Box of 1Night Stands: 21 Sizzling Nights Page 6

  “Damn wall jumped out of nowhere,” he mumbled under his breath then raised his voice. “You know, it’s not nice to make a man in a wheelchair chase you down.”

  She froze mid-step, turning to him with a smile. “You’re right, of course. Would you like me to push you?”

  Anger filled him at her suggestion. He slashed the air in front of him and glowered. “Hell, no! And what are you doing, anyway?”

  She pressed her lips together tight as she stepped into see-through black panties. Damn it, there were little beads throughout the fabric. With his mouth watering, he wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans then wheeled to the trashcan to remove the used condom from his developing erection.

  “I’m getting ready to go. We had our fun, but it’s apparent you’re not happy about my profession. I figured it best to leave.”

  “Leave? But it’s only—” he threw a desperate glance to the clock, “—eleven-thirty. Do you have to rush home?” He “forgot” all about his original plan of getting sex and leaving right away. Things changed.

  Damn it.

  She stopped mid-action, her bra half on, studying him. “I had the distinct impression the evening had ended. You got laid, like you wanted. I got to try sex with someone who wouldn’t hit me, like I sought. Win, win, right?”

  Growling, he wheeled closer to her. She couldn’t wait to leave the room.

  To leave him.

  His heart contracted, making his tone harsh. He’d never let her know how much he longed for her to stay. “And now you’re ready to move on? Find a man who can sweep you off your feet? I thought you were different. I thought you didn’t care about my legs. How stupid of me.”

  “The only person obsessed with your legs in this room is you. I don’t give a damn if you ever walk again. I like you just fine the way you are, thank you very much. Even when you are being a self-centered ass.”

  She finished clasping her bra, and he warred with himself whether or not to grovel. He didn’t want her to go…not yet. He needed to know more about her. Did he dare ask her to stay, and risk forcing her into something she sought to escape? Or did she speak the truth that she was leaving because she thought he disliked her?

  If so, he owed her an apology.

  “Look, I’m sorry. Me and therapists don’t have the best track record. Everyone I’ve met has pretty much run screaming from the room after five minutes.”

  “Gee, I wonder why,” she drawled, pursing her lips in thought. He avoided her probing stare, deciding instead to study the beading on her bra. It was far more prudent—not to mention stunning—than her knowing gaze. She cleared her throat, so he raised his head, with great reluctance.

  Her brow cocked, and she rested her hands on her hips. Clad in black, transparent panties and the matching bra—how many had she brought anyway?—she presented a tantalizing picture. He’d be willing to give her anything, tell her anything, if she’d just come back onto his lap. Wetting his lips, he decided the best course of action to achieve his goal was to confess and beg.

  “I might be to blame. On one or two occasions, if that.” He grinned, stealing a quick peek at her face. “There, see, I’m not a pathological liar. I just lose my temper now and again. Come over here so we can talk some more. Don’t go. Please?”

  “Are you sure you want to talk?”

  She shot a pointed glance at his lap. His cheeks heated. Dear God, was he…blushing? Scurrying to hide the evidence of his lingering desire, not to mention his red cheeks, he tucked his cock away and zipped his pants. She laughed and strolled to his side.

  “Want another glass of champagne?”

  He raked her from head to toe and smirked. “As long as you serve it to me dressed in those. Nothing else.”

  “Deal. Why don’t you go get in bed while I fill these up?” She fondled his shoulder as she walked by, leaving a hint of perfume to tease his senses. Grinning, he wheeled into the room with lightness in his heart. She hadn’t finished with him yet, after all.

  Maybe, they’d just begun.

  ***

  Tiffany poured the champagne, smiling as she remembered him admiring her breasts. All he had to do to make her tremble for another round of sex was look at her. Ridiculous! She’d been sure, when she saw his panic at her profession, their night had ended. Instead, he wanted her to stay. Begged her, in a way.

  She had a feeling it hadn’t come easy to him.

