Chapter Three
Holy fucking hell.
Who’d have guessed he’d still have those moves in him. He’d been a bit frightened of how well he’d perform, being stuck in a chair, yet he’d done just fine. More than satisfactory, if the trembling woman resting on his chest gave any indication.
Smirking, his arms tightened around her. Every breathy moan, every whimper, and every writhing movement she’d made played across his closed lids. His heart quickened as he pictured all the ways he could satisfy her, enthusiastic to try a few more out. Though his heart had been flying moments before, it slammed to the ground as he remembered he might not get the chance. He had tonight, and only tonight, to pleasure her. Afterwards, she’d strut out of his life, never to be seen or heard from again.
After an explosive session of sex like they’d just shared? No, it didn’t sit right. He needed to know more about her. Had to find out every little detail he could manage before the sun rose.
“What do you do?”
She leaned back, frowning. “What do you mean, what do I do?”
“For a living,” he explained. “What’s your occupation?”
“Oh.” She frowned even more, and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Nothing too exciting. I’m a therapist.”
His heart skittered to a stop. He cringed as he pictured the ugly woman who asked him endless questions about his feelings every week. She was one of those people? No way. “You’re kidding me.”
“Nope. Why would I be joking?” She cocked her head to the side. “Do I not look the part?”
“It’s not that.” His mouth dried out. He felt as if his tongue were a big cotton ball—trying to choke him. “Please tell me you don’t work with…people like me.”
“People like you? You mean PTSD? Or crippled people?” She asked. “And why would it matter if I did?”
“Because if you did, I’m nothing more than a pity fuck to you. And if you work with people like me, you’re analyzing every move I make.”
“Paranoid, much?” she scoffed. She crossed her arms across her chest, brows raised. “I think I made it clear there’s no sympathy at play here.”
“That’s what you said, yes.”
“Are you insinuating I’m a liar?”
When her body tensed in his arms, he cursed his harsh temper. “Hell. No, no. I’m sorry. I just didn’t expect you to be…a…therapist.” The last word, seeming to have a mind of its own, came out sounding more like an insult than an occupation.
His tone did nothing to improve her sullen expression. “What did you think I would be?”
Shrugging, he rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know. A kindergarten teacher?”
“Pfft. No way.”
Ready to move on from his momentary blunder, he continued, “Where do you work?”
She hesitated, scrunching her nose. “I don’t think you want to know, judging from your reaction.”
“Fuck, it’s on base or something, isn’t it?” An image of him wheeling into the office, surrounded by men who were ten times more virile than he—with working legs—flashed before him, making him feel small and insignificant. Like a fly on her desk.
“Camp Pendleton.” He had to strain to hear her. But he couldn’t mistake her words. His worst nightmare had come true.
“Shit!”
“Okay, I think you’ve covered all of the common curses in the space of one minute. I promise, if I see you there, I’ll pretend not to know you. No one will ever find out you slummed so low as to bang a therapist. Or, worse, a messed up one who doesn’t know how to handle her life.” She hopped off his lap, bending down to retrieve her panties. Holding them up to the light, she grimaced and tossed them to the side. “But you owe me a pair of panties. I just bought those for tonight.”
Pride filled him at her words, making his chest swell. How many had she packed? Would he be treated to another mouth-watering ensemble? He pushed the images aside, following her as she stalked, bare-naked, out of the room. Her curves taunted him, making his fingers twitch from the need to stroke her again. His footrest hit the wall he hadn’t even noticed because he’d been so distracted by the sight of her delicious bottom swaying with each graceful step she took.
“Damn wall jumped out of nowhere,” he mumbled under his breath then raised his voice. “You know, it’s not nice to make a man in a wheelchair chase you down.”
She froze mid-step, turning to him with a smile. “You’re right, of course. Would you like me to push you?”
Anger filled him at her suggestion. He slashed the air in front of him and glowered. “Hell, no! And what are you doing, anyway?”
She pressed her lips together tight as she stepped into see-through black panties. Damn it, there were little beads throughout the fabric. With his mouth watering, he wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans then wheeled to the trashcan to remove the used condom from his developing erection.
“I’m getting ready to go. We had our fun, but it’s apparent you’re not happy about my profession. I figured it best to leave.”
“Leave? But it’s only—” he threw a desperate glance to the clock, “—eleven-thirty. Do you have to rush home?” He “forgot” all about his original plan of getting sex and leaving right away. Things changed.
