by Ali Parker
Janna bolted upright, throwing the now cool cloth off her forehead and into the water. "Um, I'm fine," she said, hoping her voice sounded normal.
"Are you ready to get out?"
"In a moment," she replied. "I...uh...just want to wash my hair." And I need time to come down from that powerful orgasm.
"I'll help," he said and opened the door.
Janna gasped, then covered her chest in embarrassment and frustration. Seems like Brice was serious about his 24-7 caretaker role.
Brice was staring down at her. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," she answered, not meeting his eyes. "Could you hand me the shampoo?" He turned his back to rifle through a cupboard, and she slid down, as far as her elevated limbs would allow, dunking her head under the water.
When she surfaced, Brice was there with the shampoo bottle and a smile. "Allow me." He squirted the shampoo into his hand and began working it into her wet hair. His hands felt good, soothing, and she closed her eyes, relishing the sensation.
Too soon his hands left her. "Ready for a rinse?"
Without answering she dunked her head again, and she felt his hands in her hair, under the water, gently working out the shampoo. When she resurfaced, he pushed her hair off her forehead, and she opened her eyes and stared up at him.
"Do you want any help with the soap?" he asked, then handed her an aromatic bar and a clean washcloth.
"No," she said too quickly, her voice high and tight.
He gave her a knowing smile, then nodded. "I'll be just outside. Holler when you're ready to get out."
When the door was closed behind him, Janna let out a long exhale. She wasn't sure if she could take a whole month of such luxurious treatment at the hands of a man she still desired, still loved. It wasn't going to be easy.
Chapter 22
Over the next few days, Brice and Janna settled into a routine. Brice cooked all the meals, with irregular results, and he also took care of the other household chores. He helped Janna bathe, carried her from room to room, and made sure she kept her leg elevated whenever possible. He also did the laundry, cleaned the house, and did all the shopping.
Long hours were spent in the office, into which Brice had another desk moved so that Janna and he could work in the same space. Although he insisted that she nap each afternoon, most mornings were spent at their separate desks, each embroiled in a different world, Brice, the world of high finance, and Janna, the world of the slender salamander.
Her confinement at the beach house unexpectedly improved her productivity on her dissertation. Brice had made sure that all of her materials were brought to her -- her laptop, tablet, notebooks, files, and even specimens. Any additional reference materials that she couldn't access online were brought to the beach house, usually by Chase, who'd become accustomed to traveling between the university and the coast.
Each day, four hours were spent ensconced in the office, typing away. Each day she was amazed at the progress she'd made. At this rate, she might finally finish her entire first draft before the air cast boot came off. On the tenth day of her recovery, she smiled as she sent her advisor an email containing completed drafts of the first three chapters. Tweety would be astonished at her productivity.
She leaned back in her chair to stretch her back, realizing that she no longer felt a twinge of pain in her wrist. The arm was still pinned to her side, and Janna was impressed at how skilled she had become at typing with one hand. Glancing up, she noticed that Brice was staring at his computer, his brows furrowed.
He picked up his phone and dialed his assistant. " Tony, it's Brice. I've been going over the paperwork for the Coffee City acquisition, and I'm alarmed to see that we still don't have Dawson's signatures. Is this deal going through or not?"
Janna rested her head in her good hand and watched the millionaire tycoon at work. Although she'd mostly learned to tune him out, what little she did hear of his conversations had surprised her. He never yelled, never demanded that anyone buy or sell so many thousand shares of whatever company. He must have been telling the truth about his mostly hands-off approach to empire management. Realizations like these made keeping her emotions in check that much more difficult.
"Is something going on I need to know about, Tony? You're usually more efficient than this. I know Dawson wasn't keen on selling, but--" Brice cocked an eyebrow, apparently amused by his assistant's pert answer.
