Raine on Me (2 page)

“Damn it,” she sighed, inching further between the bed and wall.

She shook her head at the uncapped and nearly empty whiskey bottle and could smell the faint scent of it lingering in the small room. Brit lifted the full, open pill bottle, turned it in her hand and read the label. She was relieved when she saw it was a mild sedative. Her gaze flew to his back, watching it rise and fall for proof that he definitely still breathed. He hadn’t overdosed accidentally by mixing his pills with alcohol.

Her gaze ran over his body again, making her swallow. She needed to get laid bad if staring down at this guy’s naked backside turned her on, but in her defense, he was a fine male specimen. Scars and swollen knee aside, he was extremely fit. She stared at his long, jet-black hair, deciding it looked soft. Secretly she’d always been a sucker for buff guys with longer hair. She liked blonds though, but saw the definite appeal of the cowboy on the bed.

She inched back until she stood at the foot of the bed. She bent, gripped the sheet he’d kicked off, and hesitated for only a second to take one long, last look at his nice body before she tossed it across his midsection. The sheet landed to cover his ass. That helped her think clearer now that she didn’t have to stare at it. Brit glanced around the room again and then decided she needed to wake him to assess how much pain he suffered and she needed to get a better look at that knee to see if he had any other injuries that she couldn’t spot with him on his back.

“Um, River?” She spoke loudly. “Wake up.”

He didn’t budge. She shifted the folder in her arm to open it. She glanced at it. Her eyes drifted over him.
Yeah, definitely not in his sixties like my regular patients
. She studied the paperwork, though there wasn’t much there, just a single sheet that Dale had written out. She shut it and bent, placing it on the floor.

“Mr. Wind?” Her hand reached for the heel of his foot. “Mr. Wind?” Her voice rose.

“Wake up!”

Her fingers curled around the heel of his foot. She grabbed the left one, not wanting to jar his swollen right knee. “Wake up, damn it. I don’t have all day since I have a life.”

When his body moved, she was relieved that he wasn’t dead to the world after all.

She squeezed his foot, knowing that sometimes physical touch could rouse someone.

She knew that from personal experience but she pushed that thought back. She hadn’t had to wake a drunk for few years now. It had been four years since her divorce.

The man stretched and she could only stare. His arms rose, hitting the wall while his back arched. She felt almost sorry that she’d tossed a sheet over his butt as his legs spread a little, the heel of his foot moving out of her hand as he moved them. His head turned, moving his hair from his face.

His eyes were still shut as she took in his profile. He wasn’t exactly handsome.

Rugged had to be the word that fit and his heritage was no longer a mystery. She should have guessed when she saw his full name—River Wind. It sounded kind of Native American but people named their kids stranger names. She had a Chinese friend named Betty Lou. He had a generous mouth. Full lips parted as he took a deep breath, his chest expanding.

“Mr. Wind?”

He jumped a little. Those lips curved downward as his head lifted, turning her way.

His eyes opened to reveal very dark-brown eyes that looked a little out of it with confusion. Those eyes were framed with incredibly thick and long black eyelashes. His eyes were beautiful, even if he wasn’t quite awake.
Bedroom eyes all the way
, she thought, feeling her stomach clench in response.

He blinked a few times as he focused on her. She forced a smile and cleared her throat before saying, “Morning, sunshine. It’s after one in the afternoon.”

The man stared at her openly but she didn’t blame him. She was a stranger standing inside his bedroom. She wondered if he had a hangover. His eyes were open though, not narrowed as if the light hurt them and the room wasn’t that dim. There was enough light for her could see clearly so he could too. She lifted a hand to give him a little wave.

“Hi. Are you with me or do you need some coffee? I can make some if you have it.”

Slowly, the man moved. He pressed his hands on the bed to lift up. The sheet lowered dangerously to reveal the curve of his upper ass. If he wasn’t careful he would lose it again. Her attention strayed there for a second before jerking up. He did have a fine ass. She met his gaze again.

She never expected that he could move that fast but in a heartbeat the guy sprang as if he were a panther. He pushed up, turned, and dived for her. A gasp was the only sound she made as thick fingers wrapped around her wrist and he jerked her hard. A 1heartbeat later she found herself on her side across the bed with a naked man half on top of her. Inches above her hovered River Wind’s face, his beautiful, dark gaze locked on her shocked face.

