Raw Deal(40)

Damn, he looked good in her bed, the white sheet wrapped around his  narrow hips, his shredded arms popping and abs rippling as he laced his  hands behind his head and grinned at her. He knows he looks good in my  bed, she thought. "Oh look," she said, grasping Oscar off her dresser  and tossing the bear to him. "Say hi to your friend. He missed you too."

"Oscar the Ninth!" He laughed, catching Oscar easily. "You haven't been doing your job keeping her happy, dude."

She giggled. Now the scene in her bed was really complete: a sexy naked  man holding a teddy bear. Before she ended up attacking him again, she  blew him a kiss and reluctantly tore her gaze away.

Savannah wasn't one to miss work without good reason, so there were few  questions when she claimed a bad night and lack of sleep-it was the  truth, and her coworkers knew she'd been having a hard time. Tasha was  more than happy to take one of her appointments, and she delegated a  couple of others to a newer therapist who was working to build her  clientele. Savannah's was burgeoning; she could afford to share. It  looked like she would get her day off after all.

Feeling lighter than she had in days, she put coffee on and surveyed her  fridge for something she could make for breakfast. If he was hitting  the gym hard, he most likely wanted copious amounts of protein. She had  eggs and veggies, so she could probably make a suitable omelet.

"I smell that," he called from her bedroom after the coffee had been brewing for a few minutes.

"Interested?" she called back.

"Very."

And so they found themselves eating omelets and drinking coffee in bed,  watching the morning news on her little TV across the room. Rain likely  all day, the forecast said. To her, it sounded like heaven. Sitting  cross-legged in her nightshirt with fuzzy thigh-high socks on (Mike had  laughingly told her those were sexy as hell), Savannah leaned over to  feed him a bite off her fork after daring him he couldn't take the heat  of the liberal amount of Cajun hot sauce she'd poured over hers. Poor  guy, he'd called her on it, and now he was going to suffer.

"Goddamn, woman, what is that shit? Fucking jet fuel?"

She tossed her head back and laughed as he sucked in air like a man near suffocation. "Told ya you couldn't take it."                       
       
           



       

He scrubbed at his lips and coughed, the big tough guy. "I didn't know you were literally trying to poison me."

Swallowing a huge bite and smiling at him, she pointed at him with her  fork. "You wouldn't last five minutes at dinner with my family. You'd be  sweating and pouring ice water directly down your throat. And that  would only make it worse."

"Seriously, what is that? Ghost pepper?"

"Habanero, you weenie."

"All right. I've been effectively emasculated." He cringed. "Jesus, it's getting worse."

Laughing, she took mercy on him. "Do you want some milk? It might help."

"No," he said miserably, lying back on his pillow. Then he writhed  again. "Motherfucker, Savannah. How do you have any taste buds left?"

"I probably don't, that's why I need it. Hang on." She left him sweating  it out to get a glass of milk and a slice of bread from the kitchen,  both of which he consumed in record time. "Stick with me and eventually  you'll have a flame-retardant throat too," she told him as he began to  settle down somewhat.

"Don't come near me ever again," he said with mock anger, and she could  only laugh harder. She wouldn't tell him the story about eating spicy  crawfish with the aforementioned boyfriend and, not thinking, later  indulging in a little oral activity after which she spent the rest of  the night sitting in a tub full of cold water near tears. It might give  him ideas for revenge, and hot sauce didn't only burn the mouth.

"It's like Satan himself stuck his fucking dick down my throat."

That only set her off again, which made her feel bad when he sent her a  withering look. Suddenly, though, she had an idea to make it up to him.  Leaning over to grab her favorite lotion off her nightstand, she smacked  him on his thigh. "Roll over, sissy boy."

The suspicious side-eye he sent her was legendary. "What the fuck are you going to do to me now?"

"I guess I'll have to go to work after all. It won't help your mouth, but I bet you'll like it anyway."

Grumbling a little, he did as she asked, and she crawled over him to  straddle his tight butt. He chuckled, and she relished the sight of his  grin-what she could see of it. Only his profile was visible to her.

Savannah slicked her hands up and dropped them to his back, letting them  sink into his muscles as the breath whooshed from him on a groan. She  practically felt him relax as she explored, kneading, testing. Marveling  at the gorgeous expanse of flesh, for some reason she thought about the  ink on his chest: the grim reaper grinning with a bloody smile. "I'm  kind of surprised you decided on your chest piece, after what happened  with your mom," she said softly as her hands worked.

"It's not as if I need a reminder," he said, his voice already a bit  drowsy. "But I wanted it anyway. To always remember where I came from."

"I guess I can see that."

He was silent a moment. "Do you like the Rocky movies?"

"Who doesn't?"

"Damn. A girl after my own heart. Anyway, you know how in Rocky III,  Mick tells Rocky the worst thing happened to him that could happen to  any fighter?"

"‘You got civilized,'" Savannah growled in her best Burgess Meredith . .  . which wasn't very good, but still it got a laugh from Mike.

"Yeah. If there's one damn thing I've tried to do, even with the  victories and the money and the recognition, it's to stay as uncivilized  as I can. I guess that ink was part of it. And I still own the house my  brothers and I grew up in. I go there whenever I need a reality check."

"Wow," she said, pausing a minute in her task. "That surprises me."

"My brothers don't get it either. They'd like to strike a match to it, just to know it's not in the world anymore."

"That I could understand."

"Just one of those things."

"Hmm." She rubbed at a spot of tightness in his left trapezius,  uncovering a trigger point. "You have some trouble here, don't you?"

"Yeah, a lot. Damn, Savannah. It's like you have weights in your hands. It's amazing."

She grinned at the compliment to her skills. He was such a pleasure to  touch. It wasn't every day she had a body with this kind of definition  to work on. "This isn't even deep pressure. You want it deep, baby?"

"I'm not really sure." The sound he made started as a laugh but shifted to a groan as she pressed deeper.

"Just to warn you, I'll expect payment for services rendered."                       
       
           



       

"Oh, yeah? I've got a tip for you."

"I need more than a tip."

"I'm sure I can manage that too. Your hands are magic. Best I've ever had."

"You can determine that after just a couple of minutes?"

"These few minutes have been better than the whole sixty I usually get."

"Well, thank you. I think maybe you're a bit biased, though. And it's  not like you'd tell me if I sucked." With both thumbs, she pushed a path  along his levator scapulae, feeling the tension drain from him, tension  he probably didn't even realize he carried. It gave her a little glow  of joy.

"You most definitely do not suck. Might need you around those mornings I can barely move."

His fighting was going to take its toll on his body someday. It probably  already had. She frowned at the thought, thinking she'd like to get him  on her table sometime. He couldn't get the full benefit without her  being able to go in from different angles. For now, she concentrated on  his tense spots, feeling the satisfaction of them giving under her  practiced fingers. He fell silent, his breathing slow, deep, and  hypnotic as she worked. After a while, she leaned down to look into his  face, and found he was sound asleep.





Chapter Nineteen


A rumble of thunder woke him, and when he opened his eyes it was to gaze  at a blurry, unfamiliar drywall ceiling. For a second, he couldn't  figure out where the hell he was, and then everything came back in a  rush. The spontaneous overnight road trip, and Savannah. And Savannah,  and Savannah.

Turning his head, he found her dozing beside him, one dainty hand curled  under her delicate cheek. But damn, those dainty hands were deceptive,  weren't they? They'd worked kinks out of his muscles he hadn't realized  were there. Checking his watch, he saw it was after noon. He hadn't  meant to go out on her like that, but after the drive-and the sex, God  the sex-he'd been zonked.