A Wild Ride(7)

I'd worn the matching set in hopes that the date with John would lead to hot sex, and now I was glad, because here was sex itself, six foot four and built like a Greek god. 

I met his eyes, swallowed my nerves, and reached behind me to unhook the bra, one eyelet at a time. I slipped it off my shoulders and held it out to him by a finger. He took it in a clenched fist, not moving toward me. He'd gotten harder and bigger yet, and I licked my lips, wanting nothing more than to unzip him and see if he matched the vision in my head. I pushed the strings of my thong down around my hips, wiggling out of the panties. I bent down, picked them up, and handed them to Shane, who took them with a trembling hand.

The tremble in his hand made me melt, just a little bit more.

And then of course, I sneezed again, six times.

His gaze roved over my body, and then touched on my scraped and still-bleeding knees and palms. "You're bleeding," he said.

He moved to the narrow medicine cabinet and pulled out cotton rounds and peroxide.

"Sit," he said in a voice that brooked no argument.

I sat, naked, on the toilet, the porcelain cold against my bare bottom. He poured peroxide on the cotton and held it near my knees, crouching down. His face was level with my br**sts, and my ni**les stood up hard under his gaze. I forced my knees apart and his eyes followed the motion to my crotch, trimmed close but not shaved.

"This will sting a bit," he said. Something in his voice and his focused gaze and the practiced way he dabbed at my knee told me had some kind of medical training.

I hissed at the sting, but didn't flinch. He dabbed the cuts clean and moved to my other knee, gentle and thorough. He took my hands in his and cleaned those as well.

"You've done this before," I said.

"Done what?" he asked, without looking up at me.

"Clean wounds," I said. "You have some kind of medical training."

He nodded. "Six years as a Marine combat medic. Most of my tours were in Iraq and Afghanistan."

"You saw combat?"

He nodded, and the tension in his shoulders told me not push the subject any further. "Yeah. A f**kload-" he cut himself off, "sorry, yeah. I've seen combat."

"John always told me I swear too f**king much," I said, more to break the tension than anything.

Shane laughed and met my gaze with humor and gratitude in his eyes. "He would say that, from what I could tell."

It was my turn to show tension, and I know he saw it.

"Sorry again. None of my business," he said, standing up and discarding the bloody cotton rounds. "Get in and warm up. I'll put your clothes in the dryer."

He turned to leave and I caught his arm. "Thanks," I said.

He just nodded and left the bathroom, but not without a long last glance at my naked body.

I showered, luxuriating in the heat. It was clearly a bachelor pad, as he had one bottle of two-in-one shampoo and conditioner, one bottle of body wash and a black poofy scrub hanging from the handle. I used what he had, debating on the hygenic-ness of using a man's poofy scrub, but in the end desire to be clean won.

A thick black towel hung on the wall, clean and dry, and I used it, winding it around my chest. He only had a comb, which wouldn't work in my crazy curls, so I left it.

I found him in the kitchen, making coffee, in a clean pair of blue jeans and a sleeveless, faded Led Zepplin T-shirt. He heard me come in and looked up, his hand freezing as he stirred his coffee, staring at me.

His gaze was intense, devouring. I decided to play coy.

"What?" I asked, the picture of innocent demurral.

"You. Just...you."

"What about me?" I stepped around the counter toward him.

He backed away, setting down the coffee. I followed him until he was backed up against the counter.

"You're sexy," he said, his voice husky, his eyes raking over my towel-wrapped cle**age and my tangled hair. "You have no idea what you're doing to me."




 

 

I looked down at his crotch, where his bulge had made its appearance once more. I ran my fingernail up his thigh and to his erection, tracing along the zipper, keeping my eyes locked on his.

"I think I may have an idea," I said.

He shook his head. "No, you really don't."

I unbuttoned his jeans, kissing his jaw. "Well then show me," I whispered.

I unzipped his jeans, but he caught my hand. "Leo, we just met. This is...it's crazy. I know I kissed you first, but I couldn't help it. You just looked so upset and wet and goddamned sexy..."

"It is crazy," I said. "But I want it. I want it because it's crazy. You're like no one I've ever met, and my life has just been one smart, responsible decision after another. You make me crazy and impulsive, and I like it."