiss those full lips, but held back. He was here to look out for her, not worm his way into her bed. “So, stay right where you are and don’t argue with Doctor Paul, you got it?”

  A reluctant smile slowly curved her sensual lips, and he tapped the tip of her dainty, freckle-smattered nose with a finger. Her emerald eyes darkened to evergreen. She stopped his hand when he moved to withdraw it. Interlacing their fingers, she met his gaze. “Thank you.”

  “No problem. Get some rest. I’ll be in the living room if you need anything.” When he stood, she refused to release his hand.

  “Detective...Paul...” Her gaze shifted to the clock, and then to the window before landing on him once again. “Would it be too much to ask you to hold me?” She tucked her bottom lip between her teeth, her forehead wrinkled in the cutest frown. He wanted nothing more than to hold her, but doing so would be torture on his already overactive libido.

  “Just until I go to sleep again. Please?”

  He gritted his teeth, took a deep breath, and gave her a smile that he hoped passed for reassuring. How could he say no after all she’d been through? If she needed comfort, he’d damn well give her comfort. Lying back on one side of the bed, he turned on his side and spooned their bodies. Her soft curves made him as hard as granite. Holding her close, he smoothed her hair and willed his heart and lungs to calm.

  * * * * *

  Heather’s body felt as if it were being pulled in ten different directions. Exhaustion swamped her mind, but the touch of Paul’s gentle hands made her body spring to life like no man’s touch had since Davie’s.

  He was so bloody...sweet.

  Fear pressed at her mind because he was a Dom, yet, he was an enforcer of the law. He’d stayed with her to make sure she was well and safe. And now, as his fingers so lightly traced her ear, she shivered with pleasure. A growing need blossomed to life between her thighs.

  “You’re tense,” he whispered, his warm breath caressing her cheek. “You can’t sleep if you’re strung so tight.”

  She nodded in agreement. If his fingers kept toying with her hair, skimming over her ear and tantalizing the nape of her neck, she’d never relax.

  His big, strong hand moved to her shoulder where his long fingers massaged the muscles there. She moaned at the lovely sensation and shifted a bit, giving him better access to her other shoulder. It was then she felt his arousal. So hard and long against her butt, even the denim of his pants couldn’t hide it.

  A thrill shot through her, and she bit her lip. He was feeling it, too. Whatever it was, she didn’t know. Lust, she thought as she pressed her ass against his groin and heard his breath hiss out.

  Lust? Yes. But something else, too. She’d felt plenty of lust in the three years since Davie died, but nothing this fast, this explosive. A feeling so strong that she thought if he just snaked his hand around her and pressed against her pussy, she’d come. And it would be lovely.

  “Heather.” His hand stilled on her shoulder.

  She shouldn’t be thinking about shagging the sexy detective. No matter how big and hard his cock felt against her backside. He was here because of his job. He felt duty bound to protect her. She closed her eyes and willed her body to relax even as tears stung her eyes. Hadn’t she been looking for protection, for someone to take care of her? Isn’t that how she’d wound up with Harold?

  “Honey, you can talk to me.”

  She didn’t want to talk. She wanted to lose herself. To let go and have this fine bit of stuff fuck her senseless. It had been so long since anyone cared.

  His hand smoothed down her arm until his fingers interlaced with hers against her belly. He exhaled, the breath light and warm at her ear. “You’re safe with me, Heather. Remember that.”

  Safe. Protected. Could she...? She turned then, stifling a groan when pain pierced her side, until she lay on her back and could see his face in the early morning sunlight, which filtered through the lace curtains on the window.

  With his head propped on his hand, he gazed down at her. His eyes were as dark as the most expensive chocolate, and there was no doubt in her mind he wanted her. What kind of lover was he? Did he inflict pain like Harold? Did he cherish his sub the way Davie had?

  No, Detective Paul wouldn’t inflict pain. No one with such caring in them was a sadist. He was gentle. More gentle than any man she’d lain with since Davie.

  “Stop looking at me like that,” he said in his sexy drawl. “You make me want things I can’t have.”

  He could have her. Just once. Right now. She needed to feel cherished if only for a few moments. She’d given up on finding a suitable lover after the attack at Incognito, but that didn’t mean her body had given up its needs. And a warm, flesh-and-blood man could fill her like no battery-operated device ever could.

