Whisper (6 page)

“Oh, my God.” Whisper struggled to stand. A hand grasped her upper arm and pulled her up.

“Your leg! What happened?” Ashamed for sleeping in his bed, she added, “I’m sorry. Electricity is out across the street. This side has power. Mark said it’d be all right. We didn’t know when you’d be—”

“Whoa, take it easy.” He touched the side of her face and the scent of snow and cold drifted to her.

He’d probably just hobbled in the door. “Better now?” She nodded. He stood balanced on crutches tucked under his arms. How could she have forgotten how big he was? “Please sit down. I’ll change the sheets if you want.” 43

Kathleen Lash

She tried to get around him, but the crutches sort of boxed her in. The only route of escape would be across the bed.

“I scared you again,” he said. “None of the kids were awake or they would’ve warned me you were up here. Crawl back in bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“No, please.” She placed her hand on his arm.

He gazed down with an amused expression. “It’s your bed. Billy doubled up with Corey and Heather took Corey’s bed. I’ll move in with her.” The grin left as Keith’s eyes closed. The color drained from his face as his fists gripped the padded handles on the crutches. He attempted to bring a hand up and almost lost his balance.

“Here,” she said, steadying him. Whisper moved beside him and took a crutch away. She fit perfectly in his armpit and wrapped her arm around him.

“One step back and you can sit. Can you do it?” He chuckled. “One step? Sure.” He took it and sat. Because of how she held him, she sat too. Sliding out from under his arm, she wound up on her knees beside his undamaged leg.

He pulled a bottle from the breast pocket of his flannel shirt.

“Overdue,” he said. “Flight delayed with the snow. Afraid to take it and drive home.” She took the pill bottle and read the label. She recognized the name of the pain medication. The instructions indicated one or two pills every four hours.

“How many do you take?”

“Two.” Of course he did, he was twice a normal person’s size.

“How long since your last dose?”

“Eight hours.”

She noticed the set of his jaw and tightly closed eyes. The pain would have to be very bad to make 44

Whisper

him look like that.

“I’ll be right back.” She walked to the bathroom, filled a glass with cold water and returned.

Obtaining two pills, she said “Here, I have it for you.”

Keith’s hands trembled after taking the medication. It was hard to imagine a man that big and solid, shaking or getting broken. The children portrayed him as some larger than life, invincible hero.

“Thank you.” He let out a heavy breath.

“The leg hurts that bad?”

“No. Head.” He sounded strange, almost drunk.

Maybe she’d made a mistake giving him the medication. “Keith?”

“Yeah?” Swollen eyelids surrounded red stained eyes. “Can you manage now?” He nodded and she stood. She’d been running around without her jeans and it was high time she slipped into them and got out of his room. He sat there taking and releasing deep breaths like moving would be too much of an effort. “Do you need help?”

He barely shook his head. For Pete’s sake, the man was dead on his feet and in pain. She could, and should help. She didn’t need to wake Mark or Corey.

She stepped closer and reached out. He looked dazed.

“Its fine,” he slurred. “I’ll get there.” She grew more determined. He hadn’t moved to even situate himself more comfortably on the bed.

Her fingers trembled when she got close and began unbuttoning his shirt. “Do you wear pajamas to bed?”

He smiled. “No.”

She kept unbuttoning. “What’s the smile for?”

“Last set of PJ’s I wore had fire trucks on ‘em. I thought they were so cool.” He kept staring, which 45

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allowed her to believe a past memory made him smile, not the fact she’d started undressing him. A lot of misgivings slid away with the man thinking about kiddy PJ’s while she removed his clothes.

Once the buttons were unfastened, she set the crutches beside the nightstand. She took the cuff of the shirt and gently pulled his arm free. He helped, but in the barest possible way. As she struggled getting the garment off, he said, “So damn good to be home.”

“I can imagine.”

“Worried about the kids finding out.” She folded the shirt and laid it on a chair in the room. “Do you sleep in a tee shirt?”

“No.” He grasped the bottom of his before working it up. It fit like a second skin. She couldn’t stand by and watch. Helping him pull the black shirt over his head, he handed it over and his hands dropped to his thighs. Dozens upon dozens of scrapes and bruises covered his chest. She leaned in and glanced over his shoulder. His back held more of the same with a large bandage covering something.

