His to Claim (23 page)

She nodded. Storm’s comforting words didn’t mean anything—the test results would tell
them if he really was fine or not—but she liked that he knew she was here for him.

“Mr. Ranier?”

Melanie and the others glanced toward the tall man in scrubs across the room who had
called Dane’s name.

Dane stood up and followed the doctor from the waiting room.

Travis leaned forward, intertwining his fingers. “I guess we’ll know soon.”

Soon
turned out to be about a half hour.

“Rafe!” Jessica surged to her feet and Melanie glanced after her to see Dane pushing
a wheelchair.

Storm sat in the chair, still pale, with a badly bruised cheek and a black eye, but
with no casts in sight. Joy surged through Melanie as she stood and walked toward
them, holding back a little while Jessica gushed over him. Travis stood beside Melanie
and placed his hand on her shoulder and squeezed. She fought back the tears of relief.

Jessica moved beside the chair and Melanie stepped forward.

“You gave us quite a scare,” she said.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

His voice sounded shaky.

“I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Their gazes locked for a second, then he seemed to fade into a daze.

“He’s pretty bashed up and has some nasty bruises. He’s on painkillers right now,”
Dane said. “Let’s get him home.”

*   *   *

Melanie watched the door close behind Jessica and Dane, then she returned to Storm’s
bedroom and sat in the upholstered chair by the window. Storm was asleep.

Dane had arranged transportation to take Travis to meet the band so he could do the
show tonight. The doctor had told Storm to take it easy for a week or two, then he
could return to work.

She gazed at him, his eyes closed, his broad shoulders naked above the dove gray sheets,
tattooed arms sprawled to the side.

She’d faced losing him today, at first because she’d believed he’d up and left her,
then because she thought he’d been taken from her in an accident. Her heart ached
at the thought of not having him in her life anymore.

But that might still happen. She had no idea why he’d gotten up this morning and taken
off on his bike, but she had the sick feeling he had decided the two of them weren’t
meant to be together. Whether he’d wanted time to think to figure out the gentlest
way to break up with her, or whether he’d decided to just up and leave, she wasn’t
sure. The latter wasn’t really his style—he was more caring than that—so he’d probably
been trying to figure a way out of the relationship. With her traveling with the band,
there wasn’t a straightforward answer. Since he felt guilty about her leaving Ranier
Industries because of him, she knew he would be unhappy driving her away from this
job with the band, too, yet if he wanted to keep playing with them, it would be awkward
if they broke up.

Damn it, was it possible he might pretend to keep the relationship going until the
end of the tour, but keep a growing distance between them until both of them would
be ready to end it?

She blinked back a tear at the thought he didn’t really want her, and that she would
probably lose him soon.

*   *   *

Storm drifted toward consciousness, feeling sluggish. He should open his eyes, but
his lids felt too heavy to budge.

He realized he wasn’t quite sure where he was. He should be in a hotel room on tour,
but from the feel of the high-quality pillow-top mattress under him and the fine Egyptian
cotton sheets around him, he would guess this was his bedroom in his Philly penthouse.

He drew in a breath and opened his eyes, then blinked at the sunshine streaming across
his face. He pushed himself up on his elbows, but pain shot through him and he groaned.
His head ached and his whole body felt bruised and mistreated.

“Hi.”

He turned his head to see Melanie sitting in the armchair a couple of yards from the
bed. She sat in a tight little ball, hugging her knees close to her body.

“Hi.” He rested his hand on his head, wishing the pounding inside would stop.

“Do you want another painkiller?” Melanie asked, concern in her wide green eyes as
she sat forward, dropping her feet to the floor. “I’ll get you some fresh water.”

“No.” He waved his hand. “No painkillers.” He started to sit up again, slowly this
time. Everything ached, especially his ribs, but there was no intense, shooting pain
this time. Or maybe he was just getting used to it.

She rushed to his side and propped some pillows behind him. He rested back against
them, deciding he’d give himself a moment before he pushed himself to his feet and
answered the call of nature.

