MacNamaras Lady

Chapter Four

T.S. drew Missy into his arms. He’d been waiting to do it again since he’d seen her in the waiting room, looking so concerned about him. He kept his arms loose around her, not wanting her to feel confined. “It’s okay, babe.” He rocked her back and forth in his arms. He hated to see her like this. Missy was always so strong, so self-assured. But tonight had shaken that confidence.

She swiped at her eyes. Most of her makeup was long gone, but she still looked beautiful to him. “I’m sorry.” She sniffed and offered him a watery smile. “I don’t usually lose it like that.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” he solemnly promised. She gave a hiccup of laughter and her smile became more real.

As if suddenly realizing she was in his arms, she tried to take a step back. T.S. kept his arms locked loosely around her. “Give yourself another minute.” He kept his voice low and soft. She might not need the hug but he sure as hell did.

When he thought of her walking back to her car alone from the party he broke out into a cold sweat. What if he hadn’t decided to wait? What if she’d truly been alone? He didn’t want to contemplate what might have happened.

He pressed his hand against the small of her back, easing her forward until her head rested on his shoulder. She gave a sigh of relief and gave up the fight. Her arms slowly crept around his waist, hugging him.

In spite of the throbbing in his arm he felt great. Better than great. Missy was pressed against his body. Her chest rested against his. Her legs brushed his.

His dick sprang to attention. Oh yeah. Nothing wrong with that part of his anatomy. He brushed a light kiss against her temple while he continued to rub his hand up and down her spine. Calming her. Soothing them both.

She shivered and he frowned. Was she still chilled? In shock? Missy’s perfume mingled with sweat and a slight tinge of blood. A not so lovely reminder of their evening.

“You need to get a hot bath. You’re going to be sore tomorrow.” There might be no lasting injuries, but T.S. knew the psychological effects would reverberate for a long, long time.

“I will as soon as you’re gone.” She raised her head, took a deep breath and stepped back. This time he let her go.

He rubbed his hand over his jawline while he pondered how to tell her about his plans without having her blow her top. There was no way to do it. “I’m staying.” Blunt and to the point. Just like him.

“What?” Her eyes widened and she took another step back, which pissed him off. She should know by now he’d never hurt her.

“Look, you’ve been through a trauma. A shock.” He glanced around her apartment for the first time since entering. There was a fairly comfortable-looking sofa and two chairs in the living room area. The sofa was a rich, chocolate brown with overstuffed pillows. “I’ll sleep on the couch, but I’m not leaving you alone.”

“That’s ridiculous.” A spark ignited in her eyes. T.S. almost smiled at the flash of temper. That was more like his Missy.

He ignored the possessiveness of his words. He knew she wasn’t his. Not really. Not for keeps. And that was fine by him. He didn’t do commitment. But he sure as hell wanted right now with her. Beyond that, he simply wouldn’t feel right about leaving her alone. She might think she was fine but he knew better.

A trauma like she’d been through would come back at the most unexpected times. He was very familiar with nightmares and had plenty of demons of his own.

“It’s not ridiculous.” Feeling slightly lightheaded, he headed for one of the chairs and sank into it. He took a good look around Missy’s home. It was just like her. Classy.

A dark wood entertainment center sat across from the sofa and housed a flat screen television, a stereo and a DVR. A bookcase in the corner was filled with books and picture frames but it wasn’t overflowing. Everything looked as though it had a place. A rug in rich tones of brown, beige and green covered the hardwood floor. The small dining area was adjacent to the living room. A table and four chairs sat beneath a pewter and glass chandelier.

He glanced at Missy. She was still standing just beyond the front door with her coat still on and her purse over her shoulder. She looked slightly lost and bewildered. He shoved out of the chair and went to her. “It’s just for one night. You could use the company and, quite frankly, I could use someone to keep a watch on me.” He hated playing the sympathy card, but a man did what he had to do.

“Oh. Of course. I didn’t think of that. Of course you can sleep on the sofa.” She frowned. “Maybe you should take the bed and I’ll take the sofa.”

