Deeper Than The Ocean by Julie Ann Walker

 

 

Chapter 24

 

1:38 PM…

 

By the time Wolf finished closing up the house, Chrissy had toweled herself dry and changed into a soft sea foam-colored tank top and matching pair of sleep shorts.

She didn’t hear him stop in the doorway to the bathroom. She was down on her knees, searching through the various bottles and boxes beneath her vanity. And cursing a blue streak when she couldn’t seem to find what she was looking for.

Crossing his arms and leaning against the doorjamb, he enjoyed the view.

She was so long and tan. And the more he stared at the perfect upside-down heart of her butt in those shorts, the more he was convinced he was halfway to heaven but headed straight to hell for his prurient thoughts.

“Aha!” she exclaimed, holding a box of gauze bandages aloft and turning to catch him staring.

He yanked his gaze away, pretending to be fascinated by the little crack in the ceiling. He only glanced down at her after she shoved to a stand, and he smiled as if he’d just noticed she was in the room.

Just me bein’ a total gentleman and not oglin’ the hell out your ass.

“This is the last one.” He hitched his chin toward the window above the toilet, moving quickly to close the sash and flip the lock. “All done.” He dusted off his hands. “No more air-conditionin’ the world.”

The light in her eyes instantly dimmed.

“What?” He was on immediate high alert. “What’s wrong?”

“Mom used to say that when I left the front door open.”

The tension drained out of him. “Her and every other parent since the dawn of HVAC. Sit down and let me get a gander at that bullet wound.”

This time she didn’t bristle at his autocratic command. She simply followed his instructions. After she was comfortable atop the toilet lid, she asked quietly, “How do you know when you’ve stopped grieving someone you’ve lost?”

Brushing a damp strand of hair behind her ear, he gently cupped her face. He’d lost his paternal grandparents when he was only a boy. Both his folks had died two weeks after he joined the Navy when a F5 twister tore through their house. Then there had been Rusty, a brother to him in every way that mattered.

He knew about grief. So he felt confident when he told her, “I reckon it’s when the memory of them brings you peace instead of pain.”

Her smile was faint. “I like that. Who said it?”

He pressed a hand over his heart. “You wound me, woman. Not everything that comes out of my mouth is someone else’s genius. Some of the brilliance is my own.”

She tried to fight a smile and lost the battle.

I love her mouth,he thought. It was every man’s fantasy. So sweet and soft and devilishly eager.

He’d known she was responsive. Those few heated moments in the storage closet had proven that. But nothing had prepared him for the sheer wonder of her in that backyard.

It had been a heady thing to see how each subtle brush of his fingertips, the slightest change in the pressure of his lips or the stroke of his tongue, had made her gasp and writhe and pant for more.

Every moan that had fallen from her lips had seemed to bypass his ears and go directly to his cock. He’d throbbed so hard, it’d been a wonder he hadn’t split his own skin.

The memory was enough to have him swelling and lengthening again.

Since he didn’t reckon it was very gentlemanly to have a hard-on shoved in her face while rebandaging her wound, he seized on a subject sure to cool his ardor.

Even though he hadn’t a clue what she could possibly propose with her plan, he wasn’t fool enough to think it might be anything he’d like. “So…about this plan of yours.”

“Oh! Right. I’ve come up with a solution to our problem.” She dipped her chin decisively.

“What problem is that?”

“The problem of you mistaking being in love with me when what you really are is in lust with me.”

He felt a muscle in his jaw twitch. One beneath his left eye followed suit. “This thing between us is more than hormones, Christina. And if you’re sayin’ otherwise, you’re not only lyin’ to me, you’re lyin’ to yourself.”

“But that’s the thing.” Her expression turned beseeching. “I know what we share is more than hormones. We’re friends, Wolf. And I cherish that. I don’t want to lose it. So what I propose is that we become friends with benefits.”

His heart thudded so hard he wouldn’t have been surprised to look down and see it burst from his chest, Alien-style.

“That way,” she continued, “we’ll have made no promises and no sweeping declarations. And since no future plans will get broken, there won’t be hurt when one or both of us decides we’ve exhausted the benefits portion of our relationship. It’ll be a return to the status quo. To you and I teasing each other, taunting each other, being pals. And you’ll see, Wolf. You’ll see it was only ever unrequited lust to begin with.”

