But that thinking was selfish. He wanted to give her everything she needed, and a roof over her head was one of the most basic needs of a person. Especially as autumn and winter approached.
Stan’s brain ached from the complicated situation he’d maneuvered himself into. More than ever he wished his brother were still around. Jarek had always been the one to keep him grounded, to help cheer him up when he’d gotten caught up in his brain. Without Jarek, he was just so… lost. And angry.
The thought of Jarek brought another stabbing doubt to his mind. What if Agnieska had shied away, because she was still in love with his brother? What if she’d let him hold her just because for a moment she’d indulged in the illusion that he was Jarek? A cold wave of fear flooded him.
This woman had crawled under his skin like nobody else had before. She’d conjured up emotions and desires he’d thought long forgotten. At the age of twenty-six, he’d resigned himself to living his life without his leg, and thus without love and sex. For a fleeting moment today he’d forgotten about his dark fate and somehow hoped the future might have something brighter for him in store.
Chapter 10
Stan’s lips skimmed down her porcelain neck, nipping Agnieska’s collarbone as they continued their downward path. He reached the peaks of her supple breasts, his hand cupping them and squeezing the soft flesh, drawing little moans and sighs from her throat.
Every sexy sound spurred him on to keep teasing her, molding her breasts in his hands, enjoying how she writhed and thrashed under him. His lips latched onto one of the rosy nipples, tenderly circling it with his tongue. His dick hardened in the same rhythm as her nipple transformed into a taut, tight bud. He sucked hard, causing her to moan in pleasure and arch into his touch. Then he became more daring, grazed his teeth across her soft skin, closing in on the nipple and biting down on it. Her gasp pierced his ears and he licked the heated skin, before he paused for a moment and asked, “Did I hurt you, sweetheart?”
“No, but it was… incredibly arousing.”
“Hmm, should I treat your other nipple the same way then?”
“Yes, please. Oh, Stan… ohohoh.” Her moaning and thrashing intensified, while her hands moved against his back, her nails scoring the skin, but he didn’t care. He finally had Agnieska right where he wanted her. Beneath him. Writhing with pleasure.
He rested on his elbows, scrutinizing every inch of her porcelain skin, as she lay naked on his bed. Exposed to his gaze from toe to head. A rush of intense arousal scourged through him, making his erection impossibly bigger.
Claiming her lips in a kiss, she opened her mouth for him, taking in his tongue as he explored every crevice inside. In a bold move she started suckling on his lips and he wanted to scream with pleasure. When he broke the contact to let his eyes travel across her perfect body once again, they were both panting.
Nibbling his way to her earlobe, he gently bit down on it and once again she let out a soft scream of pleasure.
“My love, you’re so responsive. I want you now.”
“Take me. Make me yours,” she whispered back.
He didn’t need a second invitation and moved his mouth once again down to her breasts, nipping at the erect and hard nipples, his left hand molding her breasts, moving between the two peaks, while his right hand skimmed across her flat stomach to the thatch of curls below.
She moaned in delight as his fingertips encountered her wetness and he slowly penetrated her sheath with his fingers, before he pulled out again and settled between her thighs. His hands captured her hips that arched into him, as he poised his dick at her entrance and slid inside her.
It was only a matter of a few thrusts inside her heat before he felt himself coming...
Stan opened his eyes, his heart racing and his hand closed around his rigid cock, hot semen coating his fingers. Disappointed as he discovered it had been but a dream, he pulled his hand away, blowing out a ragged breath as guilt filled his chest.
She deserved so much better than him. She was still young and had a life of possibilities ahead of her. Therefore, he had to protect them both from the emotions building between them.
In the dark hours before dawn, he made a silent promise. One she would never hear from his lips, but he meant to honor nonetheless. From here on out, he was going to care for her just like a brother.
He wiped his hand clean and rolled over on his side, the house in his vision through the small window. He stared at it for a long time, unable to find sleep despite knowing that he needed to have his wits about him the next morning if he was going to exercise good self-control.
It was up to him to control the interactions between himself and Agnieska. The job of a man. He might not be able to repair the roof on his house, but he could control his baser instincts and protect her from himself. That he would do.
The next morning, the rooster at Tadzio’s house woke him like clockwork with his cock-a-doodle-doo. Stan dressed, washed his face at the pump and walked over to the house, furrowing his brows at the morning dew on the plants in the vegetable garden. Fall would be here in no time at all and they needed the roof fixed by then.
The breath caught in his chest as he opened the back door and peeked into the kitchen. Agnieska was preparing breakfast and she was so beautiful in the morning light, Stan could only stand there and watch her. Snippets of his fantasy from the night before tried to sneak in, but he forced them aside.
She must have heard him because she turned around, her adorable face red with the heat of the stove where she was preparing fried eggs and potatoes. The expectation he saw in her eyes hit him deep inside, knocking the breath from his lungs and almost toppling his resolve to stay away from her. He hardened his heart and his features and said in a gruff voice, “Morning.”
“Did you sleep well?” she asked.