Janna watched, consumed by desire for him. Right now it didn't matter that they'd broken up, that his most intimate touch lately had been the tiny kiss he placed on her forehead each night before bed. Last night she'd seriously considered moving her face up so that his lips would have landed on hers. She'd restrained herself at the last second, and wondered if she'd be able to stop herself tonight.
She realized that Brice was staring back at her, an amused smile on his handsome face. "Well, I'll leave Dawson in your more-than-capable hands," he told Tony with a laugh, then made his farewells. When he'd hung up, he brought his attention back to Janna. "And what exactly are you looking at? The slender salamander isn't enough to keep your attention?"
Janna grinned and realized again how good it felt to spend time with Brice. He'd been nothing but patient, abiding by her rules, keeping clear of her boundaries, and not for the first time since she'd agreed to stay in the beach house, she wished he'd ignore all those rules and boundaries and give in to temptation, just once. She now acknowledged that her resolve to keep her distance from Mr. Masterson was at its lowest point ever. It would be too easy to let herself love him wholeheartedly, to let go of the resentment she'd felt at his high-handed treatment. Why did she keep trying to stop herself anyway?
"How about some lunch?" he asked, and she nodded. He made his way over to her, about to pick her up and carry her into the dining room.
Janna panicked, wondering if he would be able to feel the effect he had on her body. "Stop," she said, picking up her crutch and standing. "I want to try and walk myself. My leg barely even hurts anymore, and I think it's time I started carrying my own weight if you'll excuse the pun."
Brice frowned but nodded, accepting her wishes. He followed behind as she slowly made her way down the hall and into the dining room. While she settled herself in at the dining table, he headed into the kitchen, returning with a loaf of bread, a block of cheese, and a container of sliced turkey.
"Sandwiches again, huh?" she asked, and almost laughed at his sheepish grin.
"Yep, sorry. But I'm preparing something special for dinner tonight. Hopefully, that will make up for the paltry lunch." He headed back into the kitchen, returning with two plates, two glasses, and the carafe of water. Then it was back for the condiments, some lettuce, and some sliced tomatoes, carefully stowed in a plastic container.
They made their sandwiches and ate in silence, each watching the other. The tension in the room was climbing, and Janna wanted to succumb to the attraction between them. Although it was wrong to tease, she couldn't help herself. She took a bite, the mayonnaise overwhelming the sandwich and dripping down her lips. She put the sandwich down and licked her lips excessively.
Brice's attention was riveted on her, and she made sure to give him a good show. She moved her finger around the outside of her sandwich, catching the surplus mayonnaise. She then slowly sucked her finger into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it to get all the sauce off, then slowly pulling it out again.
Brice was nearly panting across the table, and he eyed her, confusion warring with desire on his features. "Why Miss Puchina, are you flirting with me?"
"No, I'm just eating my lunch, Mr. Masterson."
His expression said he didn't buy that. He set his sandwich down and pushed his plate away, watching as she finished her own sandwich and wiped her mouth delicately with a cloth napkin.
"Done?" At her nod, he said, "Time for your nap."
She stood, picking up her crutch. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, he made no move to pick her up.
&nbs
p; * * *
"Aren't you going to pick me up?" Janna asked innocently, and Brice wanted to groan. His pants were uncomfortably tight, and he knew that if he carried her up the stairs, she'd feel the erection he was trying to hide.
"I thought you were trying things on your own today," he countered. "I'm here if you need me. Just hold on to the railing and take it slow."
Janna sighed but nodded her agreement, then started up the stairs. She was making good progress, and Brice felt a warm feeling suffuse him. She was getting better, and he was helping. By the time they reached the second floor, she was winded but in good spirits.
"I did it," she said with a smile, raising her good arm in triumph. Unfortunately, the movement caused her to lose her balance, and she tumbled forward. Brice caught her, holding her pressed against him.
"Whoa," she said, and he wondered if she was commenting on her near fall or the raging erection that she must now feel pressing against her.