She thought there would come a time when they exhausted their chemistry? Pfft. Passion like theirs was a rare gift that didn’t get exhausted. It simply mellowed and matured, the fire dimming to a long, luxurious smolder.

For proof of this, he need look no further than his own grandparents. Before his grandfather died, his agiduda would chase his elisi around the barn, pulling her down into the hay and kissing her until she laughed, swatted him on the butt, and accused him of being a lecherous old fart.

As a boy, Wolf had rolled his eyes and made gagging noises that old folks would behave in such a way. But as a man, he took comfort in knowing desire, true desire, stood the test of time.

And when it came to falling in love versus being in love? Well, they were one and the same. Part of an infinite circle that endlessly looped through the lives of lovers.

How many times had his grandfather told a story about his grandmother, some sweet or silly anecdote that ended with, “And I fell in love with her all over again.”

So many times, Wolf had lost count.

That was the kind of love he wanted. The kind that renewed itself again and again.

If that meant he had to keep his mouth shut and use his body to show Chrissy the folly in her plan—use his body over, and over, and over again? Well, you can bet your bottom dollar he could do exactly that.

Boy howdy, can I ever.

She mistook his silence for an objection to her idea. “Okay, so what if you’re right? What if this thing we’re feeling is us falling in love?”

He got very still. Did she realize what she’d just said?

It didn’t appear so, since she went on without taking a breath. “So what? Falling in love doesn’t last. And when it’s faded, what’s left? Heartache? Desertion? Grief? No.” She shook her head. “I don’t want that. Not for us.”

Desertion… That one word rang in his head like a church bell, crystalline and clear.

“Did any of them stay in contact with you after they took off?” he asked quietly.

He didn’t need to clarify. She knew exactly to whom he referred. “No.” She shook her head. “Well, Tony wrote me a handful of emails. He was my mom’s fourth husband,” she explained. “But as soon as he remarried, he stopped writing.”

Tony stopped writing and Chrissy had been thrown away like yesterday’s trash. Again.

Jesus. She hadn’t been a simple bystander to her mother’s love life. Oh, no. She’d been right there, strapped in beside Josephine on that roller coaster ride. She’d experienced the highs of having a father figure enter her life, someone who doted on her, whom she grew to love and who made her feel loved in return. And she’d experienced the lows of having that love and devotion ripped away once the relationship fell apart.

It was his job now to prove to her that not all men left. That when it was real and right and good, when both parties were as crazy for each other and as well-matched as he and Chrissy, it lasted.

With one finger, he tipped up her chin. “Okay, darlin’. Let’s do it your way.”

Her narrowed eyes broadcast her suspicion. “This feels too easy.”

“Look,” he told her honestly, “I’m not sayin’ I think you’re right. I think you’re dead wrong. But I’m willin’ to go along with your experiment. I mean, if you’re right, we’ll end up as friends. And if I’m right, we’ll end up as life-long lovers. It’s a win/win as far as I can figure.”

Her eyes lit up. “Seriously?”

“Have I ever lied to you?”

“No.” Her expression turned teasing. “But you did confuse me for a redhead once, so…”

“Ugh. You’re never goin’ to let me forget that night, are you?”

“Not on your life.”

“You could at least pretend to grant me a sweet little reprieve.” He feigned a frown.

“Please.” She rolled her eyes. “Do I look like Willy Wonka? I don’t sugarcoat anything.”

“Wiseass,” he accused.

“Would you have me any other way?”

“Not on your life.” He stole her line and something succulent melted in her eyes. Apparently, she was done giving him hell and was thinking about giving him something else entirely.

What was that low, growling sound?

Oh, right. It’s me.

“Nope!” He realized he’d bent to claim her lips when she shoved a finger over his mouth. “Wound care first,” she told him with a decisive jerk of her chin. “Naked shenanigans to follow.”

“I’m offended you think I can’t accomplish both things at once,” he said around her finger, feeling her skin warm with his hot breath.

Her eyes lowered to his mouth and glittered with desire. He would swear he felt his lips throb in response.

