More Than Enough (Pelican Bay 4)

"… know how scary it is to start over. But Maddox will make sure—"

Just like that I was snapped back to reality. I instinctively slapped the man's hand away from my face. His eyes widened and he actually stumbled backwards. The fear in his eyes made shame crawl through my belly. I knew I hadn't actually hurt him, but the mere act of striking him, no matter how insignificant the actual contact had been, had caused an extreme reaction.

I opened my mouth to apologize, but no sound came out. I could practically feel my grandmother standing over me, shaking her head and trying desperately not to cry as she looked down on the grandson she no longer knew. The man's movement in front of me pulled me from my daze. "Go," was all I managed to say.

I expected him to take off running, but to my surprise, instead of climbing to his feet, he once again knelt in front of me. The fear I'd seen in his face was gone and in its place was a grim determination. I wasn't sure if I was irritated with him or strangely proud of him.

"As much as I'd love to leave your rude ass to rot in your sad little pool of self-pity, for some reason Maddox seems to actually care about you, so that's not an option. You can either let me take a look at your injuries or I'll call an ambulance to come deal with you. They'll at least get paid for dealing with your shit."

I was so stunned by his words that it didn't even occur to me to move when he leaned in to examine the wound on my temple. Once I got past the shock of what he'd said to me, I opened my mouth to tell him to go to hell, but he chose that moment to move in even closer. The sensation of his warm breath caressing my cheek had my whole body shuddering with sensations I’d thought long dead.

Damn, the man smelled good. Like really good. And he probably shouldn't have because beneath the woodsy scent of his cologne or aftershave, I could smell the undeniable scent of both animals and some kind of cleaning product.

"This one will need stitches," the man murmured as his fingers gently skimmed over the injury. As he rose, my eyes lingered on his broad chest, tapered waist, and points south. I was glad when he moved around me and out of sight. But then his fingers were on the back of my neck and this time it was my dick that responded.

What the hell?

It had been more than a year since I'd been consigned to life in a wheelchair and not once during all that time had my lower half attempted to convince me I was still a man despite the loss of my legs.

"This one too."

I opened my mouth to tell him that nobody was sticking any kind of needle in me but then he was once again in front of me.

Kneeling. He was kneeling in front of me. It put him at nearly eye level with me. All sorts of images went through my head as I imagined the things he could do to me in that particular position. I gritted my teeth as my eager cock filled in anticipation. My eyes fell to his pretty lips. They’d look so good stretched around my flesh. I wondered what kind of sounds he'd make as he was sucking me. What kind of sounds would I make? It'd been close to three years since I'd been with a guy, and I could barely remember the encounter. It had been a quick fuck in a cheap hotel in Germany. I couldn't remember the guy’s face or anything besides the fact that he'd had a nice tight ass.

I found my eyes automatically dropping to the ass of the man in front of me. I didn't have the best view, but I could tell he had an epic backside. I imagined my hands spreading over his pale skin and separating the gorgeous globes as I drove into him from behind…

And just like that, the erotic image went up in smoke because I knew I wouldn't be able to fuck him or any other guy from behind ever again. Even if I managed to find someone I could stomach a pity fuck with, I doubted I'd be able to keep it up long enough to even figure out which positions would and wouldn't work. As the erotic fantasy faded, I called on my anger once again. But before I could tell the man to get lost, he pressed some gauze to my temple.

I barely managed to hold in the string of curses on my tongue. The gauze had some kind of antiseptic on it that made the injury burn with fire. I waited for the obligatory apology from the man, but he said nothing. Although his touch was gentle, there was no missing the hardness in his jaw as he worked.