Brice took a step back and made sure she was steady once again. "Come on; you can make it the rest of the way to your room." Once inside, she sat down on the bed and dropped her crutch. He waited while she scooted up the bed so that her head was resting on the pillows. Brice grabbed a cushion from one of the chairs and gently lifted her leg, placing the pillow beneath it to elevate it higher than her head. "All settled," he said and turned back toward the door.
"What, no kiss?"
Brice felt a wave of heat flash through him. It was impossible to keep things platonic if she was going to tease him like this. It took all of his strength to limit his contact to a gentle kiss on her forehead. He saw her smile and close her eyes, and then he left the room.
Heading back downstairs, he had to adjust the crotch of his pants. Damn Janna for being the temptress that she was. It was getting near impossible to see her every day, to hold her, but not to touch her like he wanted to. Every night he dreamed of her, of making slow, passionate love to her. Every morning he woke, hard and frustrated. Still, it was better than not being able to see her at all.
As he pulled two salmon steaks out of the fridge and began making a marinade for them, he considered his predicament. The last few days had been especially difficult. It seemed as if Janna's guard was no longer up, that she was softening towards him. Today's teasing at lunch was just another example of her recent behavior. He smiled at the memory of her licking the mayonnaise off her finger. He wondered if this meant that she wanted him again if she was willing to give him a second chance.
Brice finished the marinade and put the salmon back in the fridge, pulling out a mixture of vegetables, which he set about washing and then chopping. He wasn't sure how he felt about things. Should he risk their comfortable comradery for a chance at the relationship she professed to no longer want? He wanted nothing more than to claim her again, to make her his and never let her go. But if he tried now, and he had misread her signals? There likely wouldn't be a second second chance.
It took him almost an hour to cut all the vegetables and return them to the fridge. Then it was time to see to the dessert preparations. The tiramisu he had planned had many ingredients, and the recipe required all of his attention. As he worked, he was amazed at how his skill had increased in such a short time. The internet was a godsend to someone who barely knew his way around the kitchen, and he planned to prove to Janna tonight that even a spoiled millionaire playboy could cook if he put his mind to it.
Another hour and he was putting the tiramisu cups into the fridge. He checked his watch and wondered if Janna was awake. Picturing her in bed sent a near-painful twinge to his cock. Better to push those thoughts away and concentrate on the table settings. The day had been unseasonably nice, with only a soft breeze blowing through the clouds. He decided to risk a change in temperature and eat outside. He made sure the table was clean, then moved a large vase of flowers for a centerpiece. Glancing at his watch, he decided it would be time to fire up the grill soon. Before he did so, he wanted to check on Janna.
He tapped politely at the bedroom door but didn't receive an answer. He wandered over to the bathroom, but it was empty as well. Finally, he found her in her study, paints in hand, working on a fresh canvas.
Janna hadn't been painting much since she arrived, and he was surprised to see her in here now. He walked up behind her, putting a hand on her shoulder and causing her to turn and burn his insides with her delicate smile. The canvas was a myriad of grays, blues, and greens, no doubt inspired by the ocean view before her.
"Did you have a nice nap?" he asked finally to break the silence between them.
"Not really. Couldn't sleep, so I decided to try painting."
" I'm going to start dinner soon, and I wanted to know if you needed anything."
"Nope," she said, her attention already returning to the canvas and view in front of her.
With a small smile, he left her to her painting, making his way back downstairs and gathering the needed supplies. Even if she stuck to her guns, even if she didn't want to give him a second chance, at least he could metaphorically impress the pants off her with his dinner.
* * *
The setting sun made diamonds appear across the waves, and Janna realized that she'd been at her easel for hours. She wondered what Brice was up to. Picking up her crutch she moved towards the stairs. She decided not to bother him and try the descent on her own. Clutching the railing she slowly made her way down. When she reached the bottom, a small burst of triumph filled her.
