Conceal, Protect - By Carol Ericson Page 0,46
this. I won’t rush you. We can spend all afternoon in front of this fire making love.”
Her hand hovered over the throw pillow wedged between the love seat and the end table. She curled her hand into a fist, but it was no use. She plucked the pillow from its spot, placed it flat on the floor and began smoothing out the wrinkles in its cover with agitated fingers.
J.D. traced his index finger from the inside of her elbow to her wrist. “What’s wrong, Noelle?”
She wanted to deny that there was anything wrong. She wanted to deny the compulsion for order that had crept over her the past few days, ever since she’d returned to the ranch. She wanted to deny that she hadn’t made love with a man since the death of Alex.
But J.D. could spot a psycho a mile away.
She punched the pillow and raised her gaze to his, tears flooding her eyes, her nose stinging. “I...I...”
He scooted next to her and wrapped her in a hug, all the sexual content drained from the embrace, despite the fact that they both remained naked, parts of her body still tender and sensitive.
Kissing the side of her head, he tucked her hair behind one ear. “Do you have OCD?”
She shook her head, and a tear crested and dropped onto her cheek. “No—not all the time. I mean, not for a long time and never before—before Alex’s murder.”
A sob welled in her throat, and she choked it back, but another came on its heels, overwhelming her ability to contain it. Everything the past few days had overwhelmed her ability to contain.
The tears rolled down her face unabated now, the sobs shaking her body.
J.D.’s arms grew tighter around her. Of course he felt sorry for her. Who wouldn’t feel sorry for someone whose life was controlled by straightening and organizing and counting and checking?
Her father had felt so sorry for her mother he couldn’t leave her—even for someone he really loved.
J.D. pinched her chin, forcing her to look him in the face even though she knew her nose was red and running, her eyes puffy, her lips trembling.
“Why exactly did you think it was a good idea to have wild, hot sex on the living room floor? Not that I minded in the least.”
Her bottom lip quivered as she tried to form a coherent response. “I th-thought if I lost myself—” another sob contorted her face “—in—in my senses, I could forget about my compulsions.”
He stroked her face, catching her tears on the ends of his thumbs. “Didn’t work, huh?”
Shame burned her cheeks as she gazed into his whiskey eyes. She’d used him and he knew it. She’d seduced him, stoked his passion, whipped him up to the point of release—and then denied him.
His chest, still flushed with desire, had just stopped heaving seconds before. His rasping breath had just slowed to a normal pace. She didn’t even want to look at the other parts of his body.
“I’m sorry, J.D. What I felt, what I did—I wasn’t faking it. I wanted to be with you. I just...”
“You’re not ready. Even if you were, this isn’t the time or the place.”
Her gaze wandered past his body to the nest they’d created before the fire. She couldn’t think of a more perfect place.
He snatched the pillow and, crushing it against his crotch, he stood up. He extended a hand to her. “Why don’t you lie down and get some rest, and I’ll start on some work around this place while we wait to hear from Zendaris’s men? I still want to help you out around here.”
She pulled her robe into her lap and took his hand. Her nakedness now seemed a sham, and she wrapped her bathrobe around her body and secured the tie.
He must’ve felt the same because he struggled into his jeans behind the love seat with his back toward her. He said over his shoulder, “Do you need to call someone about your symptoms? Were you seeing a psychiatrist?”
Another wave of shame flooded her body. The humiliation just kept on piling on. “Yes, someone in D.C.”
He buttoned his fly and snapped his fingers. “The meds. That’s what the meds were for. Will your doctor in D.C. phone in a prescription for you? Can doctors even prescribe meds across state lines? I’m not even sure.”
That’s it. He’d relegated her to crazy town.
“I’ve already done that. A prescription is waiting at the pharmacy, but I don’t need medication. This is just a slight—”