Chapter Nineteen

Nate felt victorious, like a knight winning the hand of the fair maiden.

Hanna was letting him stay, letting him help. It was all he'd wanted from her, and yet now that he had it, he found he wanted more.

So much more.

They finished eating, and then cleaned up together like they'd been doing so for years. It was comfortable, almost fun, working beside her. She chatted about some of the projects she'd done over the past couple of years, and he told her more about his family and the little town they called home.

He covered her bandage with tape and plastic so she could shower without wetting her stitches. She'd been mostly dressed at the time, baring only the skin necessary to do the job, but he still felt the intimacy of the act like a fire in his chest.

He wanted her. Too much. If she'd given him even the smallest sign that she wanted him back, he would have fucked her right then and there.

But she didn't give him a sign, and his hands were still shaking with lust when she came out of the shower, her hair twisted in a lopsided towel that favored her injured side.

"I don't have a bathrobe," she told him self-consciously. "Hope you don't mind that I helped myself to what was in the closet." She'd found an oversized men's button-up shirt that had belonged to the previous tenant. It fell to her knees and covered her completely, but he still fantasized about what lay beneath.

Did she have on panties? He could tell by the stiff outline of her nipples that she wore no bra. Maybe that shirt was all she had on.

His palms tingled with the need to find out, but he held his ground and stayed planted in the ugly brown plaid chair in the tiny living space.

This apartment was old and shabby, though he could tell she'd taken some time to wipe away the dust and cobwebs. He would have preferred to take her to his home where everything was clean and in good condition, but he didn't want another battle of wills. She was already exhausted enough as it was.

"Can I help with the towel?" he asked, certain that lifting her arms to wash her hair had to have hurt enough already. "It looks like it's about to pull your hair out."

"Yeah. Thanks. I never realized just how much hair I had until I could lift only one arm up high enough to wash it."

"I would have helped," he said as he crossed the room and unwound the damp towel.

She gave him a wry grin. "If you'd been in that shower with me, I don't think either one of us would have been thinking about my hair."

"I can't argue that. Probably a good thing I stayed out here."

She stared at him a bit longer. Her pale gray gaze slid over his face, then down across his torso. Her tone was distracted, like she was daydreaming. "Yeah. Probably so."

Her wet hair fell over her uninjured shoulder. It was darker now, the water hiding the lighter golden tones.

She was all pink and warm from her shower, and the rosy hue tricked his mind into thinking she was flushed for a different reason entirely. Scrubbed clean and dressed down, she was an intoxicating combination of sultry and innocent—casually sexy in a way he doubted she even realized.

Her slender fingers went to the top button of the oversized shirt she wore. She flicked the plastic dick free, revealing another two inches of smooth, hot flesh.

Everything in Nate seized up. He couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. All he could do was stare at the slow revelation of Hanna's perfect skin as she bared herself to him.

Then the innocent question came, jarring him from his fantasies where she stripped naked and begged him to fuck her.

"Will you take the plastic off?" she asked as she slid the cotton from her shoulder and turned around to give him access to her wound.

Nate jerked himself back to reality. She wasn't stripping for him. She wasn't going to ask him to fuck her. All she needed was his help with a task she couldn't do herself.

His erection hadn't yet caught up to the shift from lover to caretaker. It pounded against his fly, demanding release—both from the clothing that contained it, and from the growing pressure swelling in his balls.

He was going to have to find a private moment to get himself off. If he didn't, his brain wouldn't be able to function past any level that didn't involve sex. She needed him to take care of her without taking her, and that meant taking care of himself too.

A little quality time with his fist was the plan, then. As soon as he could manage.

And when he did, there wasn't a single doubt in his mind that she would be the one he thought about as he stroked himself. Her sweet face and curvy body would be the star of his private fantasies, both tonight as well as many others to come, no doubt.

She peeled the shirt down to reveal the thin straps of a camisole. The revelation that she wasn't naked beneath the cotton eased some of the lust pounding through his veins. His head cleared slightly, and he was able to focus on the task at hand.

