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She sighed and rubbed her lower back, which kept uttering little twinges of complaint. “I know it’s what we need right now, but I can’t help wishing we could hide out in a little cabin until the baby is born. One of the cabins by the lake would be perfect.”
“Sure. I’ll chop firewood and hunt venison for us. When the baby comes, I’ll boil some water and get some rags, isn’t that how it’s done?”
Apparently Granger’s dry sense of humor had finally returned. He’d been so morose since the elevator attack. Not that she blamed him. He’d finally told her what had happened, and even reading between the lines of his FBI-report rendition, it had sounded like a terrifying experience.
“Just let me have my fantasy,” she grumbled as they made their way into the home gym area. That was the other reason she’d chosen this house. Kirk had rehabbed from a broken leg here. Granger would need some outlet for his physical restlessness. He’d be safer using this home gym than…well, chopping firewood or hunting deer.
“The only good place for a fantasy is in bed,” Granger declared as he lowered himself into one of the lounge chairs set up next to the half-size lap pool. He looked exhausted, thought Bliss. She trundled to the mini-fridge in the corner of the gym. She’d asked Dream Getaways, the rental agency, to stock it with Granger’s favorite energy drink.
“I completely disagree. I mean, those fantasies are good too, but I think it’s important for people to dream. If you dream it, it will come.” She brought him a bottle of decaf Raging Steed, which according to the ingredient list was entirely made of chemicals. She preferred natural ingredients that had had some relationship to a plant at some point.
Just another way they were complete opposites.
He took the bottle from her, and gave her a sudden smile. “Maybe you’re right. I was just thinking how much I could use a Raging Steed.”
Same, buddy. Same.
Her horniness had not diminished one bit since the elevator attack. She wished it had, because lusting after someone recovering from gallbladder surgery was awkward to say the least.
He must have caught her secret surreptitious glance down his muscled form. Or maybe just the flicker of desire she couldn’t hide. “Damn. You still want me?”
Always so direct, Granger. She liked it. It liberated her to be equally so.
“Blame the hormones.”
“I thought I’d just blame my rock-hard body,” he said dryly. He took a swallow from the Raging Steed bottle. She watched his Adam’s apple move as he swallowed, admired those strong muscles. Talk about thirsty. This was terrible. She had absolutely no control over herself anymore.
“Yeah, that too,” she admitted. “Sorry. Don’t pay any attention to me. I’ll go take a nap. That’s the other thing I want to do all the time. Nap, have sex, throw up. It’s a real lifestyle.”
“Come here.” He crooked a finger at her. Even though he was leaning back in the lounge chair, his legs were spread, his feet planted on either side of it. The position emphasized the swell of his thigh muscles.
“Why?” she asked warily, even as she took a step toward him. “I thought I’d go get us a snack. And isn’t it time for your meds?”
“It’s definitely time for my meds. I need some Bliss. It’s doctor-recommended.”
He reached for her hand and tugged her next to the chaise. Even that touch sent desire shuddering through her. “Your stitches,” she said faintly.
“My stitches, my problem.”
“But they’re not just stitches. We’re talking about your organs here. Very important organs.” Her protests faded as he ran his thumb across the veins of her wrist. By now, he knew all the spots that made her quiver.
“I won’t put any of my organs in jeopardy.” He nudged her leg, urging her closer to him. He lifted her dress and she closed her eyes in sheer anticipation. “Hold onto my shoulder.” His rough command left her helpless to do anything but comply.
She gripped his shoulder, anchoring herself to bone and hard muscle. He slid his hand up the inside of her leg. His palm was rough and warm. She kept her eyes closed so she could savor every sensation that his caresses evoked. Also, there was no way that she could see what he was doing over the curve of her belly.
So she pictured it in her mind. His big hand so delicate as he pulled aside the fabric of her panties. She wasn’t wearing nice underwear. This pair of panties was one of her sacrificial sets, the kind that she didn’t mind releasing discharge onto. One more thing she simply couldn’t control. At some point her body had taken charge of this process and there was nothing she could do about it.
Granger’s finger slid through her slippery folds. She was already so wet and slick and hot. It must feel like a swamp down there, she thought dazedly. Or a lake. Lake Bliss.
She giggled at the thought, but the sound quickly turned to a moan. He’d found her clit, and by now, he knew exactly what to do with it. He fingered the tender little nub of swelling flesh with rough precision, setting a pace that felt like too much, and yet just enough, and yet not quite there, oh yes, there it was…right there, but she needed more, and faster and…she erupted onto his hand in a gush of pleasure.
Her orgasm nearly knocked her off balance. It was a good thing she was holding onto his shoulder, because otherwise she might have wound up on the floor. But no, his other hand was supporting her from behind, placed firmly on her lower back. And somehow the knowledge that she was sandwiched between his two hands gave her another rush of delight.
That was where she wanted to be, surrounded by Granger, supported by him…pleasured by him.
As the gym room came back into focus—shimmering chlorine pool, thick blue workout mats, free weights stacked in a corner—she let out a long sigh. “Thank you,” she said on a wisp of breath. “You didn’t need to do that. But I appreciate it.”
He shot her an odd look, a mix of satisfaction and curiosity. “You think I don’t get any pleasure out of that? It’s good for me too, sugar.”
