After five days at home, she was angrier, more frustrated and pissed off than she could imagine. Ethan wouldn’t leave her alone. He’d disappear for five minutes, and he’d be back before she had a chance to move. Like now. She’d asked him for a glass of water, so she could go to the bathroom—alone—but he was already standing in front of her, holding her water. She sat on the edge of her bed and glared at him.
He shook his head, crossed his arms over his chest and said, “You can try standing tomorrow. That’s what the doctor said.” And with that he spun on his heels and left.
“He didn’t say I couldn’t try earlier,” she cried out.
“Yes, he did. He said to stay off your feet.”
“That means stay off my feet most of the time,” she said in exasperation. “Nobody in their right mind would expect me to stay off my feet all the time.”
He poked his head around the corner of the doorway. “Absolutely not. The minute you put more pressure on those feet, you’ll damage the blood vessels, and you’ll slow the healing process. Now get your butt back down and get your feet up.”
She flung her head back on the bed and put her feet back up on the stack of pillows he had placed there for her. It was really humiliating. The only way she managed to get any privacy was by crawling across the floor, getting into the bathroom on her own, using the bathtub for support in order to get to the toilet. She hadn’t had a bath or shower in five days, five days, and she was dying for one. He had offered but also said he’d carry her there and help her get stripped down. She wasn’t having anything to do with that.
But, if she made it to the bathroom, maybe she could make it into the bathtub on her own. Because one thing she did need was a damn good wash. In order to make that happen and to not get in deep trouble, she had to assure herself and him that she could do it without her feet touching the floor.
With a grin, she rolled over to lie on her belly and slid off the edge of the bed to land on her knees. She may have landed a little too heavily because instantly he was back inside her bedroom, checking up on her. She glared at him from her hands-and-knees position and said, “I’ll have a bath whether you like it or not.” She crawled over to the bathroom, her feet up in the air.
“You could at least ask me to run the water for you,” he said, stepping ahead of her. “You don’t have to be so stubborn all the time.”
He walked into the bathroom, and the dogs followed. At the moment, they had Bella and Sally with them. Plus her two dogs. She was overwhelmed in K9s who all thought it was a great game having her at their level. She laughed and spent a few moments cuddling each one as she heard the water pouring in the bathtub.
She didn’t know why she was being so feisty, but it was just impossible to be around him. She didn’t even know what the issue was, but she hated feeling like an invalid. And she hated being catered to. He did it with such a happy-go-lucky smiling expression that she wanted to hit him half the time.
When he came back out, she said, “You can’t be so nice all the time.”
At that comment he squatted in front of her. “Why? You want me to be mean and nasty?”
She shrugged irritably. “You’re pissing me off.”
“I noticed,” he said with a smirk.
She glared at him.
“There’s an easy answer to it.”
She frowned. “What’s that?” she asked suspiciously.
“You’re not ready for it yet.”
And that did it again. She crawled past, ignoring him. She hadn’t really been inviting him to share her bed. Well, maybe she had been, but she would put it down to the pain and the medications. He was too irritating for her to want to spend any more time with.
But inside she knew she was lying to herself. She just didn’t want to feel incapable of living the life she wanted to live. It was a temporary situation, and she should stop acting like a spoiled brat and start feeling grateful. It was one thing to know that, but it was another thing to do it.
She maneuvered her way into the bathroom, shooing the dogs out as she tried to work her way past them. She shut the door, turned around and locked it. Feeling immeasurably happier, she twisted around so she sat on the floor and quickly shimmied out of her pajama bottoms. Carefully she pulled the socks off her feet, wincing at the tenderness of them, and stripped off the rest of her clothing.
Ethan knocked on the door and said, “You’ve got an hour. That’s it.”
“And then what?” she called out.
“I’m coming in to help because I’ll assume you can’t get out on your own,” he said with a light warning.
She growled and then laughed because it was a fair time frame. It took a little more effort to maneuver herself up to rest on the bathtub edge so she could carefully maneuver herself over and into the water. Awkwardly she splashed down on her butt, her feet hanging off the side of the tub, water coming up and over the sides of the bathtub to the floor on the other side.
It felt so damn good to get into the water, she lay here with her feet dangling for a long moment, just letting her head sink into the gently rocking water.