Hanna held the front of the shirt tight over her breasts, giving the fabric room enough to sag in back. Nate carefully peeled away the tape holding the plastic, doing his best not to cause her any more pain.

Washing her hair must have strained the stitches enough that she'd started to bleed again, because small freckles of red showed through the pristine white gauze.

"I need to change the bandage," he told her. "Hang on."

He fetched the supplies he needed and made quick work of covering the cut with a clean pad of gauze. "The stitches have held, but you need to try not to lift your arm over your head again. It made you bleed a little."

She let out a faint sigh of frustration, but nodded. "I'll be more careful."

He finished his task and pulled the spaghetti strap and cotton shirt back over her shoulder to cover the temptation her skin presented.

She turned to face him. "Thank you. I couldn't have done that without help."

Her words filled his chest with a sense of purpose and accomplishment. He felt stronger, taller. In this moment, there was nothing he wouldn't have done for this woman, no matter the task. She could have asked him for anything in his power to give, and it would have been hers, just to hear her thank him again.

Allowing anyone that kind of power over him was both dangerous and foolish, but there was nothing he could do. Hanna bewitched him. It was up to her now to use her powers for good.

She went up on her tiptoes and planted a warm kiss on his cheek. "I'm going to go to bed now. There's no need for you to stay."

He wasn't going to argue with her. He was sleeping here, on the ugly plaid couch that matched the ugly plaid chair. If she needed him in the night, he'd be close by, because if he wasn't, he knew he wouldn't sleep at all.

"Good night," was all he said.

When she padded off to the bedroom, his hand went to the spot where her lips had touched him. The skin there tingled.

He could only imagine what her mouth could do to the rest of him.

That was the thought that filled his head as he drifted off to sleep.

Several hours later, he woke to check on her. Infection was still a possibility, and even though she was on antibiotics, he knew he wouldn't go back to sleep unless he made sure she was okay.

She'd left the bedroom door open an inch. Nate pushed it open just enough to let the dim light from one antique lamp in the living room spill over the bed.

The only air conditioning in this place was from a window unit in the living room. With her door mostly closed, the room had grown uncomfortably warm.

Hanna was splayed across the bed, all the covers kicked off. She wore a thin, white camisole and a pair of pink panties. Nothing else. The hem of the camisole was rucked up nearly to her breasts, revealing the deep curve of her waist and the cleft of her bellybutton. The shadows of her stiff nipples were easy to see through the thin material, which was stretched tight to contain her. She'd braided her hair for sleeping, and the long, thick plait lay coiled against the pillow. Her lushly curved legs were wrapped in sheets from shin to foot, as if she'd flipped over several times in the same direction.

Her skin was flushed, but he couldn't tell if it was from the warm, humid air in here, or if she was fevered.

Without hesitation, he crossed to the side of the bed and laid his hand against her forehead to see if she was hot.

All that greeted him was faintly warm skin, damp with perspiration.

Her eyes fluttered open at the contact.

"Sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to wake you. I was only checking for fever."

She settled instantly, nodding slightly under his hand.

"Go back to sleep," he told her.

"I was dreaming about you." Her words were sloppy with sleep and heavy with need.

She took his hand from her head and slid it down her face and neck until her nipple stabbed up into his palm.

He was so shocked he almost pulled his hand away, but the sensation of her breast filling his grip was too amazing for him to miss even a second.

Then, before he had time to fully enjoy himself, she tugged his hand lower, gliding it down her ribs, over her belly, and beneath the silky edge of her panties. Her thighs spread, giving him access to the slick heat of her pussy.

She was dripping wet. His fingers slid easily along her labia as she grabbed his wrist tighter and held it in place while she writhed against him.

"Need you," she whispered. "I'm so empty I ache."

There was a moment of surprise at her blunt statement, but in the depth of the night, all could be forgiven. She didn't know what she was saying, no matter how much proof he had that her words were true.

His cock was swollen and hard, and more than ready to fill her. And the idea that he could be the one to give her what she needed was more than intoxicating.