“As much as I would love your kisses…” Her voice was husky. “And I mean, love your kisses. Let’s get this bandaging business over with as quickly as we can.”

“Your wish is my command.”

“Prince Charming.” She beamed up at him.

“Oh, hell no.” He shook his head. “I’m no Prince Charming. I’m the big, bad wolf. And that should make you glad.”

“Why’s that?”

“A wolf can see better, hear better, and…eat you better than a prince ever could.”

He watched her nipples furl beneath the cotton of her shirt, and his mouth instantly watered as if he were one of Pavlov’s dogs.

Soon, he thought. Soon I’ll taste those sweet little buds. But first…

Gently sliding the strap of her tank top over her shoulder, he inspected the bandaging. It was soaked and some of the tape holding it in place had peeled away.

Running a finger along the edge of one sticky strip, he noted how warm and smooth her skin was in comparison and—

“This is going to hurt, isn’t it?” Her voice was tremulous.

“Not if I can help it,” he promised. “Now hold still.”

She held her breath as he gently peeled away the first edge of the dressing. By the time he’d gotten the final side of tape up, she’d relaxed somewhat. But she tensed again when he lifted the gauze pad covering her wound.

“How’s it look?” She stared up at him in trepidation.

“See for yourself.” He helped her to her feet and then stood behind her as she tentatively turned toward the mirror.

A whoosh of air exited her lungs at the same time her eyebrows pinched together. “That’s it?”

She leaned in close to her reflection to inspect the neat line of stitches that marred the perfection of her shoulder.

Truly, the only thing that looked the least bit gnarly about the wound was the bruised flesh around it. Her skin was a Technicolor canvas of reds, blues, and purples that he’d dearly love to kiss better.

“Your doctor was good. It’ll probably only leave a faint scar.” He bent to press his lips to the back of her neck. He couldn’t help himself. “Plus, she thinks it was a ricochet and not a direct hit, which means there was a lot less deep tissue damage than there might’ve been.”

Chrissy shivered. “You’re trying to distract me from my bullet wound and you’re not being subtle about it.”

“Maybe I’m tryin’ to distract myself.” He moved his mouth to her ear. He’d noticed she seemed to like that. When he nibbled the sweet little lobe, he watched in the mirror as her lids lowered to half-mast. “I hate seein’ you hurt, Chrissy. It makes me want to chew nails.”

“I’d much rather you use your mouth for other things,” she told him coyly, tilting her head to the side to give him better access. “And then maybe you’ll let me return the favor? Let me take a bite out of your Adam’s apple? That thing has been tempting me all day.”

“Really?” He moved his mouth to the crook of her neck, feeling her pulse flutter against his lips.

“Mmm-hmm.” She nodded lazily. “There’s something about it. It screams man.”

He understood that. So many things about her screamed woman, from the graceful line of her collarbones to the dramatic flare of her hips. And all of them, each and every one, was a siren’s call.

“After you’re done with my Adam’s apple, what’ll you do next?”

“Lick your neck. Suck on your pulse point.” Speaking of…his heart rate picked up its pace to match hers. “Maybe leave a little love bite so every time you catch your reflection in the mirror for the next few days, you’ll be reminded of me.”

I suppose I should’ve known, he thought, given how much we like to banter, that she’d bring fun, flirty talk into the bedroom.

At least he hoped she’d bring fun, flirty talk into the bedroom. And then maybe transition that fun, flirty talk into downright dirty talk.

“If you start bitin’ my Adam’s apple and kissin’ my neck, I can’t be held responsible for what happens next.”

“Promises, promises,” she teased, then shivered again when he gently bit down on the side of her neck. It was a warning of sensual punishments to come. A pledge to show her every erotic trick he’d ever learned.

“Mmm,” she hummed her approval, closing her eyes as he continued to use his mouth on her tender flesh.

The taste of her on his tongue was every tropical dream he’d ever had. A sweet mix of sugary boat drinks, sunshine, and coconut milk. It took some effort, but he forced himself to step away.

“Let’s get you bandaged back up.” His voiced sounded like it’d been trampled by an entire battalion of combat boots.

