“Hey.”

The voice sounded like it was coming from the end of a really long tunnel. Georgia could only just make out the words but decided to ignore it by pulling the sheets further over her head.

Somebody laughed, at least she thought so. But she couldn’t be sure.

The voice went away. Left alone, she snuggled further into the cocoon of soft blankets.

Except they lifted, and somebody with very cold limbs got in next to her.

“Ah!” she squealed, half-panicked, half-pissed. She rolled over and threw back the covers at the same time only to see Lennon—a very naked Lennon—lying next to her.

He’d been drunk, and she hadn’t wanted to leave him. “You’re cold,” she said, flopping back on to the bed.

He lay on his back, something he did, she’d realized, because the pain was worse when he lay on his side. “And you are wearing my favorite T-shirt, so I guess we’re even.”

She doubted that made them even, because he was naked, and aroused, but she looked down at the T-shirt anyway. “Metallica?” she asked, touching the name on the buttery soft cotton.

“All the way, baby. That’s a vintage T-shirt from the Black Album tour, 1991.” He tugged her over to him, and she fell against his chest.

“Why aren’t you still asleep, or hungover?” she said, fully aware she sounded grumpy. It wasn’t her fault. She hadn’t had coffee yet. She laid her head over his heart; felt it beat slow and steady.

His gruff laugh resonated through his chest. “I don’t sleep.”

Georgia opened her eyes and looked at him. “Because of your injury. I’m sure you can get some help with that if you speak to your doctor.” There were always options—increased therapy, different meds, until the right combination brought relief.

“I’ve never slept. I’ve been an insomniac for decades,” he said casually.

There had been periods in med school when she had gone for days without a proper night’s sleep. And somewhere along the line, she learned to sleep in a method similar to the way a camel stored food. She could go for days with minimal rest as long as eventually she could sleep like the dead for a weekend and catch it back up. Like a car, she could run with her fuel tank close to empty, as long as there was a gas station in sight.

Georgia lifted onto one elbow, aware that her hair was likely a mess and that the light mascara she had worn for work the previous day had probably progressed into raccoon-type circles around her eyes. “That isn’t healthy,” she said.

“Probably not, but it’s how it has always been.”

There was a sadness to his tone, and a flicker of worry fluttered through her. He said it in the same weary tone he’d used when he’d told her to let him go. Michael, one of her med school friends, led a sleep clinic in Jersey. She wondered if he’d agree to a consult if Lennon were willing.

Gently, she slid back down against him. His skin was soft, and it was now warm to the touch. While she wasn’t certain how she knew, it was crystal clear that he needed physical contact right now, and she wanted to be the one to give it to him.

“Can we talk about last night, Lennon?” She pressed her lips to his chest. His fingertips trailed along her arm and he brushed a kiss to the top of her head.

“Do we have to?” he asked, sadly.

“You don’t want to talk about it?” Her own fingers traced circles around his hip bone.

“Not really,” he said, rolling onto his side with only a slight wince. “But I owe you an apology. I’m sorry you got to see me like that.”

“Are you sorry because I saw you, or sorry because of your behavior, or sorry that you are relying on alcohol rather than dealing with problems?”

Lennon looked to his fingertips, which were slowly creeping over her hip, along her ribs, until his thumb brushed the underside of her breast, causing her to shiver. “All of the above.”

Georgia faced him. “Talk to me.” She shivered as he pushed the T-shirt up her thigh. “Or did you have something else in mind?”

His eyes met hers, and the lust and determination she saw there was a heady combination. “I will talk to you, I promise. This morning.” He cupped her breast in his hand and massaged it gently. “But first, I need you, Georgia. I need to know we’re okay.”

Were they? The more time she spent with him, the less it felt like a fling. There was no way she could do something as intimate as have sex with him and not develop deeper feelings for him than she already had. Yet she’d been mad when she’d realized he was drunk again. But there were so many more moments when he wasn’t like that. When he was baking cookies with her, and making her laugh, and encouraging her to take a breather. And when he looked at her like he was doing now, like he could devour her in three easy bites, it was impossible to say no, impossible to put the brakes on or to change direction. “We’re on the same page,” she said. “I want this, too.”