Stan ignored her question, settled at the table, and asked, “Is breakfast ready?”
“Almost,” she said, giving him a quizzical look.
Stan nodded and all but tore the plate from her hands before she could even set it on the table. He ate quickly, his eyes fixed on the plate. Minutes later he finished the food she’d cooked for him without saying a single word, gulped down the cup of water and fled from her presence.
Even without looking at her face, he felt the tension oozing from her and he knew how much his cold behavior hurt her, but he held her best interests close to his heart. In his mind, there could be no future for the two of them and he refused to allow her to get hurt because of his rash actions.
Chapter 11
Agnieska stared with disbelief at Stan’s back as he left the house, feeling completely out of sorts. Half the night she’d spent reliving the experience of being in Stan’s arms and being kissed by him. Even now the memory brought a heated flush to her face. Oh… she’d never known a simple kiss could be as delightful, but…. she was a decent woman. She straightened her apron and busied herself washing the breakfast dishes. Decent women didn’t let unmarried men paw them. No matter how much they enjoyed the experience. That’s what her parents had taught her.
But your parents are dead. And times have changed. She gasped at the insubordinate voice in her head. The world would all be in an awful mess if people did not keep to traditional values and morals.
The second half of the night, she’d worried about how to act around him in the morning and had decided to play it normal. Pretend the kiss had never happened.
Unfortunately, Stan reverted back to playing his mood games. As Stan headed to the fields without even giving her a terse thank you for the breakfast, she clasped her hands together. What had she hoped for? Some indication that he loved her? She scoffed. Hot and cold Stan? An iceberg would melt before he ever admitted his feelings.
I don’t know what possessed me to let him kiss me.
As much as she wanted to stay at the farm, she could not allow herself to become a burden to anyone. When the day drew to a close, she was no closer to having an answer than whe
n she’d awakened.
Stan returned late from the fields, eating the dinner she’d left for him and then retiring to the shed. Agnieska remained in the makeshift bedroom he’d fixed for her, her heart heavy with pain. Avoiding him seemed to be the best course of action to take, at least until she got a clearer picture about her plans for the future.
Thus, they lived in the same place, but never exchanged a single word, or a glance, avoiding each other as much as humanly possible. She still made breakfast and dinner for him, but disappeared from the kitchen when she heard him step onto the porch.
Maybe it was her imagination, but he suddenly trampled with the force of an elephant, as if to warn her of his arrival. At noon, she still went out to the field, bringing him lunch, her heart weeping when she watched his strong body work the earth. But she always cast her eyes down as she neared him, set the lunch down in the shadow under the trees without waiting for him to approach. Which he never did. He pretended to be too busy to notice her, but she felt his piercing gaze boring holes into her back on her way back to the house.
* * *
Stan was having second thoughts about his plan to stay away from Agnieska. The tension between them was unbearable. The hurt and sadness in her eyes slashed his heart in more painful ways than even the worst Nazi treatment had ever done.
He couldn’t stand seeing her like this. Hundreds of times, he’d almost reached out to wrap his arms around her and apologize. But that would defeat the purpose. She’d get over him soon and then she’d be free to lead a better life.
Without him.
With a man who could give her all she wanted. All she needed.
“Hey, Stan. We need to get that tree stump out of the ground.” Tadzio’s voice shook him from his thoughts.
Stan landed back in the present and looked at the stump in question. “I’ve got it. Why don’t you finish up this row and then start cleaning out the ditch at the end? We could get this field planted before the week’s out.”
“Sounds good.”
Stan grabbed the shovel and the axe and headed to where a large stump was sticking up from the ground. It was only about twelve inches across and he and Tadzio had already dug around the surface roots. The only task left was to cut those roots and then push it out of the ground.
He started hacking away at the surface roots, cutting through the three-inch round roots before they gave way. Sweat ran in rivulets down his forehead and his back, but he was determined to win the fight against the trunk.
With clenched teeth, he ignored the pulsating ache in his leg and bent over, putting his shoulder against the stump and shoving with all of his might. He wasn’t prepared to lose his footing and down he went, crashing down on the point where the prosthetic met his skin.
“Ouch!” Stan screamed with excruciating pain, loud enough to wake the dead.
Tadzio ran toward him, witnessing the debacle as Stan lay helpless, face down in the dirt, red-hot rage slowly displacing the pain. “Are you alright?” the boy asked with a worried tone.
“What the fuck does it look like?” Stan growled and moved his head to see the young boy peering down at him. Another wave of agony hit him, until black stars danced in front of his eyes.
“Here, take my hand and I’ll help you up.”
“I can do it alone!” He hissed through clenched teeth although he knew perfectly well that he couldn’t.
“Sure you can, but it’s easier if I help you up,” Tadzio said.
There wasn’t much Stan could argue about, so he clasped the outstretched hand and let Tadzio pull him upright.
“Fu… uck!” He screamed again at the agonizing pain in his stump. “Sorry for that,” he managed to say after seeing Tadzio’s wide-eyed stare.
