Lover Unleashed

TWENTY

As the pair of them were left alone together, Manny couldn’t get enough of looking at his patient. His stare just kept going over her face and her throat and her long, lovely hands. Jesus, she smelled the same, that perfume of hers burrowing into his nose and going straight to his cock.

“I knew you were real,” he repeated. Christ, it probably would have been better to say something else, anything else, but that was all he had, evidently: The relief at the fact that he wasn’t going crazy was just overwhelming.

At least until the luminous sheen of tears in her eyes registered . . . along with bottomless lack of hope in her stare.

He’d done all he could for her, and yet he had failed. Totally.

Although it wasn’t as if he hadn’t guessed her condition before now. That brother of hers hadn’t come into the human world again because shit was going so frickin’ well on this side.

“How are you doing?” he asked.

As he stared into her eyes, she slowly shook her head. “Alas . . . I am . . .”

When she didn’t finish, he reached for her hand and held on to it. God, her skin was soft. “Talk to me.”

“My legs . . . are no better.”

He cursed under his breath. He wanted to do an exam on her and look at her newest X-rays . . . maybe make arrangements to get her into St. Francis for another MRI.

But, as critical as all that assessment stuff was, it could wait. Right now, she was fragile emotionally, and he needed to help her deal with that first.

“No feeling still?” he said.

When she shook her head, a tear escaped and slid down her cheek. He hated that she was crying, but as God was his savior, he had never seen anything so beautiful as those eyes of hers.

“I am . . . e’er to be thus,” she said on a shudder.

“And ‘thus’ to you means precisely what?”

“Here. Upon this bed. Stuck.” Her eyes didn’t just hold his, but reached out and grabbed them. “I cannot countenance this torture. Not for a night more.”

She was dead fucking serious, and for a split second, he felt a terror that cut right through to his soul. Maybe in another female . . . or male, for that matter . . . a statement like that might have been an emotional release of despair. For her? It was a plan.

“You got Internet around here?” he asked.

“Internet?”

“A computer with access to the Web.”

“Ah . . . I believe there is one in the larger room beyond. Through that other door.”

“I’ll be right back. Stay here.”

That got a half smile. “Wherever shall I go, healer?”

“That’s what I’m going to show you.”

As he stood up, he had to resist the urge to kiss her, and he hurried out to make sure he didn’t. It took no time at all to find the Dell in question and get signed in with the help of a rather attractive blond nurse who introduced herself as Elena. Ten minutes later, he came back to Payne’s room and paused in the doorway.

She was fixing her hair, her hands trembling as she smoothed the crown of her head and felt down the length of her braid as if searching for defects.

“You don’t have to do that,” he murmured. “You look perfect to me.”

Instead of replying, she blushed and grew flustered—which was just about the best thing she couldn’t say. “Verily, you tie my tongue.”

Well, now, didn’t that take his mind into places it shouldn’t be going.

Staring across at her, he forced his head to change gears. “Payne, I’m your doctor, right?”

“Yes, healer.”

“And that means that I’m going to tell you the truth. No sandbagging, no hiding anything. I’m going to tell you exactly what I think and I’ll let you make up your own mind—and I need you to hear me on that, okay? The truth is all I’ve got, nothing more, nothing less.”

“Then you need not utter a thing, for I know too well where I sit.”

He glanced around the room. “Have you been out of here since you came back from the operation.”

“No.”

“So you’ve been staring at these four empty walls for a week, trapped on a bed, having other people feed you, bathe you, and deal with your bodily functions.”

“I do not need the reminder,” she said drily. “Thank you kindly—”

“How do you know where you’re at, then.”

Her frown was deep and dark . . . and sexy as hell. “That’s ridiculous. I am here.” She pointed to the mattress under her. “I have been here.”

“Exactly.” As she glared up at him, he closed the distance between them. “I’m going to pick you up and carry you, if you don’t mind?”

Now her brows popped. “Wherever to?”

“Out of this godforsaken cage.”

“But . . . I can’t. I have a—”

“I know.” Of course she would be worried about her catheter, and to save any embarrassment, he snagged a clean white towel off the bedside table. “I’ll be careful with it and you.”