After a few minutes she sat up and slowly lowered her feet into the water. She knew this would be the real test. Her feet had been cleaned and were definitely healing, but they were still sore and tender. She moaned in delight when they were finally submerged. She should have done this way earlier.
She reached for the shampoo and proceeded to scrub her scalp and then, with soap, scrubbed the rest of her. She tried to examine the soles of her feet, but it was hard to see in this lighting. They looked so much better. There were scabs and definitely tight pink tissue, signs of healing, but they were still puffy.
She knew that standing on them would hurt like crazy. Another couple days and they should be better. The doctor told her it would take about a week, and then she needed to walk with multiple socks on in order to give her feet the cushion they would need. And she’d also find it hard to stay on them for very long. That was all good. She was totally okay to follow those doctor’s orders. So why was she being so bitchy?
Sure, being an invalid was part of it, but it was also having Ethan around all the time. They were dancing around in this newbie relationship of theirs, but she was in no position to move it forward. She wasn’t even sure how to move it forward.
He’d taken on the role of a comfortable brother, almost. And that was very unsexy, going against where she thought they were heading. He was a really good man, she admitted. Too good a man maybe, she thought with a laugh.
But that wasn’t true. He never lost his temper, but she could see the darkness in him. The pain. He’d been through some tough times. When he was asleep, she heard him cry out. She never asked him about PTSD, but she was sure that kept him up in the night. He had his secrets, and she had hers, although hers were pretty minor. They were getting to know each other. And she’d only found more to like.
Still, he was doing everything he could to help her get through this, and she appreciated it.
By the time she was done, had the water drained and sat on the bathtub’s edge again, she wished she’d had a few more days of recovery time under her belt. She was wrapped up in a towel, but it would be hard to get back to the bed. There was no rush; she still had time before Ethan took over. She was sure he’d heard her get out anyway.
She pulled on pajamas again, and, now fully dressed, a towel wrapped around her head, she pulled another towel down and crawled on top of it back to the bed. It helped preserve her knees a bit.
Before she could get back in the bed, strong hands reached down, picked her up around the waist, and lifted her onto the bed. She let out a cry, not hearing him come up behind her. “You scared me,” she scolded.
“Well, if you’d let me know that you could use a hand, then you wouldn’t have been surprised,” he said, his exasperation coming through his voice.
She flipped around and sat down on the bed, looking up at him. “I’m sorry. I’m being difficult, and I don’t mean to be.”
His gaze warmed. He sat on the bed beside her and said, “Have you figured out why you are?”
She waved a hand off to the side. “I don’t like being an invalid. I don’t like being treated like a child or being in a position of needing so much help,” she said with a half smirk. “Particularly from you.”
His eyebrows shot up. “What’s wrong with me?”
She realized he’d taken it as an insult. She tried to get the words out correctly, but every time she tried to formulate her thoughts, she couldn’t say them. Finally she raised her hands in frustration and said, “I don’t want you to see me as helpless.”
He stared at her for a long moment, stroked her cheek and said, “What I see is a valiant, strong woman who survived a terrible ordeal. The ordeal was brought on by me. And I’m doing everything I can to help you get back on your feet.”
“I knew it,” she cried out. “You feel sorry for me. You feel guilty.”
“It’s because of me that you’re hurt. But, no, I don’t feel sorry for you. I’m saddened this happened. But obviously you’ll get better, and it’s not a permanent injury. So I’m just helping you where I can.” He stared at her for a long moment, then tapped the tip of her nose. “Is something else going on here?”
She snapped her lips closed and glared at him.
He nodded. “I’m not sure what’s going on. Yet I understand a lot of it,” he admitted, “because nobody likes to be treated or thought of as helpless. We all want to be independent.”
She sighed and held out her hand. He covered hers with his and squeezed her fingers gently. “What are we doing here?” she asked softly.
His gaze locked on hers, and he smiled a slow, gentle smile that made her heart weep with emotion. “What is it you want to see us do here?”
She shook her head. “Oh, no you don’t. You’re not answering a question with a question.”
He chuckled. “I’d like to get to know you better,” he said. “I’d like to see where this goes.”
