Wild

by Jill Sorenson

  “Okay,” he said, waving her in.

  Helena came inside and glanced around. She was carrying the extra clothes in a tote bag with a gorilla decal. She went to the sink and turned on the water, testing its temperature.

  “Warm?” he asked.

  “Lukewarm.”

  He’d take it.

  The sink wasn’t large enough to bathe in, so she grabbed an empty plastic washbasin, placing it on the floor by the sink. Then she attached a garden hose to the faucet. “There,” she said, seeming pleased with her invention. “It’s like a standing bath, and we can just lean over the sink to wash our hair.”

  Those words triggered a very explicit fantasy of her, wet and naked, bent at the waist. Water streamed down her pale back, glistening over her sleek curves.

  Great. Now he was rock-hard.

  “You might need help,” she said.

  He needed help, all right. Her helping hand, soapy and slick.

  “Do you want me to hold it for you?”

  “Yes.” God, yes.

  She gave him an expectant look, and he realized she was waiting for him to strip down. She’d offered to hold the hose for him. She’d wash him like a car or…an elephant. He pictured Obi’s gargantuan member, rearing up and spraying wild.

  “No,” he said, choking out a laugh. He could manage the hose on his own. “Sorry, I meant to say no.”

  “No?”

  “You go ahead. I’ll stand outside.”

  She frowned as he limped toward the exit. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  He left the flashlight in a flat of geraniums by the door. Then he guarded the front of the greenhouse like a sentry.

  If he wanted to look, he only had to glance over his shoulder. The transparent panels wouldn’t hide her body from his view.

  He clenched his teeth at the sound of running water, plagued by visions of her slippery skin and sudsy breasts.

  Get a grip, Josh.

  He’d love to get a grip. On her hips as she rode him.

  Taking a deep breath, he tried to focus on something else. He thought of elephant cocks again, but that wasn’t gross enough to turn him off. Then he imagined getting attacked by a honey badger while naked.

  There. That did the trick.

  He stretched his neck and scanned the area. It was dangerous, being out here after dark. Visibility was limited, and they weren’t far from the ruins of the reptile house. He hoped Bambang wasn’t prowling around. Komodo dragons were like Godzilla, scary as shit. The bandage tugged at Josh’s wrist, reminding him of his nightmare. An uneasy feeling niggled at him. He hadn’t checked every nook and cranny of the greenhouse.

  What had Helena said about snakes? They were attracted to heat sources.

  He was about to call out a warning when she screamed like a banshee. The sound sent chills down his spine.

  Abandoning his post, he rushed inside the greenhouse to help her. She had shampoo dripping into her eyes, and there was something on her shoulders that resembled a black whip. She grabbed the offending creature and flung it, still shrieking.

  Josh couldn’t light up the thing with his rifle and risk a ricochet on the concrete floor. He was about to stomp it to bits when he recognized the material as hosing from the rainwater collection system. It must have fallen from the damaged roof.

  She wiped her eyes, shivering. “What is that?”

  “Soaker hose.”

  “What?”

  “It’s a type of hose with a porous surface. Feels kind of like snakeskin. I’d have freaked, too.”

  She edged away from him, one hand between her legs. The other covered her left breast, leaving the right bare. She only had two hands, and he seemed to have about a dozen eyes. They were all over her.

  She had a beautiful body, smooth and pale and well-proportioned, like a goddess sculpted from marble. But he’d known she had gorgeous skin and luscious curves already. What really amazed him was her level of fitness. There were sleek muscles in her stomach and arms. Not deeply carved abs or bulging biceps, but clear definition. It was sexy as hell. This was a woman who could run a marathon. A woman who did hard physical labor, and could carry her own weight on her shoulders.

  He was enamored with her softer parts, too. The plumpness of her breasts, her trembling mouth. Strands of wet hair clung to her face, dripping on her shoulders and chest. She looked like a hot girl from a horror movie, naked and terrified. And he was the horny audience member, getting off on it.

