Sleeves (6 page)

“I’ll come see you.” Her voice was soft, melodic, and it soothed him somehow. “It doesn’t sound like you’re well enough to drive, and I know where you live. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“But what about your—”

“Just stay where you are. I’ll be right over. Bye.”

Click.

He peeled the bandages off his feet and threw them in the bathroom garbage can, then crawled over to his bed and lifted himself back into it.

His head throbbed, and he tossed and turned, hoping all the while she’d get here soon.

Fingers flexing, heart pounding and dick twitching, he waited and ached.

Maybe he could find a way to make it work this time.

His eyesight blurred and visions of that last nightmare, the worst one yet, morphed into Casey, allowing him to fuck her, being pregnant with his unauthorized child.

Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. What if she did come here and he managed to allow her to touch him again?

His stomach clenched a few times as adrenaline spiked through his veins at the thought of her being here with him. In his
bed
.

He’d never done that before. No one had ever been in this bed but him.

“Oh, sweet man, what did you do?” a soft voice called out a few minutes later through his door that led to the back end of the club where he parked his bike. The fucker was hanging on the hinges.

“Fucking broke it. Who cares,” he said, his voice barely audible.

“Yeah, I can see that—I meant, what did you do to yourself? You look like hell,” she said, managing to pull the door open wider, ducking around it then making her way inside.

“Christ, I don’t know why I called you.” He blinked and shook his head back and forth in slow, exaggerated motions. “You shouldn’t be here. Go back home.”

“Let me make sure you’re okay first. You sounded like you were in pain on the phone.” She approached him with cautious steps, her footfalls nearly silent.

“I’m fine.” He scratched his scalp and messed up his hair, groaning and shaking his head harder, this time in a manic way.

“You’re fine—okay, I believe you, but I can’t leave in good conscience unless I see for myself. Call it paranoia.” She put her hands up in front of her chest, palms facing him, signaling she wasn’t going to harm him. “Why don’t you lay completely flat, stay still and I won’t touch you. I’ll look at you and listen, but nothing else.”

He nodded.

She moved closer and closer until he could almost feel the heat coming off her skin.

Her left palm extended, and almost as if she was a metal detector, she ran it an inch above his body, starting at his shoulders and then all the way down to his feet.

His eyes watched her like she might snap and do something crazy.

He held his breath and never even blinked.

When she was at his feet, she hovered there for a moment.

“I want you to turn over onto your stomach,” she said.

“Why should I?”

“Because I’m asking you as a friend, Kel—
please
. I won’t hurt you, I promise. I said no touching, and I’ll stick to that.” Her eyes softened, and in the low light, he could have sworn they misted. She swallowed and offered a weak smile.

“No touching,” he reiterated and then flipped himself over.

She did the same thing, with her staying on the same side, and examining the opposite area of his body with her hand floating above his flesh.

“You have an amazing body, but I’m sure you already know that,” she said with a low tone that was so relaxing and serene, all he could do was listen.

“Mmm,” he responded.

“I’m serious—you’re breathtaking, but it’s not the outer package I’m talking about. I mean, I did just say you’re gorgeous, but it’s in your eyes, in your smile and in your pain. I see it.” A wisp of air swiped over his ribs, and he flinched, thinking she might actually touch him. She didn’t, but she continued talking in that placid tone. “I see you’ve been through horrendous things no one can possibly ever understand, and for that, I’m so sorry. I wish I could take it away from you.”

She was seeing all his scars up close. Most women didn’t notice them. He didn’t give them a chance.

“Touch me,” he whispered.

“You said it causes you pain.” She stepped away, but leaned a hand on the edge of the bed.

“I don’t care what I fucking said. I need you to touch me. I need to see something.”
Please, God, for once, let this be painless.

He swallowed a deep intake of air.

“I’ll go slow,” she said.

“Start at my hands. Those are the most desensitized, so I can handle that better.”

She eyed him and her lips pressed together then parted for a moment. It was obvious her breathing was ragged. “When I put my skin anywhere near yours, even if it’s just for a second, your skin twitches, and then there are icy and hot patches. What can I do to make it better?”

“I don’t know. There’s no way to make it better as far as I know.” He flopped over so he was on his back again, facing her. “Please, you have no idea . . . I have to be touched, and I want you to do it.”

“Why?” Her face looked a little paler than it had a moment ago.

“I don’t know why. Stop asking me all these fucking questions and just touch me!” His jaw clenched.

“Spread your palms open, facing the ceiling, and why don’t you close your eyes? Maybe it’ll help if you’re not anticipating and tensing up so much.” She sucked her lips in for a moment and then rubbed them together.

God, those lips.

He’d never . . . What would that be like?

Would it taste good? She smelled insanely sexy and sweet.

“I like the way you watch me,” he said.

“How is it different from anyone else?” She blinked slowly.

Was she studying him? Trying to figure him out?

He closed his eyes so she’d touch him, and so he could find that small moment of control he was lacking.

“I don’t know if it’s really different, I just like it. It seems kind somehow, almost as if you think of me as a person.”

She chuckled. “Oh, Kel, you can’t fool me.”

And then it happened. Palms—
both
of them—landed on his chest.

He jolted; his body jackknifing and his eyes flying open.

“I said my hands!”

“Sorry,” she said, pulling back.

But before she could remove them, he put his hands over hers, cringing as he did it.

“God—it stings so bad,” he said through gritted teeth, choking on a shrill sound dying to break free from his chest.