After he made sure her equipment was secure, he untucked the top sheet that covered her and scooped her up. Her weight was solid against his upper body, and he took a moment just to hold her, her head on his shoulder, her long, long legs draped over his arm. Her perfume or soap or whatever it was reminded him of sandalwood and something else.

Oh, right . . . orgasms.

The ones he’d had when he’d dreamed about her.

Great, now he was pulling the blush-and-flush.

Payne cleared her throat. “Do I weigh too much? I am large for a female.”

“You are perfect for a female.”

“Not where I come from,” she muttered.

“Then they’re using the wrong standard.”

Manny carried his precious load through the door into the exam room. The place was empty, at his request—he’d asked the nurse—Elina? Elaina?—to give them some privacy.

No telling how this was going to go.

Keeping her in his hold, he sat down in front of the computer, and angled them so she could see the monitor. When she seemed more interested in staring at him, he didn’t mind in the slightest—but it was hardly conducive to concentration. Or the reason he’d gotten her out of that bed.

“Payne,” he said.

“What?”

Christ, that husky voice of hers. The damn thing was capable of ripping through him like a knife and making him like the bite of pain that came along with the wounding: To want her as he did and restrain himself was an agonizing pleasure that was somehow better than the best sex he’d ever had.

It was an antici-gasm at its finest.

“You’re supposed to be looking at the monitor,” he said as he brushed her cheek.

“I’d rather stare at you.”

“Oh, yeah . . . ?” As his voice grew as husky as hers, he knew it was time for some internal dialogue along the lines of oh-no-you-don’t-big-boy.

But damn.

“You make me feel something all over my body. Even in my legs.”

Well, sexual attraction would do that to someone. His circuits were sure as hell lit up like Manhattan at midnight.

Except there was a larger purpose to this Santa’s-lap routine, something that was so much more important than a quickie . . . or even a session that lasted a week, or a month, or God save them both, a year. It was about a lifetime. Hers.

“How about you look at the computer for a little bit, and then you can stare at me all you like?”

“All right.”

When she didn’t glance away from his face, he cleared his throat. “The computer, bambina.”

“Italian?”

“On my mother’s side.”

“And as for your father’s?”

He shrugged. “Never met him, so I couldn’t tell you.”

“Your sire was unknown?”

“Yup, pretty much.” Manny put his forefinger under her chin and tilted her head toward the computer. “Look.”

He tapped the monitor and knew when she focused properly because she frowned, her dark brows going down low over her diamond eyes.

“This is a friend of mine—Paul.” Manny did nothing to keep the pride out of his voice. “He was also a patient of mine. He kicks ass . . . and he’s been in that wheelchair for years.”

At first, Payne was not sure exactly what the image was. . . . It was moving; that was for certain. And it appeared to be—Wait. That was a human, and he was sitting in some kind of contraption that rolled o’er the ground. To ambulate, he pumped with his great arms, his face in a grimace, his concentration as fierce as any warrior’s would be in the height of battle.

Behind him, there was a field of three other men in similar mechanicals, and they were all fixated on him as if trying to close the e’er-widening distance betwixt them and their leader.

“Is it . . . a race?” she asked.

“That’s the Boston Marathon, wheelchair division. Paul’s coming up Heartbreak Hill, which is the hardest part.”

“He’s ahead of the others.”

“Wait for it—he’s only getting started. He didn’t just win that race.... He snapped it in half on his knee and lit it on fire.”

They watched the man win by a tremendous margin, his huge arms going like the wind, his chest pumping, the crowd on either side of the road roaring in support. As he broke through a ribbon, a stunning woman ran up and the pair embraced.

And in the human female’s arms? A babe with the same coloring as the man.

Payne’s healer leaned forward and moved a little black instrument around on the desk to change the picture on the screen. Gone was the moving image. . . . In its place was a static portrait of the man smiling. He was very handsome and glowed with health, and by his side were the same red-haired woman and that young with his blue eyes.

The man was still sitting down, and the chair he was on was more substantial than that which he had competed in—in fact it was much like the one Jane had brought in. His legs were out of proportion to the rest of him, small and tucked away beneath the seat, but you didn’t notice that—or even his rolling apparatus. You only saw the fierce strength and intelligence.