  Fresh arousal thrummed in his veins, making it difficult to look away. He wanted her taut belly against his, her strong legs locked around his waist. Her tight body clenching around his as she cried out in pleasure.

  She retreated a few steps, still trembling. There was no invitation in her expression, just wariness and residual fear. She was shaken up, speechless. That was the only reason she hadn’t protested to his rude staring.

  It took a Herculean effort to avert his gaze and move to the door. “I’ll stand right here while you finish.”

  She must have nodded her acceptance. A moment later, she turned the faucet back on. He pictured her bent over and rinsing, water dripping from her breasts. He wondered how it would feel to have her. If she’d be slick and hot, gripping him like a vise. No amount of badger-imagining could ease his hard-on. It jutted at the front of his pants, stiff and persistent. Lukewarm water wasn’t going to help, either. He needed ice-cold.

  When she was done, she gathered her things and reappeared at his side. She was wearing basic gray pajama bottoms and a tank top that said Life’s a Zoo! across the front. He could see her nipples through it.

  “Your turn,” she said, taking a seat on a wooden crate by the door.

  He removed the gun strap and gave her the rifle, hoping his erection wasn’t too obvious. Then he approached the sink, setting aside his belt, radio and cell phone. He took his time removing his boots and stripping down to his boxers.

  “I forgot to empty the basin,” she said, apologetic.

  He hardly minded. He’d drink her bathwater. He’d lick her clean. Instead of emptying the basin, which wasn’t full, he dropped his shorts and stepped into it. He was still half-hard. She didn’t peek, but he wouldn’t have objected if she had.

  Turnabout was fair play.

  Hanging his head over the sink, he turned on the water, soaking his hair and body. It felt cool against his overheated skin, and his badger bites stung like hell. Both sensations caused his erection to wilt a little more, which was a relief. He winced in discomfort as he scrubbed his arms. Then he lathered his torso, running an absent hand over his dick and balls. He caught a hint of movement from Helena’s corner. He glanced her way and realized she’d been watching him, at least for a second.

  Christ. That wasn’t going to help him stay soft.

  He washed his hair with the same soap he’d used on his body. Then he rinsed from head to toe and called it good. Toweling off, he found the extra set of clothes she’d brought. T-shirt, giraffe boxer shorts, plain gray pajama pants. He’d forgotten about socks.

  Instead of putting the stinky ones back on, he stuck his bare feet into his boots, not bothering to lace them, and collected his belongings.

  He kept an eye out for predators as they headed back to the truck. She got behind the wheel and turned on the engine. “There’s some instant soup in the employee lounge. We can have that instead of steaks. Less work.”

  “Fine.”

  “I’ll take care of those bite wounds first.”

  He grunted in response, like a caveman. The only thing he cared about right now was diving between her legs. He wanted to eat her for dinner. Feast for hours. Maybe he could carry on an intelligent conversation when his boner-stupor wore off.

  “I guess I should’ve thanked you earlier.”

  “For what?”

  “Trying to protect me from the honey badger.”

  He shrugged, feeling surly.

  “You also rushed into the greenhous
e when I screamed.”

  “What did you think I’d do, run the other way?”

  “No. I knew you wouldn’t.”

  For some reason, her sincere gratitude irked him. Now that he had it, he didn’t want it. No, scratch that—he didn’t deserve it. “The sight of your wet, naked body was well worth the trouble.”

  “That’s not why you did it.”

  “So what? I still liked it. I’m hard again, just thinking about it.”

  That shut her up. He didn’t know why he wanted to shut her up. Maybe because he couldn’t kiss her or touch her, or do anything else to her. Maybe because he was beginning to realize how much she meant to him. He’d finally found a woman who made him want to be a better man. And he couldn’t have her.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  THE TENSION BETWEEN them was palpable.

  Helena parked outside the staff building and exited the vehicle, troubled by Josh’s confrontational attitude. She’d never seen him so heated. As much as she’d like to give him space to cool down, she couldn’t put off treatment of his wounds. Animal bites had to be flushed to reduce the chance of infection.

