MoreThanWords (10 page)

Every second of the sex had been real, connected. Completely
lacking the porno phoniness that had become his dating life since Black Box
accumulated a following.

He liked Calli’s mind too. Sense of humor, quick with a
witty comeback. She made him smile. And a single woman who owned and ran her
own business—that was impressive. It took initiative, guts and perseverance. It
took spunk and control. So what was her crazy deal with the fear of darkness?
The Calli in the sobbing heap at his feet, calling herself pathetic, paralyzed
at the idea of setting foot outside at nighttime…that wasn’t the same girl he’d
met online, played dirty Scrabble against or gotten hard and sweaty with. She
might be more than a little bit nuts. Probably somebody he should chalk up as
an amazing one-night stand and leave it at that. Drop off her mended dog and
drive off into the snowsquall.

His cell buzzed with a text notification. Had to be Calli,
checking in. He yanked it from his pocket so fast it clattered to the linoleum,
the noise and his accompanying curse echoing off the sterile white walls. Oh
yeah, that plan to wave and walk away should work out really well.

It’s Calli. Sorry to bother you. Any word yet?

Nothing since they took him to an exam room. They
wouldn’t let me go with him.

You tried? That was nice of you. Thank you. For that, and
the rest of it too.

The rest of it. She probably meant bringing her dog across
the tri-cities at 10:30 p.m. in a blizzard. But he couldn’t leave it at a
simple statement of polite conversation.

Making you come was entirely my pleasure, no thanks
required.

A wall clock ticked off a long, loud minute before his cell
vibrated with her reply.

Tonight was the best night of my life.
Another
message popped up seconds later.
I bet you get that a lot.

Yeah, he’d heard it before. This time it didn’t make his
eyes roll—it made his mouth stretch into a big old grin. Before he could tap in
a message, a white-coated woman with a stethoscope around her neck pushed
through the door.

“Mr. Graham? You can see your dog now.”

Vet just called me in to see your dog. Text you soon.
He slid the phone into his pocket and followed the woman. What was it with
medical places—always white or gray, never real colors that’d put the unlucky
visitors at ease.

They passed several doors before Dr. Millen, as she’d
introduced herself, motioned him into a large room with metal cages on two
walls. Holding cells. Charming was in an upper unit, purple Kling wrap covering
a section of the right front leg.

“He’s standing.” He stepped closer to the cage for a better
look. “Should he be standing?”

The doc curled her hand around his forearm—a friendlier
gesture than necessary, one that went with her eyes as she looked
him
over, head to toe, finishing with a sweep of tongue across what looked
suspiciously like freshly glossed lips. “It’s sweet to see a man so attached to
his pet.”

“He’s my girlfriend’s dog.” The statement rolled from out of
his mouth automatically. No hesitation, even with the very attractive vet
practically offering herself up on a stainless-steel surgical table.

“Oh, well then.” She stuffed her hands into her lab coat
pockets and focused on the patient. “Simple acquired luxation resulting from
trauma, not an underlying condition. Radiographs showed no breaks or fractures.
We gave him a mild sedative for relaxation and performed a manual relocation.
The tape is merely to beef up support—it can come off tomorrow. No running,
jumping or exertion for a week. I’ll go enter his case details in the computer.
You can pick up his anti-inflammatories at the desk where you pay.”

Calli had shoved a wad of cash in his hand before he left
her place. After settling Charming’s tab—probably padded by the disgruntled
lady vet—she wasn’t getting much change. Running a business, she’d have to be
smart with her money. This little excursion had cost over four hundred dollars.
Even if the cash had come from rainy-day savings, the total was a stinger. He
bet Calli wouldn’t blink—that she’d only care her dog was home in one piece. He
had no basis for the feeling, just a nagging in his gut that demanded he keep
her around, invest some time getting to know her better. And his gut was a hell
of a lot more fickle than his dick. Since both parts had a thing for Calli, he
was inclined to listen.

He parked in front of her building and pulled out his cell.
We’re
back. Be at your door in two minutes.

“Come on, tough guy,” he said, scooping the dog from the
shotgun seat to his lap. The car had been off less than a minute and a film of
ice covered the windshield. The Chihuahua was already shaking and Travis hadn’t
opened the door yet. “Shit.” He’d forgotten the damn blanket at the emergency
clinic. “Guess it’s inside the coat for you.”

