Down and Dirty (Dare Me)

chapter Five


Well, this is a grim way to end the evening, Cat thought bitterly. The scrape on her leg was stinging like the blazes, but her injured pride stung worse. Two times in one night, she’d managed to both humiliate herself and require rescuing. She may have mentally relegated him to the friend zone, but the rest of her hadn’t gotten the memo, and she was fairly mortified at having horked up nut-chunks and taken a dive down the stairs in front of him. That her favorite jeans had succumbed during battle only made it worse.

Now, she sat on her toilet seat in bedtime boxers and a sweatshirt while Shane squatted in front of her, rubbing what felt like acid-treated shards of glass into her wound. “Shit, ouch!” She tried to pull away, but he had a firm grasp on her calf, pinning her in place.

“Stop moving.” His tone was clipped and commanding. She wondered if that worked on the people he usually rescued because it wasn’t doing shit for her.

“Stop torturing me, and I’ll stop moving,” she said through clenched teeth, gripping the sides of the bowl tighter when he only increased his efforts. “Seriously, is this f*cking necessary? My butcher has gentler hands.”

“Your butcher handles dead meat, so he can afford to be gentle. I’m trying to get the grime out of this scrape so it doesn’t get infected. Now will you shut up for a second and let me concentrate?”

She bit her lip and turned her head when hot tears sprang to her eyes. What was she crying about? She’d had stitches a half dozen times in her life, not to mention the two broken bones she’d earned on the roller derby track a few years back. This injury was nothing in the scheme of things. But for some reason—maybe lack of sleep, maybe excess of Shane, maybe both—her emotions were bubbling up like cheese under a broiler.

“Almost done.” He swiped some clear goop on it and sat back on his heels. “Looks like a pretty deep cut in the center there, but with the scrape surrounding it, stitches would be really uncomfortable. The bleeding’s slowed a lot, so I don’t think that’s necessary. Let’s bandage it tight and then when you come over tomorrow, we’ll take another look, okay? As long as we keep it clean and covered until it starts to heal, I think it will be fine.” His eyes met her in a frank stare. “You’re going to have a scar, though.”

She released her death grip on the porcelain. “That’s okay, I have several. Beats having to go to the hospital.”

“When was your last tetanus shot?”

“Three years ago. Cut my foot open on a rusty chunk of rudder in Montauk when I was surfing.”

“That works. They’re good for ten years for this type of thing.” He stood and tossed the dirty Q-tips he’d been using into the trash can and set the antibacterial cream on the sink. “You going to bed soon or what?”

“As soon you leave. I’m exhausted, and I think the combination of choking and then falling shook me a little. Why?” She eyed him warily, not sure where he was headed but pretty sure she wasn’t going to like it.

“I want to bandage this in a way that allows you to sleep how you’re used to. Part of the scrape is on your knee and anytime a cut is on a joint, keeping it covered is going to be a pain in the ass.” He scooped up the roll of gauze and tape and held out a hand to her. “Come on. Let’s get you into bed and you can show me how you lie.”

She stared up at him, a flash of the last time they’d been near a bed together racing through her mind like a Cinemax flick. “Uh, that’s okay. I sleep flat on my back, legs straight.”

“For real?”

No. Not for real. But she had no intention of getting in bed with him nearby. She nodded vigorously, ignoring his outstretched hand and pushing herself to her feet with a wince.

“That’s creepy. Do you fold your hands over your chest like a corpse?”

“No. But I do sleep in a coffin,” she deadpanned, skirting around him for the door. “We can do the bandage in the living room. I’ll get some scissors.”

To her relief, he followed without any argument. She made her way gingerly to the kitchen, grabbed some scissors from a drawer, then settled onto the sprawling velvet couch with her leg outstretched. “Do your worst,” she muttered, and pinched her eyes closed.

“Stop being a drama queen. This part shouldn’t hurt.”

He couldn’t have been more wrong. It was killing her already, and he hadn’t even touched her yet. Now, without the promise of pain to distract her, the thought of his hands all over her legs sent a shiver through her, and she gritted her teeth to suppress it. It was a no-go and she could feel the goose bumps breaking out on her skin.

“Want me to turn on the fireplace?” Shane asked. His voice was coming from her feet now, where he was likely kneeling as he’d been in the bathroom. Semi-hysterical laughter bubbled as “while you’re down there” jokes ran through her mind, unfiltered. She didn’t trust her voice to answer him, so she just shook her head, resolutely keeping her eyes closed.

The whir of the tape and snip of the scissors seemed to echo through the quiet room, and she wished she’d turned on the TV. It felt like forever before he started the actual bandaging, but when he finally did, the reality was far worse than she’d even anticipated. The hand he used to steady her leg while he worked was big, hard, and intimate. And every time she thought he was done, he came back to adjust, add more tape…more touching. She wanted to look down so bad. To see if the calloused pads of his fingertips were absently caressing the soft skin on her inner thigh, or if she was imagining it. Either way, another rush of chills ran over her, and the breath caught in her throat.