Damn it.
She stopped mid-action, her bra half on, studying him. “I had the distinct impression the evening had ended. You got laid, like you wanted. I got to try sex with someone who wouldn’t hit me, like I sought. Win, win, right?”
Growling, he wheeled closer to her. She couldn’t wait to leave the room.
To leave him.
His heart contracted, making his tone harsh. He’d never let her know how much he longed for her to stay. “And now you’re ready to move on? Find a man who can sweep you off your feet? I thought you were different. I thought you didn’t care about my legs. How stupid of me.”
“The only person obsessed with your legs in this room is you. I don’t give a damn if you ever walk again. I like you just fine the way you are, thank you very much. Even when you are being a self-centered ass.”
She finished clasping her bra, and he warred with himself whether or not to grovel. He didn’t want her to go…not yet. He needed to know more about her. Did he dare ask her to stay, and risk forcing her into something she sought to escape? Or did she speak the truth that she was leaving because she thought he disliked her?
If so, he owed her an apology.
“Look, I’m sorry. Me and therapists don’t have the best track record. Everyone I’ve met has pretty much run screaming from the room after five minutes.”
“Gee, I wonder why,” she drawled, pursing her lips in thought. He avoided her probing stare, deciding instead to study the beading on her bra. It was far more prudent—not to mention stunning—than her knowing gaze. She cleared her throat, so he raised his head, with great reluctance.
Her brow cocked, and she rested her hands on her hips. Clad in black, transparent panties and the matching bra—how many had she brought anyway?—she presented a tantalizing picture. He’d be willing to give her anything, tell her anything, if she’d just come back onto his lap. Wetting his lips, he decided the best course of action to achieve his goal was to confess and beg.
“I might be to blame. On one or two occasions, if that.” He grinned, stealing a quick peek at her face. “There, see, I’m not a pathological liar. I just lose my temper now and again. Come over here so we can talk some more. Don’t go. Please?”
“Are you sure you want to talk?”
She shot a pointed glance at his lap. His cheeks heated. Dear God, was he…blushing? Scurrying to hide the evidence of his lingering desire, not to mention his red cheeks, he tucked his cock away and zipped his pants. She laughed and strolled to his side.
“Want another glass of champagne?”
He raked her from head to toe and smirked. “As long as you serve it to me dressed in those. Nothing else.”
“Deal. Why don’t you go get in bed while I fill these up?” She fondled his shoulder as she walked by, leaving a hint of perfume to tease his senses. Grinning, he wheeled into the room with lightness in his heart. She hadn’t finished with him yet, after all.
Maybe, they’d just begun.
***
Tiffany poured the champagne, smiling as she remembered him admiring her breasts. All he had to do to make her tremble for another round of sex was look at her. Ridiculous! She’d been sure, when she saw his panic at her profession, their night had ended. Instead, he wanted her to stay. Begged her, in a way.
She had a feeling it hadn’t come easy to him.
He appeared to be dead-set on the fact that she would leave him for his disability. If she could track down the bitch who had ruined his self-esteem, she’d give her a piece of her mind. This beautiful, brave, courageous hero had been brought down by a girl too icy to handle a real man.
Not just the damage done to his legs, but everything else he’d lost, risked, and given so people in this country could live free. In the other room, a modern day warrior awaited her. His sacrifices should never be scoffed at, or taken lightly. If she had any say in it, tonight she’d restore his confidence. Then he could move on with his life, ready to find someone who’d appreciate everything he’d done for his country.
Wait, why did the thought of him moving on to another woman make her heart ache, while her head screamed profanities? Did she want more than a one-night affair? Did she seek to see him, outside of this hotel?
Would he like to see her again?
She sighed, headed into the room, plastered a smile on, and carried the reinforcements in. She froze at the sight awaiting her. He rested in the bed, chest bare, and smoky-eyed.
With lust.
For her.
His pants and black boxers were tossed on the chair beside the bed, so she’d have to assume he wore no clothes under the infernal blanket.
It needed to go. Now.
She opened her mouth, ready to order him to remove the blanket, when she noticed the way he clung to it, wringing it in his hands. He looked…nervous. But, why?
His legs. He feared she’d run if she saw the scars. Didn’t he realize she’d see them as what they were? Remembrances of his heroism? There could be no shame in that. Never.
“Here you go, Matt.” Sinking to the bed to sit at his hips, she gave him his glass. She caressed his knee before leaning back on her elbow. “You look nervous. There’s nothing to fear from me. I promise not to bite. Too hard.”
