Chosen by Desire (37 page)

“You were hurt.”

She rolled her eyes, grimacing with a small twinge of pain.

Muttering under his breath, he stormed out of the room. She was too complacent to get up to see what the deal was. Not that she had to worry—he strode back in with a glass of water.

“Take this.” He motioned to her to hold out her hand. When she did, he dropped four pills in her palm. “Ibuprofen,” he said before she could ask, holding out the water. “Take all four. Your head hurts more than you’re admitting.”

“And then will you get in?” She watched him as she popped the pills and took a swallow of water.

His hands clenched, like he was holding himself back. “Drink all the water.”

She sighed in disappointment. He was going to resist, drat him. “What if I need my back washed?” she asked pathetically, handing back the glass.

She expected him to just grunt and walk out. He surprised her when he set the glass on the counter and yanked his shirt over his head.

C
onflicted.

Max undid his pants, his gaze never leaving Carrie. He wanted to dive into the tub—into her. His hands shook he wanted it so badly.

She held her arms out. “Come hold me.”

He needed to, if only to reassure himself that she was okay. He glanced at the knot on her forehead and felt his chi roil with anger. She still looked pale, and no matter what she said, he knew she wasn’t one hundred percent.

Dropping his pants, he quickly got out of his underwear and faced her. “Move forward.”

She shifted, and the water sloshed as he climbed in. He sat behind her, and she leaned back against his chest.

Without thought, his arms went around her waist. He gritted his teeth, hyper-aware of his cock pressing so urgently into her back. “Relax,” he said, more to himself than to her.

“I’m not used to this,” she said after a moment of silence.

He nuzzled her hair, nodding. He wasn’t, either. But he deliberately misunderstood her. “Of course you aren’t. Most people wouldn’t have been able to deal with what you have and not fall apart.”

To distract her before she could reply, he began to massage her shoulders. He felt her tension just under the surface and, with a breath of
j
n ch’i,
cooled her inflamed muscles. A small relief, but he was happy to give it.

“Don’t stop that. Ever. It’s too good.” Carrie nestled into him and looked over her shoulder at him with her big, innocent eyes. “Okay?”

He nodded, reaching for a bar of soap. “Lean forward.”

“If it means more, who am I to argue?” She rested her chest against her knees and dropped her head forward.

He lathered his hands until they were good and slippery, studying the elegant curve of her back before running his hands down it.

She groaned. “You could make a fortune as a massage therapist.”

“I already have a fortune.”

“It was a figure of speech. I meant you could have anything you wanted.”

He wanted only her.

Focusing on her and not on the incessant throbbing of his dick, he coaxed her body into letting go of its tension, working his thumbs in slow circles.

“I’m a sucker for a good massage,” she said softly. “It’s my mom’s fault. I used to have trouble going to sleep when I was a kid. She’d give me warm milk and then lie down with me and rub my back until I went to sleep.”

“Were you too active to sleep?”

“No, too scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“Were you scared of anything as a kid?”

“No.” He worked his fingers down her lower back, right at the top of her butt. “What were you afraid of?”

“You were probably a badass even as a toddler. Your first toy was probably a sword.”

“Stop changing the subject and tell me what scared you.” She seemed so indomitable, it was hard to imagine anything frightening her. “It wasn’t the dark.”

“Why are you so sure of that?”

“Intuition.” He rubbed his hands up and down her back, gently, trying to reassure her. “Tell me.”

Trust me.

Max didn’t think she was going to tell him, but finally she sighed. “I was afraid my mom would leave while I was asleep and I’d be alone.”

He stopped, caught off guard by her admission, but then resumed kneading. “Why would you be afraid of such a thing?”

“Because I went to sleep one night and when I woke up, my dad was gone.”

“Gone?” He frowned at the idea of anyone even thinking of abandoning her. He felt a surprising urge to find the man and beat some sense into him.

“Looking back, it was a good thing,” she continued. “My mom’s wonderful. She’s been happier since he left.”

“Why did he leave?”

“According to my mom, he decided he didn’t want to be a husband and a dad. In my five-year-old mind, I was afraid my mom would leave, too.” She peeked back at him, patting his thigh as if she could hear his angry thoughts. “It’s in the past. I’ve moved on.”

“Have you?”

“I—” She shrugged.