He pulled his hat down over his ears and tucked his scarf
around the tiny head poking out of his lapels, then hustled it around back.
Calli was peeking through the blinds when he reached the door. Metal clicked
and scraped as she unlocked her system of deadbolts and slides. She’d known he
was mere yards away, yet she hadn’t opened the door in advance. Whatever her
issue was, it had a seriously firm hold over her. He didn’t need a woman with
baggage. Didn’t have time for a relationship that had
project
written
all over it. Yet when she opened the door with a huge, genuine smile on her
face, he knew he’d just signed on for the job.

Chapter Seven

Calli had hauled a folded metal dog crate up the stairs
herself, refusing his offer of help. She’d all but ignored him as she took her
dog into the bedroom to settle him. A good ten minutes later, she exited the
bedroom, coming to an abrupt stop when she saw him leaning on the back of her
couch.

“I thought you would’ve left.”

“You didn’t tell me I had to.”

The wheels turned behind her pretty eyes. “I’m glad you’re
still here, actually.”

“Good. Me too.”

She pulled some folded bills from her back pocket, stepped
closer and extended her hand. “Take it. As a thank you for your trouble. And
for the gas you used.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “I didn’t hang around so
you’d give me money.”

“Oh…” Several silent minutes ticked away as the tension
between them thickened uncomfortably. “I forgot what I promised you earlier.”
She met his eyes for a second. Bit her lip and sighed. Tucked the cash away
then went to work on the button and zipper of her jeans.

He pushed off the couch to a stand before she had the jeans
shimmied past the curve of her hip. “Not that I’m in any way opposed to seeing
you naked again, but what are you doing?”

“You didn’t leave and you don’t want money, so I figured you
wanted to finish up…from before.”

“And that’s okay with you.”

She didn’t answer. Not with words. The way her hand fiddled
with the zipper instead of getting on with the strip show told the truth. The
jeans stayed put. Low enough to give him a view of the smooth skin below her
stomach. High enough to tease the crap out of him without even trying.

“I’m not fucking you to balance some invisible ledger.” Much
to the chagrin of his aching cock.

“Is it the weather—are the roads too bad? You can sleep
over,” a burn of red flooded her cheeks, “on the couch, I mean. I’ll get some
blankets and a—”

He cuffed her wrist before she could escape to the linen
closet. “The driving is no big deal.”

She let out a long sigh. “I’m not altogether lacking in the
intelligence department, Travis, but I don’t get why you’re still here.”

Any last-minute reservations he had melted into the
background when she called him by name. “I’d like to finish our Scrabble game.”

“But you just said you didn’t want to,” she looked up at him
with eyes that matched her exasperated voice, “you know…fuck me.”

“I never said I didn’t want to. Only that I wouldn’t do it
as part of some payment plan.” He tugged her closer and she didn’t resist,
letting him pull her tight against his chest and the hard bulge in his pants.
But it wasn’t just about that, for once in his life. “I was a jerk earlier. I
regret that.” Not the greatest apology. Didn’t matter what her issue with the
darkness was, she hadn’t deserved the treatment he’d dished out. He hated that
he’d hurt her, that his shitty former self had made an appearance, even for a
second. From the way she melted, sliding her arms around his waist, she accepted
his half-assed apology for what it was. Forgave his stupid ass. He’d take it,
and this time, he wouldn’t screw it up.

“Two in the morning is kind of late for Scrabble, plus I
already put the board away.” Good night and goodbye words, yet she didn’t move.
Just stared up at him with big, beautiful, unsure eyes. “Do you want to stay
and…?” She flicked a glance at the bedroom.

“Be with you. Talk. Get to know each other better.”

A furrow set up residence between her eyebrows. Damn, it
made her even cuter. More irresistible.

“You really don’t want to know more about me. I’m a train
wreck, if you hadn’t figured that out for yourself.”

“Yeah, but you’re a hot, cute, funny and smart train wreck.
Let’s compare baggage and see who’s more screwed-up.”

She snickered and shook her head. “You’re going to lose this
one.”

He let his hands slide down over the strip of exposed skin
at the top of her shoved-down jeans. “I doubt that, sweetheart.”

* * * * *

The clock on the television said they’d been talking over an
hour. Side by side at first, until he’d stretched his arm over the back of the
couch and pulled her closer, into a cuddle. They’d started with small stuff,
likes and dislikes—food, movies, music, etcetera. Verbal personal résumés,
essentially.