  He appeared to be dead-set on the fact that she would leave him for his disability. If she could track down the bitch who had ruined his self-esteem, she’d give her a piece of her mind. This beautiful, brave, courageous hero had been brought down by a girl too icy to handle a real man.

  Not just the damage done to his legs, but everything else he’d lost, risked, and given so people in this country could live free. In the other room, a modern day warrior awaited her. His sacrifices should never be scoffed at, or taken lightly. If she had any say in it, tonight she’d restore his confidence. Then he could move on with his life, ready to find someone who’d appreciate everything he’d done for his country.

  Wait, why did the thought of him moving on to another woman make her heart ache, while her head screamed profanities? Did she want more than a one-night affair? Did she seek to see him, outside of this hotel?

  Would he like to see her again?

  She sighed, headed into the room, plastered a smile on, and carried the reinforcements in. She froze at the sight awaiting her. He rested in the bed, chest bare, and smoky-eyed.

  With lust.

  For her.

  His pants and black boxers were tossed on the chair beside the bed, so she’d have to assume he wore no clothes under the infernal blanket.

  It needed to go. Now.

  She opened her mouth, ready to order him to remove the blanket, when she noticed the way he clung to it, wringing it in his hands. He looked…nervous. But, why?

  His legs. He feared she’d run if she saw the scars. Didn’t he realize she’d see them as what they were? Remembrances of his heroism? There could be no shame in that. Never.

  “Here you go, Matt.” Sinking to the bed to sit at his hips, she gave him his glass. She caressed his knee before leaning back on her elbow. “You look nervous. There’s nothing to fear from me. I promise not to bite. Too hard.”

  He grinned, but she didn’t miss the flash of indecision. “I don’t know. You look pretty ferocious to me.”

  “Mm hmm. All five foot of me, huh?”

  “Appearances can be deceiving.”

  “Indeed.”

  His death grip on the comforter relaxed as he took another sip of his champagne. When he fingered a lock of her hair, her breath caught in her throat. The tingling spread from her scalp, all through her body, until it pooled at the juncture of her thighs. She caressed his chest and leaned closer to steal a kiss. He tasted of champagne and masculinity. Also of sex and lust.

  His scent filled her nose, intoxicating her more than the alcohol ever could. She put it down to free both her palms. He downed his then shoved the empty glass at her. She swept her tongue into his mouth, desperate to taste more of him. All of him. She played with the hair on his chest, allowing her fingers to drift down to his lap.

  He tensed when she tugged at his covering, and captured her arm. Tearing his lips from hers, he reached for the lamp on the nightstand.

  “Why are you turning out the light?” She dragged his hand away from the switch, pinning it onto the mattress.

  “Well, I’m naked. And you don’t want to see what’s under there. Trust me.”

  He jerked free and reached for the switch once more.

  “But, I do. I want to see every glorious inch of you. I want to watch you as I take you in my mouth; I want to see you cry out in pleasure as you come inside of me. I do. Trust me.”

  She leaned down and took a nipple in her mouth. The light remained on, and he gripped her shoulders as if he would never let her go.

  “Tiffany….”

  “What? Do
you like this?” She nibbled a bit, pulling the comforter away from his lap—just one inch. Kissing a path down his abdomen, she laughed when his muscles jumped at her touch. “I see you do.”

  “I think you’d like it more if I hit the lights.” His voice emerged breathy, and yet somehow guttural.

  “You’re wrong.”

  She straddled his hips and seized his mouth with her own. His fingers massaged her shoulders. When he deepened the kiss, he stole her breath. He trembled, and she sensed it wasn’t from lust alone. She perceived she’d struck a chord deep inside him. He’d placed his confidence in her, and she’d not let him down.

  Pressing him onto his back, she allowed him time to adjust his position. Once he’d reclined, she licked him from his neck, down his hard chest, over his abdomen, and lower until she reached the comforter. Pushing the edge aside, she reached underneath to close her fingers around his smooth shaft.

  God, he filled her hand. She’d known he had a big penis, but hadn’t realized how huge. Holy mother of God, she’d hit the jackpot.

