Holding up a finger for his mother to pause in the vocal listing of medication the doctor had administered to her husband, James turned in a circle, the pulses in his wrists hammering. When his gaze lit on the cause of his body’s visceral reaction, it took James a moment to believe what his eyes were telling him.
Lita marched up the hospital walkway, all out war written on her beautiful face. The way she sometimes looked during a drum solo. Concentrated brilliance. Jesus God, how? How had he made it this long without a glimpse of her? James took an involuntary step in Lita’s direction, his body obeying instinct. And instinct said, I need to go get mine. There was nothing but bone-melting fulfillment upon his first eyeful of the girl who ruled him. Always would—no denying that fact. But when his brain registered the entire picture, his mission stalled out, giving way to an avalanche of other. Lust, denial, anger. They whipped around him like a whirlpool, sucking him down into an ocean of chaos.
An all-too-familiar thrift shop outfit covered Lita’s body, cheap material hugging her swaying hips, the crop top’s leather fringe ending at her belly button. The outfit she’d worn the night they met.
When Lita’s Converse scuffed to a stop on the sidewalk in front of him, James’s fists were shaking with the need to get hands around some part of her and keep. A roar escaped him instead. “What are you doing here?” He barely registered his mother’s startled gasp beside him. “What kind of game are you playing?”
“Game?” Green eyes blazing, she turned around to execute a stiff karate-type kick in the air before facing him again with her shirt’s fringe still swinging. “How dare you call this a game when I’ve spent six days and four bus transfers tracking you down.”
An invisible hand squeezed his neck. “Why?”
“Why.” Shaking her head, she looked downright disgusted with him. “I’m so mad at you, James, my mad grew a second head and ate the first one.”
James realized two things at once. One, he’d always classified his feelings for Lita as sheer obsession, but the fact was, he was achingly, irrevocably in love with her. Which meant letting her go would be infinitely harder than his fool self had thought. And two, blood soaked clear through the back of her favorite Converse, so much that it left droplets in her wake on the concrete sidewalk. “Why…” He had to take a moment to formulate the question, the sight of injury on her person was so abhorrent to his peace of mind. Can’t breathe. “Why the fuck are you bleeding?”
“Is this your mother or something? It is, isn’t it? We’re arguing in front of your mother.” Lita threw up her hands and sagged at the same time. “So be it, James. Your family will think I’m crazy and that’s too bad. I am crazy. If you want to get rid of me, you better start working on a restraining order.” A passing group of nurses were staring at Lita, bottled drinks in their hands. “Hey. Yeah. I know. The crazy has arrived. Why don’t you just…drink your stupid lemonade, huh?”
Only half of her words had penetrated the graying haze surrounding James, his sole focus on her right ankle. “I can’t have this conversation when you’re bleeding.”
“I’m always bleeding when you’re standing in front of me,” she said, chin lifting. “You just can’t see it.”
His hurt lurched. “Lita…”
She stomped the injured foot, nearly spiraling him into a heart attack. “Yeah, I know. I say things like that now. Get used to it.”
The whole situation was getting out of hand. James didn’t know what her goals were in traveling three hundred miles, but she’d wasted her time. He’d finally found the strength to direct his brand of destruction away from Lita and seeing her, hearing her, smelling her, nearly touching her, was fucking with his resolve in a catastrophic way. “Why are you wearing that?” James gritted out.
She glanced down at her attire, as if riding four buses with both thighs completely exposed was a mere afterthought. When she looked up at him again, those teeth were busy chewing away at her bottom lip, stirring his neglected male flesh. It didn’t help matters when Lita stepped closer, dropping her voice to a whisper. “I don’t think I should answer that in front of your mother, James.” She let out a shaky exhale. “Anyway, you…you’re wearing jeans.”
God, how could she make a statement of fact sound like those final strained words before an orgasm? His cock wasn’t handling the public sidewalk seduction well at all, thickening inside the restrictive denim, his balls weighed down in a hot rush. On top of his aroused state, Lita’s injury demanded his attention. Now.
“Mother, I will call you later.”
James stepped forward and scooped Lita up against his chest. Something he’d done on more than one occasion when shows got too rowdy, but it felt very different now. Instead of her protector, he was a predator carrying her away from the light. Away from normalcy, where she belonged.
“How is your father?”
He felt her breath against his neck clear down to his toes. “Awake. Alive.”
“Okay.” She laid her lips against his pulse. “Do you want to talk about why you weren’t inside when I pulled up?”