“Then let me fucking remove my hands from you!” she cried out.

“No! I need this, and I don’t care if it hurts. Don’t stop. Push hard, dig your nails in. Show me I’m normal, that I can take this.” He stared in her eyes, and he could feel the sympathy piling into her like bricks of guilt, weighing her down. He shook his head.

Don’t want this. Don’t pity me!

Her eyes crinkled at the corners, and they were definitely brimming with tears.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, so sorry.” She sniffed a little.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he said, his voice cracking.

“I can’t.” She dropped her head and closed her eyes for a moment as if she was trying to clear her head. “I want the pain to dissipate, but I can’t hurt you by being rough. It’s pretty clear you’ve had nothing but harsh, cruel treatment. Let me just . . .” She opened her watery eyes. Her hands slipped out of his with a gentle tug and then they roamed like burning silk over his chest, down to his abs, then back up again over his nipples.

They went erect, tightened immediately as hard as they could go and throbbed.

She leaned over, and for a second he thought she might lick one.

“Does it burn like heat, or like ice?” she asked so quietly, he could barely hear her over the rushing blood in his ears from his hammering heart.

“Like a white hot iron. It feels like my skin’s burning so badly, it’s almost numb. It’s this high pitched throb that never stops. Even for a few minutes after you touch me, it remains.” His stomach flipped at his admission. He’d never told anyone this before.

“I want it to go away. I want to help, so while I do something to change the feel of it, I want you to imagine instead of being burned with a white hot flame, picture yourself as an iceberg, floating in the ocean.”

“How big?” he asked, and his voice was even shakier.

He wanted to believe her that this would work—that she could help him and that he wouldn’t scare her away.

“Bigger than you are. So massive, boats in the ocean have to change course, but it’s a warmer day than usual. I’m the sun, shining on you, and I’m your friend. I’m helping you to reshape yourself so you fit more comfortably in your spot in the ocean, no longer hitting other icebergs.” She lightened her touch even more to a tiny feathering one. “Can you imagine it? Floating and cold, but being gently coaxed to join some of the water by melting under my influence?”

“Yessss . . .”

“Can you feel how I kiss your skin?”

Lips touched his shoulder, and his entire body convulsed, then he folded in on himself, rolling away from her. “Don’t do that, Casey.”

“Why?” Her small, delicate hands that were soft and still hotter than hell itself, drifted across his back. “Has no one ever been affectionate with you?”

“I . . . Why should . . . You need to leave.”

“I would never leave you alone while you’re in pain,” she said, her damned hands still on him.

“You need to go!”

“
No
, Kel. I’m here for you, and I’ll make it better. Tell me how I can fix this.”

He rounded on her, sitting up and getting in her face. “I. Don’t. Fucking. Know!”

“Neither do I—so we’ll work on this together until we do.” She moved her lips so close to his, they almost touched.

“I don’t do that,” he said, staring at her mouth.

“You do, sweet man, you just don’t realize it yet.” She ran her hands up his arms, this time with a firmer pressure, but still so light it ached right down to the bone.

“All I know how to do is hurt.”

“No, that’s not true. You haven’t hurt me yet. Try it. I won’t tell anyone.”

She blew across his lips, and the oddest thing happened.

The burn he was already experiencing from her simple body heat on that one spot faded. It was still hot, but more manageable.

“Now, lick your lips. Let’s try that again, and when you’re settled, you lean in. I’ll kiss you at that point because I’ll know you’re ready.” She gave him a look that was full of trust and some other emotion he couldn’t pinpoint.

“Why are you doing this for me?” he whispered.

“Because tomorrow when you wake, I want you to know someone cares about you as a person. That you’re not just a cock in a cage, banging on the door, begging to be released. I didn’t let you out so you could run wild and harm people. I coaxed you out by stroking your fur, helping you find your way to sources of survival so you could live in peace.” She stroked his cheeks with her thumbs and he wasn’t sure what to do.

Should he tell her to knock this shit off?

“My face stings now,” he said.

“It’ll stop.” She leaned to the right and licked where her thumb was, then blew across it.

Tingles and chills immediately raced across his cheekbone and up to his temple, making the skin feel tight and oh God . . . Pleasure rippled through him at the heated look she gave him.

His groin tightened. He scooted closer and smiled with a lazy grin.

“Should I try that on the other side?”

“Mmmnnn,” he hummed and simply watched her.

“You’re adorable, and I love how innocent you are when you’re not pretending to be a silverback gorilla on crack,” she teased.

“Shut up and lick me,” he said, his fists bunching into the sheets beneath him. He braced himself for racking torture, but this time, it was brief, and the cooling effect smothered the pain almost instantly, so the jarring sting was momentary.

“I like you,” he whimpered when she rubbed both thumbs across the cooling spots.

“I like you, too. Hold still.” She centered her face, lined it up with his and her tongue extended, wetting the seam of his lips.

His mouth parted open, and as she blew across the moisture, something happened to him.

It was like every gear in his body exploded.

All at once, he was looking down, and she was below him, lying on his bed. He had her pinned down, and he was kissing her.

It was like nothing he could describe—tasting her was a miracle.

His body hummed, sang and vibrated like the slow embers of a flame, heating a hearth and a home into a delicious sense of comfort and stability.

It burned. Yes, it hurt, but it was too good to be painful.

“Want you—gotta have . . . Jesus! I have to fuck you,” he whimpered and then he was pushing his jeans down to his hips.