“Do you remember the accident?” she asked, standing beside him, watching his face.

Accident?

“Ah, fuck yeah.” Memories of swerving and his bike going out of control, then him
flying through the air. “Damn. Did the deer make it?”

“Deer? I don’t know. Is that how it happened? You almost got killed trying to avoid
a deer?”

He shrugged, then wished he hadn’t at the spike of pain through his shoulders. “Actually,
the car in front of me swerved to miss the deer and went out of control.”

“But the police told Dane there were no other vehicles around. If the driver wasn’t
hurt, why wouldn’t he stay with you?”

“I’m pretty sure he’d been drinking. He’d been driving erratically and I’d been watching
for a chance to pass him. I’d just pulled out into the passing lane when he swerved
toward me. I barely missed getting hit by him.”

Storm had gone out at about four in the morning, needing to get out on the open road
and clear his head. He was pretty sure the other driver had been returning from a
late party.

Melanie sat down on the side of the bed, watching him carefully.

He tried not to wince at the jostling of the bed, but failed.

“Sorry, I’m hurting you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he responded. “I’m fine.” The truth was he didn’t want her
to leave. He wanted to be close to her.

The delicate touch of her fingertips on his upper arm sent tingles through him. Even
his cock stirred a little, which was fucking stupid because he couldn’t do anything
about it right now.

“Storm, I was so worried about you.”

“It’s all right. I’m fine.” He smiled reassuringly. “At least, I assume I’m fine or
I wouldn’t be back home. Not fine enough to play a show yet, though, I assume.”

“The doctor suggests a couple of weeks of rest.” She stroked his cheek with her soft
fingers, and the poignancy of her touch, and the deep concern in her eyes, touched
him. “Storm, we need to talk.”

It was true. They needed to talk about the accident, about the relationship, about
where they were going.

But at the insistence of his body, he knew he couldn’t start that discussion now.
He had to make a trip to the bathroom.

“I know, baby, but not right now.” He glanced at her. “I really need to get up.”

Reluctantly, she slid from the bed and helped him pull back the covers, then he slowly
sat up and placed his feet on the floor.

“Do you want me to help you?” she asked, standing ready beside the bed.

“No, I’ve got this. Why don’t you go make some coffee?”

“Okay, but if you need me, just shout.”

She stood for a moment watching him, then finally turned and headed to the door. He
knew it was just his pride, but he wanted her to think of him as strong and capable,
not see him hobbling around like an old man.

He pushed himself to his feet, then took a tentative step forward. The pain had diminished
to an ache and what he was fighting mostly was stiffness in his body. Once he’d gotten
to the bathroom and taken care of business, he opened the shower stall and stepped
inside. The warm water felt good on his aching muscles. As he relaxed, images flashed
through his mind of Melanie coming into the bathroom and stripping off her clothes,
then joining him. Another stiffness started in his body and he wrapped his hand around
his growing erection and began to pump. He would love to glide into her soft body
right now, but the reality was that it would probably be too much for him. But he
could manage this, he thought, as he stroked his long, hard cock.

And a part of him needed to. To erase the deep, yet irrational male fear, that the
accident might have left him … lacking.

A knock sounded on the door. He barely heard it over the sound of the shower. He was
pumping with vigor when the door opened.

“Storm, I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. Oh…” Her gaze fell to his hand wrapped
tightly around his swollen cock. “I’m sorry.” But instead of leaving, she closed the
door behind her and walked toward the shower. She smiled. “Would you like me to help
you with that?”

The thought of her stripping down naked and him pounding her against the wall sent
hormones surging through him, but in total contradiction, his erection sagged.

He knew it was because he didn’t want to look weak in front of her, because he was
sure he couldn’t manage full-on intercourse with her, yet having a limp cock in his
hand didn’t really give the impression of a powerful man.

“I’m fine,” he said tersely. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

*   *   *

Melanie’s hand gripped the mug tightly as she took a sip of the steaming coffee.

