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“Jake,” she whispered, “I’m going to give you a quick sponge bath and change you. You’re soaking wet."
“Okay,” he whispered then licked his lips. He was probably parched. She’d deal with that in a minute.
Slowly, she lifted the towel from his eyes and as he blinked she paused to give him a few seconds to clear his sight. Then, just as she’d been taught when she’d done that first aid course as a teenager, she slid her arm under his back and raised him up, bending her knees for maximum support.
Quickly, she stripped off the damp T-shirt then made quick work of sponging his chest and his back with the washcloth. She had little time to admire his firm, muscled torso. She needed to dress him quickly. His body was so warm that the moisture from the washcloths dried instantly so she slid the fresh T-shirt over his head without delay.
“This part of the bed is damp,” she told him. “Slide over to the other side.”
Tentatively, he shifted his body over then lay back onto the pillow. He closed his eyes again.
Sam grabbed the towel and rags and ran back to the bathroom where she soaked them again. Knowing how soothing a cool towel could be, she folded it and again covered the upper portion of his face. She was rewarded with his grateful sigh.
She stepped back and looked down at him, strong and confident Jake, now so weak and vulnerable. Sickness was a great leveler, bringing down even the mightiest warrior. She just hoped his relief would come soon. She hated to see him suffer.
Sam leaned over and pulled the cover over his belly then whispered, “Did you want me to get you some painkillers?”
He swallowed then spoke. “Took some already. No help. But what you did…is making me feel better.”
Sam smiled even though he couldn’t see her, happy that she’d been able to bring him some relief.
She was surprised when he slid his hand from under the covers and lifted it in the air. She reached out and took it, and he clasped her hand tight. “Thanks for coming,” he said, his voice stronger this time. “I appreciate it.”
For some strange reason tears pricked the backs of her eyes. Overcome with emotion, a cross between sadness and joy, she surprised herself when she raised their clasped hands to her lips and planted a soft kiss on his knuckles. “You’re very welcome,” she murmured then laid his hand on his chest.
Sam slid her hand from his then leaned down to whisper. “I’ll go down and get you some water. I’ll be right back.” As he muttered his thanks she slipped away.
Down in the kitchen Sam found a couple of pill bottles on the table and an almost empty glass of water. She knew from personal experience that many times it was not the painkiller that eased the ache but the water. Probably something to do with oxygen sent to the brain. She filled a jug with water and grabbed a glass from the dish rack.
When she tiptoed back into the room it was to the sound of Jake’s gentle snoring. Thank goodness he'd drifted off. There was nothing better for healing than deep, restful sleep. She laid the jug and the glass on the nightstand then slowly lifted the warm, damp cloth from his eyes. He didn’t shift and there was no pause in his soft snores. Good.
She would let him rest but she was not going to leave him alone again. She glanced around the room and saw a hard cover book on top of the chest of drawers. Curious, she walked over. ‘The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes’. Not exactly her cup of brew but she would entertain herself with it and pass the time until he woke up. She took the book over to the armchair by the window and sat down. Soon she was engrossed in the adventures of the greatest fictional sleuth of all time. She slipped into the world of nineteen century England and Tonawanda and the twenty-first century faded away.
******
Jake groaned, almost as an automatic reflex, and opened his eyes. He looked around then gingerly he moved his head, expecting the pain to shoot across his forehead. Nothing happened. He turned his head to the other side. Still nothing. His headache had completely disappeared.
And then his eyes fell on a river of long, black hair flowing over the side of his armchair and down to the floor. He pulled himself up onto the pillows and stared. Sam. How could he have forgotten?
Sam had turned out to be the merciful angel who had nursed him when he’d been at his lowest point. And she was here in his bedroom, her face so innocent in sleep, her luscious breasts rising and falling with each breath.
Blast it. He’d just recovered from a blinding headache and already he was lusting after a woman. But not any woman. No, it was the woman who had bewitched him, the only one in the last three years who had been able to turn his head.
