Knots (5 page)

She sat motionless and mute. The only way he knew she was present at all was because her hand twitched on her thigh.

“You see? You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said.

“Even if that were true, I have no idea what the hell I’m supposed to do now.” Her eyes welled up.

“Stay here with me until you figure it out. I’m going to be selling this place soon, and until then, this part of the house’ll be empty. It’s yours. You can have it.”

“What about work and my friends?” Her voice shook.

“Come here,” he said. He tucked her back into the position she was in before. Only
this
time, he leaned back into the cushions, propped his feet up and wasn’t going to let go until she pushed him away. Even then, he might not release her.

“You’re working at an office in Phoenix, right? Secretary?”

“Sort of. I do secretarial work for a law firm, but I also do a lot of data entry—typing up contracts for them since they’re short staffed.” She sighed.

“I can help you find a job here. In fact, there’s an opening in my office for a secretary-type position.” His breath caught.

“Jesus, no, Mark. I can handle this myself. I’m not a baby.”

“No one said you were. You’re a confident, smart woman, and everyone needs help from time to time. It’s not like it’s a handout. You’d have to interview like everyone else.” He smiled. She couldn’t see it since she was hidden in his chest. “And it’s not like you couldn’t go back and visit your friends there like you used to frequently visit your friends here in California.”

She snorted. “Like Tia?”

“Yeah, like Tia, and . . .” he got choked up for a minute “. . .
me
.”

“I always thought you hated me,” she said so quietly he almost didn’t hear it.

“Why did you think that?” His gut twisted.

She released a stuttering exhale and then relaxed into his body.

It was evident she was really tired. He ought to let her rest, but she was being so open since her guard was down.

When she failed to answer, he grimaced.

“Did I say something to make you think I didn’t approve of you?” His fingers drew circles on her back.

“No, you just . . . You always kept your distance, and you looked like a woman, wearing a thong shoved up her ass and too-tight heels. It was like I was causing you pain somehow.”

His grin grew wider. God, she was way more observant than he gave her credit for.

She was pretty accurate.
Pain
? Yeah—if she considered an eternal, uncontrollable erection around her, straining at his zipper to be painful, then fuck yeah, he was in constant pain when she was near.

It was manageable, but the ache in his chest was not.

How was he supposed to tell her that the moment he met her, he was insanely jealous and wanted her for himself? Keeping a safe distance was necessary so he wouldn’t tear Pono apart just to get at her.

“Funny, I could’ve said the same thing about you. I was giving you space, echoing back to you your needs, since you were unable to state you needed me to keep my distance,” he said.

He moved to get out from under her when she whimpered, “No, please stay!”

“Anything . . . Anything for you.” She stiffened, so he tacked on, “To help you feel better.”

He leaned over, keeping hold of her with one hand, grabbed her food and fed her slowly, one bite at a time.

When she’d eaten it all, she snuggled into him and breathed deep and heavy.

In no time, she was asleep, and though he knew he should put her to bed, he simply couldn’t.

So, he held her, sang to her and stroked her back and hair. He kissed her forehead, cheek and temple repeatedly.

It wasn’t until he considered the fact that she could wake up and realize he was putting his mouth all over her and his hands were starting to roam closer to her breasts, that he reluctantly put her to bed. He didn’t need her feeling violated on top of everything else.

It took him a good hour to get to sleep afterward. He couldn’t bring himself to jack off, and he was restless, his mind failing to focus when he tried to read or get some work done. What if he woke up and she was gone?

His heart pounded and ached at the thought, and his eyes stung with tears, threatening at the corners.

Had he cried today at the funeral?

Oh, fuck. She had to have seen him.

The only time he cried was when she blamed herself.

It’s all my fault . . .

Christ. It ripped him to pieces to hear her say that.

He concentrated on how her warm body had felt on him while sitting on the couch, on how her hand had been in his so many times today, and most of all—the content expression she wore when she stood on that beach.

He wanted to see that look on her face again, and he’d do anything to put it there once more, even if it meant building her a goddamn beach house in that exact spot where she stood today.

In the end, he lay in bed and listened to some music until sleep finally claimed him.

Chapter 3

Dark. Oh Jesus, it was so dark a chill ran down her spine.

She reached out to touch Pono, but he was missing.

Her heart wrenched.

Alone
.

This was how it might be from now on.

Her bed was empty, and it smelled like Mark.

The guilt was back like a suffocating wet blanket. She took off her wedding ring and shoved it in her purse on the floor next to the bed.

After a few steadying breaths, she tiptoed down the hallway to the other side of his house.

His door was slightly open.

It creaked when she pushed it open wider.

It was cracked, so that meant this was okay, right?

Her feet slid over the floor, and instead of feeling foreign and scary, it felt so right that it was even more frightening.

She climbed into bed with him, slipped under the covers and found his body heat right away.

He was always so warm, putting a permanent smile on her body and into her heart.

“What’re you . . .” He shifted closer to her, half-asleep with a groggy voice as he mumbled something about how she’d had a long day.

“Shit, sorry. Can I . . . ? Is it—I’ll go,” she said, ungluing her body from his and turning away.

His hand reached out and pulled her back. “No. Stay.” He swallowed and licked his bottom lip. “I’ll be a gentleman, I promise. You need this, and so do I.”