Payne reached out to the screen and touched the face of the man. “How long . . . ?” she asked hoarsely.

“Has he been paralyzed? About ten years or so. He was on his touring bike when he was hit by a drunk driver. I did seven operations on his back.”

“He is still in the . . . chair.”

“You see that woman next to him?”

“Yes.”

“She fell in love with him after the accident.”

Payne whipped her head around and stared up into her healer’s face. “He . . . sired young?”

“Yup. He can drive a car . . . he can have sex, obviously . . . and he lives a fuller life than most people who have two working legs. He’s an entrepreneur and an athlete and a hell of a man, and I’m proud to call him friend.”

As he spoke, her healer moved that black thing around and the pictures changed. There were ones of the man in other athletic contests, and then smiling by some kind of large building construction, and then with him seated before a red ribbon with a big pair of golden scissors in his hand.

“Paul is the mayor of Caldwell.” Her healer gently turned her face back to his. “Listen to me . . . and I want you to remember this. Your legs are part of you, but not all of you or what you are. So wherever we go after tonight, I need you to know that you are no less for the injury. Even if you are in a chair, you still stand as tall as you ever did. Height is just a vertical number—it doesn’t mean shit when it comes to your character or the kind of life you live.”

He was dead serious, and if she were to be truthful with herself, she fell a little in love with him in that moment.

“Can you move the . . . that thing?” she whispered. “So that I may see more?”

“Here—you work the mouse.” He took her hand and placed it on the warm, oblong scooter. “Left and right . . . up and down . . . See? It shifts the arrow on the screen. Click this when you want to see something.”

It took her a couple of tries, but then she got the knack of it . . . and it was absurd, but just making her way around the different areas on the screen and choosing what she wanted to look at gave her a dizzy sense of energy.

“I can do this,” she said. Except then she got embarrassed. Considering how simple it was, it was too small a victory to crow over.

“That’s the point,” her healer said in her ear. “You can do anything.”

She shivered at that. Or likely it was because of more than merely his words.

Refocusing on the computer, she liked the pictures of the man in the races best. His expression of agonized effort and indomitable willpower was something she had long felt burning in her own chest. But then the one of the family together was also among her favorites. They were humans, but the bonds seemed so strong between them. There was love, such love there.

“What do you say?” her healer murmured.

“I think you came at the perfect time. That’s what I say.”

She shifted in his strong arms and stared up at him. As she sat in his lap, she wished she could feel more of him. All of him. But from the waist down there was only a nonspecific warmth, one that was better than the chill that had persisted since the operation, yes . . . but there was so much more to be had.

“Healer . . .” she whispered, her eyes going to his mouth.

His lids lowered and he seemed to stop breathing. “Yeah . . . ?”

“May I . . .” She licked her lips. “May I kiss you?”

He seemed to wince, as if in pain, but that scent he carried roared, so she knew that he wanted what she did.

“Jesus . . . Christ,” he bit out.

“Your body wants this,” she said, bringing her hand up to the soft hair at the nape of his neck.

“And that’s the problem.” At her look of confusion, he leveled a hot stare right at her breasts. “It wants a hell of a lot more than just a kiss.”

Suddenly, there was a shift inside her body, one so subtle it was hard to pin down. But she felt something different throughout her torso and all her limbs. A tingling? She was too wrapped up in the sexual energy between them to worry about defining it.

Snaking another arm around his neck, she said, “What else does it want.”

Her healer groaned deep in his throat, and the sound gave her the same shot of power as when she’d a weapon in her hand. To feel that again? It was like a drug.

“Tell me, healer,” she demanded. “What else does it want.”

His mahogany eyes were on fire as they locked on her own. “Everything. It wants every square inch of you—outside . . . and on the inside. To the point where I’m not sure you’re ready for how much I’m after.”

“I decide,” she countered, a strange, pounding need taking root in her gut. “I decide what I can and cannot handle, yes?”

His half smile was all evil. In a good way. “Yes, ma’am.”

As a low, rhythmic sound filled the air, she was surprised to realize it was her. Purring. “Do I have to ask again, healer?”

There was a pause. And then he slowly shook his head back and forth. “Nope. I’ll give you . . . exactly what you want.”