Storm was definitely putting distance between them. Her heart ached as she realized
he didn’t want her and it was only a matter of time until he admitted it and ended
the relationship.

He stepped into the kitchen, wearing the clean clothes she’d set out on the bed—slightly
worn jeans and a soft, cotton T-shirt—his hair still damp from his shower. The smell
of his woody-musky soap filled her nostrils and she wanted to walk into his arms and
be held close to his big body.

“I called Dane,” she said.

He walked to the coffeepot and poured himself a cup. “You call him Dane now?” He leaned
back against the counter and sipped his coffee black. He smiled. “It’s about time.”

“I … told him that it would be a good idea to arrange to get someone in to help you.”
She shrugged. “It will be better if you have someone to cook and clean for you for
the next little while.”

“And you don’t want to do that?” He sipped his coffee, watching her face. “I mean,
I know I can be a bit of a slob, so I understand.”

“Of course, I’d like to do that for you, but…” She sucked in a deep breath. “I have
the impression that you’d rather not have me around.”

His eyebrows arched. “Because I didn’t want you to join me in the shower?”

He put down his mug and stepped toward her. “Baby, of course I want you.” He reached
for her and drew her into his arms and she allowed herself the comfort for a few seconds
before she drew away.

“No, not just that. Ever since…” She swallowed, not really wanting to bring up that
night again. Not wanting to see a look of disgust on his face.

“Ever since what?” he prompted.

She sighed. “Ever since the night we all spent together—you, Travis, Diego, and me—you’ve
been … distant.”

His lips compressed. “You don’t think I’m judging you because of enjoying that night,
do you?”

She shrugged. He held her face in his hand and turned it until she looked at him.

“If you remember, I was the one who set that up. Why would I judge you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you assumed I’d turn it down.”

“After arranging it with the guys, booking the suite at the out-of-the-way inn, and
taking you all the way up there? Why would I do that?”

She shook her head, her eyes shimmering. “I don’t know. Maybe you wanted to do it,
then afterward, were disgusted by me enjoying it so much.”

He flashed her a charming smile and rested his forehead against hers. “You enjoying
it was pretty much the point of the whole thing.”

She drew back from him, unable to stand the sweet closeness another second. “Then
why have you been acting distant to me ever since then? And why did you leave?”

“Ah, fuck. Not because of that. I’m glad you enjoyed it. And it made me fucking hot.”
His hand stroked over the front of his pants and she glanced down to see a bulge forming
under his jeans. “It’s making me hot right now just thinking about it.”

“Please talk to me, Storm. I want to understand what is happening between us. Whether
this relationship has a chance.”

“I don’t want to talk right now. But I do want to know what would happen if I ordered
you to come over here.”

She glanced at her fingernails, admiring the black glossy finish, with the metallic
red swirls she’d used one of her stamping plates and squishy stamper to apply. “I
don’t know.”

He growled. “Come over here.”

She gazed at him. As far as commands went, that was pretty lame. It certainly wasn’t
enough to override her common sense about fucking him in his state. She smiled. She
could go over and stroke him to climax—she was pretty sure that was where this would
end up—but not yet.

“I don’t think so,” she responded.

His lips compressed to a straight line and she could see his enlarged cock straining
at the denim.

“I thought you liked following my orders.”

She shrugged. “Sure, I like it when you take command, but not today. Maybe later when
you haven’t just been in a motorcycle accident.”

“So what are you trying to do to me?” His gaze glided down her body along the length
of her legs.

“I’m trying to help.” She stroked a finger along her thigh, drawing the fabric of
her blouse up a little. He’d probably be able to see her baby blue lace panties.

“Okay, fine. If you won’t come over here, then do this. Sit on the couch with your
legs apart.”

She smiled and shifted, placing her feet on the floor and widening her legs.

“Good, now pull the crotch of your panties to one side so I can see your pussy.”

Her insides trembled as she reached between her thighs and tugged the strip of lace
to one side, exposing her intimate folds.