“Thank fuck for that because last night, when you lay sleeping in that sexy-ass T-shirt of mine, I lay right here and watched you, thinking of all the different things I wanted to do with you.” His hand moved from her breast and slid underneath the covers to grip himself firmly. “You’ve had me hard most of the night and didn’t even know it. And all I can think of right now is proving just how good my imagination can be.”

The gruffness of his voice and the way she could see his hand moving up and down his erection had her pressing her knees together. “I think that should be my job,” she said, sliding her hand under the covers to join his.

Lennon was smiling when he pressed his lips to hers and murmured, “I think so too.” He slid his hand from beneath hers and she gripped him tightly, just as she had four days earlier in her apartment. It would be wrong of her to pretend that she hadn’t thought about what it would feel like to have sex with him. She’d thought about it several times a day, in fact, and even more at night when she’d slept in her apartment alone.

She opened her lips for him and groaned as his tongue slid inside. At some point this morning he’d brushed his teeth, and while she hadn’t, she didn’t have it in her to care. Not when his hand was firmly gripping the cheek of her butt. He tugged her more closely to him, her arm trapped between the two of them while his dick twitched in her hand.

Suddenly, he gripped her wrist. “I’ve been on edge all night. Too much more of that and this is going to be over before it even really started.”

He was studying her, his eyes dark and hooded, his expression loaded. And he didn’t blink away like he often did. He held her gaze as he brought his palm to her cheek, cupping her face gently. If it weren’t so damn silent in the room, she could’ve sworn there was a conversation going on. The gestures were so small that had she not been so close, close enough that she could feel his breath on the side of her face, she would never have seen them. An imperceptible nod of the head, the tiniest shrug of the shoulders, a whisper, a sigh. His pupils dilated, his fingers tightened on her skin to hold her close. If she had to guess, he was arguing with himself.

Suddenly all that mattered was soothing him. Helping him calm himself from whatever was churning him up inside. So she copied his action. She brought her hand to his cheek and allowed her thumb to stroke his stubble. “Make love to me, Lennon,” she said quietly, before pressing her lips to his.

Now it was his turn to groan as she ran her fingers along the smooth skin of his back, which was covered in gray and black tattoos. The muscles beneath her fingers tightened as she went lower, until her hand reached the taut curve of his butt. Need swirled deep inside her at her very core. Lennon barely moved, appearing paralyzed. So Georgia took it upon herself to reach for his hand and lead his fingers to where she wanted them, between her legs, coaxing the ultimate response from her.

When his fingers touched her wetness, his eyes flared and he groaned. Well, not groaned exactly. That would be too weak a word. But growled, a sound that drove her crazy as she moved against him. It was as if he had been jolted to life. Whatever barriers had been stopping him were now lifted, and she didn’t stand a chance as his lips took hers passionately. Desperately. Her eyes fluttered shut at the onslaught as his tongue searched every part of her mouth, as he dueled with her.

His hand stroked all over her body. Down her arms, over the crest of her breast, along her spine.

Georgia joined him, found herself lifting to align them better, so his erection was exactly where she needed it to bring some relief. “Yes,” she sighed as Lennon put his arm around her waist and pulled her tighter against him.

“Fuck,” Lennon groaned as he let go of her. “We need condoms,” he said, making his way to edge of the bed. “Except I don’t know where the fuck they are.” He tugged his hand through his hair as he stood and turned in a circle, looking.

“They’re in the drawer in the bathroom,” she said.

Lennon looked at her curiously. “How would you know where my condoms are?”

“I unpacked for you, remember? The day you got out.”

The seriousness left his face. “I don’t know whether it’s hot that you unpacked my condoms, or whether I should be mortified.”

Georgia couldn’t resist looking down at the size of his cock. It was much bigger than any other she’d seen, a large vein running along the underside. “I think for both our sakes you stick with ‘hot.’”

* * *

Lennon hurried to the bathroom. He had no idea why he hadn’t thought about condoms sooner, but he was happy to have a moment away from Georgia. Not because he didn’t want her. Not because she had done or said anything to upset him. But because he felt as though his very soul was about to be fractured into a million tiny pieces, shattered like the window of the tour bus had been when tiny shards of glass had fallen down around him.

