Holding Strong
Page 39
“I think so.”
Was Cherry the only one to notice how Rissy stared at Denver’s lap? Giving her friend a pointed look, she cleared her throat—loudly.
Which drew Armie’s notice to Rissy, and then his scowl.
Grinning, Denver said, “Hey, Merissa. What’s up?”
Her face went so hot, she looked more feverish than Cherry. “Want me to put on some tea or soup?”
Denver deferred to Cherry.
She shook her head. “Thanks, but I’m fine.” Going down one step, then another, she said, “I’m...just going to go...” Hide. “Yeah.” Giving up on lame explanations, she held on to the railing and fled.
If you could call creeping at a snail’s pace fleeing.
Behind her, Denver said, “Hang around a minute, okay? I wanted to talk to you.”
Cannon said, “No problem.”
And then Denver was right beside her, holding her elbow on the other side, patiently helping her down the stairs and into her bedroom. She’d always considered her living space on the lower level of the house to be generous. She had her own bathroom, small kitchenette that included a stacked washer/dryer unit, a small sitting area and a large bedroom. But now, with Denver’s presence, the walls closed in until it felt like they’d crowded into a closet.
Denver, being six-two, muscled head to toe, honed by confidence, took up a lot more space—physically and mentally—than most would. But truthfully, she’d never had a man in this bedroom.
Heck, she’d no sooner met Rissy and moved in than she’d met Denver and quickly fallen for him. After that, no other guy had appealed to her.
“This feels weird.”
He’d left his own bag up by the front door, but carried hers in and set it by the closet. “How so?”
“You being in here with me.”
Giving her a heated look, he pushed the door shut. It closed with a click.
Oh wow. She didn’t mean to, but when her knees went weak she dropped to sit on the side of the bed. Keeping his gaze locked on hers, Denver closed the small distance between them, took her shoulders and pressed her flat, coming down to his elbow beside her. He slipped one big rough hand in under her shirt to rest on her bare midriff, then bent and nuzzled her throat.
“You...you’re going to get sick too if you don’t stop that.”
“I never get sick,” he told her, and nibbled his way around to her collarbone before raising his head.
“Well, still...” The touch of his warm, damp mouth lulled her. She so badly wanted to take advantage of all this awesome attention. Knowing she didn’t have it in her left her even more maudlin. “Honestly, Denver, the spirit is willing, but the body is just kaput.”
One corner of his mouth lifted. “Relax, girl.” He stroked his hand up and over her breast. “I just want to touch you. That’s all.”
But the way he touched her was enough to fry what few wits she had left. “Yeah, but—”
“Shh.” As he sat up, he lifted the shirt to expose her. Cupping one breast in his hand, he cuddled her.
It was a sexual touch—but then again, it wasn’t. Sexual, because it was her breast. However, he didn’t ply her nipple, didn’t try to excite her.
If he’d held her elbow like that, no problem.
But whether he meant to turn her on or not, she was so acutely aware of him and where he had his hand, she almost couldn’t bear it.
Under his breath, more to himself than her, he murmured, “Damn, you are put together fine.” As if they’d been together forever, he kissed the top of each breast, pulled her shirt back down and stood. “Do you need anything?”
You, definitely. She shook her head. “No, thank you.” Anxiety crept in. Would he leave her now? And if so, when would she see him again?
“You can take your meds in an hour or so.” He dug them out of her bag and put them on her nightstand. “Even if you’re feeling better, be sure to take the cough medicine.”
“Okay, thanks.” Trying to figure out what to say and do, she lay there like a washed-out mop.
“I’m going to make you more comfortable, then I need to head home for a bit.”
Make her more comfortable how? And how long was a bit? Surely he didn’t plan to return yet again today, not after all that driving and— Her thoughts scattered when his big hands went to the waistband of her jeans. Whoa!
Warm fingers curled under the material and inadvertently brushed her stomach. He opened the snap, slowly slid down the zipper, and by small degrees tugged the snug-fitting jeans past her hips, her thighs, her knees, and off her feet.