Tadzio nodded, cowed by the outburst, and Stan promised himself to watch his language – and his temper – better in the future. He didn’t want the boy to be afraid of him.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scream at you, but that hurt like… hell,” Stan said, still reeling from the torturous ache.
“Want me to work on the tree stump?”
“That’s probably the best.” Stan cast his eyes downward, ashamed that he had to ask a thirteen-year-old boy to first help him up and then to finish the task Stan had been supposed to carry out. Without another word he turned on his heel and walked towards the house, limping more than usual.
About halfway to the house he remembered that he and Agnieska weren’t talking. Swearing and growling he pondered what to do when she unexpectedly appeared behind the stonewall of the vegetable garden. He almost bumped into her.
“What happened?” Agnieska asked, nodding at his wooden leg.
“Nothing,” he growled, glaring daggers at her. She disappeared inside the house and he flopped down at the table on the porch. Why did she always have to butt into his business? Why did she always want to make sure he was okay? Women! He was better off without her.
When she returned several minutes later and put a steaming hot bowl of stew in front of him, he reached out and grabbed her hand, just to move it away like he’d touched hot coals.
“Look, Agnieska, I’m sorry. It’s just…” How on earth was a man supposed to say that despite burning up with desire for a woman, he could never act on his attraction?
“Just what?” Her green eyes softened and she had him there again, making his lips tremble and his heart ache.
“I… I… You… Oh, shit!” He rubbed his bearded chin. “It’s just… I like having your company.” A smile brightened her face. “But…” The light dimmed. “…there can never be anything between us except friendship.”
“Why?” she whispered.
“Because… because after all you’ve gone through, the abuse you’ve suffered at the hands of the Nazis, you deserve a bright future. You deserve a man who can protect you, provide for you, and give you everything you desire. You don’t deserve to be bound to a cripple like me!”
“Stan, please—“
“Go. Please go and leave me alone.”
She sneaked away, leaving him alone. Immediately, he mourned her loss, a wave of agony washing over him so hard he had to fight back the tears.
Chapter 12
The days passed, and the relationship between Agnieska and Stan returned to normal. Somewhat.
She still couldn’t fathom why he thought himself worthless when all evidence proved the contrary, but he’d made his stance crystal clear. At least he wasn’t looking down at her for her shameful tarty behavior the other day.
Despite his insistence that there could never be anything between them other than friendship, she found herself falling harder for him with each passing day. He made her laugh, outdid himself to make her feel at home, and even mentioned several times that he’d find someone to fix the roof for the coming winter.
One day in early September, yet another refugee in the never-ending stream of displaced persons that passed the farm knocked at the door. She was hanging up the laundry she’d washed earlier that morning and hurriedly rushed around the house to greet him. He was skeletal, with very short black hair and several missing teeth. And he had the prisoner-gait, the shuffling walk all the Jews had adopted in the camps to save the little energy they had.
“Miss, could you spare some water?” he asked with a voice hoarse from thirst.
“Come with me,” she said, strangely affected by his big, sad eyes. Refugees like him passed through every day and yet, this man tugged at her heartstrings. She led him to the table on the porch and offered him minted water from the jar. He swallowed it in one gulp and sheepishly asked for another glass.
“Drink as much as you want. Water is about the only thing we have enough off,” she said, pointing at the well with the pump.
“Thank you Miss...”
“It’s Agnieska.”
“My name is Amos.”
“A Jewish name,” she said, her heart filling with joy that someone other than herself had survived the Holocaust.
Fear not my valiant steed! The words of an old poem came to mind and she smiled. “Don’t be afraid. You’re safe here. I’m a Jew myself.”
“You are?” He looked up, his dark eyes filling with sadness, relief and yearning. “Blessed be He. There are so few of us who survived.”
She didn’t want to dwell in commiseration and asked, “Can I offer you something to eat?”
His eyes answered even before he opened his mouth and she said, “Don’t deny it. I know hunger when I see it. Wait here.” She hurried into the kitchen to heat a bowl of stew and brought it to him.
After eating his fill he looked at her and said, “How can I ever repay your kindness, good woman?”
She shook her head. “There’s no need.”
“Please let me show my appreciation. May I offer work? I’m a skilled handyman and a woman on her own—“
“I’m not alone,” she protested, “I live here with my brother-in-law.”
“Well, then I better continue my journey.”
“Wait…” Agnieska took pity on him and asked, “Do you know how to repair a roof? Or, in this case, build one?”
The man looked up at the roof structure and slowly nodded, “Carpentry is what I learned many years ago. I certainly can help you.”
“I can’t pay you much, but I can offer you food and shelter in exchange for your work.” She looked at him expectantly. Stan would be so pleased that they’d finally found someone to fix the roof – someone they could afford.
“It’s a deal. Show me what needs done.” He got up from the table and she led him to the second floor where he scrutzinized the remains of the roof structure. An hour later he entered the kitchen with a list of things he would need to get started.
Only Love Heals A Heart: Steamy Historical Romance Page 6