He had to close his eyes against the sight of her when she casually mentioned him taking the bed. It was all too easy for him to imagine sharing her bed, with her. The sheets would smell like her skin. Every muscle in his body tightened in anticipation. The pain in his arm was nothing compared to the throbbing of his cock.

He almost salivated at the thought of her naked skin pressed against his. After he’d tasted and touched every square inch of her delectable body, he could lie on his back and let her ride him. She could be in control of their passion, taking him as deep and as hard as she wanted.

His erection twitched, becoming more uncomfortable by the second. Thank God the ugly green top they’d given him at the hospital covered the front of his pants. He didn’t think Missy was ready to deal with his raging hard-on just yet.

He heard a light swoosh of fabric and tensed as her hand touched his good arm. “T.S.?”

He opened his eyes and drank in her concern like a parched man after forty days in the desert. “I’ll be fine, Missy. Promise.”

She nodded. “If you say so.” She looked around as if trying to figure out what she should do next.

“Here, let me get this for you.” He eased her purse strap down her shoulder and then pulled her coat off, hooking both of them on a rack near the door.

She was still wearing the sexy blue dress, but it was torn and stained now. The scratch marks were visible above the neckline. “What did the doctor say about them?” He motioned to her injuries.

She shrugged and her hands fluttered upward to cover the marks. “I need to keep them clean but they’re not serious. They’ll be gone in a week or so.”

Outwardly they might disappear but inwardly the scars would take much longer to heal. “I’m going to run you a bath.” Not giving her time to protest, he started down the short hallway and found her bathroom on the left-hand side.

It was painted a pale green with crisp white towels waiting on a shelf. The counter was lined with bottles and lotions. It smelled like Missy. T.S. took a deep breath and smiled. She was such a girly girl. He liked that about her. She was strong but didn’t sacrifice her femininity. If anything, she embraced it.

“What are you doing?” There was an edge of near panic to her voice. He ignored it as he reached down, put the plug in the drain and turned on the taps. When the temperature was right, he straightened.

“I’m running you a bath.”

Missy felt as though her life was spiraling out of control. All she’d wanted was to come home, curl up by herself and lick her wounds. Instead, she’d cried all over T.S., had somehow agreed to let him stay the night, and now he’d invaded her bathroom.

He cupped her shoulders in his large hands and leaned down. The heat from his palm seeped through the thin fabric of her dress, making her realize just how cold she was.

She thought he might kiss her again. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that possibility. She was still reeling from the last kiss and that hardly qualified as a real kiss. More of a slight touching of lips.

“Go get undressed. I’ll watch the bath for you.” He turned her and gave her a slight push toward her bedroom.

Missy took the reprieve as a chance to regroup. Hurrying to her room, she shut the door and leaned against it. T.S. was staying the night.

“Get a grip,” she muttered. He wasn’t sleeping with her. The man had been stabbed. Had stitches. He just needed someone to keep an eye on him for the night.

“Missy?” A heavy knock came on the door. “You okay?”

No, she wasn’t okay, but she wasn’t telling him that. She also wasn’t ready for him to be in her bedroom. Not now. Maybe not ever. “I’ll just be a minute.”

She shoved away from the door and began to strip off her dress. It went straight in the trash. Not only was the rip in a place that couldn’t easily be repaired, she knew she’d never be able to wear the dress again. Not with the memories attached to it.

She kicked off her shoes and stripped off her stockings, tossing them on top of her dress. Her underwear followed. She wanted no reminders of this night.

Missy’s hands were shaking as she pulled on her thick terrycloth robe and tightened the belt around her waist. Her bedroom was her oasis, done exactly as she wanted in shades of green and brown. Usually it relaxed her after a long day but tonight it seemed cold and empty.

She hurried to the door and yanked it open. T.S. was propped against the wall across from her. He should have looked ridiculous in dress pants and a hospital scrub top. Instead, he was dangerous. Tempting.

