Broken Justice (Justice Brothers) (8 page)

Eventually the nightmare exploded just as the day had and Cam was thrown into a deep tangle of horror punctuated with the sounds and smell of death, infused with treachery and fear. Blood and terror swam before his closed eyes until revulsion for what had been lost mixed with a steely determination to escape that burning hell hole lifted him from the past a split second before his eyes opened on the present day.

He lay there, letting the past recede from his thoughts and willing his racing heart to calm and return to normal. Minutes ticked by and the memories that had been loosened by sickness slowly faded until silence was the only thing left. Cam blinked heavily once or twice then struggled to sit up before gingerly swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

At first he could only sit there, elbows resting on his knees that seemed just a bit shaky. Holding his head with both hands he scrubbed his fingers back and forth against his skull through hair that needed a trim. God, his mouth felt dry and downright nasty and the aftermath of a high fever left him smelling like an over-ripe kennel.

Eventually raising his head, he swiped a hand down his chest and took a deep steadying breath. Looking around, he immediately started noting every detail about his surroundings. Down by his feet in a rumpled pile were the jeans he’d shed along with a t-shirt, his socks and boots. On the nightstand lay his pair of Oakley sunglasses, his key ring, the room key and the old, leather wallet he carried. A plastic container of water with a washcloth hanging over the side was evident and the bed he sat on was seriously rumpled.

Turning toward the flickering TV he immediately noticed the Ponytail, with her back to him, where she lay curled on the ancient sofa under the window whose curtains were blessedly closed tight. The light peeking in around the sides told him it was probably mid-day but right this second a blast of bright sunlight would probably cause his head to explode.

The surge of relief that shot through Cam upon finding her still on the scene almost rivaled the sudden tightening in his shorts. He studied her as she shimmied to find a more comfortable position and in doing so caused his oversized sweatshirt to ride up, revealing a pair of no-nonsense white panties.

The sight of those simple panties shot through him like a cannonball of desire that landed squarely in his head, both of them. The one on his shoulders that should know better, and the one twitching between his legs that apparently did not. Unbidden, but definitely in full-on Technicolor, his thoughts created an erotic tableau that showed him moving across the room to strip the sensible white cotton from the deliciously heart-shaped derrière staring him in the face so he could run his big hands along the plump orbs to see if her skin was as soft and warm as his imagination insisted it would be. That mouth-watering thought was immediately followed by an urgent desire to flip her over and bury his face between her thighs. Licking and probing her damp folds with his tongue while she writhed and whimpered until he’d made her come with a scream that he knew would be as sexy as her voice.

When his dick started throbbing in the confines of his shorts, Cam knew for sure the sickness of yesterday had passed and the current aching of his sex was much, much more than a simple reaction to a morning hard-on. He’d never experienced a wanting as strong as the one turning him inside out now.
Where the hell had all this come from?

Having never had a girlfriend or anything that even remotely resembled an actual romantic relationship, Cam’s preference was for uncomplicated sex whenever and however he wanted. A direct result of his life-long impulse to never let down his guard with, or put his full trust in, a woman. Any woman. His mother had taught him that lesson from the cradle. He didn’t consider himself a man-whore, but in all honesty, he didn’t get all that invested in whether his sexual partners enjoyed what passed between them. He preferred adult encounters with women who were savvy enough to take control of their own gratification.

Oh, he was great in the sack and had the necessary knowledge and talent to bring any woman to a quivering, moaning completion. But the last year or so he’d been more and more unsatisfied with everything surrounding the emotionally empty, sex-fueled encounters that were his norm. He’d been sleeping with a divorced mother of two who he’d met through work. She was a lawyer coming out of an ugly divorce with no interest in romance or relationships. What they did together was about getting laid. She was a terrific legal resource, wanted nothing from him but his cock, and was a high-energy lover with a taste for mild BDSM. They had hooked up every few weeks for more than a year at a motel out in the desert where ‘anonymous’ was everyone’s first name.

Cam hadn’t been fond of the heavy-handed caveman antics she needed in order to get off but his powerful sex drive had overridden whatever dissatisfaction he felt afterwards. Until six months ago they had regularly indulged in what had become increasingly dreary encounters. After his return from Mexico, he simply never contacted her again. Something had happened to him in those long months south of the border. Maybe he’d had too much tequila or maybe he’d spent too much time thinking about the wasteland that his personal life had become.
Whatever
. There’d been a shift in his thinking and he didn’t need to pick apart his emotional life, or lack thereof, at every turn in the road. It is what it is, plain and simple.

Maybe that was why this ponytailed innocent with a huge pile of shit to deal with had gotten to him. He had to get it together before what he was feeling got out of hand. Men like him shouldn’t mess with girls like her. He was damaged.
Broken
. Nothing could ever change that.

Cautiously hauling to his feet, Cam made for the small bathroom shutting the door behind him with a distinct snick. Upon catching sight of his reflection in the mirror he was shocked to realize how ravaged he’d been by his bout with the flu. “Some warrior,” he snorted aloud. He looked strung out with cheeks that still bore the flush of the raging fever that had consumed him. Hair that no doubt had been drenched by sweat was either slicked to his head or wildly sticking out. The several days’ growth of beard he sported made him appear rather menacing. In short, he looked like death warmed over.

It didn’t take long to use the toilet and wash up as best he could without actually taking a shower. Although he felt he was getting his strength back with each passing minute, he knew that unless he wanted to end up sprawled on the floor in a heap, he needed to take things slowly.

