Lover Unleashed - J. R. Ward [84]
“What do you say?” her healer murmured.
“I think you came at the perfect time. That’s what I say.”
She shifted in his strong arms and stared up at him. As she sat in his lap, she wished she could feel more of him. All of him. But from the waist down there was only a nonspecific warmth, one that was better than the chill that had persisted since the operation, yes . . . but there was so much more to be had.
“Healer . . .” she whispered, her eyes going to his mouth.
His lids lowered and he seemed to stop breathing. “Yeah . . . ?”
“May I . . .” She licked her lips. “May I kiss you?”
He seemed to wince, as if in pain, but that scent he carried roared, so she knew that he wanted what she did.
“Jesus . . . Christ,” he bit out.
“Your body wants this,” she said, bringing her hand up to the soft hair at the nape of his neck.
“And that’s the problem.” At her look of confusion, he leveled a hot stare right at her breasts. “It wants a hell of a lot more than just a kiss.”
Suddenly, there was a shift inside her body, one so subtle it was hard to pin down. But she felt something different throughout her torso and all her limbs. A tingling? She was too wrapped up in the sexual energy between them to worry about defining it.
Snaking another arm around his neck, she said, “What else does it want.”
Her healer groaned deep in his throat, and the sound gave her the same shot of power as when she’d a weapon in her hand. To feel that again? It was like a drug.
“Tell me, healer,” she demanded. “What else does it want.”
His mahogany eyes were on fire as they locked on her own. “Everything. It wants every square inch of you—outside . . . and on the inside. To the point where I’m not sure you’re ready for how much I’m after.”
“I decide,” she countered, a strange, pounding need taking root in her gut. “I decide what I can and cannot handle, yes?”
His half smile was all evil. In a good way. “Yes, ma’am.”
As a low, rhythmic sound filled the air, she was surprised to realize it was her. Purring. “Do I have to ask again, healer?”
There was a pause. And then he slowly shook his head back and forth. “Nope. I’ll give you . . . exactly what you want.”
TWENTY-ONE
When Vishous pushed open the door to the exam room, he got a gander at the kind of seating arrangement that made him think fondly of castration.
Which, considering his own experience with the knife-on-the-’nads routine, was saying a lot.
Then again, his sister was all but straddling that ass-wipe human’s Mr. Happy, the man’s arms around her, their heads all nestled in. Except they weren’t looking at each other—and that was the only reason he didn’t break up the party: They were staring at the computer screen . . . at a man in a wheelchair racing a bunch of other guys.
“. . . Height is just a vertical number—it doesn’t mean shit when it comes to your character or the kind of life you live.”
“Can you move the . . . that thing?”
For some reason, V’s heart pounded as the human showed his sister how to work a mouse. And then he heard something that gave him reason for hope:
“I can do this,” she said.
“That’s the point,” Manello said softly. “You can do anything.”
Well, shit—the gamble had come up aces, hadn’t it: V had been willing to throw that human back into the mix briefly, just to get her past the suicidal impulse. Except he’d never once thought the guy would give her anything more than a case of puppy love.
And yet, here the motherfucker was . . . showing her so much more than how to kiss.
V had wanted to be the one to save her—and he supposed by bringing in Manello, he might have, but why hadn’t he done more sooner? Why hadn’t Jane? They should have gotten her out of this place, taken her to the mansion . . . had meals and talked with her.
Shown her that her future was different, but not disappeared.
V rubbed his face as anger tackled him to the ground. Goddamn Jane