And she’s giving it to me, kissing me back with the same need. I’m happy to give her anything she wants, but when I move to bring her further into my lap, a sharp pain shoots through my leg. It’s enough for me to draw back and take a breath. But I don’t let her go.
Her fingers run through my hair, as I cup her cheek and hold her close. For a long moment we just breathe, and then I find the strength to talk. “I’ve missed you.”
Her lips tickle the corner of mine. “I’ve missed you too. So much it hurt.”
I shouldn’t feel satisfaction, but I do. Not that I want her to hurt. In fact, nothing would please me more than to bring her pleasure. Right now would be nice. Lying here on the couch is no longer enough. If I had the strength, I’d pick her up and carry her into my room. But I can’t, which sucks. I need help getting there. While I’d ordinarily hate asking for help, this is Anna, which makes all the difference. If any guy tells you that he doesn’t like the woman he’s gone over taking care of him when he’s hurting, he’s probably lying.
“Take me to bed,” I whisper against her cheek.
“Or lose you forever?” There’s a smile in her voice.
I grin, slow and wide. “Did you just quote Top Gun to me?”
“Maybe.”
This girl. Jesus, she does it for me.
All those luscious curves move at once and she’s up, reaching for my crutches. I hate the sight of them, hate the way that my leg throbs, that I am helpless. But I push it all aside because she’s here. I’m not alone, and I don’t care if I have to down five painkillers, I’m having her tonight.
DESPITE THE FACT that he’s on crutches, Drew makes short work of getting into his room. A familiar gleam is in his eyes, one that makes me go all hot and fluttery inside. Though I have my concerns about having sex with him right now. He’s got to be hurting. Inadvertently jostling his leg and injuring him further is the last thing I want to do. Then again, kissing him on the couch has me so worked up, I know that if he touches me all my good intentions will topple like a house of cards in a stiff breeze.
Drew reaches the center of the room before he stops. I cleaned here too, and though I don’t think he minds, part of me still cringes. I took over his house with impunity, making myself at home before we’ve even settled things. At the time, I pushed this all aside in favor of assuring his comfort, but he’s here now, seeing what I’ve done.
His golden eyes find mine and they’re smiling, soft and tender. “My mom used to give me fresh sheets when I was sick. It always felt good to slide into a clean bed.” His mouth quirks. “I’m not saying I think of you like my mom, just that… well, I appreciate it.”
Now I’m blushing. “My mom did that too. Maybe it’s a mom thing.”
He holds my gaze. “If you’re ever sick, I promise to change the sheets for you.”
Warmth floods my veins. One small statement, promising a future.
He heads to the bathroom. “I’m dying for a shower. I swear to God, I stink like hospital.”
“Just a little,” I tease, following. I’ve got the room set up for this eventuality.
Drew’s bathroom is gorgeous. Heated floors of a dark, distressed wood, white and blue glass tiles, and a massive walk-in shower encased in frosted-glass panels, the space resembles a luxury spa. A white bowl sink rests on a teak cabinet base. He lays his crutches there as he reaches in to turn on his shower, and water falls from the big, rain showerhead. Almost instantly, the air begins to grow sultry and humid.
His eyes glint again as he turns. “Gonna join me, Jones?” He wags his brows like a stage villain before tugging his shirt over his head. Good God, but I’m never going to get over the splendor that is his chest, or the way those taut muscles move and flow beneath his honeyed skin.
“Not today.” My voice is unsteady, as I fight off a picture of his chest all wet and glistening, of running my tongue along the groove in his abdomen, right down the happy trail of dark hair that leads to his thick—