“I’m sorry, but I . . .” Tears spilled down her cheeks. “You helped me so much earlier today, and I . . . God, why can’t I stop crying now when I didn’t even do this at the funeral?”

“You’ve been through hell. It’s understandable, and you don’t need a reason to cuddle with me. I like it.” He nuzzled his nose into the top of her hair. Christ, she loved it when he did that. “Mmm . . .” He hummed and tightened his arm around her.

Her insides exploded with a heat to match his body. “You’re so warm. I know this sounds crazy, but you’re the exact body temperature I seem to need. It’s so weird. Pono would make me sweat, and I’d get annoyed. I never told him that, though,” she blurted, sounding mortified with her admission at the end when she realized what she’d just shared.

He probably thought she was incredibly calloused to say that about her husband and his deceased friend.

“It’s fine, Jean. You never have to worry I’m going to judge you. I understand completely.” She started to say something else to justify and defend herself, but he covered her lips with a finger and shushed her. “No more talking. You need your sleep. I’ll help you relax.”

A moment later, he had her half-draped over his chest with his hands caressing her back and combing through her hair, making her scalp tingle and zing. He did it over and over while he hummed.

Her body was a sponge, soaking up every drop of affection he gave her.

He took several deep breaths, and she sighed as she melted into him.

So comfortable to sleep on for a man that was nothing but slabs of finely honed muscles.

He whispered something about how glad he was she was here, or at least that was the last thing she remembered before falling off to sleep.

* * *

When Mark woke early the next morning, the sheet was tied in knots around his legs, but he didn’t care—she was still here with him, her body all over his.

Her scent permeated the air, and her hair was fanned out across him. Her lips were smooshed up against his chest and somehow, sometime in the night, his shirt had disappeared.

Good Lord—had he done that? And why couldn’t he remember it?

If he’d done
that
, what else had he done?

Did he touch her and make advances on her?

He exhaled and blinked.

What was he going to do? Keeping away from her was going to be damn near impossible after sleeping next to her last night. He wanted more—
had to
have more of her.

He glanced at the clock and fought off a groan. Four-thirty—the usual time he woke up and headed to the gym before work.

Well, today he’d skip it.

Work, too.

And for as long as she was going to stay, he’d start working out in the small fitness center located at the other end of the office building, during his lunch hour, rather than go to the big fancy one he paid a large monthly fee for. He wasn’t going to waste a minute being without her, including early morning hours.

He blinked and stared at the clock.

Hopefully it wouldn’t wake her when he called the office in a few moments.

He had already debated calling in last night to tell them he wouldn’t be in today, but he wasn’t sure if she’d stay or not.

Now, with her in his bed? There was absolutely no way he was going in.

She needed him.

His fingers walked down her spine, ghosted over the expanse of exposed skin on her lower back, and then tickled at her Venus dimples. She had an amazing ass—so curvy and tempting.

She was what every woman should be—feminine, soft and round in all the best ways. He didn’t feel like she would break if he unleashed on her.

Tia was tiny, and he always worried he’d inadvertently hurt her. He was always cautious with his touch when they’d played together.

His throat constricted as he thought about how Jeanie would react if she knew all the shit he was into and all the dirty things he wanted to do to her beautiful body.

Her pale skin would probably pink easily under his hands.

His mind wandered into dangerous places, and his hands seemed to follow. They were under her shirt, stroking across her shoulder blades, drifting over her ribs toward the edge of her tits.

She sighed and trembled under his touch, and his hands automatically pulled back out.

He stuck to over-the-shirt for the next few minutes, and then she stirred awake.

“God, I slept like the dead,” she said, then suddenly cupped her mouth. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

She muffled her voice as she cursed herself for being so insensitive to her dead husband’s memory.

“When you’re around me, I don’t want you to worry about or censor anything you say, okay?” He tilted his head down with his chin angled so he could see her reaction.

“’Kay,” she agreed.

“Good. I’m gonna go make you breakfast. Go shower if you like, and then we’ll plan the day.”

No one moved.

He kept touching her, and she stretched a little.

He wanted to bark out orders to get her to move since he was clearly incapable of doing anything other than be as close to her as possible.

“Why are you being so nice to me, Mark?”

“Why? Are you sick of me already?”

“No.” She chuckled and patted his arm. “I just don’t like being a burden.”

“Don’t you ever think you’re a burden to me. I want you here. It can get lonely in this place, so it’s nice to have you here. I want you to stay.” Jesus Christ, he sounded like a desperate woman begging—but,
fuck
, she really needed to quit worrying about this.

And if this was what it took to get her to stick around, then he’d do it.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He kissed the top of her head. Shit. He needed to stop doing that when she was awake.

“You’ll tell me if I start to annoy you?”

“Never gonna happen,” he said, his voice low and husky.

“Never gonna tell me, or never gonna get annoyed?”

“Never gonna get annoyed. Impossible.”

“Why? Because you have such amazing control over your emotions? Pono used to tell me that . . .”

“What did he say?” His head moved to get a better look at her.

Her cheeks pinked. “Well, he said you were too rigid at times—like a robot.” She blushed a little on the apple of her cheeks.