Then Travis had freely offered up his baggage. A history of
bouncing, and not the enforcer-at-a-bar kind. He’d started three post-secondary
programs and finished none. Statistics at university for a year. Two years of
college learning the ins-and-outs of code and computer programming. Two years
apprenticing with an electrician. Assorted odd jobs in between. Not that he was
a slacker, he’d always found solid means to pay the bills—the current method
being freelance website design—but the only thing that’d truly stuck in his life
was music.

His personal track record was equally bumpy. He’d moved
around—six cities and twice as many apartments since leaving his parents’ home
at eighteen. Tight with his family, but no serious romantic relationships,
ever. Just a very lengthy string of casual encounters and broken hearts, though
he denied that last part.

Not the kind of guy she should be getting involved with, but
here she was, in his arms, having the best night of her life. Forcing her eyes
to stay open so it wouldn’t end. Being with Travis was easy. Automatic, like
blinking. It didn’t make sense, but she liked it.

She yawned, not subtly enough to sneak it past him.

“Here, let’s do this.” He shifted to a lying position while
cupping her leg and draping her half on top of him. “Good?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

Cradling her with one arm, he reached across their bodies to
stroke her hair with the other. “You have incredible hair.” His fingertips
threaded through its length, crown to ends, then back to the top to make the
journey, over and over.

Safety, comfort, sensuality. She wrapped her arm around his
waist, snuggled into the spot where his chest joined his shoulder. Bliss, pure
and simple.

“Do you ever leave the building?”

So much for bliss. And simple. “In the daytime, yes.”

“Never at night?”

“Not for the past two years, no.”

“Tell me about it.”

She hadn’t talked about the attack since quitting therapy
eighteen months ago. The majority of inquiries from family and acquaintances
had stopped around the one-year mark. There’d been nobody new in her life to
tell—until now. For him, a chance at whatever this connection was between them,
she’d relive that night.

“It happened December 22, three weeks after I opened Romance
U. The bank is only a few blocks away. I figured I’d drop off the day’s deposit
and grab a pita to go on the way back, like I’d done most nights. A guy walked
by, your average Joe, nothing about him stood out or set off any alarms for me.
I even smiled at him—I was on top of the world, so why not, right? Then I
looked down to dig the deposit bag from my purse and—” Now her pulse sped up.
She released a long, low breath. “It happened so fast. A greasy palm slapped
over my mouth. He wrenched my arms back and hauled me into an alley.” Her
stomach and chest clenched. One deep, heaving sob escaped.

Travis’ body stiffened under hers. “You don’t have to tell
me the rest.”

“I do, so you understand. I just need,” another hiccup-like
sob racked her body, “a sec to regroup.”

His arms folded around her, pulling her tighter to his body.
“Take it slow, I’m not going anywhere.”

“He, he…” She touched her throat, she always did while
remembering. “He pinned me against the wall with one hand. So hard, god it
hurt.” She swallowed. Tried clearing her throat, but it was too dry, too tight.
“He squeezed my neck. I cried, I would’ve begged for mercy, but I couldn’t
talk. He punched me. In the temple, then in the stomach and chest. I couldn’t
breathe. Everything went black and I thought I was going to die. Then I heard
him laughing, and the sound of cloth ripping, buttons falling to the pavement,
and I wished I
would
die before he…oh god.”

“Shh, sweetheart, shh…” He rocked her, pressed his lips to
her head.

She barely registered the actions, Travis’ voice. The gates
were open and nothing would stop all of it from tumbling out on choppy breaths.
“He left me there, unconscious. I didn’t know if he’d—if he’d—you know.” The
word refused to come out. “The ER doctor had to do an internal exam.”

“What did it tell them?” Travis’ voice was as hoarse as
hers.

She shook her head against the safe haven of his chest. “He
didn’t rape me.”

“Thank god.”

“My coat and blouse were torn, so was my skirt. The police
officer said the attacker either got scared off before he could finish, or…”
She gulped for air. Replaying it brought it all back, as if it’d been
yesterday.

“Calli, stop.”

Not now that she’d gotten this far. “Or I might’ve gotten
lucky by passing out, because some monsters get more pleasure out of inciting
fear than the sex part of…rape. That bastard broke my hyoid bone, damaged my
trachea, cracked a rib, gave me a nasty black eye. I’m stuck inside
indefinitely and my voice has never been the same…and I should consider myself
lucky
.”