His shoulders were huge and his forearms thickly muscled. Even the white bandage wrapped around his upper left arm couldn’t detract from his air of danger. If anything it added to it.

His black hair hung loose around his shoulders and his golden-brown eyes watched her. His jawline was dark with stubble. He shifted his body, but his gaze never left her. “Ready for your bath?”

She nodded, not quite knowing what to say. The moment was so…intimate. Ripe with sexual tension. Her breasts tingled and she was damp between her thighs. She put her head down and brushed past him. She caught a whiff of male sweat and woodsy cologne and it made her pussy clench.

She started to close the bathroom door but his hand blocked her. “Don’t lock the door. Just in case.”

In case what? She certainly wasn’t going to call out and ask him for help. Not while she was wet and naked. Okay, skip that thought. The idea of T.S. seeing her in such a position didn’t exactly freak her out as much as she thought it would.

Her body heated from the inside out as though it liked the idea. Her skin felt flushed and sensitive. Even the air brushing over it felt like a caress.

T.S. finally stepped back and she shut the door. He’d found several candles and lit them. Missy liked the softer lighting and was glad not to have to bathe under the bright overhead ones.

Her bathwater was waiting. She dipped her fingers in and almost moaned. It was perfect. She removed her bathrobe and hung it on the back of the door before stepping into the tub. She groaned as she sank into the hot water. Leaning back against the edge, she finally let herself relax and soak away the tension of the night.

She still couldn’t believe she’d been attacked. If not for T.S.— “Don’t think about it.” She closed her eyes, determined to push those dark thoughts from her mind. A single tear slid down her cheek and she swiped it away. She was safe. That was all that mattered.

A slight sound made her eyes pop open. The door handle was turning. He wouldn’t…would he?

He did.

T.S. appeared in the doorway with a glass of wine in one hand. Missy curled her legs up and wrapped her arms around them, trying desperately to preserve her modesty. “What are you doing? Get out of here?”

He ignored her protests and set the glass on the edge of the tub. “I figured you could use something to help relax you. You sip on that while I wash your back.”

“I don’t need anyone to wash my back.” Missy was mortified and half turned-on. She didn’t know whether to laugh at him or smack him. The man had some nerve inviting himself to stay at her apartment, taking it over and then barging in while she was having a bath.

“Sure you do.” He lifted the glass and brought it to her lips. “Have some. I found it in your refrigerator, so I know you like it.”

She sighed and gave in to the inevitable. Short of jumping out of the bath and pushing him out the door, he wasn’t leaving. And she wasn’t about to give up the slight covering sitting in the tub gave her.

She tugged the glass from his hand and took a sip, needing something to fortify her against T.S. The man was magnetic and tugged on all her suppressed longings. He made her want to jump his very sexy bones. He also wasn’t right for her. They were too different.

He was football and beer. She was the symphony and champagne. He was blue-collar. She was white-collar. He was rough and tough and had “bad boy” written all over him. He needed a danger label tattooed on his forehead.

Her childhood and adolescent years had been filled with blue-collared bad boys. Her father had been one in his youth and so were her brothers. They drank too much, didn’t consider anything beyond football to be cultural and often ended up in prison because of drunken brawls. She didn’t want that in her life. Had worked hard to leave it behind her.

Not that T.S. drank to excess. On the contrary, he seemed very controlled when it came to his consumption of alcohol. But they were different in so many ways. It didn’t make sense to start something that could only end badly.

Then there was the added problem of having their best friends married to one another. Any relationship between her and T.S. would be short-lived at best and then where would that leave them? They’d still have to see one another when they socialized with Candy and Lucas. It was inevitable. It would also be awkward and tense.

The glass made a clinking sound as he plucked it from her fingers and set it back on the side of the tub. He picked up a thick facecloth and dipped it into the water. He reached across her, his forearm brushing hers as he grabbed the soap from the dish. She watched his hands, calloused and strong, rub the soap on the cloth until he had a froth of bubbles.