Was Cherry the only one to notice how Rissy stared at Denver’s lap? Giving her friend a pointed look, she cleared her throat—loudly.
Which drew Armie’s notice to Rissy, and then his scowl.
Grinning, Denver said, “Hey, Merissa. What’s up?”
Her face went so hot, she looked more feverish than Cherry. “Want me to put on some tea or soup?”
Denver deferred to Cherry.
She shook her head. “Thanks, but I’m fine.” Going down one step, then another, she said, “I’m...just going to go...” Hide. “Yeah.” Giving up on lame explanations, she held on to the railing and fled.
If you could call creeping at a snail’s pace fleeing.
Behind her, Denver said, “Hang around a minute, okay? I wanted to talk to you.”
Cannon said, “No problem.”
And then Denver was right beside her, holding her elbow on the other side, patiently helping her down the stairs and into her bedroom. She’d always considered her living space on the lower level of the house to be generous. She had her own bathroom, small kitchenette that included a stacked washer/dryer unit, a small sitting area and a large bedroom. But now, with Denver’s presence, the walls closed in until it felt like they’d crowded into a closet.
Denver, being six-two, muscled head to toe, honed by confidence, took up a lot more space—physically and mentally—than most would. But truthfully, she’d never had a man in this bedroom.
Heck, she’d no sooner met Rissy and moved in than she’d met Denver and quickly fallen for him. After that, no other guy had appealed to her.
“This feels weird.”
He’d left his own bag up by the front door, but carried hers in and set it by the closet. “How so?”
“You being in here with me.”
Giving her a heated look, he pushed the door shut. It closed with a click.
Oh wow. She didn’t mean to, but when her knees went weak she dropped to sit on the side of the bed. Keeping his gaze locked on hers, Denver closed the small distance between them, took her shoulders and pressed her flat, coming down to his elbow beside her. He slipped one big rough hand in under her shirt to rest on her bare midriff, then bent and nuzzled her throat.
“You...you’re going to get sick too if you don’t stop that.”
“I never get sick,” he told her, and nibbled his way around to her collarbone before raising his head.
“Well, still...” The touch of his warm, damp mouth lulled her. She so badly wanted to take advantage of all this awesome attention. Knowing she didn’t have it in her left her even more maudlin. “Honestly, Denver, the spirit is willing, but the body is just kaput.”
One corner of his mouth lifted. “Relax, girl.” He stroked his hand up and over her breast. “I just want to touch you. That’s all.”
But the way he touched her was enough to fry what few wits she had left. “Yeah, but—”
“Shh.” As he sat up, he lifted the shirt to expose her. Cupping one breast in his hand, he cuddled her.
It was a sexual touch—but then again, it wasn’t. Sexual, because it was her breast. However, he didn’t ply her nipple, didn’t try to excite her.
If he’d held her elbow like that, no problem.
But whether he meant to turn her on or not, she was so acutely aware of him and where he had his hand, she almost couldn’t bear it.
Under his breath, more to himself than her, he murmured, “Damn, you are put together fine.” As if they’d been together forever, he kissed the top of each breast, pulled her shirt back down and stood. “Do you need anything?”
You, definitely. She shook her head. “No, thank you.” Anxiety crept in. Would he leave her now? And if so, when would she see him again?
“You can take your meds in an hour or so.” He dug them out of her bag and put them on her nightstand. “Even if you’re feeling better, be sure to take the cough medicine.”
“Okay, thanks.” Trying to figure out what to say and do, she lay there like a washed-out mop.
“I’m going to make you more comfortable, then I need to head home for a bit.”
Make her more comfortable how? And how long was a bit? Surely he didn’t plan to return yet again today, not after all that driving and— Her thoughts scattered when his big hands went to the waistband of her jeans. Whoa!
Warm fingers curled under the material and inadvertently brushed her stomach. He opened the snap, slowly slid down the zipper, and by small degrees tugged the snug-fitting jeans past her hips, her thighs, her knees, and off her feet.
