Chapter 10
Noah closed the door to the guest room, shucked off his jeans, and stepped out of them.
Not my jeans. Hannah’s husband’s.
He stared at the pile of denim as if it held the answer to a question he couldn’t put into words. The wind was howling outside his window, debris hitting the wood like hail, but the hurricane was nothing compared to the storm inside his soul.
What had started as a shitty day in his everyday life had spun on its head and left him battered and worn. If it weren’t for Hannah, he didn’t know what he’d be like right now.
Hannah.
He sat down on his bed, rubbing the stubble along his cheeks.
She was a stranger, not his saving grace.
He’d all but kidnapped her, for Christ’s sake.
He stared into space, feeling the desperation that had coursed through his bloodstream when he’d aimed that gun at her and demanded she help him.
If she hadn’t, he might not be alive right now, much less aching for her.
And he was aching.
She was so tired she’d all but collapsed into sleep, showing a vulnerability at odds with the way she handled herself during the day. She was strong and determined, bright and outspoken, and he liked her far more than he had any right to like someone he’d treated so badly.
He’d put her in a difficult position, never intending to stay in her company after she’d stitched up his wounds. But once he’d seen how ill-prepared she was to weather the storm, he’d had to step in and force her to take the help she wouldn’t accept when he’d offered.
Now she and Brady were under his roof. The poor kid was obviously missing his father and had decided Noah made a suitable replacement. The speed with which Brady adopted Noah made him suspect Hannah hadn’t brought any other man into that space since her husband died.
A steady stream of salty air came in through the tiniest space between the wood and window molding, bringing the scent of the storm.
They were physically safe here, but having Hannah and her son with him changed things a great deal, lending a wildcard value to the next few days he hadn’t been anticipating.
He held the ChemLight to the entry wound on his thigh.
The skin around the stitches was slightly inflamed and angry, but it wasn’t clear to him if it was infected just yet.
He made his way back out to the living room and retrieved his go bag, swallowing a strong dose of antibiotics dry before climbing back into bed.
Hannah had fallen asleep before she’d been able to look at the exit wound, which was just as well since he’d had a hard-on he didn’t feel like putting on display.
It had started when she walked into him in the darkness, their bodies connecting and completing the circuit of electricity like a stun gun lighting up the night.
The adrenaline that had been pumping through his body all day had primed his system, the idea of sex like a grounding rod for that extra energy, the path of least resistance so difficult to deny.
That was all it was.
He leaned back against the pillows, pulling the fluffy covers over half his body and leaving the other half exposed to the air. He could see her face in the glow of the ChemLight, so perfect and shining back at him like he’d wished it would all day. Punchy, she’d said. She was tired.
Right.
He would have liked to have woken her up with kisses.
Bad idea, Ryker.
His mind was full of them tonight.
He could have kept his thoughts tightly reined in if she hadn’t wanted him, too.
He’d washed her hair, her sexy sounds of pleasure almost more than he could bear.
It was a good thing the kid was there to rule out any funny business, because the devil on Noah’s shoulder wanted to see what other noises he could get her to make—maybe without even waking her up.
Fuck.
He slipped his hand into his briefs and fisted it firmly around his cock, stroking his length while he imagined what he would like to do to her, his mind hearing the sexy sounds she would make when he really turned her on.
There was a knock at the door and he pulled his hand from beneath the covers. “Yes?”
She opened it, the ChemLight once again illuminating her face. “I forgot to check your wound.”
“It’s okay. I looked at it already.”
“The back? You can’t even see it.”
“I took some antibiotics just to be safe.”
She sat on the edge of the bed. “You were bleeding on the way up the stairs. I need to make sure it didn’t come open.”
“Okay.” He rolled onto his side. Instead of going down, his cock was begging for her touch. When her fingers grazed the hair on the back of his leg, he moaned reflexively.
“I think it’s infected. What did you take?”
“Eight hundred milligrams of penicillin.”
“Hopefully that will take care of it. Roll over.”
Fuck. “I already checked the entry wound.”
“Would you just let me see?”
He rolled over, his cock tenting the blankets dramatically, the glow of the ChemLight casting heavy shadows. He might as well have been naked.
Her mouth opened into a cupid’s bow, her stare firmly on his cock.
“Sorry,” he said.
She moved her light closer to his body and pulled back the covers to expose the wound on his other leg, dangerously close to his erection.
“This side isn’t as bad,” she said, leaning over his leg, and his dick bounced as if trying to get her attention.
Over here!
She pulled the covers back over his thigh. “It’s been a long day for both of us,” she said. “I think I’ll go back to bed.”
“Good idea.”
She didn’t move.
He didn’t breathe.
The air between them was as charged as the air outside. She lifted her chin but didn’t face him. “I’ve missed being with a man more than I would have thought possible.”
He groaned. “Hannah.” Her shoulder was within reach and he touched it, letting her silky skin slide across the pads of his fingers.
He heard her breath catch.
Just from that one touch.
“Come here,” he said huskily.
She didn’t move. “I’m as bad as my son, latching on to you like this.”
“We need each other tonight.”
She turned her head, meeting his eyes for the first time, and he saw the desire that filled them, molten hot like lava and desperate for him. She touched his chest, her fingers curling in his chest hair, and he opened his mouth as he exhaled shakily.
She froze for a split second, cursing under her breath before shooting out of bed.
He sat up. “Hannah?”
He heard Brady’s small voice calling for her and fell back against the bed. She wasn’t coming back. Disappointment gutted him. She’d been right there, as desperate for their connection as he was, her fingers on his skin a tantalizing sensation.
He sighed heavily. It was for the best. Nothing good could possibly come from sleeping with her. She was obviously hurting and admittedly exhausted. If they’d come together, he knew in his heart he’d just be taking further advantage of her, and that sure as hell wasn’t right.
No, better he remember why he came here in the first place.
Lizzie.
Yes, he needed to focus. He needed to find out what really happened to his sister. He mentally laid out a plan to learn everything he could about her association with Joe Fielding and exactly what she’d known. He’d start in her condo, but he’d need to get into the hospital, too.
Which meant the lovely Dr. Fielding would remain essential to his mission, and he would not be letting her go anytime soon. He just needed to keep their relationship on level footing and not give in to the temptation to make love to her before he found out what he needed to know.