She tried to feign nonchalance, but her movements were shaky when she retook her seat. She nearly missed the closed toilet lid altogether and only saved herself at the last minute.

“Antibacterial ointment? Tape?” he asked.

“On the vanity.” When she pointed, her fingers were trembling.

Glad to have an excuse to turn away so she wouldn’t see the triumphant curve of his mouth, he swung back around when he heard her gasp.

“What?” he demanded. “What’s wrong?”

“Have you had that the entire time?” Her eyes were huge.

“Had what?” He glanced around, confused. Had a hard-on? Sure. Every time she was near. Had a big, squishy soft spot for her? Of course. Right from the start.

“A gun.”

“Oh. No.” He shook his head. “That’s what I went to the airport to get. Romeo keeps the Otter armed.”

“Do you…” Her voice was wobbly, so she swallowed. “Do you think you’ll need it?”

“Nah,” he assured her. If the warehouse dickholes had wanted to finish the job they started, they likely would have already tried. “But my motto is always be prepared,” he told her.

Her mouth flattened. “That’s not your motto. That’s the Boy Scouts of America motto. Although…” She cocked her head. “I can see it. You in that little khaki shirt with all your badges. Were you a Scout?”

“Nope.” He shook his head. “My elisi wouldn’t hear of it.” When she frowned, he explained. “My uncle is gay. We’re talkin’ out and proud since he was about six years old. And unlike Western civilization, the idea of same-sex unions has been part of the Cherokee culture for as long as any of the elders can remember. In fact, for centuries my tribe has been known for celebratin’ a ‘ceremony of devotion’ between two men at annual festivals. It’s basically what folks today would call gay marriage.”

“Fascinating,” she breathed.

“Anyway, back when my grandmother was raisin’ her kids, the Boy Scouts of America was still toutin’ its stance against openly gay people being allowed into the organization. Elisi refused to give money to any group that wasn’t inclusive of everyone, regardless of race, religion, gender, sexual orientation, you name it.” He smiled when he relayed this last part. “She flies two flags from her front porch. The Cherokee Nation flag and the gay pride flag.”

Chrissy’s eyes sparkled. “She sounds like a pistol. I think I like her.”

“You should.” He snorted. “Y’all are peas in a pod.” When her brows knit together, he explained, “You’re both incredibly independent, incredibly capable, and incredibly stubborn.”

She sent him an arch look. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Not at all. Y’all are my two favorite women on the planet.”

Her laugh was sputtering. “Cut it out. What about your sisters?”

He shook his head. “I mean, I love them to pieces. But they’re too much of a pain in my ass to make them my favorites.”

“Didn’t you tell me I’m a pain in your ass?” Her eyes narrowed. “I could’ve sworn that was you.”

“When?” he demanded. He remembered thinking that. More than a time or two. But he didn’t recall actually saying it out loud.

“When you were trying to convince me I’d be able to lengthen my dive times if I practiced Tai Chi with you in the mornings. And I told you that unless your name is Google, you should stop acting like you know everything.” She screwed up her face. “If memory serves, your exact response was, ‘Lord, Christina, you are such a pain in my ass.’”

“Ah, yes.” Now he remembered that little tête-à-tête. Recalled how much he’d wanted to grab her and kiss the snarky words right out of her mouth. “Well, you are a pain in my ass. But you’re a different sort of pain in my ass than my sisters.”

“How so?” She lifted an eyebrow.

“They can’t seem to stop drownin’ me in rug rats. And you won’t even countenance the idea that we should have a whole passel of our own.”

The instant the words left his mouth, he knew he’d said too much. Her expression turned unreadable. Her eyes went hooded.

“Is that what you want?” Her voice was a whisper. “A whole passel of kids?”

“Well, maybe not a whole passel. How much is even in a passel anyway?” When she ignored his attempt at levity, he continued. “But like you, I’ve always thought four sounds about right. I reckon it’s enough without bein’ too much.”

She stared at him intently. Too intently. Then she opened her mouth, but he stopped her with a raised hand. “And I know what you’re goin’ to say. You’re goin’ to say I only think that’s what I want. That the truth is I’m not the kind of guy who’ll be happy with a normal life.” He made air quotes. “You think I’m not the settlin’ down sort.”

