Healing Pleasure (6 page)

“Trey, I can’t.”

Indecision and something he couldn’t define, something he suspected ran closer to pain, dimmed the flames of heat in her eyes. Had someone hurt her? For all the strength and control he sensed and saw in her, he sensed and saw submissiveness, too. He’d come across her type a time or two and had found himself more drawn to those women than any of the other subs he’d found. He liked a woman who could hold her own in the outside world, one who was strong, competent, and steady in her life, but one who found pleasure in relinquishing all control to a man when the time was right. Had she done that with someone? Had she given up control to a Dom who had taken it too far? He wouldn’t push her, at least not until he figured out what was holding her back, but damn if he could let her go right now.

“I’m going to kiss you again, Lena.” He moved his hands from her hips, closed his fingers around her slender wrists, and pinned them to the wall on either side of her head. He held her that way, drawing out the moment, watching as anticipation filled her angelic face, washing away her uncertainty. “Just a kiss.”

She nodded.

It wasn’t enough. “Tell me you want me to kiss you.”

She licked her lips and his gaze dropped to follow the path her tongue took, his cock so hard and his balls so tight he feared they might rupture with the need to be inside her pretty mouth. “I want you to kiss me. Will you please kiss me, Trey?”

Her obedience to his command, the way she altered it to a request, confirmed his suspicion that she’d been dominated before. Still, he felt an uncertainty in her despite her request, as if she had buried that beautifully precious part of herself and was afraid to set it free again.

He would take his time with her and make sure Brit did, too. Together, they would show her it was okay to let that part of herself out of the cage she’d locked it in. They would make her feel as she should, cherished and desired and perfect and…

Loved. Trey covered her mouth with his, immediately assuming control of her the kiss. He knew the needs coursing through his system for this woman weren’t love. Not yet. But, as he felt the excited shiver run through her, heard her moan into his mouth, and tasted her surrender, he knew it was only a matter of time before he’d start to fall.

Brit didn’t understand it. He’d made it through Hell Week, pushed himself beyond his bodily limits and conquered the five-and-a-half-day bitch special dished out by his commanders that few men made it through. BUD/S training had been a cakewalk after that. Yet, an hour too long on a fucking treadmill had whipped his ass.

No, it hadn’t been the extra time that had done it. The abrupt turn he’d taken in mid-step when Lena Conley had walked her sexy ass out the front door to her car had been his downfall. He really had damn near fallen on his ass. His left foot had come down on the treadmill belt at the wrong time, his knee had twisted, and pain had shot straight to his hip. He didn’t know how he’d managed to stay on his feet as the beautiful vixen retrieved something out of her car, waved at him on her way back up the drive, and disappeared back into the house. He’d done it, though. At least until she’d gotten out of sight. Then, he’d hit the deck…or the belt, as the case turned out to be. He’d sat there, sweat dripping from every hair on his body, until the pain finally ebbed enough that he could move again.

Hobbling worse now than he’d been that morning, he stopped in the foyer and leveled a death glare at the staircase. It wasn’t going to happen. May was going to give him a good, stern lecture about overdoing it, even if that wasn’t what he’d really done, but he needed to get some ice on his knee before he attempted the grueling battle up those stairs again. Pride kept his lips sealed. He made it to the doorway of the front parlor before he swallowed it and made the shout.

“May, I need you. Please.” He choked the last part out, feeling yet another ding to his pride as he continued through the doorway to the nearest chair equipped with an ottoman. Sinking into the chair felt like a slice of paradise. He guided his leg to rest on the ottoman and then carefully removed the knee brace. Closing his eyes, he threw his head back and decided paradise had now taken on a whole new meaning.

“Are you okay?”

The voice was decidedly not May and had his eyes flying open. He jerked his head up too fast, wrenching his neck toward the sultry sound, and felt a different pain shoot from his shoulder to his temple. Fuck! The last thing he needed was to injure something else.

“I’m fine.” He glared at Lena who stood so close he could easily pull her onto his lap. His gaze slid down to her full skirt and he got a quick image of it flying up as he yanked her down, exposing whatever panties she wore beneath. Was she even wearing panties? His cock came to life at the question, stiffening hard enough to bust the button fly of his cargo shorts. “Where’s May?”

“She’s in the kitchen preparing lunch.” Lena’s gaze shifted to his knee, then her eyes narrowed as she studied his face. “You’re in pain, aren’t you?”

“I’m fine,” he said again. He’d had enough of people’s pity and he damn sure didn’t want it from her. He’d rather have her on top of him, her beautiful breasts bouncing and pleasured screams rolling out of her throat as she rode his aching cock to oblivion while Trey fucked her tight ass. “Never mind.”

She shook her head and he expected her to argue. Instead, she spun on her heel and swayed her sexy hips back out of the room.

Infuriated, he snagged the television remote off the nearby table and punched the power button, wishing it was Trey’s face. Why the hell did the man have to bring her out to the ranch? It was bad enough he best friend had decided to go solo after all these years, but did he have to parade the prize in front of him?

He didn’t doubt Lena Conley was a prize, from the roots of her long flowing hair the color of autumn leaves to the tips of her shiny red painted toenails he’d noticed peeking from the open-toed sandals she was wearing. Her pink blouse could’ve fit a little more tightly to suit his taste and her khaki skirt could’ve been shorter instead of stretching nearly to her slightly knobby knees. Still, the woman was a walking temptation he couldn’t chase.

A soft snicker pulled him from his thoughts of Lena only to replace him with the vixen incarnate once again standing beside his chair. Her beautiful head was turned toward the television, her sultry lips tilted in pure amusement.

Shit. He hadn’t realized he’d been surfing the channels, but it must have been because he’d stopped on the One Life to Live marathon he’d been planning to watch upstairs.

