“Excuse me,” Lilah said. “His woman?”
Jade grinned and dropped the Cosmo on the nightstand. “I can see you’re well taken care of here. I’ll see you tomorrow, Lil.”
“I’m my own woman!” Lilah yelled after Jade, who merely laughed and shut the cabin door.
Alone now, Lilah turned her glassy eyes on an admittedly smug Brady.
“You heard me,” she said. “Out with the others.”
“No.”
She arched a brow. Or she tried. But she was doped up pretty damn good. Finally she gave up with a sigh and rubbed her forehead as if it hurt. “I don’t want to hear no. I want to hear the sound of the door hitting you on your very fine ass as you follow everyone out.”
“Yeah, that was pretty impressive how you managed to kick them out.” He sat in the chair in the corner of the room and crossed his arms.
She attempted a glare but she was drooping. “Dammit. My eyes keep closing.”
He blew out a breath and leaned in to stroke her hair from her face. “Let them.”
“You… ”
She drifted off before she could finish the sentence, which undoubtedly was for the best. He waited another five full minutes to be sure, then pulled the quilt off her. Without hesitation, he stripped her out of her bloodstained clothes. He went through her dresser for something comfortable for her to sleep in.
One of his T-shirts lay neatly folded on top of her pj’s. He stared down at it for a beat, discombobulated by the sight.
She had one of his shirts.
Something happened inside him at that, a warmth spread through his chest. It felt good and hurt all at the same time. “You’re killing me,” he murmured.
Turning back to the bed, he slipped the shirt-his shirt-over her head, taking care of her arm as he tucked her in.
“Glad you stayed,” she murmured. “You’re the only one who can ever make me feel better.”
He stared down at her pale, beautiful face, unable to think past the surprise of that. Surprise and… satisfaction and pride as well, that he’d given her something, after all.
Himself.
He hadn’t meant to, God knew he’d tried not to, but he had. He sat on the chair again, and with Twinkles at his feet, settled in to watch her breathe.
Lilah woke up disoriented and groggy. Her clock said four, and given the blackness at the window, it was A.M. and she’d just slept for twelve straight hours. There was a dark figure sitting near her.
“Just me,” Brady said.
She let out a breath and swiped a hand over her face. “I was having a weird dream. I was shot-”
“Yes.”
She let out a breath. Right. Not a dream.
He rose and offered her a pretty pink pill and two white chalky ones. “Take these and go back to sleep.”
“No, I don’t need them.” Her arm was throbbing, but she hated the way they made her feel.
“You’re taking the antibiotic, Lilah.”
“Fine.” She swallowed it with the water he handed her, then grabbed at him when he started for the door, ridiculously panicked over the thought of him going, when earlier she’d wanted nothing more than to be alone. “Don’t.” To make sure, she pulled him over her.
“Careful,” he murmured, holding his weight off her by the palms he had planted on either side of her hips. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
She ran her good hand over him, humming in pleasure at the feel of his biceps, taut and straining. Yes, she needed more of that. She tried to pull him closer, but he held back from full contact.
Stubborn man.
She tugged again, wanting a kiss. Needing a kiss.
“Lilah-”
“Please,” she whispered, her hand curling around his neck, pulling him in. “Please, Brady.”
“Just one.” He let their lips meet, lightly.
“Mmm,” she murmured, the small brushing closed-mouthed kisses warming her from the inside out. But then it wasn’t enough and she opened her mouth and touched her tongue to his lower lip.
A rough groan rumbled up from his chest, as if she were causing him physical pain. She closed her eyes and let herself live in the moment, in the delicious sensations as their tongues touched and explored with increasing pressure and hunger. His scent, his taste, the heat, everything, she loved it all, and it swirled around her like a spell, draping over her like a magical coat, suspending any ability to think.
Okay, that might have been the last of the drugs leaving her system.
But he was the best drug of all. “You take away my pain,” she whispered. He also took away her ability to think straight. And she wasn’t the only one affected, either. From deep in his throat came another low, masculine sound and she slid her hand down his shoulders to his chest, feeling his heart beating solidly beneath her palm. Below that, where their lower bodies were pressed together, he was hard. “You’re better than pain meds, Brady.”
He shifted and rested his forehead against hers, sliding his hands into her hair, his fingertips shockingly gentle against her scalp. “You’re not all the way here with me.”
How to tell him she was more with him than she’d ever been with anyone in her entire life? “I am. Trust me, the meds have worn off. Please, Brady, I need-”
“Rest.”
“I can rest when I’m dead.”
He let out a long breath, clearly fighting with his old-fashioned male moral ground. “Go back to sleep for a while.” His mouth was at her ear, his breath hot against her skin.
“Can’t.”
Leaning over her, he rubbed his jaw to hers. “Close your eyes.”
When she did, he ran his hand over her body, a light touch, caressing, teasing. She rocked up for more, but he held her down. “Just relax,” he murmured, his mouth leaving hot kisses along her throat.
Her nipples were hard and pressed against the soft fabric of the shirt-his shirt, she realized. He must have removed her bloody clothes. His eyes went heavy-lidded and hot at the sight of her nipples. Then he slid his fingers beneath the cotton and desire shot through her, centering between her legs.
“Is this what you need?” he asked, strumming her like an instrument. “This?”
“Yes,” she gasped, rocking into him.
His other hand went to her hips and held her still. “Don’t move, you’ll hurt yourself.” With another long, deep kiss, he lifted the shirt up and over her head, taking great care with her arm. Then he bent to her breasts, the tip of his tongue stroking her nipple as his other hand slid between her legs.
She gasped again, writhing beneath him.
“Stay still,” he reminded her sternly as his fingers worked their magic. “God, you feel like silk.” He stroked her and she moaned. “Wet silk.” And then he slid lower on the bed and gently pulled the material aside, out of his way. Holding her legs open with his broad shoulders, he put his mouth on her.
At the first touch of his tongue, she started to shoot straight up, but his hands caught her before she could. “No moving,” he reminded her, gently holding her effortlessly immobile as he not so gently took her straight out of her mind with pleasure.
Afterward, he held her while she attempted to get herself under control. Or as under control as she could get for someone who’d been shot, drugged, and had just had the mother of all orgasms. He was sprawled on his back. She lay curled at his side, one leg and her bandaged arm over the top of him. She had no idea why having his arms tight on her calmed her more than anything she’d ever known. Maybe because she’d never let herself be vulnerable before, with anyone else.
Ever.
Even thinking it had peace settling in her heart, and she knew that she was right where she belonged. She tilted her head up to study him. His eyes were closed but she knew he wasn’t sleeping. “Brady?”
“Yeah?”
She sighed dreamily. I love you, she thought.
He ran a hand over her, scooping her hair from her face. “Now you’ll be able to sleep.”