She was quiet for a moment and he feared he’d gone and screwed things up by bringing the subject back around. She’d agreed to friends with benefits. And he’d decided to let her plan play out.

So shut the hell up, you idiot!

But he couldn’t. Especially when she asked, “And you claim you’re the settling down sort, but not the settling sort. What did you mean by that?”

“I meant I won’t settle for anything less than everything. You don’t want that heady rush of fallin’ in love? I do. You don’t want that out of control, ass over teakettle tumble into romantic bliss? I do. I want a woman who is as nuts for me as I am for her.”

Her expression turned trepidatious. “Wolf, I—”

“Nope.” He shook his head. “That doesn’t mean anything has changed. We can still do this your way. If this thing I’m feelin’ isn’t built to last, if we scratch this itch and it goes away like you think it will, then you’ll have been right. And I’ll have learned a valuable lesson.”

She narrowed her eyes. “And what lesson is that?”

“That fallin’ in love is nothin’ but a flight of fancy. And that, in the future, I should choose my romantic partners with my head and not my heart.”

When she scowled fiercely, his chin jerked back. “What? I thought that would make you happy.”

“I don’t like the thought that I’ll be the reason you become cynical about love.”

“Oh, for the love of—” He slapped his palm against his forehead. “You are the most confoundin’ woman on the planet. You realize that, right?”

“No. But only because I doubt you’ve met every woman on the planet. Wolf, I don’t want this thing between us to hurt you or…or…” She searched for a word and came up with, “diminish you in any way. If I thought this friends with benefits thing would—”

“Let me stop you right there before you go throwin’ a monkey wrench into works we’ve already agreed on. In case it has escaped your notice, I’m a grown-ass man completely capable of makin’ my own grown-ass decisions that may or may not make my grown-ass cynical all on my grown-ass own.”

As he’d hoped, that made a hint of a smile twitch her lips.

Deciding the matter was closed, he warned her, “Now hold onto your hat. I’m goin’ to redress your wound.”

He could tell she still had something to say, but thought better of it. Nodding, she indicated he should begin by blowing out a fortifying breath.

He squirted a line of antibacterial ointment over the stitches without rubbing it in. He reckoned the gauze pad would do that work for him once he applied it. And even though in the past he’d used every excuse he could think of to touch her, that had been about pleasure. He never wanted to cause her pain.

By the time he had the gauze in place and was ready to begin applying the medical tape, she’d relaxed some. The fingers she’d had curled around the toilet seat were open on her thigh.

“You okay?” he asked, trying to keep his mind on the task at hand. But it was hard when her face was at crotch-level. Her every breath warming the material over his fly.

“It doesn’t actually hurt unless I try to move my arm,” she admitted.

“Good. Then we’ll do everything we can to make sure you don’t move your arm.”

“Given my plan, that might be a little difficult.”

He glanced down to find her smirking up at him. He was beyond relieved to hear she was still onboard with the plan despite his momentary bout of verbal diarrhea.

“Are you sayin’ you can’t do what needs doin’ one-handed?” He tsked. “And here I thought you were the inventive sort.”

“Really? No.” She shook her head sorrowfully. “I guess I should warn you right now that I suck in the bedroom.” When his eyes widened with shock, she winked and added, “I also lick and bite.”

He was hard again. And given his jeans were wet and shrink-wrapped around his hips, he’d swear his cock felt like a horse shoved in a shoebox.

“Save your teasin’ for after I’m finished here, woman,” he growled. “Or I’ll rip off those little sleep shorts, hoist you up on the vanity, and have you fucked before either one of us can think.”

He winced when he realized how crude he sounded. But when he peeked down at her, he didn’t see shock or embarrassment in her eyes. Oh, no. He saw heat.

She was one for dirty talk.

Duly noted and hallelujah!

He picked up the pace in his ministrations, and was nearly finished, having secured three sides of the gauze pad, when the medical tape decided to mutiny. It kept curling up and getting stuck in its own glue.

“Damned diabolical stuff.” He threw an unusable strip into the trash and noticed the pieces of broken teacup lying on top of a pile of tissues.