Holding her by the shoulders, he leaned her back so she rested against him again and reached for the soap. “I’m not your father, Carrie. I won’t leave you. You can see for yourself, after everything, I’m still here,” he whispered, relathering his hands.

He lowered his sudsy hands to her neck and massaged the soap into her skin. He worked his way down to her breasts, doing slow spirals around them without touching the peaks.

She arched her back. “You’re doing this on purpose. I know you are.”

“What?” he whispered into her ear.

“Making me desperate for you.”

“Are you?”

“Desperate?” She half laughed, half groaned.

He thumbed her nipples, slowly and softly at first but quickly increasing the speed and intensity until she moaned nonstop.

Just below the surface, he could see the triangle of hair between her legs. He couldn’t help himself. He trailed his right hand down into the water. “Open.”

She did, quickly and without question.

This time, he didn’t tease—he needed to feel her softness. So he dipped his fingers into her warmth.

Crying out, she hooked her legs over his knees so they opened wider, inviting his touch.

Max increased the pressure, rubbing her faster and harder until she strained against him. With each wiggle of her body, his own throbbed in response. He clenched his jaw, trying not to imagine slipping into her from behind but failing miserably.

“Max.” Her head thrown back on his shoulder, she gripped his forearms.

He kissed the side of her neck. “Next time it’ll be my tongue playing with you like this.”

She shot off like a rocket, calling out his name and rocking uncontrollably against his hand. Relentless, he kept at her until he was sure she had nothing left to give.

Slumping against him, she turned her head and pressed a kiss to his chest. She lay there as he quickly finished washing her body. He pulled the plug, scooped her in his arms, and carried her to the shower.

Lifting her head, she frowned at the glass cubes that formed the stall. “We aren’t clean enough?”

“Just to rinse and warm you. Can you stand?”

“Yeah.”

He watched her carefully as he set her down. “How’s your head?”

“Fine.” She rubbed his chest reassuringly. “I’m just rocky from being pleasured.”

Cocking an eyebrow, he turned on the shower. “Pleasured?”

“I call it like I feel it. God, the water is nice,” she said as she stepped in.

He angled all four shower heads so they focused on her.

She surprised him when she ran a hand up the extremely hard length of him. “I didn’t reciprocate.”

His entire body jerked at her touch, but he pried her hand from him and kissed it. “Later.”

“Why not now?” Pursing her lips, she stared at his hard-on. “It seems a shame to let it go to waste.”

“Later,” he said again, lowering his mouth to hers as he turned off the water.

She stood quietly while he patted her dry. A statement to how tired she was, he thought. He quickly rubbed the moisture off himself and picked her up again.

She snuggled against him. “This could become a habit.”

A habit he wouldn’t mind—he liked her in his arms. He took her into his bedroom and laid her down on the big bed. She scooted so he could get the covers out from under her and tucked beneath her chin. He dropped a long, slow kiss on her lips and turned.

“Will you hold me?”

He paused, looking at her from over his shoulder.

“Just till I fall asleep?”

He couldn’t resist the plea in her eyes. He nodded. “Yes.”

Moving over to the middle, Carrie turned on her side so her back faced him. He crawled under the comforter and slipped his arms around her and pulled her into his chest.

She snuggled closer.

A lump formed in his throat. Clearing it, he asked, “Want me to rub your back?”

She wiggled against his still-raging erection. “Maybe we should—”

“Shh.” He caressed her hair back from her face. “I’m fine. Sleep now.”

He held her like that, stroking her hair. He told himself he’d stop once she fell asleep, but even then he couldn’t bring himself to leave her. In his arms, she was safe.

His arms tightened, thinking of the danger she’d been in. He should have protected her better—especially after the fire. Insupportable. And as he gently kissed her temple, he vowed it would never happen again.

M
mm…” Carrie stretched her legs, folding her arms underneath her pillow. Her sheets felt more luxurious than they usually did. Maybe she used more fabric softener in the last load.

Yawning, she opened her eyes to a pristine view of the bay.

View of the bay?

She bolted upright, realized she was naked, and pulled the covers up to her chin. She flashed on the evening after that disastrous chem midterm in college and how she went on a bender and ended up in Kevin Chesapeake’s dorm room.

But then she felt the lump on her head, remembered the previous night, and exhaled in relief.