He grinned, but she didn’t miss the flash of indecision. “I don’t know. You look pretty ferocious to me.”
“Mm hmm. All five foot of me, huh?”
“Appearances can be deceiving.”
“Indeed.”
His death grip on the comforter relaxed as he took another sip of his champagne. When he fingered a lock of her hair, her breath caught in her throat. The tingling spread from her scalp, all through her body, until it pooled at the juncture of her thighs. She caressed his chest and leaned closer to steal a kiss. He tasted of champagne and masculinity. Also of sex and lust.
His scent filled her nose, intoxicating her more than the alcohol ever could. She put it down to free both her palms. He downed his then shoved the empty glass at her. She swept her tongue into his mouth, desperate to taste more of him. All of him. She played with the hair on his chest, allowing her fingers to drift down to his lap.
He tensed when she tugged at his covering, and captured her arm. Tearing his lips from hers, he reached for the lamp on the nightstand.
“Why are you turning out the light?” She dragged his hand away from the switch, pinning it onto the mattress.
“Well, I’m naked. And you don’t want to see what’s under there. Trust me.”
He jerked free and reached for the switch once more.
“But, I do. I want to see every glorious inch of you. I want to watch you as I take you in my mouth; I want to see you cry out in pleasure as you come inside of me. I do. Trust me.”
She leaned down and took a nipple in her mouth. The light remained on, and he gripped her shoulders as if he would never let her go.
“Tiffany….”
“What? Do you like this?” She nibbled a bit, pulling the comforter away from his lap—just one inch. Kissing a path down his abdomen, she laughed when his muscles jumped at her touch. “I see you do.”
“I think you’d like it more if I hit the lights.” His voice emerged breathy, and yet somehow guttural.
“You’re wrong.”
She straddled his hips and seized his mouth with her own. His fingers massaged her shoulders. When he deepened the kiss, he stole her breath. He trembled, and she sensed it wasn’t from lust alone. She perceived she’d struck a chord deep inside him. He’d placed his confidence in her, and she’d not let him down.
Pressing him onto his back, she allowed him time to adjust his position. Once he’d reclined, she licked him from his neck, down his hard chest, over his abdomen, and lower until she reached the comforter. Pushing the edge aside, she reached underneath to close her fingers around his smooth shaft.
God, he filled her hand. She’d known he had a big penis, but hadn’t realized how huge. Holy mother of God, she’d hit the jackpot.
He moaned, tossing his head when she lowered herself over his body, taking the comforter with her. She paused to take in the splendid sight of him. His lids were closed, more than likely because he feared her reaction. She studied him, then moaned while she rubbed his disfigured thighs. Red, raw slashes crisscrossed across the otherwise smooth skin, making a vicious design. In some spots, the hair had been shaved or melted off, and had started to regrow.
His opened his eyes a little, his vulnerability raw and exposed.
“You are magnificent. Every inch of your body shines.” She traced the lines on his legs, never breaking eye contact. “Every mark on you, every scar, is a badge of honor. Every flaw, every imperfection, proof of your heroism. I can’t get over how gorgeous you are. You’re amazing.”
“Oh, God…I’m not. I’m broken. Not a hero.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. You are a hero, and you’re not broken. And, I’m the luckiest girl in America. For tonight, you’re mine. All mine.”
“Tiffany….”
She smiled, pretending not to see his unshed tears, and closed her mouth around his penis. His back arched and a tortured groan broke free.
She sucked, licked, and tormented him, enjoying each tantalizing taste. She caressed him as her tongue stroked him, eager to taste every inch of his silky shaft she could reach.
“I need you. Now.” His words came out hushed, but his strength didn’t fail him. Yanking her up under her armpits, he made quick work of rolling a condom on as she ravished his mouth. Once his penis was sheathed, he lifted her up, shoved her panties aside, and buried himself inside her.
Never breaking contact with his lips, she moaned as she rode him, allowing him to set the rhythm. He might be on the bottom, but he had complete control over her motions. Her every thought. Positioning her hips forward, he deepened the kiss, his hands guiding her. With each stroke he took, she brushed against his body, heightening her pleasure.
She clutched his shoulders, dueling with his tongue feverishly. His moves quickened, and she exploded into paradise, calling out his name as she entered the heavens. Crashing back down to earth, she realized she’d found somewhere even more perfect.
In his arms.