No Damaged Goods

But there’s no room for ego. If I try to be stubborn and stagger my way back, I’m gonna tumble us both into the snow.

So, reluctantly, I lean away from the car, clumsily shoving the door closed, and let my weight lean on her carefully.

She dips a little, but she’s right—girl’s stronger than she looks.

Then one hobbling, fire-burning step at a time, we make our way up the drive.

It’s the porch steps that are the worst. My leg’s turned into a brick with every step, and suddenly I can’t fucking bend it without feeling like someone’s shoving a molten steel rod right through the muscle.

Snarling, I stomp up, then slump against the wall next to the door.

I go stiff as a mummy while her hand slips into my open coat, burrowing down into the pocket of my jeans.

Pain or no pain, I can’t really ignore it.

That warmth sliding down my hip, my thigh, way too close to my cock.

Hell, maybe I’m some kind of freak because suddenly it’s like the pain just makes my cock throb harder as she twirls her fingers around down there.

Shitfire.

She can’t know what she’s doing to me.

Not when she looks so focused, so distracted.

And so triumphant, emerging with my keys—then giving me a sheepish look.

“I’ve been kind of timing leaving and coming home around Andrea,” she says, pushing the key to the lock and opening the door. “It feels presumptuous to ask you for a spare.”

I’ll make you one, I want to say. You can stay as long as you want.

You can be home.

But the words are locked up behind my teeth.

I don’t know if it’s the pain that keeps me silent, or just knowing the truth.

She’s gonna leave.

Sooner or later, she’ll go back to her cabin when I figure out who’s setting these damn fires and she’s not in danger anymore. Or spring will come, and she’ll leave Heart’s Edge for good.

She’ll leave me.

You don’t chain a girl like her down.

That’s another bitter crushing pain, keeping me trapped inside my own head, as I drag in behind her and march myself to the couch.

Forget being graceful.

I just flop down on my back, closing my eyes, letting my bum-ass leg stretch out and easing some of the weight on it.

Peace makes a soft sound that’s half amusement and half worry. I hear the door shut and the sounds of her stripping off her jacket.

“I’m not getting you up again, am I?”

“Not without at least two Vicodin,” I mutter, draping my arm over my eyes. “Sorry. I’m actually keeping off that shit. This leg always gets worse the longer winter drags on. I’m never ready for it. I just need to rest a bit.”

“What you need,” she says firmly, “is a massage. And if I can’t get you off the sofa and on my table, I’ll just have to strip you down right here.”

Is she serious?

I tense, opening an eye, peering up at her from under my arm. “Damn, woman. Can’t say I’ve ever met a girl that eager to get me naked.”

“No? So the stories they tell about you are exaggerated?” She flashes a saucy little smile and tosses her hair back, sending it slithering around to lay on the other side of her neck and pour down her shoulder. “They swear you were quite the ladies’ man in your younger days.”

I snort, closing my eyes again. “I grew out of that shit by my senior year. Think they’re confusing me with Holt. He went nuts seeing how many chicks would throw themselves at me, and then kept stealing girls I had just to get under my skin.”

There’s silence.

When I look, she’s just standing there, her hands on her cocked, curving hips, watching me wryly. I grunt, unable to help cracking a smile.

“I know. I know, it’s fucking awful, but I was a horndog teenager, and Holt treated it like a competition. I feel bad for those poor girls, honestly. We were both dicks, even if it was him who left ’em in pieces and me who let ’em down easy.”

“As long as you’ve grown up.” She settles down on the couch, her weight denting the cushions at my calves, and then those soft hands are pulling on me as she starts working at my bootlaces. “Let’s get you ready.”

I arch a brow. “You’re really gonna strip me on my own couch?”

A wicked grin makes her eyes darken and glitter.

Aw, hell. She’s serious.

Peace drags one of my boots off, then catches the toe of my sock and peels me out of it. “I’ve finally got you at my mercy, Mr. Silver Tongue. And you can’t fight back. What red-blooded girl wouldn’t take advantage of the last standing heartthrob of Heart’s Edge in that situation?”

Goddamn.

That might almost be hot in a crazy, bad porno kinda way.

If I wasn’t laughing my damn fool head off.