  He moaned, tossing his head when she lowered herself over his body, taking the comforter with her. She paused to take in the splendid sight of him. His lids were closed, more than likely because he feared her reaction. She studied him, then moaned while she rubbed his disfigured thighs. Red, raw slashes crisscrossed across the otherwise smooth skin, making a vicious design. In some spots, the hair had been shaved or melted off, and had started to regrow.

  His opened his eyes a little, his vulnerability raw and exposed.

  “You are magnificent. Every inch of your body shines.” She traced the lines on his legs, never breaking eye contact. “Every mark on you, every scar, is a badge of honor. Every flaw, every imperfection, proof of your heroism. I can’t get over how gorgeous you are. You’re amazing.”

  “Oh, God…I’m not. I’m broken. Not a hero.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. You are a hero, and you’re not broken. And, I’m the luckiest girl in America. For tonight, you’re mine. All mine.”

  “Tiffany….”

  She smiled, pretending not to see his unshed tears, and closed her mouth around his penis. His back arched and a tortured groan broke free.

  She sucked, licked, and tormented him, enjoying each tantalizing taste. She caressed him as her tongue stroked him, eager to taste every inch of his silky shaft she could reach.

  “I need you. Now.” His words came out hushed, but his strength didn’t fail him. Yanking her up under her armpits, he made quick work of rolling a condom on as she ravished his mouth. Once his penis was sheathed, he lifted her up, shoved her panties aside, and buried himself inside her.

  Never breaking contact with his lips, she moaned as she rode him, allowing him to set the rhythm. He might be on the bottom, but he had complete control over her motions. Her every thought. Positioning her hips forward, he deepened the kiss, his hands guiding her. With each stroke he took, she brushed against his body, heightening her pleasure.

  She clutched his shoulders, dueling with his tongue feverishly. His moves quickened, and she exploded into paradise, calling out his name as she entered the heavens. Crashing back down to earth, she realized she’d found somewhere even more perfect.

  In his arms.

  Chapter Four

  Gunshots exploded from all sides, surrounding him and his squad. Reinforcements were on the way, but the intensity of the battle had yet to decrease. The smoke from the incessant firing of guns combined with the sand it stirred up made it near impossible to see his target. Shouts of pain filled the air—making him wonder if it were friend or foe—filling the air so that he almost missed the sound of the grenade landing next to him and his squad member.

  Everything moved in slow motion. He looked at Reggie, each acknowledging the immediate threat. He knew, just as his partner did, they didn’t have time to run. They’d both be dead. Him and Reggie, who had three kids at home, and one on the way.

  Matt knew Reggie would attempt to save his life. Just as he knew he’d do anything to save him, too. Matt just needed to be faster.

  He reached out—beating Reggie by seconds—grabbed the grenade, and threw it to his side. Away from his friend. A loud boom shook the ground, blocking out everything but the pain bursting in his legs. Encompassing him until nothing else existed. The agony and the sound of men dying echoed as he drifted off into nothingness.

  Matt bolted upright, breathing heavy and sweating, like he always did after a nightmare. Tears ran down his face, and he wiped them away. Every night, he dreamt of it again. Every night, he relived the nightmare. He’d done his best to save Reggie. Tried to shield him from the blow. Instead, God had taken Matt’s legs—and his friend’s life.

  A soft palm gripped his shoulder, causing him to jerk in shock.

  Shit.

  White walls, beige curtains, and a god-awful comforter surrounded him. All signature trademarks of a hotel bedroom. How could he have allowed himself to fall asleep, knowing what would happen? Why had he submitted himself, and her, to the embarrassment of his night terror?

  And how fast will she run from me?

  He groaned, dropping his forehead into his hands. He’d ruined it. Ruined everything. Now, she’d never want to see him again. Last he remembered, he’d been lying in bed with her naked in his arms, picturing a possible future. He’d been so damn…hopeful.

  Until he’d gone and emasculated himself in front of her.

  “Are you okay, Matt?” Her voice quivered, as did her hold on his shoulder. He’d blown it. Cried out like the baby he was, shouting in his sleep.

