Maya Banks - No Place to Run

The tiny kick against his lips had him smiling in sheer delight.

“She’s saying hello,” he said hoarsely.

When he looked up at Sophie, he was taken aback by the sheer sadness in her eyes. He could swear there were tears, but she blinked and they were gone. What could possibly have upset her?

He crinkled his brow and touched a hand to her cheek. “Is everything okay, Soph?”

She smiled, though it looked shaky to him. “I’m fine. The bath did wonders. I feel like a new woman.”

It was almost easy to forget that she was sitting naked in front of him—if he didn’t keep getting distracted by the breasts he and his brothers had discussed in depth out in the hall.

Her nipples—one of his favorite things—were darker now instead of the delectable shade of pink they’d been. They looked browner, ruby almost. He’d give anything to taste her one more time. To run his tongue along the puckered peak and feel her come apart in his arms.

His body tightened painfully, and he nearly unmanned himself by bumping into the counter edge. Son of a bitch that hurt!

“I um got you a bra. It’s right here. Donovan brought you some pants and a T-shirt. We’ll get you shoes when you’re dressed. Let me help you get into everything, and then we’ll see what we have to work with.”

She wrinkled her nose at the bra. “God, it’s one of those torture devices. One of those thirty-six-hour jobs or whatever they’re called.”

Sam laughed. Even he’d heard enough television commercials to know there were eighteen-hour bras. But who the hell would want to stay in such a barbaric contraption for eighteen hours? Those things weren’t for sissies.

“You’re going to have to help me get it on. I can’t put it on backward and twist it around. It’ll kill my arm. I’ll put the cups on and you fasten the back.”

“Well hell,” he grumbled. “I’ve had plenty of practice getting women out of bras, but I can’t say I’ve ever helped a woman into one.”

She flashed a grin. “Then you’ll learn something new and useful.”

She positioned the bra, looped the straps over her shoulders, and he stared down at the dangling clasp. How hard could it be?

He fastened the clips and tried very hard not to remember where he’d gotten this or who had worn it last, because there was only so much his brain could take.

“Just hold the underwear. I’ll step in,” she directed.

He bent and held what looked to be grannie panties out and open while she grabbed on to his wrists for support and cautiously threaded one leg at a time into the holes. A few seconds later, she had underwear all the way over her belly and she burst into laughter.

“I look like a goober,” she said, still laughing.

“The clothes will cover it.” Thank God. Even as unattractive as his mom’s girly things were, Sophie still managed to look sensational in them. He could tie a garbage sack around her and she’d still light up a room.

The pants weren’t hard, but the shirt was more awkward. He merely stretched out the armholes until he could fit her arms through without making her do contortionist tricks.

“Want me to dry your hair?”

She blinked in surprise. “Would you? It would be so hard to do it one-handed.”

He reached for the blow-dryer. “Can you stand for this long or would you prefer to sit on the toilet seat?”

She put her hand on his chest and eased her way onto the closed toilet.

He started the dryer and threaded his hand through the strands as he motioned the blower up and down. After a few minutes, he took a brush from the counter and delicately drew it through her tresses.

She closed her eyes and held her face upturned just a bit, like she was experiencing the first rays of sun after a long winter. Wanting to continue pleasing her, he brushed the strands as he blew over them, until they shone like spun gold.

“No one has brushed my hair for me since I was a child,” she murmured, her eyes still closed. “It feels wonderful.”

“I’ve never brushed a woman’s hair before,” he admitted ruefully.

She opened her eyes and they smiled back at him through the mirror.

“I’m getting the idea that you were an expert at getting women out of their clothes and messing up their hair, but maybe not so much with anything that came afterward.”

“Not that many women,” he muttered.

She cocked her head, and he could see the question brewing on her lips.

Once again, a knock at the door interrupted them. Sam blew out his breath in relief, turned off the dryer and laid it aside.

“It’s open,” he called.

Donovan stuck his head inside. “I have Mom’s med kit if you want me to look over Sophie’s stitches. She’s insisting on calling Doc, but I made her wait to see what you wanted.”

“Yeah, okay, let me take her in the bedroom so you’ll have room,” Sam replied. “Tell Mom to hold her horses. Didn’t you explain to her the situation we’re in here? We can’t be calling everyone in Stewart County to come over.”