  Their fingers still entwined, she moved his hand toward her crotch. Never taking her gaze from his, she couldn’t miss the slight lowering of his eyelids as his pupils dilated. His nostrils flared. When she pressed his hand against her mound, he slowly lowered his head until his moist, soft lips lightly grazed against hers.

  Her breath whooshed out, and streamers of warmth spread through her core. His fingers flexed against her pussy lips, and she shuddered.

  “Sweet Heather,” he murmured against her lips. His mouth was so gentle, barely skimming over hers. His tongue touched, teased, but didn’t invade.

  Her nipples puckered beneath her sweatshirt and moisture dampened her pajama bottoms.

  Pulling her hand from his, she shifted again, rolling to face him, and held his cheeks in her palms. His whiskers were soft, and she couldn’t keep from petting him.

  While his mouth still moved over hers, his hand inched upward, beneath her shirt, and skimmed up her side. His palm was slightly rough, and so warm she felt burned. When he cupped her naked breast, she whimpered and opened her mouth for him to taste her fully. As his tongue slowly slid over hers in the most erotic caress she’d ever experienced, his thumb brushed across her hard nipple making her hips jerk in unfulfilled excitement.

  His scent invaded every inch of her senses. The tantalizing cologne, his natural muskiness. She pulled away from the kiss and buried her face against his neck, soaking in his heat.

  His hand withdrew, and she whined in protest.

  “Heather, if you—”

  “Please, Mas—” She bit her lip. Paul wasn’t her master. He wasn’t. She just wanted mindless sex to get her through. Something to take her mind away from the horrors of Harold. The fear. The pain.

  “Shh. It’s okay.”

  Yes. Yes. She squeezed her eyes shut and reached for his belt buckle. Just a quick shag and all would be well.

  His fingers curled around her hand. “No, honey. Allow me.”

  Confused, she looked up into those gorgeous eyes of his.

  He kissed the tip of her nose, then nuzzled her cheek. “You’ve been through so much. Let me help you relax.”

  A sob came from nowhere, and she buried her face against his chest. So much for strong and independent, she thought disparagingly as she fought the tears.

  His hand smoothed gently through her tangled hair, down over her back, then lightly cupped her butt.

  “You’re such a beautiful woman,” he murmured. “Someone to be cherished and taken care of. Let me take care of you.”

  She nodded against his chest, her head bumping his chin.

  His hand came up to her cheek and caressed her face, thumbing away her tears. “You’re so sweet. You try to be so strong, but inside you’re fragile, aren’t you?”

  She nodded, even though admit
ting it hurt. She didn’t want to be fragile. She wanted to be a strong, independent woman. The kind she saw on the television and read about in magazines like Cosmo. But she never had been. Never would be. All she’d ever wanted was a man to take care of her. To be there for her when she needed a big, warm shoulder to lean on.

  For ten wonderful years she’d had him. Her Davie. When she lost him, she’d lost a part of her soul. No matter how hard she searched, she hadn’t found any man to compare to him. Someone to command her, yet love her.

  “Lie back,” Paul said and nudged her shoulder.

  She rolled to her back and lifted her hips when he tugged at her waistband. Her pajama bottoms landed on the floor, and then he pushed up her shirt, lifting her upper body so he could slip it over her head.

  She watched him intently, wondering what he thought of her body. Did it please him? But his face, other than his lust-filled eyes, was a study of control. He showed her nothing until his gaze fell on the horribly purple bruise covering her side. He leaned down and kissed the sore.

  “You tell me if I hurt you.” He raised his head and met her eyes.

  She nodded.

  When his mouth captured hers, it wasn’t the sweet, innocent kiss of before. He stole her breath, her will, and all thoughts in her head. As his hand roamed over her body, sending fire screaming through her veins, she raised her hips, seeking his touch in the one place he seemed to avoid.

  His mouth moved from her lips to her neck, shoulder, and then he captured her right nipple in his mouth. Their moans mingled, and it thrilled her to know he enjoyed her. That she pleased him. When he moved to her other breast, she speared her fingers through his hair and held him in place, arching against his clever mouth.

  He skimmed his hand down her side, over her hip, up the inside of her thigh, and finally, finally, his fingers found her throbbing, wet center. She spread her legs wide and whimpered. She needed him.

  Releasing her breast, he kissed a hot, damp path over her belly. He nuzzled her mound and kissed the insides of her thighs. And then he was there. His mouth hot on her pussy. His tongue smooth and masterful against her clit. His whiskers chafed her tender skin ever so pleasantly.