About the last thing he expected when he opened the bathroom door was to find Lacey standing on the other side with a worried frown on her face. “Are you alright?” she asked in that warm, sexy female voice he rather enjoyed. And just like that he was back to fighting off the erection that had a mind of its own.

Lacey roused from a deep slumber the moment she heard the bathroom door click shut. Accustomed to being alert, she immediately sat up and scanned the room for Cameron’s presence. Apparently he was awake and had made it as far as the bathroom. Getting up she tugged his old sweatshirt to the tops of her thighs and hurried across the room to stand outside the bathroom door. Hearing the sound of running water she felt relieved and let some of the anxiety leave her once she realized he must be feeling somewhat better if he was seeing to his own needs.

Pacing back and forth she waited for the door to swing open and when it did she immediately stepped forward to help him. “Are you alright?”
Uh oh! Was that husky voice coming from her?
She was in no way used to being so affected by someone of the opposite sex. This particular man was making her experience feelings and sensations that until now had been a complete mystery to her.

His look of surprise at her obvious worry pierced her brain making Lacey pretty damn sure that her hero was rarely, if ever, on the receiving end of someone else’s concern. She moved closer to him, placing an arm around his waist to steady him while the other hand instinctively came up to rest against his chest. That he let her help him was testament to his weakened state, or so she thought. Guiding him cautiously back to the bed she helped him sit down and then snagged a second pillow to place behind his back so that he could recline.

Cam was all but speechless when he found her on the other side of the bathroom door and was thrown by the adorable woman’s attempts to be his angel of mercy. When she curved an arm protectively around his waist and laid the other hand against his chest, emotions he didn’t know how to describe overcame him. That he could have performed cartwheels across the room didn’t stop him from acting the invalid and allowing, and actually reveling in, her concerned ministrations.

Walking toward the bed, Cam slowed their approach so he could enjoy the way her warm hand felt on his skin. He remembered with crystal clarity that it was the sight of her delicate hands as he observed her in the diner that first snagged his interest. He didn’t want her to ever remove that hand and was intrigued by how potently male he felt with her gentle fingers resting against his skin. His growing erection was voting on the issue as well, Cam grimly realized as the warmth spreading through his groin turned firm in more ways than one.

Guiding him gently to the side of the bed, his brain went blank when she reached across the mattress to grab another pillow and in doing so revealed the long, lithe thighs his oversized sweatshirt had been covering and a quick mouth-watering glimpse of her plain, white panties. Just like that he was fighting the pounding need racing through him to tumble her down upon the bed, spread her glorious thighs and bury his throbbing cock in her hot, wet depths. Only through a hard-won sense of grim willpower was he able to gain control over his rampant need to fuck her senseless and claim her for his own. Clearly, she had no idea what was going on in his head or with his body.

“You’re finally getting some color back. Can I get you anything?” Lacey asked, laying her palm against his forehead. Though he was no longer hot, she had difficulty pulling her fingers away. She liked touching him; she felt little sparks of delicious awareness shooting through her each time they made contact. Before she knew what was happening she ran her fingers through the tumble of hair falling toward his eyes and pushed it back so she could see him better. Self-conscious at the tactile liberties she was taking, Lacey tried to yank her hand away. But to her surprise he reached for her at the same moment and actually threaded his fingers through hers, bringing their joined hands against his chest.

“Thank you Lacey. Thank you for staying with me. Couldn’t have been pleasant,” he murmured as his eyes bored into hers. There was something about the way he looked at her; being so close to him was scattering her thoughts, making her want to melt against him. She stared in silence, fixated on his mouth, while answering words fled her mind. She wondered what it would feel like to have those lips pressed against her own and whether he would taste as wonderful as he looked.

Cam knew he was flying without a net, acting on impulses he’d long ago decided could have no place in his life. He didn’t want to examine the rush of need that was pushing back against years spent in a carefully constructed emotional wasteland. Suddenly, he wanted more than polite conversation from the freckle-faced girl that was looking at him with big eyes filled with questions. Maybe it was the aftermath of the fever that had taken him down or maybe it was that crossroads where he’d been stalled at for some time.
Whatever
. All he knew for sure in that moment was that he wanted, no
hungered
for, a simple human connection with this woman. His heart skipped a beat when his mind, or maybe it was his heart, screamed that he
needed
her.

Watching her while keeping their fingers entwined, he realized that she was fixated on his mouth. Completely caught up in his own inner turmoil, he hadn’t immediately picked up on the signals she was sending. As his tongue slid along his lips trying to bring moisture from an otherwise dry mouth, he felt a surge of satisfaction so deep it wrecked his composure when he saw her cheeks flush and nostrils flare at his provocative move. So, he wasn’t the only one feeling the attraction arcing between them.

“Is there any water around here I could drink? My throat feels kinda raw from the fever.”

His question dragged Lacey from her thoughts, making her jump into action. And in doing so she removed her hand from the warmth of his chest, bringing an unexpected rush of regret. She grabbed a bottled water, tore off the cap, and handed it to him. “You should drink as much of that as you can. You had a prolonged fever and are probably dehydrated.”

Her concern for his well-being was as charming as her encouragement to drink more fluids. Cameron was suddenly never so happy to have been sick as he was at this moment. They were strangers and yet this girl-woman cared for him. He felt light-headed from the upwelling of unfamiliar joy powering through him. Even though his conscience told him he shouldn’t, more than anything he wanted her to keep talking to him and touching him with those delicate, expressive fingers.