“Yeah , but you know Mom,” Donovan said in amusement.

Sam touched Sophie on the shoulder as Donovan backed out of the bathroom. “Can you make it?”

She rose tentatively and then smiled. “Amazing what a hot bath and clean clothes will do for you.”

Still, he took her hand and laced his fingers with hers as he led her out of the bathroom and toward his parents’ bedroom.

“Just have her sit,” Donovan said as he motioned toward the end of the bed. “This won’t take but a minute.”

Sam watched as Donovan carefully pulled Sophie’s shirt down over her shoulder so he could examine the stitched wound.

Impatiently, Sam stepped forward. “Does it look all right?”

Donovan turned to his brother. “Yeah, it does. It looks really good. I’ll just put on some more antibiotic ointment and fresh bandages and she’ll be good to go.”

Sam touched Sophie’s hair, now glossy and clean. She turned her face up to him, and he wanted to touch her more.

“Are you in any pain? Van can get you some more pain medicine.”

“Just ibuprofen.”

“Ma’s making a feast. You two should come down and eat. Then Sophie can take her medicine on a full stomach,” Donovan said.

Sam saw the longing in Sophie’s eyes and nodded at Donovan. “We’ll be down. Have Ma set up a tray so Sophie can sit on the couch where it’s comfortable.”

CLEAN and warm. And now she was staring at a tray in front of her holding more food than she could possibly eat, but damn if she wasn’t going to give it her best shot.

There was a bowl of chicken and dumplings, a grilled cheese sandwich, potato salad and a plate of pot roast with mashed potatoes and gravy.

Marlene had jokingly told her that she’d cleaned out her refrigerator, and since she hadn’t known what Sophie liked, she made her a little of everything.

Mouth watering, Sophie dipped into the chicken and dumplings first. She ignored the goings-on around her and dug into each of the dishes, savoring each and every bite.

When the couch dipped beside her, Sophie looked up to see a teenaged girl staring curiously at her. She didn’t fit the mold of the rest of the Kelly family, and maybe that was on purpose.

She had an interesting shade of green through her chestnut hair, a nose piercing and a row of earrings in her left ear. While the girl wouldn’t have stood out in most high schools, here in this seemingly conservative, strait-laced household, she stood out like orange neon glow.

Since the girl continued to stare at her, Sophie stared back, childishly refusing to back down under the teen’s scrutiny.

The girl sniffed and then turned to grin in Sam’s direction. “Sounds like Marlene needs to be lecturing someone else on safe sex, not me.”

“Rusty, for God’s sake,” Frank Kelly bellowed.

Sophie jumped and looked cautiously at the burly older man. His bark seemed worse than his bite, but she couldn’t be sure on such a short acquaintance.

“If you can’t keep a civil tongue in your head, you can go back upstairs,” Frank said. Then he turned to Sophie. “The smart-mouthed young lady sitting next to you is Rusty. Don’t mind her. She likes to needle my boys.”

Sophie swallowed her bite and didn’t ask the obvious. It wasn’t any of her business. She really didn’t want to know who Rusty was anyway.

Rusty leaned over conspiratorially. “I’m the stray. Marlene sort of adopted me. Not that you could possibly think I sprang from the same gene patch as that bunch.” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder in Sam, Garrett and Donovan’s direction.

“Zip it, Rusty,” Sean snapped. “The last thing we need is your mouth today.”

Sophie looked in surprise at the young sheriff’s deputy standing across the room.

Rusty curled her lip in Sean’s direction. “I don’t answer to you, copper. Go eat a donut or something.”

Rusty turned back to Sophie and rolled her eyes. “He’s another stray Marlene picked up. Though personally I think he’s worn out his welcome.”

“Rusty,” Frank said in his gravelly voice. “That’s enough, young lady.”

To Sophie’s surprise, Rusty shut up and straightened in her seat. Sophie could swear there was genuine respect and affection in the young girl’s eyes when she looked at the Kelly patriarch.

Sophie was less sure of Frank. He watched her. He’d watched her ever since Sam had deposited her on the couch. There was nothing accusatory in his stare, but he studied her intently nonetheless and it made her uncomfortable.

She could only imagine the assumptions that were being made. She could name several, but there was no use in torturing herself. The assumptions were deserved, and she didn’t have the mental energy or the desire to correct any of them.