Fresh blood seeped from beneath and formed a trail to his jeans.

“Something wrong back there?”

“You’ve sprung a leak.”

“No problem. Happens when I move.” Her hand was suddenly grasped and his breath touched her wrist. “Damn, you smell good. So does my bed.” Her heart skipped a beat as she eased away.

“Sorry, keep scaring you,” he said, releasing her.

“You smell like a mall woman.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Don’t beg, honey. I’m an easy sort of guy.” His mental focus didn’t seem too great, so she asked more bluntly. “What does a
mall woman
smell like?”

He smiled and his eyes dropped more.

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“Christmas. Shopping for the kids. That woman who gets too close and smells so good, like she just came from a shower. You know, some lucky bastard’s present. How the hell will I shop with this piece of shit on my leg?”

“How did you drive home?”

“Slow. The roads suck. Got here and couldn’t get out. She’d asked about his physical condition, not about how much snow had fallen. She kept up with his line of conversation however, and asked, “You couldn’t get out of your truck?”

“No.”

“Why? What happened?”

“Too tired. Better now.”

“How’d you get hurt?”

He rubbed his temple and then forehead. “Cave in. Gas seeped. Piece of the tunneling equipment landed on me.”

His shoulders bunched up as muscles stood out on his chest and arms. She regretted asking, hadn’t meant to upset him. She stroked the side of his face.

The strain beneath his skin settled immediately.

“It’s damn good to be home. Have to show Mark again.”

“Show him what?” she asked.

“Insurance papers. God, I was so afraid he’d forget about them.”

“Medical insurance?”

“Life.”

She crouched down and turned his face. Tired, gentle brown eyes gazed at her. “You’re home now and you don’t need to worry about a thing. I’ll fix your back and get you tucked in.” She walked to the bathroom and gathered medical supplies. When she approached, he leaned forward and rested his forearms on his thighs, making the task easier. Picking at the paper tape 47

Kathleen Lash

surrounding the bandage, he said quietly, “Just rip it off like they did. Quicker that way.” She continued to carefully pick. “That’s why your skin’s so raw. We’ll take the extra thirty seconds and save you some healing.” Once the bandage came off, she cleaned the stitched area with peroxide and re-dressed it. She wiped the trail of blood from his back, careful not to take scabs in the process. With him half naked and both of them perched on a bed, she should’ve been nervous. Whisper found Keith Manchester very easy to touch. He championed children, worked and supported his family; thought good smelling women were like presents, and smiled when remembering fire truck pajamas. She couldn’t recall a man ever appearing so sweet and harmless.

She bent and placed a kiss on his shoulder before she’d even thought it through. Instantly regretting it, she got off the bed and scanned him for a reaction. Thankfully, he’d been too tired to notice.

It’d been twenty minutes since he’d taken the medication. He probably couldn’t feel much of anything. She could though. Her stomach tightened when she’d gotten close to his warm skin. He smelled good too, like outdoors and cologne mixed together. At the moment,
he
seemed like a present, albeit, a slightly damaged one.

After replacing everything in the bathroom, she found him still slumped over. Her fingers touched his arm and he straightened. “Let’s get your jeans off and you can stretch out.”

He fumbled with his belt, and sucked in his stomach.

She asked, “Pain?”

He shook his head but placed his hands on the bed. On braced arms, his neck stretched until his head fell back. His jaw clenched as his eyes shut tight. He looked mortally wounded and pale. Enough 48

Whisper

was enough!
Either help him or get the hell out of the
way.
She’d help.

The belt buckle came apart before undoing the button and zipper. She grasped the waist and said,

“Use your good leg and lift up. I’ll slip these down.” He struggled and removed his wallet from a back pocket before tossing it on the bedside table.

When he lifted, she uncovered his boxers and didn’t get much further. He groaned and eased himself onto the bed to lay back. She began tugging at the denim. It wadded around the upper portion of the cast, slightly above his left knee. She worked the other side down and her fingertips felt soft hair the whole way before slipping the sock off too. By the time she had one leg free, her own legs felt weak and her hands weren’t steady.