“Daytime television sucks donkey balls,” he muttered and quickly resumed channel surfing. He saw her grin at him out of the corner of his eye.

“You don’t have to change it on my account. I used to love Soap Operas.”

He looked at her in time to see a shadow move through her amazing blue eyes. “Used to?”

She shrugged. “I haven’t watched them in years. Not since my mother left us.”

“Where’d she go?”

She lifted a shoulder. “Who knows? She decided me and my father weren’t what she wanted, packed her bags, and headed for parts unknown. Neither of us have heard from her since.”

Hell, there were plenty of boys on the ranch who could relate to that. “You don’t sound too upset by it.”

“Believe me, I was for a number of years. I was barely a teenager when she left. I blamed myself, thought I had done something to make her leave, and prayed every night for a chance to do it all over again.”

“Why’d you stop blaming yourself and all that?”

“I met a fantastic woman who now happens to be my step-mother. I could tell her things I couldn’t seem to tell my father. She helped me learn to cope, to process everything I had been feeling since my mother left, and understand I hadn’t done anything to drive my mother away.” She rounded the ottoman, careful not to brush his foot, and perched on the edge of the coffee table. “I thought this might help.”

Oh, holy of holies. The woman was truly a goddess. He felt the chill of the cold pack over his knee. It only took a few minutes for the pain to turn to a much less hideous haze.

“Is it getting better?”

He’d let his head fall back on the chair and had even closed his eyes again. He opened them, not bothering to lift his head, and looked at her from beneath his lashes. “Yeah. How’d you know?”

She shrugged. “I guessed.” She slid off the coffee table and dropped to her knees next to his leg.

Brit lifted his head along with a brow at that. “What are you doing?”

“I’m about to karate chop your knee until you tell me the truth about how you injured it.”

She frowned at him when he jerked as her delicate hands neared his knee. “Really, Brit? A big, tough Navy SEAL like you is going to be afraid of a little slip of thing like me?”

“You terrify me.” The words were out of his mouth before he thought to stop them. Lucky for him, she thought he was joking. In reality, he realized she really did scare him to the soles of his tennis shoes.

He felt said tennis shoes, the right one, anyway, leave his foot she carefully removed it and set it aside. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

She giggled. “Don’t worry. I can hold my breath longer than most if the smell gets too bad.” Her small hands closed over his foot and gently but firmly began massaging it through his sock.

Her touch felt magical, as if her fingers were equipped with tiny needles that injected his flesh with the best healing medicine on the planet. She worked her way from the arch of his foot to his heel, up his calf and shin, skipped over his knee, and got dangerously close to his groin before moving back down again. Slowly, the tension and pain in his leg started to ease, replaced by relaxation, pleasure, and heady need.

“Better?”

It was until she stopped. He wanted her to keep going. He wanted her to curl her fingers around his shaft and jerk him off with the same gently pressured motion she’d used to massage his injured leg. “It’d be better if you’d pull up that sex skirt, straddle my lap, and work on my middle leg.”

She got to her feet, planted her fists on her hips, and angled a glare at him. “Are you being a jerk on purpose or is this the normal you?”

The expression on her face actually made him chuckle. Damn, the sound had become so alien to him lately he was surprised to hear it come from his own throat. “That was me being half serious and half a jerk.”

“Well, how about you drop the jerk, keep the seriousness, and tell me how you really hurt your knee.”

Shit. They were back to this again. “What makes you think I didn’t tell you the truth the first time?”

“The look on May and Trey’s faces when I brought it up.” She eased to sit back down on the edge of the coffee table and leaned forward, resting her forearms on her thighs. “Neither of them corrected your fib, but it was obvious they know you didn’t fall off a horse.”

Brit cocked a brow. “My fib?”

Amusement twinkled in her eyes. “I didn’t want to be rude and call you a liar.”

“Isn’t a fib and a lie the same thing?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Fib is a sweeter word, don’t you think?”

Brit snorted. “If you say so, darlin’.”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

“And you’re not really dating my best friend.” Well, that statement got the reaction he’d expected. He timed it perfectly, waiting for the moment when he thought she was comfortable enough with their conversation before dropping his suspicion bomb. And, what do you know, it had worked.

She stiffened, took a quick, audible breath, and her dazzling eyes widened. “Yes, I am.” She tried to play it off, but beautiful plus sexy as hell didn’t equal Oscar nominee. “What makes you think we aren’t?”

“For starters, you aren’t dating me, too.” It wasn’t exactly the best reason he could give her. Hell, it wasn’t even the first thing that had made him suspicious. It might have been years since Trey had dated a woman without him, but it had happened in the past.

“I just met you today.”

“When did you meet Trey?”

“Last week.”

Brit shook his head. “Darlin’, Trey stayed on this ranch day in and day out until this week.” He ticked off the nights Trey had been gone on the fingers of one hand. “He went out Sunday, Tuesday, Thursday morning, and Thursday night.”

“I met him Sunday night. I know the physical calendar begins each week on Sunday, but my week begins on Monday.” She shrugged. “Which means I met him last week, like I said.”

Brit pushed a hard breath from his lungs. “You’re a terrible fibber, darlin’. Tell you what, when you’re ready to be honest with me, I’ll tell you how I really hurt my knee.”

“Wait!” The delicate hand she place on his shin as he started to rise from the chair stopped him. She sighed as he settled back in the chair. “All right. I met him yesterday morning.”

“Where?”

“Kelly’s Diner.”

“Why?”

“I was having breakfast. He came in, saw I was alone, and…” She trailed off when he started shaking his head. She huffed another breath. “Fine. I asked him to meet me there.”

Brit scratched his bearded chin. “Darlin’, are we going to sit here and play twenty questions all afternoon or are you going to cut to the chase?”