He was instantly filled with remorse. “I’m sorry about your teacup.”

“You’re not serious, are you?”

“What?” He frowned. “Why?”

“You saved me, again,and you think I’d be upset about a teacup?”

“Was it special? A keepsake or—”

“I got it at a garage sale for fifty cents.”

“Oh, good.” Relief loosened his shoulders.

“You are something else, Wolf Roanhorse. You know that, right? You’ve been a superhero the past day, and yet you stand here before me, sorry you broke a teacup.”

He couldn’t help reminding her, “A superhero, huh? Well, be careful. Superheroes always get the girl in the end.”

She rolled her eyes. “Are we about finished here?”

“Almost.” He gently smoothed down the last strip of tape. “Now we’re done.” Stepping back, he inspected his work. “Not too shabby, if I do say so myself.”

“Excellent.” She stood, adjusted her arm in her sling, and then pointed to the toilet. “Your turn.”

“My turn?” His chin jerked back. “For what?”

She grabbed his wrist and turned his arm over until he could see the road rash on his elbow. “Oh, right. I should probably clean that up.” Bits of dirt and asphalt were stuck in the wound and the edges had dried and become crusty.

“No.” She shook her head and pointed again at the toilet lid. “You played Florence Nightingale for me. Let me return the favor.”

He shrugged and sat down while she wetted a washcloth with warm water. Then he hissed when she began scrubbing at his wound. “Ow! For shit’s sake, take it easy!”

“Hush, you big baby.” She slapped his arm. “I have to get it clean or it’ll get infected.”

Gritting his teeth, he muttered, “It’s a good thing you went into the scuba divin’ business and not the nursin’ business.”

One corner of her mouth quirked. “I swear, I have eaten steaks that were tougher than you’re acting right now.”

“Someone should fire that chef,” he muttered, then heaved a sigh of relief when she satisfied herself that his wound was clean. She reached for the ointment, and the move brought her breasts near his face. He was this close to those delicious nipples.

Halfway to heaven but headed straight to hell, he thought again, unable to take his eyes off her breasts even as she continued to doctor his arm.

Maybe it was the heaven/hell reference, but for some reason, the song “Hotel California” started playing in his head. He hummed the first few bars as she stuck a gauze pad over his elbow. Then he sang aloud while she wrestled with the tape.

“What did you sing?” There was a delighted twinkle in her eyes as she secured the edges of his bandage.

He groaned. “What did I get wrong this time?”

She bit the inside of her cheek. “Did you sing Cool Whip in my hair?”

He knew his expression was chagrined when he quietly asked, “Is that not right?”

That Fourth of July laugh of hers filled the bathroom when she threw back her head. He sat there, fighting a grin, because it was the happiest sound in the world. When she finally lowered her chin, she wiped an imaginary tear from the corner of her eye.

“It’s cool wind in my hair.” Her voice was thick with humor. “Who puts Cool Whip in their hair?”

“I don’t know. Someone who ran out of hair gel?”

“And again with the food!” She slapped her thigh.

“Is Cool Whip really food?” he countered. “Or is it more a food product, like Velveeta?”

She tried to sober, and failed. Her eyes sparkled, her mouth twitched. “So…is it that you’re hungry every time you’re listening to music, or that you need to get your hearing tested?”

“That’s it,” he declared, shoving to a stand. “That’s the last time I sing in front of you.”

“No!” She grabbed his shoulder. “Please, please don’t ever stop singing in front of me. I love your misheard lyrics. They’re becoming the highlight of my days.”

“Oh, look.” He glanced at his watch. “My magic watch says you don’t have any clothes on.” When she frowned down at her tank top and shorts, he dropped his voice. “You do? Then the damn thing must be five minutes fast.”

As he’d hoped, that was all it took to stop her teasing. Her throat worked over a hard swallow and her eyes were heavy lidded when she looked at him.

Then, because she was Chrissy, and because she could never let anyone get one over on her, she arched one eyebrow. “Mmm. And here I was thinking, you know, given all your big talk in the hospital, that you were going to strip for me.”

“Your wish is my command, darlin’.” He held out his hand.

When she slid her fingers into his, he knew, for better or worse, from this moment on, his life was changed forever.