“Cat?”

Shane’s voice was low and husky…strained. Her eyes snapped open, and she stared into his. The look she found there sent her senses reeling. Stark, unapologetic need. The tension poured off him, and he leaned forward until their faces were only a few inches apart.

“Why are you afraid of me?”

“I’m n-not.”

“Then why wouldn’t you let me into your bedroom?”

“There was no need. I told you, I sleep flat on m—”

“Bullshit.” He reached out a finger and trailed it over her cheekbone. “I spent a large chunk of my teen years at your house. You don’t think I walked by your room sometimes and saw you sleeping like some ginger chinchilla, all rolled up in a ball?”

She drew back, his touch and that honeyed tone luring her toward a place she didn’t want to go. “Then why did you need to see if you already knew?”

“I wanted to lay the bandage on and see if it would be an issue. But don’t try to deflect. Why the lie?” He closed the gap between them, his breath feathering her lips. “And why the goose bumps?” The fingers on her thigh tightened and suddenly, every good reason she’d come up with not to kiss him died.

She let herself lean in that last scant inch, and his warm lips covered hers. She didn’t know what she’d expected, but the sweet rush of emotion clogging her throat wasn’t it. His smell felt as familiar as the sunrise, and she instinctively leaned into him, taking the kiss deeper. She traced the seam of his mouth with the tip of her tongue, and he opened with a groan to meet it with his.

He rose up higher onto his knees and pushed her back into the cushions, slanting his torso over hers, taking control of the kiss, hot and demanding. He ran his tongue over the tender inside of her bottom lip, then sucked, sending a shiver of need through her. Her nipples stiffened and she plunged her fingers into his hair, wanting more, needing more.

Their harsh breathing was as sexy as any soundtrack she’d ever heard, and the rise and fall of his chest against her breasts slowly drove her insane. The skillful fingers that had been tracing circles on her thighs tightened, and he growled against her mouth. “I want you so bad,” he gasped, pulling away to trail kisses over her jaw, along the length of her collarbone, heading for her breasts, which strained against her T-shirt, aching for his touch.

She froze, breath suspended, as he paused and then closed his teeth gently over her hard nipple through the thin cloth. She jerked forward as the touch blazed a path from her breast to her core. Moisture flooded between her thighs and she swallowed a cry.

Music sounded in the distance, and they both froze. He sent her a pained expression. “ABBA?”

It was. “Fernando,” to be exact. Ever since Lacey had seen Mamma Mia on Broadway, she’d obsessed. Saved by the ringtone. “Yeah. That’s Lacey calling. If I don’t call her back, she’ll be worried about me.” Her heart was pounding so loud, it was a wonder she’d heard the phone at all, but thank God she had. She’d almost repeated the same foolish mistake.

He held her gaze for a long moment, then nodded. “Yeah.” A muscle worked in his throat, but he released her instantly and stood. “And sorry about that. I shouldn’t have let you kiss me. You’re obviously having a rough day. Probably best if we forget it happened.”

Forget it? Not bloody likely, but nice to know that he wanted to. Wait… “I kissed you? You kissed me.” Even as she said it, the memory of his face inches in front of her before she dove at him like a seagull on a french fry ran through her mind. Jesus, she had kissed him.

He’d already grabbed his coat from the closet doorknob by the time she’d gathered her wits enough to respond, but he beat her to the punch.

“Sure. At least I was awake this time, right?” He pulled the coat over his broad shoulders and gave her a wink. “Take two ibuprofen before you go to sleep. You might be a little sore tomorrow.” With that, he turned and walked out.

Son of a bitch. She stared at the closed door, baffled. How did she keep getting herself into these situations with him?

She snatched up her phone to whip off a text to Lacey, letting her know that she was home and exhausted, and that she would call her tomorrow. Then she put it on silent mode. She just didn’t have the energy to talk about this shit right now.

With a sigh, she uncapped the pill bottle Shane had set on the table and tapped two orange tablets into her palm. He’d given her the perfect excuse to cancel their appointment tomorrow. She could be sore and it would be so easy to take that lifeline, but then what? Avoiding him altogether was out of the question now that he’d be home for good soon. Not to mention she’d never backed out on a bet.

Hell, who was she kidding? There was way more at stake here than either of those things. After their near miss, it had become crystal clear—if she didn’t get Shane settled down with a nice girl soon, she might not be able to resist the temptation to fill the slot herself. Not okay, since “settled down” and “nice girl” were so not on her bucket list.

Decision made, she popped the pills into her mouth, washing them down with a gulp of ice-cold water. Time to break those newly forming ties to Shane before she was bound and tied forever.