  She understood what was bothering him, of course. She felt the same sexual frustration, the same need to be touched. Her pulse throbbed with desire. The act of stripping bare, getting wet and soaping her body in his close proximity had felt unbearably sensual. Although the false alarm with the hose had diminished her arousal, sneaking a peek at him had brought it raging back to the forefront.

  Speaking of forefronts…guh. He was gorgeous underneath his clothes. All lean muscles, strength and sinew. The total package.

  Face hot, she walked through the staff area and picked up the lantern before entering the animal hospital. He followed her in silence. His eyes weren’t dancing with mischief. They had a predatory glint that made her stomach flutter with awareness. It was difficult to meet his gaze, after what he’d said.

  I’m hard again, just thinking about it.

  She believed him. She didn’t need to look down to see the evidence—desire was coming off him in waves.

  I’ll make it good, Helena. I’ll do you right.

  “Where do you want me?” he asked.

  A couple of thrilling possibilities sprang to mind. Against the wall, with her legs around his waist. Or on the edge of the exam table, with him pounding into her. Better yet, they could get down on all fours and go at it, animal style. That would probably suit his mood. It would definitely suit hers. She was slick with desire, primed for action. She wanted to be well-used. Some biting and hair-pulling wouldn’t be amiss.

  “There,” she said, pointing to a wooden stool by the table. He didn’t strike her as the rough type, but maybe he was. He seemed very capable of giving a woman whatever she needed in the bedroom.

  He sat down on the stool and pulled his shirt over his head. In addition to the bite wounds on his arms, he had some nasty scratches on his side.

  She turned to the cabinet to collect the first-aid supplies. Saline, a syringe, towels, antibiotic ointment, bandages. She also found some mild pain relievers. They wouldn’t kick in for a while, but she gave him two, with a bottle of water.

  “I have to flush the wounds,” she said.

  “Go ahead.”

  Clearing her throat, she filled a syringe with saline and twisted off the capped needle. Then she grabbed a towel to absorb the extra fluid. “This is going to hurt.”

  “Good.”

  She couldn’t interpret the flip answer, but she assumed he was just being stoic. Holding the towel underneath a nasty bite on his left biceps, she placed the syringe tip at the puncture site and pressed the plunger, irrigating the wound with saline. His hissed intake of breath and bunched shoulder muscles didn’t denote pleasure. Which was probably for the best. Maybe the discomfort would take his mind off sex.

  He had four or five bites on this arm, and multiple punctures that needed to be flushed until the fluid ran clear. They’d be here a while.

  “Tell me about your sister,” she said, hitting the wound again.

  His reaction was less pronounced this time. He’d steeled himself against the pain. “What about her?”

  “Is she older or younger?”

  “She’s twenty-three.”

  Helena had to remind herself that he was twenty-nine. “When did she move in with you?”

  “About a year ago.”

  “How did that come about?”

  “She wanted a fresh start. She was getting over a bad relationship. Her boyfriend was—” he sucked in another breath as she continued the treatment “—an asshole. And a drug addict. He stole her money.”

  “Did she do drugs, too?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Why not?”

  “I never asked her.”

  “You weren’t concerned?”

  “I was more concerned about her mental health. She took a bunch of my mom’s sleeping pills once, when Emma was a newborn.”

  Helena stopped flushing. “Did she have postpartum depression?”

  “I guess so. She was on medication for a few months. Then she got better, and she asked if she could stay with me while she finished college. My mom was getting on her nerves, trying to do everything for her.”

  “Did she need help?”

  “Only at first. Then she needed space, and a change of scenery.”

  “How’s it working out?”

  “Good. I mean, it was. Until now.”

  She switched to his other side, her chest tightening in sympathy. He was worried for his sister and niece, plagued by second thoughts. “You’re protective of her.”

  “Someone has to be.”

