He hadn’t been lying last night; his reasons for sleeping with Genevieve had been nonsexual. Selfish, but nonsexual. He had wanted to feel her against him, needed the connection of another human being. Maybe it had been an affirmation that he was alive.
What’s more life affirming than sex?
No, Genevieve’s trust was more important than sex. During the hours he’d spent lying alone yesterday, he’d realized that his father’s voice while he’d been crawling to safety may not have been a hallucination. What if he’d been guided to Genevieve? The only question was, to what purpose? How was he meant to help her?
Genevieve had been hurt, no question about it. He was good at mysteries. He’d uncover her secrets, and then he’d know how to help her. Something he had said or done must have resonated for her yesterday, since she’d lowered her guard enough to tease him and sleep in his bed. No way was she ready to trust him completely, but it was a start.
Maybe she can help you too.
He rejected that little taunting voice. He didn’t need help. That dream last night had just been brought about because of the similarity of the two injuries, that was all. He’d gone through therapy, overcome his deepest depression about Jerry’s death. Alex had moved on, had a new job. So what if he wasn’t the same happy-go-lucky guy he’d been before last year? People changed. So what if his new job often felt like he was just a cop in name only? He was still a cop. He’d grown up in a police station, tagging along with his father. He’d been born to serve, and he’d die a cop, just like his old man.
No, the focus here was on Genevieve. She was the one who needed him.
She rubbed her thigh against him again and he bit off a curse. Could he help her without fucking her through the mattress? He didn’t know. Alex didn’t believe in casual sex. He’d personally never really had a one-night stand, had never really understood the appeal of making love to a stranger. Despite her tough talk, Alex had the feeling that Genevieve wasn’t exactly the type who could have sex with a stranger and move on, either.
At the same time, he was nobody’s fool. There was some weird connection between them that made him feel like he’d known her forever. He was wildly attracted to the woman. He understood that a lot of it was probably psychological, since she’d saved him, but that was mixed in with a healthy dose of old-fashioned physical lust. If the opportunity arose, and if she was consenting, he would probably have sex with her despite the short period of time they’d had together.
Since he couldn’t fuck her and leave, that meant if they did have sex, he’d have to maybe…stay around? He glanced down at her face, her full cupid’s-bow mouth open, close to his nipple. It would take him a while to get tired of looking at that face, if he ever did. She was special, no question about it, and it wasn’t only because of her unexplainable power.
Of its own volition, his hand spread where it lay on the curve of her ass and he gently squeezed the flesh, luxuriating in the way it gave beneath his fingers.
His cock jerked, as if to get his attention. He released her ass and grabbed her thigh, intending to ease her leg off him. Instead, for a brief second, he held her there and thrust his hips the slightest bit, imagining the resilient flesh to be the slick recesses of her pussy.
Immediately he was ashamed of himself. He wasn’t an animal, to molest a sleeping woman. With a bit more force than necessary, he removed her leg from him. As she murmured and blinked awake, he pressed his palm flat against his cock where it peeked above the waistband of his boxers and rearranged the comforter on top of his hips, bunching it to avoid any detection.
She stretched next to him, rather like a lazy cat. He wanted to pet her, but since he’d already done quite a bit of unnecessary petting, and his hands were currently busy trying to keep his cock under the radar, he didn’t feel as if it was appropriate.
Genevieve turned her head and gave him a slow, lazy smile that warmed his heart. Yeah, he could definitely get used to waking up to that sight, as often as she’d let him.
He knew the exact instant when comprehension returned to her. Her face flushed and she scrambled away. If she thought they were in an inappropriate embrace now, he was thankful she hadn’t woken up five minutes earlier. Her face would have caught fire.
“Morning.” His voice was gravelly, despite the water she’d woken him to drink during the night.
“Good morning.” After she had covered up her legs she turned to him. “How do you feel?”
“Better.” His reply was automatic, but as he took stock of his body he realized that he did feel better. When he’d gotten shot last year, it had taken him almost two weeks to feel as great as he did today, just a few short days after he’d sustained a far more serious injury.
She left the room, and he did his best to think of as many unarousing thoughts as he could manage to cool his amorous body off. By the time he started reciting baseball stats for the Yankees, he knew he would be able to at least speak to her without embarrassing himself.
When she returned to the room, dressed in her faded jeans and a pink long-sleeved shirt, he had himself under control. Thank the good Lord, since she immediately tried to help him with his embarrassing morning rituals. “I can walk today, I think.” Anything to get away from the bedpan.
“That’s nice that you think that. You won’t be doing it, though.”
He groaned. “Please, Genevieve.”
She eyed him critically. “Two more days before you’re up and about. And if you complain anymore, I’ll make it three.”
“These are not the kind of orders I like to take in bed,chica.”
A warm flush filled her face, but then she delighted him by retorting, “I don’t see you taking any kind of orders in bed.”
He grinned, a slow smile of intent. Ahh, yes, if she trusted him enough to flirt with him, he was a happy man. He’d never been much of a flirt, but he liked their banter, and sexual innuendos were tripping off his tongue around her. “You’re right. I’m usually on top.”
“Don’t be crude.” She didn’t look insulted, though, just a very flushed armful. A militant look entered her eyes. “Bedpan, with me in the room or without. Your choice.”
Since she wouldn’t be budged, he gave in with a grumble and took care of his needs once she left the room.
When that chore was over, they enjoyed breakfast. Or rather, she enjoyed breakfast, and he choked down pasty gruel. “I’m vowing to you right now, when I get better, I’m cooking for you, and you’re going to eat it. Everything I make is terrible, so we’ll be even.”