“Are you planning on moving back to your own house?” she asked with a laugh. “Or are you planning on moving in here?”
He tilted his head to the side, his gaze twinkling. “Is the latter an option?”
She chuckled. “I hadn’t planned on a house guest. But it is a big house.”
“I have a place in town, as you know, but you have acres here for training exercises, plus the dog runs. But I think we’re getting ahead of ourselves.”
“How long do you think you need to be here looking after me?”
“You go back to the doctor in two days. If he says you can start walking around a little bit, then we’ll see how it goes. Plan on maybe four days, and then I’ll move back out again,” he promised.
She smiled. “That sounds fair. And thank you very much for looking after me.”
He shook his head. “Don’t say that. I’m happy to do this. You know that.” He leaned forward and kissed her gently.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and tugged him closer, turning a light kiss into a real kiss. When he straightened and pulled away, his gaze was searching, and she smiled up at him. “Why do you really think I’ve been snappy?”
He narrowed his gaze.
She nodded. “It wasn’t an invitation,” she said, referencing what he had said before, then admitted, “but in a way it was.”
He smiled, then kissed her on the tip of her nose. “I know.”
She pulled back slightly, changed the angle of their position and kissed him. “I guess we’re not quite ready for this stage,” she said, “but it would be nice if we were.”
His gaze darkened. When he gave her a kiss this time, it took her to the depths of a passion she hadn’t expected to see so fast. It left her gasping and surprised, wanting so much more.
When he straightened, she collapsed on the bed, just staring at him.
He grinned. “It depends on you,” he said. “I’ve already expressed my interest.”
“Oh, no you haven’t,” she said in astonishment. “At least not in so many words.”
“I’m living in your house, looking after you,” he said. “How is that not telling you that I care about you?”
She frowned. “That’s just your guilt talking.”
He gently picked her up, twisted her so she sat in his lap, tilted her head back and kissed her again. When he lifted his head this time, he said, “Guilt?” And he lowered his head again.
When he finally lifted his head the next time, she had all but melted in his arms. “This is not guilt,” he whispered against her lips, his hand brushing her hair back once, then twice. “It’s concern. It’s caring. It’s wanting to make sure somebody I want to spend time with is doing okay. Yes, a smidgen of guilt is in there, but it’s more about wanting to spend time with you, making sure you are okay.”
She nodded with a smile and said, “But that’s not the same thing as wanting to take another step in a relationship. If we’re just friends, then let’s just stay friends.”
He chuckled. “Was that kiss like a kiss between friends?”
“I have no clue,” she said, confused herself at this point. She wished he’d just kiss her again and stop the talking.
As he went to put her back on the bed, she shook her head, slung her arm around his neck, grabbed hold and tugged him toward her. “My turn.”
This time she kissed him. She hadn’t realized how much she’d bottled up inside. This was what she wanted. It was what she’d wanted days ago, maybe longer. She didn’t normally accelerate relationships, but no doubt they had something they needed to work through. She didn’t know that bed was the best way to do it, but it sure would take some of the stress off. And what she wanted was a whole lot more than stress relief. She wanted to know they had something here they could build on …
He pulled back and looked at her. “It’s too soon,” he said, his voice thick.
“Why? What do my feet have to do with this?”
“Your shoulder …”
She glanced at her shoulder. “Well, your kisses are so distracting, I didn’t even notice,” she admitted. “I don’t think it will be a problem.”
His breathing came out in raspy breaths, and she could feel his heart pounding against her chest—both reassured her. She smiled up at him and whispered, “Unless you don’t want to …”
He lowered his head and crushed his lips against hers. She shifted as the pain shot through her shoulder, but the passion quickly caught her and dragged her back under the surface. And her shoulder ceased to exist. In fact, when she roused from his drugging kisses, she found herself completely nude, lying on the cool sheets, and somehow he was there beside her, almost stripped down. “Wow. You made that happen fast.”
He placed a finger against her lips and then replaced it with his own, and she was caught up in the maelstrom of his passion igniting hers and taking her back under until she no longer knew where she started and where he took over. It was an experience like none other. It was more emotion than she was used to. It was less about bodies and more about feelings.