“Lean forward.”

She really shouldn’t. She should tell him to leave. Deep down she knew he would if she truly protested. But did she really want him to go? The answer was surprising. No, she didn’t. She didn’t want to be alone.

She sat forward and buried her face against her knees. The cloth moved up and down her back, not just washing her skin, but massaging the muscles and working out the tension.

Gradually, she began to relax as the heat from the water and T.S.’ hands began to work their magic.

“That’s it,” he murmured. “Lean back.”

As if in a dream, Missy slowly sat back. The move meant she couldn’t keep her legs tucked close to her chest. She was forced to cross her arms over her breasts. Which was stupid. He could still see the rest of her.

“Oh, babe.” T.S. sat back and rubbed the soap between his hands, working up a thick lather. “I always knew you were beautiful, but even my imagination wasn’t this good.”

There was no doubting the sincerity in his words and Missy was flattered in spite of herself. She’d never been one to fall prey to flattery, especially by men who called her “babe”. She hated cutesy nicknames. But for some reason it sounded sexy when it came from T.S.’ lips.

He rested his hands on her shoulders and began to work his way down her arms, stopping when he got to her elbows. He waited, not demanding anything. Missy slowly unlocked her arms and allowed him to continue soaping her forearms and hands. The action left her breasts totally bare.

The air was steamy and perfumed with the scent of soap and hot male. His actions were slow. Unhurried. As if he had all the time in the world and all he wanted to do was touch her.

His gaze settled on her breasts. They weren’t overly large, but they weren’t exactly small either. Her nipples tightened the longer he watched. He reached for the soap and created a thick lather yet again. The bar of soap was dumped alongside her wineglass, forgotten as he worked his way down her collarbone, taking care to clean the scratches even though the doctor at the hospital already had seen to them.

Missy barely even noticed the slight sting. It was getting much harder to breathe. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly. T.S.’ hands were getting closer to her breasts, not quite touching them.

She arched toward him. An involuntary action that felt totally right. She wanted his touch. Needed it to replace the feel of other hands reaching for her, groping her. He cupped the mounds, his thumbs circling but never touching her nipples.

She gave a soft cry of demand, of need.

“I love your nipples. They’re bigger than I suspected. Rosy-beige like I imagined they would be.”

It was hard to wrap her mind around the fact that T.S. had fantasized about her breasts. Right now she didn’t care what he thought. She wanted him to touch her.

He brushed his thumb lightly over the distended buds. Missy shivered and cried out, her legs shifting restlessly in the water. T.S. lightly pinched her nipples, stimulating them even more. She was surprised the water in the tub wasn’t boiling. She felt hot and needy.

Sex was usually fun and mutually pleasurable. It had never felt anything like this—hot, dangerous and out-of-control. Missy knew she should be frightened. Oh, not of T.S. He’d never hurt her physically. But of the intensity that seemed to exist between them.

She’d felt it from the first moment they’d met. It had simmered between them at each subsequent meeting, both of them doing their best to ignore it. She wasn’t looking for anything permanent. Not now. It wasn’t in her plan. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy this moment.

She wasn’t deluded. She knew this kind of attraction was rare. That made it very hazardous to her peace of mind, to her emotions. She could come to care for him way too much. And he was a loner. She knew from Candy that T.S. wasn’t the kind of man to settle down. That was fine with her. He wasn’t the type of man she wanted when she did finally settle.

But that didn’t mean they couldn’t enjoy what was between them. Stoke the heat that simmered and see what happened.

Missy knew her reasoning was faulty but she didn’t care. She could have easily died tonight. She might never have had the chance to explore the attraction between them. She wanted to embrace life, to celebrate the fact she was alive.

She needed this man. Right here. Right now. She’d deal with tomorrow when it came.

He cupped some water in his hands and sluiced it over her sensitized breasts. She whimpered. She needed more. Had to have more.

As if he’d heard her thoughts, T.S. lowered his head.