“Hello, baby. How the hell did I black you out? Since I can’t remember, let’s start over. You can refresh my memory of your name after I’m done fucking you.”

Her mouth fell open and her mind refused to work for a second before his words sank in. She slammed her lips together, inhaling his scent. He smelled of some nice musky scent that she knew had to come from a bottle of cologne and pure male. She expected his morning breath to knock her out as his mouth inched closer to hers but he just smelled of whiskey. It wasn’t unpleasant. She realized he was going to kiss her.

Brit got her hand between them right before his lips could touch hers. She gripped his lower face, her fingers covering his mouth, her palm curling around his jaw.

“No.”

His eyelids narrowed as he studied her eyes. She couldn’t look away from his beautiful, brown gaze. His mouth moved under her fingers. A hot, wet tongue traced the inner curve of her fingers. It was such a soft lick that it shocked and tickled a little.

She jerked her hand away.

He grinned. “What? Was I that damn bad? If I’d known I’d pick you up, I wouldn’t have gotten shitfaced. Give me a rematch and I’ll make it all up to you if I let you down.”

“I…” She swallowed. “I didn’t spend the night with you. You and I, we’ve never had sex. Whatever you’re thinking, think again. I’m Brit Sheril and I’m a physical therapist Dale Hass sent.”

His grin turned into a frown. “Dale?”

“Yes. Do you want to let me go now?”

A black eyebrow arched as his gaze left hers. She watched him lower his attention to her body. She looked down and wanted to curse. She wore jeans with a black tank top. Since she’d ended up on her side when he’d yanked her down onto his bed it had pulled her shirt a little until the swell of her breasts were displayed nicely, thanks to her black pushup bra. Even the lacy center of her bra peeked from her shirt. Her focus lifted to watch a smile curve those lush lips of his.

She upgraded his looks instantly. With that grin he looked rugged and handsome.

His mouth gave him a mean look until it curved upward.

“No. I don’t want to let you go. I want to strip you down and fuck you. That would be the best physical therapy you could give me.”

His words took her aback for a heartbeat or two as she stared into his eyes. “That’s not my job.”

“It could be. I could work you.” His dark gaze lowered to her breasts again. “I could work you over and over.”

1“Stop that,” she snapped. “Let go. I’m here to check on you. Dale said he heard you were hurt and I saw the swollen knee. Get the hell off me, Mr. Wind. I’m not some barfly you brought home. I’m a professional therapist who is here to assess your injuries, ordered to be here by my boss.”

He took a deep breath, his chest close enough that when he did, his skin touched the swell of her breasts and made her aware of his warmth. She swallowed. Her body responded to him and it pissed her off. He had no right to talk to her that way and he sure shouldn’t have yanked her into his bed.

“So you want me to pay you?” He frowned.

“Don’t even. If you say what I’m afraid you’re going to, just don’t. I’m not a sex therapist. I don’t fuck men for money but I’ve had a few jerks offer me that. I’ll kick your ass.”

A deep chuckle came from him. “You’ll kick my ass? Baby, if you haven’t noticed, I have you pinned down. What are you going to do? You look like you couldn’t fight a strong wind.”

“My name is Brit Sheril, not ‘baby’, Mr. Wind. Get the hell off me because I’m not amused.”

“I could amuse you.”

“You could get your whiskey-soaked ass off me.”

His grin died and he grimaced while moving his face back a little. “Sorry. Do I smell bad?”

She hesitated. “Let me up. I’m here to assess your injuries. Is it just the knee?”

He blinked before he rolled back. Relief washed through her as she sat up slowly, inching away from him to rise to her feet. She turned around, instantly regretting it.

River Wind stretched out on his back watching her…with the sheet gone. Her focus flew down his body, unable to look away as she stared wide-eyed at him. She hadn’t expected to see that.

He chuckled. “I’m really happy to see you.”

Her gaze jerked away from the impressive hard-on. His thick cock had been circumcised and at that moment he seemed to be very turned on. The guy shaved his lower area. She couldn’t miss that since his legs were spread enough to reveal everything to her. The guy had balls all right—shaved, heavy ones.