Jake groaned, but it was not from any kind of pain in his head. It was this darned attraction that he could not shake. With the return of his health had come the return of strength to a most intimate part of his anatomy. And that would not do. If Sam woke and decided to look his way he’d certainly scare her with this painfully obvious tent in his pants. He had to get rid of it, and fast.
Quietly, so as not to wake his sleeping guest, Jake slid out of the bed and headed for the bathroom. A cold shower would do the trick.
When the refreshing spray hit his body it did not only cool him down but it woke him up as well. He made quick work of his shower, brushed his teeth then lathered his face for a shave. He grimaced into the mirror. He looked like a caveman.
Within minutes he was back in the bedroom dressed in boxer shorts with a towel wrapped around his waist. Barefoot, he walked over to the night table where he helped himself to a drink of water then he turned to Sam who was still curled up in the armchair. His good Samaritan. Jake couldn’t help smiling as he stared down at her sleeping form. On an impulse he walked over and bent down to brush his lips against her forehead.
She stirred, gave a soft sigh, and her eyelids fluttered open. Forehead crinkling, she stared up at him in confusion then her face softened in a smile. “You’re up,” she said softly, “and you look much better.” As he stared at her rosebud mouth, the soft, full lips parted and she gave him a smile of obvious relief.
With her face turned up to his, her mouth so soft and inviting, there was no way Jake could resist stealing a kiss. As soon as the thought entered his mind, before he could find reasons not to, he lowered his head and captured her lips in a kiss that told of his longing. Sam moaned against his mouth but she did not resist. She kissed him back with a fervor that left him in no doubt that she wanted this as badly as he did.
As the kiss deepened Jake slid his hands under her arms and lifted her from the chair to press her against his body, still cool from the shower. As he held her in his arms he hardened in his shorts and he gave an involuntary groan. He wanted her so badly. Reluctantly, he pulled his lips from hers but, giving her no chance to recover, he feathered kisses across the line of her jaw, down her neck and across her collarbone. His heart thrilled when he heard her moan of pleasure.
As she arched her back, giving him greater access to her body, he locked his arms tighter around her waist and lifted her off her feet. As he turned her toward the bed the knot in his towel loosened and it fell to the floor. No matter. He had no need for it, anyway. Right now the less there was between them the better.
Acting on that thought, he laid her in the bed then began to loosen the buttons on her shirt. He wanted to see her, touch her, taste her. He wanted to feel her skin against his, nothing between them, just heated flesh entwined in mutual abandon.
He had half the buttons loose now and he paused to gaze down at the fullness of her breasts as they filled the black lace cups of her bra. Delicious. He dipped his head and kissed the tops of those creamy mounds and she gasped and arched her back. He pressed his attack, reaching up to pull down the right cup so that the rose-tipped nipple popped up pretty and pert and inviting. He covered that rosebud with his lips and drew it deep into his mouth until he heard her cry his name.
But he gave her no mercy. He nuzzled that nipple, rolled it and worried it until she groaned and slid her hands up into his hair to anchor his head to her breasts. He gave her all the pleasure she craved, soothing her nipple with sweet strokes of his tongue and soon she was sighing in satisfaction.
She was ready, he could tell, so he pulled back just far enough to tackle the rest of the buttons on her shirt. He opened it out, revealing the smooth, pale skin of her belly. So beautiful. He licked his lips then slid his hands lower till one of them rested on the top button of her jeans.
He’d just begun to slide the button through the hole when he felt soft hands descend on his, gentle but firm. Immediately he stopped and looked down into her eyes.
“No,” she whispered. “Not like this. Not when you’re not ready.”
He stared at her, confused, and then he realized she was right. How was he going to make love to her when he didn’t have protection? He shook his head then gave her a look of regret. “Sorry,” he said with a sigh. “No condoms.”
“No,” she said again. “Not that.”
“Then what?”