Time flew as they tried to learn everything they could about each other. Conversation came in bits and pieces as they explored and questioned. She found the wounds on his chest, the scars on his back, the damage to his thigh, his stump. He was so adept with his prosthetic that she often forgot he was missing a leg. Every point she reached down to kiss and caress, and then asked him about them.
He finally pulled her up to rest on top of his chest and whispered, “Maybe a little less conversation?”
She smiled, shifted on his chest, drew her knees up to either side of him, and stretched up, resting against his erection. “We can always talk later,” she said in a teasing murmur.
“We can also do this again later,” he said. “At least I hope we can.” He ran his hands over the top of her thighs to her hips, where he held her tight against him and started to shift.
She covered his hands with her own, and, using his hands for strength, rose and fell as she started to ride. She couldn’t imagine where any of this had come from. Normally sex was a fast coupling, but this was learning who he was inside, at a level she’d never experienced before. It was special. It was slow. Until it wasn’t slow anymore, and suddenly she couldn’t talk any longer.
She threw her head back and let the emotions and the passion take over. She moved as her body wanted to move, letting her emotions and her feelings take charge. When he gripped her hips with his hands and picked up the pace, driving into her faster and faster, she matched him thrust for thrust.
Soon her body started to splinter apart; she arched, crying out as her world exploded.
He shifted until she was underneath him, and he drove once, twice, three times, and finally his own orgasm rolled over him. He collapsed beside her and held her close.
It was a long moment later when she whispered, “I’ve never experienced anything like that.”
“What, an orgasm?” he teased.
“No,” she said, shifting onto her arm. “Making love where it was okay to talk, where it was okay to ask questions, where it was okay to show emotion. Where it wasn’t just following a road map from point A to point B, so you could get there the fastest route.” She reached out to stroke a scar on his chest. “That it was okay to take time to explore and to understand, to really learn who you are.”
He pulled her head down, so he could kiss her thoroughly. And when he let her go, she sagged against his chest.
“That’s very addictive.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” he said with a soft chuckle. “Maybe we can do this again.”
“I sure hope so,” she said, a yawn sneaking out of her mouth. “I’m really not into short-term relationships, so I hope you’re in for a long one.”
He stroked the hair off her forehead and whispered, “Absolutely. That’s what I figured we were here for, … for a long time, not just a good time.”
“How about both?” she whispered and slowly drifted off to sleep.
He held her close as she slept, until his phone rang. He shifted her to the side and sat up grabbing his pants. Pulling his phone from his jeans pocket, he answered it. “Jimbo, what’s up?”
“Been hearing about you and some K9 dogs. As you know I’ve been working at the US War Dog Association. I’m not sure if you’re setting up training or maybe a rescue, but I’ve got a female here. Her front leg was damaged from a mine explosion. She’s being shipped stateside, but her foster family deal fell through because she has special needs.”
They both went silent. Ethan could hear the rustling of papers.
“You might even know this one. Her name is Jessie, for Jezebel.”
Ethan caught his breath in the back of his throat. “I saw her as a puppy.”
“Yeah, she’s not quite four now. But she won’t be working in the field anymore.”
Ethan frowned, thinking about the beautiful shepherd she’d been. Small, but she was incredibly fast and very intelligent. “You mean, because she’s missing a leg?”
“Yeah, and she’s lost her nerve,” Jimbo said. “At least that’s what the notes here say.”
“I’ll take her,” Ethan said immediately. “I have no clue what kind of business I’ll end up with here, but it seems like rescuing working dogs is part of it.”
He slowly put his phone on the night table beside him and lay back down. As soon as he was stretched out, Cinn curled up at his side.
“Why do I think this will involve way more dogs than the current four—make that five—now?”
“Because it definitely will.” He hugged her close and whispered, “We’ll need a bigger place.”
She propped up so she could cross her arms on his chest and look down at him. “We?”
He reached up, flicked her nose with a smile and whispered, “We. You, me and all the dogs we could possibly handle.”
Tears came to her eyes. She leaned down, brushed a kiss across his chest and whispered, “I’m in.”
“I’m in too,” he whispered back.
And they kissed, a gentle kiss, full of promise, full of tomorrows and, with any luck, full of K9s they had yet to meet.