When he reached the bathroom, he studied himself in the mirror. Not once in his life had he lacked confidence in bed. No woman had ever left his bed unfulfilled, and there had been enough asking for a repeat performance that he didn’t doubt his own capabilities. But as he and Georgia had fallen into each other, he’d been unable to focus, suddenly nervous and terrified and filled with self-doubt.

And his mind, fuck . . . his mind had been turning over faster than the beat of any song he could play.

You don’t deserve her.

She needs someone better than you.

She can see your dressing.

She can see your limitations.

You can’t please her.

You can’t do everything you want to do to her.

You’re useless.

You’re nothing.

She’s everything.

It was her words, softly whispered, that had snapped him out of it. Make love to me, Lennon.

And now she was in his bed, still in his favorite T-shirt, those lips of hers all swollen because of their kisses. He ran his hand across his stubble that had left her cheeks all pink with its roughness. Waiting for him, while he was being a fucking pussy in the bathroom. With a tight feeling in his stomach, he pulled the drawer open. He took out the box, opened it, and removed one from the packet. It didn’t matter how strongly he felt unworthy of her, he needed to be the man she deserved. The man who would show her what life was about—even though he didn’t know himself.

As he entered the bedroom, the first thing he noticed was his T-shirt at the bottom of the bed. Which meant Georgia was no longer wearing it. His eyes drifted up and found her with the sheet tucked underneath her chin.

Nerves.

Shyness.

It was endearing.

It was reassuring that he wasn’t the only one feeling self-conscious.

“Are you going to let me see what you have hidden away under there?” he asked playfully, breaking the tension in the room.

Georgia lowered the covers away from her chin until they just skimmed her breasts. “Maybe?”

“Tease,” he said, and tipped his chin to indicate she should pull the sheet lower.

Gently, she tugged the sheet from left to right, as if shimmying her way out of the covers. When it popped over the top of her nipples, he groaned. They were just as perfect as he remembered them. Kneeling on the bed, he leaned forward and sucked one of them into his mouth. Georgia’s fingers slid into his hair, and he loved the shiver that ran down his spine as her short nails dragged along his scalp, even if the gesture almost pulled him off-balance.

Before he toppled over, he moved to his knees and reached for the condom. Not that he’d ever admit it, but he was suddenly thankful for all the experience he had with putting one on with one hand.

“Do you need help with that?” Georgia asked, sitting up, the covers dropping to her waist. He liked that she didn’t reach for them to cover herself up. She wasn’t shy about her body, not that she had any reason to be.

“I got this,” he said, winking at her.

She flopped back onto the bed and grinned.

When he was covered, he slid his way back into the bed and savored the way Georgia hurried over to press up against him. The feel of her skin, completely naked against his, was like nothing else he’d experienced. She was warm and soft, and fit against him like the missing piece of a jigsaw puzzle. This time when he pressed his mouth to hers, he kept his eyes wide open and watched the way her irises shrunk as her pupils dilated. He continued to kiss her, to dip his tongue into her mouth as her gaze lost focus, as her eyelids fluttered shut.

“Look at me, Gia,” he said quietly as he rearranged them, tugging her until she sat across his lap.

She opened her eyes wide. Her chest rose and fell swiftly, as did his own.

He tapped her thigh, and she raised herself above him. Then he took hold of his dick, which pulsed with need. As she began to lower herself down onto him, he could feel how wet she was. One day he was going to taste that, was going to lie down between those legs of hers and lick her out until she screamed his name. Now, though, he held his breath as she took him in, just an inch before she withdrew, coating him before lowering down further.

“Oh, God,” she whispered as she reached for the headboard behind him and began to move.

Lennon could barely breathe. His eyes fixed on hers as she gasped out his name, going lower and lower until she sat flush against him, squeezing around him. “Fuck, Gia,” he growled.

The intimacy of it. He was going to die from it. He’d never felt so . . . so surrounded, so pinned to the spot. It both terrified and intoxicated him. He wanted to stay lost in her eyes, to stay deep inside her.

