Chapter Nine

 

NAT STIFFENED AS she came awake suddenly, aware someone was in the room with her. She jerked in alarm, stars swirling in front of her eyes when pain exploded in her head. The chocolate-brown eyes staring at her from a little elfin face, and the unrelenting pain in her head confused her.

Where was she?

She closed her eyes wearily, her head sinking back into the soft pillow as yesterday’s events bombarded her mind. Escape from her burning home and earning a concussion, re-injuring her leg, and smoke inhalation to boot. And that she’d caved and was in Zach’s house. She must have zonked out right after he’d took her into his muscular arms when they got back from the hospital.

It doubly confused her when Belle whispered, “I’m sorry.” What the heck was that about? She rolled to her side and pushed up to sit against the headboard, peering down at the little girl, the pain meds and exhaustion making her loopy. What am I going to do when being anywhere near a child just about breaks my heart?

Make the best of it was pretty much her only choice. Her leg was sore, her forehead throbbed, and her bladder was about to burst. As much as she hated to admit it, she needed help to get to the bathroom.

At the sound of Zach striding down the hallway, she sighed, absurdly tempted to pull a pillow over her head. Deciding to be an adult about this, she left the pillow where it was and watched warily as he rounded the doorway and stopped, one hand on a lean hip, a bundle of clothing clutched in the other.

A part of her, that part that had been growing closer to him over the past few weeks, the part that admired him and loved—nope, liked pretty much everything about him—wanted nothing more than to be close to him. To give in and let him care for her while she recuperated.

It had been years—since she was young and living with her grandma—that anyone had taken care of her and made her feel she was worth something. That she was important. Zach made her feel that way, and along with these new feelings, her heart felt resurrected—like the dead parts were healing, the damage reversing—and she reveled in the new feelings practically bursting to get out.

It terrified her to embrace these new feelings, though. Giving in could hurt all three of them. Zach and Belle could get attached, and then realize her heart was damaged beyond repair. Not worth the effort. Unable to love anyone ever again.

If she opened her heart to Zach, and also opened it to Belle, then ran like a scared rabbit, little Belle and her daddy would be sad. She would have brought disharmony into their close-knit, amazing little family. No way did she want to do that.

Nope, it would be better, smarter, if she just recuperated, kept them both at arm’s length, then burrowed into her grandma’s house again—if it wasn’t a pile of ash inside. She couldn’t bring herself to look, or to ask.

 

❄ ❄ ❄

 

ZACH STRODE into the room, wondering why Belle was there and sorry to see Natalie squinting in pain, a lost, distant look in her eyes. He set his sister’s clothes on the foot of the bed and picked Belle up, giving her a smacking kiss on the cheek before setting her back on her feet with a gentle push toward the door.

“Hot chocolate is on the table, sweetpea. I’ll be right down.”

“Okay, Daddy.” Belle looked shyly at Natalie before darting toward the door and into the hall, calling back to him. “You should kiss her booboo. It always makes me feel better.”

Zach’s eyes snapped to Natalie’s. His daughter’s innocent words held a completely different meaning for him. He’d like to kiss more than her booboo. His libido wanted him to kiss every inch of that silky skin.

He bet he’d be able to make her forget all her aches and pains, and cause a few good aches in some secret places. His cock started its salute when he saw her eyes darken with awareness—of him as a man. A man who wanted her naked and under him. He’d seen that look off and on many times in the past few weeks, when he’d caught her gaze on him before she could bank her thoughts behind a casual expression.

He willed his unruly little head to behave itself, not wanting to make her uncomfortable. “You probably need to use the bathroom about now.”

He saw no way around it. He had to lay his hands on all that smooth, sweet flesh to get her from point A to point B. The doctor had concerns about her concussion, and had told her to stay off that unstable leg. No way was he letting her out of bed without his help.

He’d sure better get used to ignoring and tamping down this attraction bombarding him at every turn, or he’d be walking around with a permanent hard-on. His cock would be tattooed from head to base by his zipper.

Just the memory of them in her backyard, her lush bottom on his thighs separated by nothing but a thin layer of silk, had him about bursting out of his jeans. All she had to do was drop her gaze to his crotch, and she’d get an eyeful. She’d discover he had absolutely no control whatsoever when he was near her.

Or maybe she’d think he was this way around any woman? Little did she know he hadn’t had a spontaneous erection, except his morning wood, in five long years. Until her.

She pulled back the covers and slid her legs over the side, gracing him with his first unobstructed glimpse of her shapely legs. He bit back a wince at the long, pink scar marring her shin from knee to ankle. Man, that had to have hurt.

His t-shirt only hit her at mid-thigh and looked a hell of a lot better draped over her unbound breasts than it ever did on him. Those lightly muscled thighs and calves were going to be the death of him. How was he supposed to stay upright when all the blood went south and settled between his legs?

He tamped down his reaction and handed her the clothes he’d brought in. “These are some of my sister’s clothes—yoga pants and a tank top. Pretty sure they’ll fit okay.”

When he scooped her into his arms, sweat beaded his forehead as the silky skin of those luscious legs brushed against the palm of his hand and forearm. When his fingers grazed the swell of her breast, he thought he’d died and gone to heaven. He needed to get his shit together and tamp down this damned attraction.

He set her next to the sink and couldn’t stop from giving her hand a squeeze before stepping back. “I’ll wait in the bedroom. There’s a new toothbrush in the cabinet. I’ll bring you down for breakfast when you’re done.”

He stifled a grin at her sigh. As reluctant as he knew her to be, she seemed finally resigned to his help, which was a darned good thing. Little did she know he could win medals in stubbornness.

He heard a flush and the faucet run briefly, and waited impatiently until the knob rattled and a stifled curse cut the silence. In two steps he was at the door, pulling it open only to have his arms full of curvy, warm woman.

“Umf!” Her eyes snapped to his as soft breasts collided with his pecs.

If he thought having her in his arms earlier was hard to handle, having her lithe body plastered against his from breast to thigh was pure torture. There was no way she could miss the hard ridge of his arousal pulsing against her stomach. A groan escaped before he could call it back.

Her arms tightened seductively around his waist and she actually nuzzled his shoulder before she pushed back, wiggling to get free. She no doubt realized giving him mixed signals would get her more than she’d bargained for.

“Hold on, Nat, you’ll hurt yourself. Dammit, Natalie.” He once again scooped her into his arms, halting her desperate struggle. His cock mourned the loss of all that sweet flesh pressed against it.

Her beaded nipples, clearly outlined under the t-shirt, accelerated pulse, and the bright flush washing across her pretty cheekbones told him better than words she felt the same electricity he did when they touched.

He hoped they would both be able to settle into being comfortable with each other, despite their mutual attraction, and her discomfort around Belle. She was under so much stress, both old and new, and he wanted nothing more than to help her through this. His body and libido would just have to take a seat and let his heart lead.

The poor woman, with the recent loss of her grandma, and now possibly all her possessions inside her charred and waterlogged home, had to be about at the end of her rope.

And boy, did he understand loss. He’d also suffered loss of independence and mobility during his last tour of duty. His injury hadn’t taken as long to heal as hers, but he understood the soul-sucking frustration of not being fully mobile and independent. Of not being able to take care of yourself.

He understood loss of a child to some degree, too, having lost Belle years ago, even if only for a few hours. And then losing his mother right after he’d recovered his daughter.

Yeah, he understood, all right. And he planned to be the one to help her through this loss, if only as a friend—although he wanted much, much more.