"You're not awake, honey," he told her. He wanted to cut out his own tongue for cock blocking himself, but one night of sex—even fantastic sex—with a woman too tired to know what she was doing was not what he wanted—not if it meant she'd despise him come morning.

Ten years ago, he would have jumped at the chance and to hell with the consequences, but he was a grown man, fully aware that his actions mattered, and completely capable of controlling himself.

At least he hoped so. The temptation she offered was almost impossible to resist.

He tried to pull his hand from her panties, but she tightened her grip on his wrist and clamped her thighs around his fingers. Her hips moved in a sinuous dance that caused the pads of his fingers to glide over wet skin.

Nate's mouth went dry. His head buzzed with lust. He tried closing his eyes to block out the sight of her sexy body, but all it did was heighten his other senses.

He could smell her arousal in the warm air, hear her rapid breathing and the rustle of her body writhing on the bed. Her soft moans of need wrapped around him and pulled him in.

"Hanna," he said, his tone sharp. "Wake up."

If she shook off the fog of sleep, she'd stop tempting him.

Wouldn't she?

"I am awake." Her voice sounded clearer now, steadier.

She let go of his hand. He slid it from her panties, already missing the wet heat between her thighs.

If only he'd pushed a little more, slid his fingers into her, he would no longer have to imagine what she'd feel like gripping his cock. He'd know.

Then again, maybe knowing what he was missing was worse than not knowing.

She rose to her knees. He stood beside the bed, unable to convince his legs that this would all be over if he'd just turn and walk away. He could lock himself in the bathroom and take care of his cock like he should have done earlier.

Hanna pressed her palms flat against his chest. He'd slept fully dressed so he'd remember where the boundaries were and to be ready if she needed him.

This was not the kind of need he'd been thinking about when he'd prepared himself to wake at a moment's notice. He was just here to help, not to seduce.

She seemed to have other ideas.

Her slender fingers slid up and over his shoulders. She locked her hands behind his neck and pulled him down to her mouth.

He could no more have stopped himself from obeying her summons than he could have shifted the moon from its orbit. He needed to be closer to her, and if she wanted that too, then there was not a single reason why he shouldn't oblige.

She kissed him, and he did his best to hold himself back from the act. He felt her smooth, soft mouth against his. He allowed the tip of her tongue to dance against the slick skin just inside of his lips. He experienced every glorious detail of her attention—heat and pressure, breath and warmth, scent and texture—but held the bigger part of himself in check.

She pulled away and looked up at him with a question in her eyes. "Why won't you kiss me back?"

"I won't take advantage of a sleeping woman."

"I'm wide awake, Nate. I know what I want, what I'm asking for."

"Do you?"

"I do."

He could almost believe her. She seemed more alert now, though the bright flush of sleep was still high on her cheeks.

Then again, that could have been a stain of lust, for all he knew.

"Then tell me," he demanded, his tone harder than he'd intended.

She stared him right in the eyes. "I want you to fuck me. I have condoms in the drawer." She glanced at the bedside table. "I'm awake and in full possession of my faculties."

No one who was half asleep talked like that.

"Why did you change your mind?" he asked.

"Because it's been a long time. I'm too turned on to sleep, and so are you." This time her glance was down at the obscene bulge in his jeans. "We're both consenting adults, and I'm smart enough to know that if we do this, it changes nothing."

In other words, she didn't expect this to lead to anything else. No relationship, no romance. Just a physical act.

Something about that hit him wrong, but he was running too hot to figure out what. She wanted him. He wanted her. There was nothing left to stop them.

Nate was all in.

He kissed her like he'd been dying to do every hour of every day since the last time he'd kissed her. His mouth covered hers, more staking a claim than romance. He plunged his tongue deep, like he could taste her secrets if he tried hard enough.

His body drove hers to the bed, acutely aware of her injury. He guided her down on her right shoulder and held her body so she wouldn't roll back onto the left.

She greeted each one of his kisses with eager, open lust. He knew she was turned on from whatever she'd been dreaming—had felt the slick proof of her arousal on his fingertips—but the hunger she showed him now was beyond his wildest dreams.