“Sick motherfucker. Did they catch him?”

“No.” And that’s what it boiled down to at sunset every day.
That man, the vicious animal who hadn’t finished with her, was still out there.
Maybe living in her neighborhood. “I hate what he did to me, physically, but I
got past it. I don’t jump when somebody gets close to me, or brushes by me in
the grocery store, like I used to. But the panic when I try setting foot out
the door at night—I hate him most of all for that.”

Travis said nothing. Just held her and kissed her. Stroked
her hair and back while her breathing slowed to normal. Let her soak his shirt
with useless tears until they’d run their course.

“I’m sorry for earlier. I couldn’t have been a bigger
asshole if I’d tried.”

“You didn’t know, but thank you.”

“Hey…” Travis gently hooked her under the chin, tipping her
head up to meet his eyes. Intense, but also so, so sweet. “Nobody, and I mean
nobody, is going to hurt you while I’m around.”

“Okay.” How’d they get from anonymous online Scrabble to
this? Relief settled over her. She’d told him and he hadn’t run. Instead of
ridicule, he’d offered to protect her. She burrowed as close as possible.
Travis Graham, tattooed mega-hottie, had become her living, breathing security
blanket. God help her when she’d have to let him go.

* * * * *

Charming’s whining and scratching roused Calli from a
wonderful dream. She lifted her head from the pillow—only it wasn’t a pillow,
it was Travis’ chest. And some of the amazing dream had been real.

The living room lamp was still on, giving her a decent view
of the man sharing her couch. God, he was gorgeous, even while sleeping. A dark
shadow of stubble covered his jaw, highlighting the small dimple in his chin.
Awake and smiling, Travis lit up her world, but seeing his mouth completely
still, set in a straight line—she itched to touch it, his lips were so full and
appealing. He muttered something incoherent and turned his head to one side.
Disheveled hair stuck out in several directions.

She slid her hand up his chest, pausing briefly over his
sleep-slowed, steady heartbeat, and threaded her fingers into his hair. Another
mumble. A little tick of a smile. His arm against her back tightened, his
fingers making circles against her sweatshirt.

“Pull it up.”

Her eyes snapped to his face. Not so much as a flutter to be
seen across his eyelids. How long had he been awake, lying there still and
silent? She shuffled, inching the fleece top upward until his fingers connected
with her skin.

“Better.”

Wasn’t it just? His hand slid up, leaving a trail of sparks
that ended at the curve of her breast, where he continued to stroke bare flesh.
He adjusted his leg, inserting it squarely between her thighs, against the
crotch of her jeans. The seam pressed on her clit. Well,
that
part of
her body was wide awake now. She shifted slightly—and subtly, she hoped. A
small move to the right and bingo—sweet spot achieved. Travis pushed his leg
tighter. His fingers found her nipple. She barely had time to catch a breath
before it hit—a small, intense burst of sensation radiating from her clit. He’d
made her come again. Fully clothed, only partially awake, while barely moving.
Good god.

This time when she looked up, his eyes were open. And his
smile was lethal sexy.

“I wouldn’t mind if you kept playing with that,” he arched
an eyebrow and nodded at her hand gripping the bulge in his jeans, “but I think
your dog needs to go out.”

She disentangled herself, grudgingly. Because wow, he
smelled incredible. All sleepy and sexy and warm…yum. If she didn’t move
immediately, her little dog might damage himself again, this time while trying
to escape his crate for a pee.

Travis stopped her by curling a palm around her hamstring.
“It’s still dark outside, let me take him.”

“Don’t worry, he has a litter box inside.”

“Can he lift his leg in it?”

“No, he squats.”

“Not while I’m here. Men weren’t made to
squat
while
taking a leak, sweetheart.” Travis pushed up from the comfort of the couch and
ran his fingers through that thick, adorably sexy bedhead while she collected
Charming and his leash.

Until last night, her dad was the only man Charming had
spent any time with. Yet the way her little dog settled into Travis’ arms,
you’d think he’d been there hundreds of times. Travis didn’t appear to mind,
either. This wouldn’t become an everyday sight—her logical, practical side knew
that. That didn’t stop her heart from doing a fluttery dance. Wanting was such
a dangerous thing.