It was strange. She'd always been athletic, always sure that her body would be up to any task asked of it. But these past weeks, she'd felt weak as a baby, as if she was learning to walk all over again. Still, she was confident that her strength was returning, and that the pain seemed to be a thing of the past.
She shuffled into the kitchen and was surprised to find it empty. But a glance out the back door showed her where Brice had gotten to. He turned when she opened the door, a frown marring his perfect features. "Where'd you come from?" he asked. "Why didn't you call for help on the stairs?"
"Didn't need it." To prove her progress, she crutched her way over to a chair and sat down. "See?"
"Very good," he said, smiling. "The doctor should be impressed tomorrow morning."
"The appointment is tomorrow?" She couldn't believe it had been almost two weeks since she'd left the hospital. Time flies when you had good company, it seemed.
"Indeed," he said. "And I hope you're hungry, because dinner will be done soon. I thought we could eat out here."
Janna nodded and noticed how nice the table setting was. A vase of wildflowers graced the table, which was set with dishes, silverware, and cloth napkins. A bottle of wine sat on ice, and a carafe of water was beside it.
"Smells delicious," she said, realizing how hungry she was. And thirsty. The wine looked particularly tasty. She'd been avoiding alcoholic drinks since the accident, worrying that it might interfere with the pain meds. But tonight she felt like risking it, and bravely poured herself a glass. One wouldn't hurt, right? It wasn't as if she were operating heavy machinery, after all.
Soon Brice had finished his grilling and was filling her plate with salmon, rice, and a medley of grilled vegetables. It smelled heavenly, and when she raised her fork to her mouth, she realized it tasted even better.
"Wow, Brice, this is delicious," she raved, digging into her food in earnest.
"Thanks," he said, a shy smile on his face.
They ate in silence, Janna wondering at the transformation of her millionaire playboy. When they'd met, she was sure that he wasn't looking for anything serious, that she'd be just another notch in his very long belt. Instead, he'd tried time and again to convince her that he wanted her, that their relationship was something real. And now she was beginning to believe his words. Gone was the elitist asshole who'd sent a security team to follow her around without her knowing. All she could see was the compassionate, wonderful man who'd spent the last two weeks taking care of her.
S
he took another sip to cool the heat of desire rushing through her and noticed that her glass was empty. Janna refilled it, hoping the crisp white wine would diminish the flush of lust she was feeling. It didn't help, however, when she realized Brice was giving her his dimple-revealing smile. "Ready for dessert?"
"Yes," she answered, then took another gulp of wine as she pictured the dessert she really wanted. Him. Naked. At her mercy.
He returned and placed a cup of some scrumptious chocolate concoction before her. "What's this?"
"It's tiramisu," he replied. "Try it."
She dipped her fork into the mixture and brought it to her mouth. "Mmmm," she moaned. "This is fantastic. You made this too?"
"I did," he said, and she caught the hunger in his eyes as she moaned again over another bite. He evidently wasn't immune to her either. Suddenly the atmosphere was stifling hot, and as she drained her second glass, she realized the wine could do nothing to help.
They finished dessert as the sun sank beyond the horizon. Janna poured the rest of the wine into her glass, took a drink, and suddenly become conscious that it was one drink too many. She was floating on a cloud of painless bliss, a fuzzy pink cloud that was as soft as Brice's kisses.
"Would you like to go inside?" he asked when he saw her shiver lightly.
"I suppose." She tried to stand up. She failed. Falling back into her chair, she began laughing.
"Too much wine?" he surmised, a slight frown on his face.
"Too much good food," she countered, making him smile.
"Allow me to come to your aid, dear lady," Brice replied, lifting her from her chair and cradling her close.
"Always the gentleman," she quipped.
"Not always."
The words went straight to her core, lighting her up and making her flush with longing. Brice moved inside, heading down the hall and up the stairs. He entered her bedroom and set her gently on the bed. He turned on the bedside lamp, then came back to her, bending down to press a kiss against her forehead.
