Steve watched Meg disappear from sight. With a few false starts and a small gouge in the hall plaster he managed to maneuver the wheelchair to the kitchen. Silently he cursed the healing scrapes and bruises running down the right side of his back from shoulder to his hip. The one on his right upper arm had needed stitches and he wondered if the skin had split again.
He also ached, not from the injuries, but desire. He wanted Meg. He had since the day he’d met her. He knew she had noticed how his cock had grown hard and pressed against his fly. That reaction occurred every time he encountered. He always fought the urge to take her any time and anywhere.
He opened the refrigerator and pulled one of the items from the shelf. Allie must have left the eggs and cheese during her recent stay. Using the handle of the silverware drawer he opened a beer and took a swig. He set the bottle on the table and opened the plastic container of pain pills. Just as he was about to swallow two with beer he heard a sound and turned. Meg entered the kitchen. His body, though a field of aches, reacted.
She moved closer and looked from the beer to the pills. “Are you trying to kill yourself?”
“Would you care?” He watched the play of emotions sweep over her face. He grinned. When she didn’t answer a surge of hope swamped him. Hope? He wanted her in his bed for a romp and a way to scratch an itch.
He closed his eyes. Just how interested was she? He recalled the kiss. She had responded. Her erect nipples had pressed against his chest. If he didn’t act like an ass he might lure her into his bed. For a time. He’d figure how long after he’d had her.
“Here.” She thrust a glass of water into his hand. “You should be in bed. If your leg was elevated and your arm supported by pillows you would have less pain.”
While he chased the pills with a glass of tap water he watched her finish his beer. She pushed him into the bedroom and waited while he slid onto the king-sized bed. She supported the cast and used a pillow to elevate his leg. She used another to support his arm.
“You’re good at this,” he said.
“As you know I have two brothers who get themselves into accidents.”
He reached for the phone. “Have to make a call.”
“Need to leave a message for my sister. She’s an ICU nurse and keeps her answering machine on at all times. She listens to the messages and only answers the ones she wants.” He tapped the number and paused before speaking. “I’m home. Call tomorrow. I know you’re at work so I’ll manage. Do not send Ben.”
“Have a problem with him?”
“Love the boy but not as a caregiver. He’s my thirteen year old nephew and a disaster in sneakers.”
Meg stared at the wall. “If you need a caretaker I could stay until Sunday evening.” She clapped her handover her mouth.
Steve laughed. She hadn’t meant to offer. He liked the red flush on her face. She’d jumped, not into his bed, but close enough. He grabbed her hand and kissed her fingers. The red spread to her neck. By Sunday with luck he would see how far her blush extended. He winked. “Could you help me undress?” Her quick intake of breath and pursed lips made him grin. “You’re safe. I can’t chase you around the room. I’m at your mercy.”
She edged closer and untied the sling supporting his shoulder and arm. “Oh,” he gasped.
“Did that hurt?” She brushed her fingers over his arm and shoulder.
“A bit but your touch helps. You could kiss it and make it better.”
“You are full of it.” She reached for the bottom of his tee shirt.
As her fingers skimmed over his abdomen he sucked in a breath. Being unable to act on his wants was going to kill him. “Meg,” he growled.
Mischief gleamed in her blue eyes. “I won’t hurt you.” She trailed her hand over his chest as she raised the shirt. She drew the short over his uninjured arm and his head. Carefully she eased the cloth from his right arm. She gasped. “Those are some nasty bruises.”
“I can feel them but the only ones I’ve seen are the ones on my arm. The doctors in
said I was healing and should exercise. You could help me.” Her blush sent heat
to his groin.
Her hands hovered over the waistband of his sweats. “I suppose you want these off.”
He nodded. “Skin’s my choice for sleep. And yours?”
Her face turned scarlet. “I won’t remove your underwear.” She inched the pants over his hips.
He groaned. If she didn’t hurry they would hang up on his cock. When his black boxers and his desire were exposed her mouth gaped.
“It’s all me,” he drawled.
She tugged the sweats over his feet and pulled the sheet over him. “Night.” She bolted from the room.
“What, no good night kiss?” he called. One chance gone but tomorrow would bring more. In the morning he would tempt some of the rules of life she followed. He’d heard her brothers joke about Meg’s Rules of Life.
What if he failed? Not a chance.
He shifted in the bed until he found a more comfortable position. What would Meg be like in bed? He slid into a fantasy inspired by the kiss they’d shared. How she’d found the strength to break free surprised him. Without her help he might have made his way to the building but not to bed. With his body screaming for release he slid into the nightmare plaguing him since the fall.
Just one more shot. He stepped back. His foot slipped on a rock. He fell and slid down the slope heading for a cluster of rocks. “Help!” he shouted.
The voice was Meg’s. He opened his eyes and saw this wasn’t part of a dream. “Nightmare. I fell down the mountain again.”
Meg stood at the foot of the bed. She wore a silky thing that reached the middle of her thighs. Her long tanned legs were nicely shaped. As she moved closer he noticed the way the fabric clung to her breasts. “Do you always wear things like that to bed?”
“Do you have a problem with my choice?”
He sat up. “Actually I hoped you preferred skin but this isn’t bad. Except I can’t move. Want to tuck me in and kiss me good night. Would keep the bad dreams away.”
On her way to the door she glanced over her shoulder. “I may be tempted but I’m strong. Good night. Sweet dreams.”
“With you as the centerfold they will be.” Sweet dreams, no way. They were going to be spicy.