She tugged at his clothing, working to rid him of his shirt. He pulled away just long enough to let her strip it from him before diving back again for more of her hot mouth.

Once his torso was bare, her hands roamed over his shoulders and arms and pecs. Each new swath of skin she encountered seemed to please her more. She cooed and moaned and finally ripped her mouth free of his to kiss the same path her hands had followed.

Hot, full lips hit his chest, and he nearly came right then. The act was far from the most intimate he'd shared with a woman, but with Hanna, even this was nearly more than he could stand.

Her tongue lashed out across his nipple, and an electric current lit him up from toes to eyebrows and back again. He stifled a shocked breath, but all it did was rob him of much needed oxygen.

Her clever fingers had his belt and fly open within seconds, and then dove down to grip his throbbing cock.

Heaven. Agony. Perfection.

He wanted more—needed it—but he had no air to voice his demands.

Her skin felt cool against the heat of his erection. She stroked him once, twice, then pulled away.

He wanted to shout at her to come back. Never stop. How dare she tease him like that?

When he felt the tug of his jeans as she worked the waistband down, he realized he was way off the mark. She wasn't stopping. She was doing what she needed to do to get more.

Nate was all for it.

He shoved his jeans down, baring himself to her fully. Underwear and socks were swept away with the denim, leaving him completely naked.

Bare might have been a better term, because he suddenly felt every inch of his exposed skin too keenly.

The scales needed to be balanced. She needed to be naked too.

Before he was too far gone to remember to be gentle with her injury, he eased the hem of her camisole up and over her head.

Her breasts swayed, free and proud, pouting slightly as if in need.

He'd never seen a body more perfect in his life. All her curves and hollows, all the sinuous lines and smooth contours. The hand of God was in every detail, and he planned to bow down and worship her beauty accordingly. That she was right here, in the flesh, inviting him to take her was too good to be true.

He cupped one breast, unable to keep his hands off for even one more second. The round weight of her felt good in his palm, like she'd been made to fit his hands. Her intake of breath, and the way her head fell back in invitation, told him that she was right here with him, enjoying his touch as much as he was enjoying touching.

Nate lowered his head and kissed the top curve of her breast, then lifted it upward to taste the tip of her dusky nipple.

The hard peak puckered tighter and she dug her fingers into his hair.

He opened his mouth to take as much of her as he could, hungry for everything she had to give. The second his tongue hit her sensitive flesh, her fingers clenched against his scalp and she arched her back as if needing to get closer.

He savored her. Devoured her. He licked and sucked and flicked and pinched her nipple between his lips, then his teeth. The sharp edge seemed to drive her wild, and she was soon panting and swaying against him.

"Fuck me," she whispered, her tone openly desperate.

He ignored her and took his time with her other breast, loving it with equal care and attention.

Beauty such as hers deserved no less.

By the time he lifted his head, his whole body was trembling with lust. A fine sweat broke out across his back, and he could feel a slight breeze against the wet tip of his cock.

He knew what would warm it. He'd felt the intense heat between her thighs with his fingers, but needed to feel more.

Nate reached over to where she'd indicated the condoms were. He fished the strip out of the drawer and pulled one off. That was when he felt the slick the heat of her mouth close over his erection.

She slid down, taking him all the way to her throat before he'd had time to register what was happening.

The shock of such intense pleasure was almost more than he could stand. His head reeled, and he simply slumped to the side, giving her the access she needed to do as she pleased.

And pleased she did.

The sucking warmth of her mouth blinded him. Her enthusiasm for the act thrilled him. She seemed almost as hungry for his cock as he was for her mouth on it. The pleasure she gave so openly left a stark, wide mark on him he knew wouldn't soon fade.

He was hers in this moment. Wholly, completely hers. He didn't care if it was stupid or reckless to open himself up, or if he was heading for heartache. He cared about nothing but the way she made him feel.

She'd said that sex would change nothing, but she'd been wrong. He feared that he was already changed forever because of her. Irrevocably altered.

He only wished he knew how.