Talk about smelling good!
The fragrance of cologne and soap blended enticingly on him. It’d been a while since she’d been close enough to smell a man, let alone touch one. And the cuddly, drugged, mostly naked grizzly bear suddenly appealed.

Instead of dwelling on it, she worked the cut off pant leg over the cast. When she lifted the cast, she took off the makeshift shoe. She stripped off the half-sock covering the toes his left foot.

He started shifting in the bed, trying to bring himself into a better position. He lacked coordination. He moaned, went limp and said, “Shit.

I’ll handle it. Leave.”

“I’ll help.”

“Go now!”

Noticing the swelling at the front of his boxers, she took a step closer. It should’ve made her run. His arm bent and rested across his eyes. He didn’t really appear embarrassed. He seemed more annoyed than anything.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Even his arousal seemed harmless, especially 49

Kathleen Lash

with the apology. She’d never been very sensual and found her own desire surprising, not necessarily annoying. They’d suffer through the awkward moment together and get him into bed. He needed to sleep.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “Let’s get you turned the right way. I’ll hoist your leg.”

“I’ll manage. That cast weighs fifty pounds.” She laughed and he sort of smiled. “On the count of three, swing your good leg in and I’ll bring this one. Use an arm to shove and you’ll be comfy in no time. Ready?”

“No.”

“Good. One—two—three.”

They worked remarkably well together.

However, she hadn’t counted on him moving toward the middle of the bed. As she stretched to move his leg with him, she ran out of flex in her own legs. She toppled forward with her hands trapped beneath his cast. Her upper body landed awkwardly across his mid section. She’d been pinned with her face in a pile of covers.

Hands tugged her arm. She didn’t budge because she was stuck.

“God, Whisper, are you all right?” He sounded very concerned and she couldn’t breathe. He yanked a little harder and her stomach started hurting from laughing so hard. She also couldn’t help get free because every muscle jerked and weakened with the spasms. Eventually with him pulling and her scooting around, her hands got loose. She braced herself and turned to look at him.

She realized exactly what position she’d wound up in and stilled. Draped across his boxers, her abdomen rested over a firm swelling. Too, her tee-shirt hiked up and bikini underwear had ridden between her cheeks. A large, warm, palm rested on those cheeks.

When she moved to get up, he stilled.

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All of her skin flushed as her heart rate increased. Her usually soft voice became a breathy whisper as she panted. “Your leg!” She wasn’t really on it and he hadn’t complained. His hand slid over flesh. Her back arched, bringing her weight against him. Caught between his hand and erection, she couldn’t formulate thoughts on how to move away. In truth, she ached to be closer, and that too, wasn’t common.

His fingertips traced the bunched material and her thighs parted. It’d been so long since she’d felt desire. The throbbing between her legs became unbearable as he touched her lightly.
Good, Lord,
what’s wrong with me!

Her mind conjured protests. Whenever she’d gotten pleasure from sex, there’d been a price. She couldn’t afford another debt or the cost of payment.

But, oh, she’d never been touched so gently. Why did something usually uncomfortable, suddenly feel wonderful?

“No, please. I’ll go now,” she said, panting every word.

His hand caressed her with less pressure. It soothed while exciting her. She stayed where she was. All the while her mind kept saying,
run
.

“You’re so wet and feel so good lying across me.

I’m with it now. I won’t hurt you.” His calm, deep voice made her feel anything but threatened.

“Oh—I’m sorry,” she said, parting her legs more.

She’d lost her mind because she wasn’t capable of
needing
this sort of thing.

“It’s okay. Don’t be sorry. Not for this.” He slid her panties to the side, exposing her.

Seconds ticked by and she waited for an insistent or rough touch. With every passing moment, she grew less wary and more wanton. His fingers gently parted her aching flesh and she moaned. A hand flattened out on her lower back and 51

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rubbed its way to her panties. He kept stroking the cotton as the fingers between her legs gently touched. Wetness came from her, and he smoothed it over the sensitive lips guarding her sex. Her face fell to the mattress. Embarrassment stole her pleasure.