  He nodded, unable to speak. Why didn’t she get the hell out of bed and leave already? He knew she wanted to.

  He refused to open his eyes, even though he could sense the light shining in through the window. Morning had come.

  She started to speak, stuttered, then climbed out of bed. Here it comes. The hasty exit. Swallowing past the ache in his throat, he lifted his head, watching her pad barefoot to the bathroom.

  Water ran, and she came out, holding a plastic cup. “Here, drink this. You look hot.” Her eyes took in his shaken appearance, and inside he howled at being seen as weak. As less than a man.

  Even as he tried to stop, the words came unbidden to his mouth. “I don’t need your damn water. I don’t need you to look at me like I’m a child. I just need you to leave so I can get dressed and go home. Your night of sex with the invalid is over, so you can feel better about yourself as you return to your life of helping the wounded vets of the country. Maybe you can start a charity and screw them one at a time. Now, that’s a service worth passing around.”

  She jerked back, as if he’d struck her, and the hurt shadowing her face affected him like a blow. Her expression hardened, and she threw the cup of cold water at him. It splashed over his chest, soaking the bed. His anger disappeared with the icy shock of water, and shame filled him at his harsh words.

  “Tiffany, look, I’m—”

  “Fuck you, Matt. Sometimes, I think all men are the same. You all feel the need to lash out at women when you feel insecure.” She broke off and swiped at her tears. The sight of her tore at his heart. Damn it, he was no better than the man who’d abused her. “Well, I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone. Good luck with your legs.”

  Spine straight, she grabbed her clothes and left the bedroom. The door slammed shut behind her, echoing like a gunshot. For a split second, he was back in the battle. Then he shook his head and returned to the present.

  And the woman who’d just walked out on him.

  “Tiffany! Wait!” he shouted as he scrambled to get out of bed. His chair had gotten moved from right beside him, to about three feet away. Straining to reach it, he lost precious time as his fingers kept slipping off the armrest. He leaned forward, tumbling out of bed in the process.

  Naked, lying on the carpet, fury embraced him like a long lost friend. How dare his legs fail him at such an important moment? How dare he fall to th
e floor, left to flop like a fish out of water?

  “Son-of-a-bitch!” He roared as he army-crawled, inch by agonizing inch, to the chair. When he reached it, he wrapped his fingers around the cool steel and pulled himself into the seat. Panting, he rolled to the door, for once triumphant over his useless limbs.

  He didn’t need them to get to his chair. He’d managed it just fine, thank you. The sound of her slamming out of the room met his ears, and he threw his head back to yell, “Tiffany!”

  Too late. He’d been too slow.

  He reached out and yanked the door open. Heedless of his naked state, he rolled across the room. His wheel got stuck on a piece of clothing on the floor—his shirt—and he cursed as he reached down, grabbed the annoying article of clothing, and threw it over his lap to cover his privates.

  But it didn’t matter anyway. She’d already left.

  Epilogue

  Tiffany glanced at the clock for what had to be the millionth time since lunch, and noted six minutes had passed. Her day ended at five, but she still had one new patient to see today. She tried not to think of Matt. Attempted not to remember their last words to each other. Focusing on the lovemaking hurt even more.

  Three days had passed since she’d left him alone in the hotel room.

  Had he gotten out okay? Could he dress on his own? Had he needed to call for help? Did he miss her? Hate her?

  The questions were endless. Guilt filled her at leaving him, but when he’d struck out at her, he’d hit a chord she hadn’t bothered to protect. He’d sneered at her, insulting her, and she’d lost it. After escaping, she’d cooled off, recognizing his actions for what they were. Shame at his weaknesses, and embarrassment at her seeing it.

  Still angry, she’d headed back to the hotel, worried he’d need help. But her knocks hadn’t gotten any response, and she’d already turned in her key. Well, she’d thrown it on the desk and called out her room number as she’d run out the door. She’d gone down to the front desk, subjected herself to the smirks on the clerks’ faces, and asked them to call him to insure he didn’t need assistance. No need, he’d already checked out.