And then she began to move. The slow and steady drag of her pussy as she lifted and lowered was breathtaking. It wasn’t straight up and down. She ground against him, pivoted those firm fucking hips of hers against him when she bottomed out. It made him even harder watching as she did what felt good, chased what she needed to get off. He gripped her ass, exaggerating the movement of her hips, encouraging her to take everything she wanted.

Gia’s mouth opened but nothing beyond a jumbled mess of sighs and groans escaped. One of her hands went up into her hair, the other across her breast, squeezing it in her palm. It was exactly what he would have done if he could. Instead, he was more than fucking happy to watch Gia, to watch the place where they were joined, his cock drenched in her juices. He pressed his thumb against her clit, and Georgia fell forward, placing her hands on either side of his head.

On a groan, her eyes flickered shut again, and suddenly her opening them again became the most important thing in his world. All these years, he’d never had that simple intimacy. All those years he’d looked away. And now he couldn’t bear a moment where she didn’t look at him.

Look at me.

Tell me I’m worth it.

Tell me this isn’t a mistake.

Tell me you can feel this.

“Oh, please, Lennon, I’m so close.” Georgia began to ride him faster.

So, come for me, angel.

I’m here for you.

Show me.

Show me I mean something to you.

Her eyes remained closed as his own orgasm started deep in his balls. He reached for her, pulled her lips down to his. “Look at me,” he whispered. He knew it sounded desperate, but he had to see her eyes. Before the top blew off his world.

Georgia groaned. He could feel her begin to tighten around him, and just as he was about to give up hope of seeing her, her eyes flipped open as she came. No words, just a desperate gasp as her features tightened, as her shoulders shuddered and her actions turned frenzied.

Deep inside the first woman to touch him, their eyes locked, he came harder than he ever had before.

Shudders continued for several moments as he let go of tensions he’d been carrying, and every thought fled his mind except what a perfect moment it was.

Georgia slumped against his chest, and he swore he could feel her heart pounding against his skin at a pace that matched his own. As their breathing evened out, he ran his hand gently up and down her spine. His ever-active mind was quiet, his body relaxed. Even the pain felt . . . less.

“I should move,” Georgia whispered against his skin.

He wrapped his arms around her to hold her in place. “Don’t. Not yet. Stay with me just a little longer.”

The places where their skin touched were drenched with sweat, but Lennon didn’t give a shit. If only the silence would stay just the way it was right now, he’d keep Gia there forever.

She slid out of his grasp, finally, and fell onto her back next to him before turning to face him. Silence surrounded them in a most perfect moment of intimacy.

Lennon let his fingertips drag slowly along her hip as their breathing returned.

“You want to tell me what happened yesterday to set you back?” she asked quietly. There was no judgment in her eyes, and only a hint of worry.

“I went to the hospital. I’d missed a couple of appointments. With my surgeon, with prosthetics.”

“How was it?”

How was it? They’d treated him like a normal human being. The surgeon had been happy with the progress; the taped stitches had been removed. They’d been pragmatic, supportive, not overly sympathetic . . . and he’d hated every fucking minute. He’d wanted them to make him angry. He’d wanted someone to rail at. He’d wanted to encounter someone at whom he could direct all the fury he was carrying around inside. Instead, he’d found “good.” And he couldn’t do “good.”

You don’t deserve help.

You don’t deserve “good.”

You don’t deserve this. Her. Lying here with you like you are worth something.

Walk away before you convince yourself you can be anything to anyone.

Because you can’t, you useless fuck.

You can’t.

Georgia’s hand slipped into his, the contact grounding him back in the moment.

“It was tough,” he admitted. “Tougher than I thought it was going to be.”

“Why? What did you find hard?” Georgia asked, turning on to her side. She propped her head up on one hand but continued to hold his with the other. Her hair pooled deliciously to one side.

The words were stuck between his head and heart again. He wanted to get angry at Georgia, at the woman who’d just taken all the noise away, to deflect from the barrage of emotions that held him hostage. So he breathed, and she didn’t push him for answers. He focused on the way the soft morning light was filtered through the gauze curtains, the way the sheet was wrapped around his calf, and the way Georgia’s breathing matched his own—all the things he’d been taught but had never practiced over the years to bring himself back from the edge he’d much rather fall over.

“Because it felt too much like accepting what happened,” he said quietly. “And I’m not ready to do that yet.”