“I see that. Can you cover up, please? Morning wood isn’t something I want to see.”

“You said you wanted to assess me and you wanted to know where I hurt. There it is. That’s where I’m aching.” He scanned her body again as he lifted his arms, bending them behind his head to use his forearms for a pillow. “If you’d drop those jeans and climb on me, you could fix my pain real fast.”

The sad part is
, she thought,
I’m tempted
. The last guy she’d taken home had been a dud. Her memory skipped back five months to the wedding of a dear friend. Weddings were depressing when someone was thirty-five, single, and had no prospects. One of 1the groom’s friends had been blond, cute, and flirtatious. He’d also been a rotten lay, looked better in clothes than out of them, and hadn’t been a tenth as tempting as the guy stretched out on the bed in front of her.

“There are condoms in the drawer built into the wall behind you.”

She turned her head to glance at the drawers and a closet that were a little to the side of the door. She looked back at him.
Damn, he is fine looking
. As much as her libido was tempted, he had to be a saddle tramp, obviously used to getting his way with women and she’d seen his home. Hooking up with this guy would be a big mistake and she could lose her job. Not even fifteen minutes of the stud muffin on the bed would be worth that. She wasn’t blowing the only employment she could find. With her past, no one but Dale would hire her.

“Where else do you hurt? I saw the knee. I’m definitely not helping you out with your…” She glanced at his erection. “So, are you hurt anywhere else?”

“My cock. My love stick. The joy toy. You can say it, baby.”

“The name is Brit and if you keep it up, you can call me Miss Sheril.”

“I can keep it up.” He chuckled. “It’s keeping it down that is the problem when someone as nice-looking as you is standing at the foot of my bed.”

“You’re a pig.”

“Want to get dirty with me?” The insult amused him. “Oink, oink.”

Sighing, she crossed her arms over her chest. “Look, Mr. Wind, I came here because Dale is worried about you. I’m not here for any other reason. He thought you were injured. If you don’t want me to help you out with that knee or any other injures you’ve sustained then I’m out of here.”

“The only way you can help me out is by taking your clothes off.”

“I tried but some people are just too stupid to take what is offered. Have a nice day and keep the ice on the knee. If you change your mind, give Dale a call. He’ll send out someone else to help you.” She turned and walked out of his room.

“Brit?”

She stopped, slowly turning around as he sat up. His beautiful brown eyes locked with hers. “I’ll behave and I am in pain. My shoulder is screwed up too.”

She took a step toward him, her gaze scanning his naked body and cringed at how much she wanted him. He had the best body she’d ever seen and that generous hard-on was definitely the biggest she’d ever seen. Brit was losing her mind. If she had a brain she’d flee. The sexy guy was trouble.

He smiled as she walked back into his room. She turned toward the closet and jerked it open to stare at his clothes. He owned a lot of jeans, a few jeans jackets, and enough flannel to make a few sets of sheets for his big bed.

“What are you looking for?”

“Some shorts.”

1“You want to get out of your jeans?” He chuckled. “You don’t need any clothes.”

She bit back a curse, reaching down to the drawers.

“The condoms are on the top to the left. Just lift the briefs.”

She jerked open the drawer on the top and grabbed a pair of navy boxer briefs. She slammed the door shut, turned, and hit his chest with the underwear. He grabbed at them, a large, tan hand closing over the small piece of material.

“Put those on if you want me to stay. I refuse to continue this conversation with you naked. Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to point?”

His looked at his exposed lap. A grin curved his lips as his gaze met hers. He shrugged. “Tell it to him. He’s just aiming for what he really wants.”

Rolling her eyes, Brit crossed her arms over her chest again and stared at him.

“Don’t tell me you named it.”

“All men do. I bet you named your girls.”

She glanced down at her cleavage and then met his gaze again. “I did.”

“What names did you give them?”

She smiled at him, sliding her hands up her waist to cup each breast. “This one,”

she squeezed it, “is Off. And this one…” she squeezed the other one, “is Limits. Put that together and you get what they are telling you.” Her hands dropped. “Now get your cute ass up and put on some clothes.”

He grinned. “I love feisty.”