Page 51 of Nicole's Shelter

“How are you feeling? Queasy or weak?”

She felt ridiculously weak, but it had nothing to do with her concussion. “I’m okay.” Reaching back, she explored the stitches on her scalp. “How many did he put in?”

“Seven by my count.”

“How many did he put in you? And where?”

“Upper shoulder. No stitches. Doc just cleaned it out and bandaged it up. The jacket took most of the damage.”

She pushed her hair behind her ears. “I must be a mess.”

“Not so bad.”

She snorted and heard his low chuckle in reply. “Clean scrubs and a nap will make you feel better. I’ve got the top ready for you.”

Her fingers toyed with the hem of the shirt. “I’m really supposed to take a nap?” That effort was doomed. Her thoughts were consumed with Rick, her working senses overwhelmed by his presence. The longer they were close like this, the easier it was to forget the inconvenience of her injuries.

“It’s standard procedure,” he said, taking the t-shirt she held out. “You’ve been through a rough, umm, couple of, ah, days.”

Oddly, despite the recent chaos—or maybe because of it—she didn’t feel remotely embarrassed standing in front of him in her bra and baggy scrubs. When he put the clean top in her hands, she caught his fingers. Slowly, listening for any kind of reaction, she slid her palm upward over his strong forearm to caress his muscled biceps.

His breath hitched and she felt him tremble. She dared to hope he wasn’t as clinical and all-business as he let on. The top drifted to the floor, forgotten, as both of her hands were occupied with mapping his arms. Unless he’d changed, the t-shirt he wore was gray and tucked into the faded denim of his jeans. Using his shoulders as a reference point, she took a tiny step closer.

On a sigh, his hands landed softly on her hips, his thumbs teasing her exposed skin. She leaned closer until she could feel the heat of his body as her own, feel his ragged breath against her cheek.

“Nicole.”

Unwilling to analyze what else she heard in his voice, she focused on the desire that matched her own. “Kiss me, Rick. Please?”

“Did Doc give you something?”

“Nothing too strong.” Smiling, she tipped her face up, hoping she didn’t look like an idiot, and laced her fingers loosely behind his neck. She wanted to get closer, but his hands held firm. She wondered if he realized how his thumbs were caressing and teasing her. Could he see how even that small contact melted her?

“Kiss me like you did for the camera at the airport.” She needed to know that hadn’t all been an act.

“Later. You’re hurt and need some rest.”

“Not feeling anything but you right now.”

He groaned. “This is the adrenaline.”

“No,” She shook her head slowly. As long as his thumbs kept stroking her, she knew she had a chance to take what she wanted in this moment. He could leave, Clifton could catch her. This opportunity might be her last. “This is all me, wanting you.” She moistened her lips with her tongue. “Don’t you want me?”

His mouth crushed hers in a searing kiss and his big hands slid over her hips, pulling her close enough to feel the real answer to her question straining against his fly.

She gasped, delighted to discover his desperation equaled hers. The kiss at the airport had been cautious compared to this. It was heady, exhilarating. He lit a fire through her system as he stroked the shell of her ear and pressed kisses along her neck. She rolled her hips, needing more.

He bent her back and drew her bra straps off her shoulders with his teeth, making her laugh even as he closed his mouth over one aching nipple.

Her head spun as he turned suddenly to sit on the edge of the bed. She let him guide her until she straddled his lap. Tracing his face with her fingertips, she moaned as he suckled her finger into the heat of his mouth. Reaching down, she tugged his shirt free, pushing it up and over his head.

The warm skin and rough hair were a shock to her sensitized palms. It seemed every nerve in her body was tuned to him. She let her memory fill in the details of his broad chest that her damaged vision couldn’t provide.

Yet.

He stroked her back, making her arch and giving him easy access to her breasts. His hands and mouth were cruising across her skin. Though they were touching, her lack of sight kept her on edge, never quite knowing what to expect.

More thrilling than it should be, she reveled in it, learning to judge his movements with her other senses. The way his muscles braced when he shifted, the sound of his breath, the feel of it on her skin. If they didn’t slow down, she’d climax before they were even undressed.

---