  “I always wanted a sister,” she said. “Or a brother. I didn’t care which one.”

  He didn’t say anything, but his eyes met hers in silent understanding. He seemed to see through her, into that empty place she kept guarded so well. She turned to refill the syringe and get a fresh towel. When she placed it under his forearm, she noticed his gaze shifting to her breasts. The thin tank top did little to cover her. Feeling exposed in more ways than one, she irrigated the last bite in a clumsy rush.

  He winced in discomfort, his attention returning to her face.

  “Sorry,” she said, her lips twitching.

  “You did that on purpose.”

  “Did what?”

  “You’re enjoying this.”

  “I am not,” she said, setting the syringe aside. Maybe she’d been punishing him a little, but she wasn’t a sadist.

  He gave her perky nipples a pointed stare, as if they were proof of his claim. Although she couldn’t deny her arousal, it had nothing to do with hurting him. She’d been turned on before they started. He was shirtless and sexy, which didn’t help. His raw masculinity appealed to her. So did his beautiful torso, etched from hours of surfing and swimming, paddling through the waves. He had well-developed biceps, broad shoulders, a taut abdomen. He looked strong enough to haul her over his shoulder and carry her away.

  She flashed back to the glimpse she’d gotten of his lower body. The side view had been excellent. His penis had been thick and not quite soft, full of possibility. She’d imagined taking him into her mouth like that.

  Flustered, she tore open a Betadine packet and swiped the scratches on his side. His stomach muscles were clenched, his jaw tight. There was a dark strip of hair leading down into his waistband. The flannel pants he was wearing couldn’t hide his swelling erection.

  If anyone was getting off on this, it was him.

  She moved around to examine his back, clearing her throat. He had a few more scratches there. She found herself lingering over them, wanting to press a kiss between his shoulder blades. Resisting the urge, she applied antibiotic ointment to his wounds and covered the worst of the bites with adhesive bandages.

  When she was finished, she crossed her arms over her chest. Her nipples hadn’t softened. Neither had his cock.

  “Why don’t you let me give you wh
at you want?” he asked in a low voice.

  She pulled her gaze away from his erection, resentful. He was so annoying, with his hard body and direct sexual offers.

  “How long has it been, six months?”

  “I have a vibrator,” she said. “Bigger than you.”

  He arched a brow at this claim. “Does it hold you all night?”

  “I don’t like to be held.”

  A hint of emotion flitted across his features. When she recognized it as pity, she turned to the cabinet in dismay. Pressure built behind her eyes. She placed the first-aid supplies on the shelf with shaking hands.

  “He’s not coming back, is he?”

  She took a deep breath, realizing what she had to do. Telling Josh about her relationship struggles with Mitch would be difficult, but she was desperate. Now that her guard was down, she needed a new barrier between them.

  “I don’t know why you’re staying true to him,” Josh said. “He left you.”

  “He didn’t have a choice,” she said, facing him.

  “Why not?”

  “He was unemployed for almost a year. After six months, his savings ran out, and I was paying most of the bills. I didn’t mind, but he was miserable. He said he didn’t feel like a man anymore. He became more and more withdrawn. I was tired of him shutting me out. If he hadn’t taken the job, we wouldn’t be together.”

  “You’re not together,” Josh said. “You just haven’t accepted it yet.”

  “What if he was deployed?”

  “He’s not deployed, Helena. Don’t ever make that comparison.”

  She threw her hands in the air. “I just meant that there was no easy solution! I couldn’t go with him, and he couldn’t stay.”

  Josh was quiet for a moment, mulling it over. “Are you hanging on because you love him, or because you can’t let go?”

  She couldn’t answer that. She didn’t know.

  “Don’t you want more out of life? Companionship, at the very least. Or a family?”

  Damn him. She glanced away, hating him for hitting the nail on the head. This conversation wasn’t going the way she’d expected, but she’d already committed. Giving up wasn’t in her repertoire. She had to just dig in.