“Alex,” she gasped, raising her head. “Your injury. You shouldn’t have done that.”
“Tired of being on the bottom. ’S’okay.” She fumbled with the bandage but he caught her hand. “Everything’s fine.” His shoulder and arm ached like a son of a bitch, but the wound hadn’t bled or opened. It could wait.
She apparently didn’t think so, though, and wriggled and wiggled until he allowed her to peel off the gauze and poke and prod him with knowledgeable fingers, tsking under her breath.
Alex found himself smiling at her fussiness, warmed by her worry and concern. His mother would love Genevieve.
He didn’t think he had ever voluntarily brought a woman home to meet his mother, who was a nice lady but one determined to see her eldest son married and settled. But now he’d met a mysterious woman laden with secrets and seemingly more commitment-shy than him on his worst day. And all he could imagine was taking her out to enjoy Sunday brunch and a game of Parcheesi with the fam.
And then maybe a chick flick, just to make her happy. Something with Matthew McConaughey.
Alex barely restrained a full body shudder.
Okay, so they might have to skip the movie. But keeping her happy? That he actually could see himself trying to do. He was in way deeper than he had anticipated. He’d crashed, burned, and he wouldn’t be able to get out of this, wouldn’t be able to leave her with his heart intact. He’d never thought he would be able to just fuck her and go, and now he was sure of it. His mind worked at lightning speed, as if he was on another high-profile case. But in this case the perp he needed to nail was Genevieve’s heart and trust.
She is yours. You are hers.
Yes, Papa.
He’d somehow forgotten his father’s words to him as he lay near death, but now they bloomed in his mind. Call it magic, call it fate, but he couldn’t believe the two of them weren’t meant for one another.
To distract himself from his heavy thoughts and her from her role as his doctor, he slipped his hand under her and drove two fingers straight into her channel, softened and slippery from their earlier play. She gasped and froze, her hand just finishing moving the bandage back into place.
“You only came once. I came twice.”
She shuddered as he started a driving rhythm, her head falling back, her hips moving in time with him. “It’s not a contest.”
His laugh was genuine and rife with sensual promise. “You’re right. I win either way.”
10
“Admit it. This was all an evil plot to kill me, wasn’t it?”
Genevieve smiled at the rough voice rumbling above her. She lay with her head on his chest, studying the light creeping into the cabin from under the curtains. Her body actually hurt from the fun they’d had all night.
“Why do you say that?”
“I was doing great, on the road to mending, and then you decided to lay me flat with some superb sex.”
Though her chest puffed at that admission of “superb”, she encountered a small pang of regret. “Are you okay? We probably shouldn’t have overdone…” She raised her head, but he pressed it back down.
“Stop fretting. I’m fine.” He yawned, a jaw-cracking noise. “Just tired. Let’s sleep a bit before the next round, okay?”
He could sleep. She was too filled with nervous energy. She snuggled close until she heard his breathing even out and then separated their naked limbs from one another. Genevieve looked down at him, sleep relaxing his hard features until he appeared much younger than he was.
The bruises on his face were gone, the cuts just angry scars. They would fade in a few days, as well. Genevieve couldn’t help the surge of pride that soared through her at the sight.
She’d never attempted to use her gift on such a large-scale healing, and the possibilities it opened were endless. Maybe she could help other people too.
Helping people means you have to leave here. Are you ready for that?Genevieve shuddered. No, she didn’t know if she could leave.
She’d only done penance for two years. Was two years enough time to pay for killing someone?
Absolutely not. It was all his fault, making her think such things about leaving here and the future and happiness. She didn’t deserve any of that.
This was just what it was, a grab at some fleeting pleasure. The years stretched ahead of her, and she needed some small spurts of pleasure to hold her through it, that was all. Even prisoners had music and books and the occasional conjugal visit to keep them sane.
She eased from the bed, wincing a bit at the protest of her leg muscles. God, she needed a shower. Alex hadn’t seemed to mind his scent on her, but she wasn’t used to being marked by someone else.
