SBC Fighter: Tails Of Love Part 15

"Great. Wonderful." Al the winegla.s.ses now col ected in her arms, she found the courage to look her brother in the face, to stare him down where he sat in his wheelchair with his ruined legs and his therapy monkey who was supposed to make everything perfect even though Keenan would never walk again. "Glad we got that cleared up. Can I go now?" She took a couple steps toward the kitchen and the only available escape.

"I want you to be happy," Keenan cal ed after her.

"I-I am happy."

The words were faint because no air was getting to her lungs and she just couldn't breathe. There was a noose around her neck . . . a weight . . . a vice . . . and it was slowly choking her to death.

She had to get out of here right now, before she fel apart. The kitchen was her focus. If only she could get to the kitchen. Keenan wouldn't fol ow her there-he hardly ever went into the kitchen-and once there she'd be able to breathe again. Hurrying to the door, she tried to block out the rush of blood in her ears and the thunder of her erratic pulse- two steps to the kitchen . . . one step . . . almost there-but then Keenan said the one thing she absolutely could not deal with: "Be free."

Just like that, she lost it-utterly and completely.

The tears she'd h.o.a.rded for two years because she'd wanted to be strong for Keenan erupted from her body on a wailing moan. Desperate for Keenan not to see her fal apart, she dropped al three winegla.s.ses- s.h.i.t, s.h.i.t, s.h.i.t-and slapped her hands over her face. Weighed down with grief, weak with it, she sagged against the wal , bent at the waist, and gave herself over to ten seconds of unadulterated self-pity. Unable to do anything else, she sobbed and sobbed, aware of Keenan rol ing over to rub her back and stroke her hair.

"Shhh, " he murmured. "Don't do this to yourself. Come here."

Tugging her arm, he steered her over to the sofa, where she sat, sniffling. Keenan faced her and held both her hands.

"I-It's my fault." With a tremendous effort, Lisa gulped and panted her way to a ful breath of air. "I-I should've seen him coming."

"It was a drunk driver."

"I should've swerved."

"You're lucky you weren't kil ed, Lisa."

"Killed?" Hysteria bubbled up out of her throat and she curled in on herself, nearly choking on her sick laughter.

"You got paralyzed and I didn't even break a nail."

"Stop it." Somehow Keenan got those clumsy fingers tightened around her upper arms and gave her a rough shake, one that made her teeth clack. "Two years is enough. Let it go. If you weren't such a control freak, you'd see that none of what happened was your fault."

"I am not a control freak." Affronted, she straightened her spine and let him have it with both barrels. "And I don't appreciate you-"

The loud, rattling clang of a cage banging shut jarred her out of her rant and startled her. Swiping at her eyes again, she looked around at the far corner of the room, near the French doors, where Atticus's enormous wire cage stood.

The monkey hovered just inside, chattering madly, his soft blue security blanket clutched to his chest. Catching her eye, he held onto the bars and peered through them, scolding her and reminding her of a prisoner contemplating a jailbreak.

Lisa turned back to Keenan and they gaped at each other. "D-did that monkey just lock himself in his cage so he'd be safe from me?" she asked.

"I think so."

Without warning, she and Keenan broke into uproarious laughter. Lisa laughed until her eyes streamed anew. There was a fine line between sanity and madness, and she wasn't sure which side she belonged on. Final y her hoa.r.s.e throat started hurting and she hiccupped to repress what she hoped was the last sob of the night.

Keenan sobered, too.

"I'm sorry, Keenan," she whispered.

"Don't be."

"I'd take your place in a minute."

"I know you would," Keenan told her. "But has it ever occurred to you that no one but you thinks that way? I'd never change places with you, even if I could."

"Why should I be okay when you're in a wheelchair?"

Keenan shrugged impatiently. "Get that figured out, okay? And then I want you to start working on some of the other mysteries in life. Maybe you can tel the world who kil ed JFK and how the pyramids were built."

"You're such a jacka.s.s sometimes," she said sourly.

"And I think maybe you're a coward."

"What?"

Furious now-how many more times tonight was someone going to cal her a coward?-Lisa prepared to blast him, but Keenan studied her with those wise dark eyes and held up a hand to stop her before she got going.

"Don't even try it. I know you better than anyone else, and I've seen the way you and Cruz look at each other." He paused to shudder and crinkle his nose with disgust. "I pretended not to feel the vibes between my best friend and my sister, but I did. I know the deal-"

"Keenan-"

"-and you do not have my permission to use me or the accident to hold Cruz off. If you don't want him, fine. Tel him. If you do want him, go for it. But don't hide behind me.

Are we clear?"

"But-"

"Are we clear?"

Lisa wasn't ready to admit her feelings for Cruz just yet, but there was no denying that she felt better. Better than better-she felt as though she'd shed a layer of heavy armored skin and could now feel the sun's heat on her flesh for the first time in years.

She felt . . . it took her a minute to identify the strange feeling . . . hope.

Reaching out, she patted Keenan's stubbly cheek. "You need a shave."

"Yeah, wel ."

They both grinned and then Keenan opened his arms for her. She scooted into his lap and they held each other as they'd done mil ions of times before. Some of her tension receded, leaving only the thrum of excitement and the thril of new possibilities.

"Cruz is a good guy." Keenan smoothed her hair, but she kept her chin firmly on his shoulder so he wouldn't see the flush in her cheeks.

"I'm scared," she admitted. "I'm not that good at relationships."

"You've never been in one with Cruz."

That made her laugh, but then she thought about what would happen to Keenan if she was involved with someone, wondered who would take care of his many needs.

"What about you?"

Keenan kissed her temple. "Don't worry about me. I've got Atticus. And it's time for me to find my own place.

Maybe some sort of a.s.sisted living setup, or maybe I'l have a nurse or someone come to me once a day. I'l get it figured out. I'm not going to live with my older sister for the rest of my life. This setup was only temporary. We just let it stretch a little because it's been you and me since Mama and Pops died."

"Keenan," she began.

"Don't argue."

With that, the cage squeaked. Lisa let go of her brother's neck and looked around to see Atticus push open the cage door and peek out. When Lisa didn't shout again, he apparently decided that the coast was clear. Trailing his blue leash, he crept to the wheelchair, his blanket clutched in one tiny hand, and climbed onto Keenan's broad shoulders.

"Hey, Atticus," Lisa said. "It's safe now. I'm done yel ing."

"Ooooh, " Atticus murmured, and then began one of his favorite activities: grooming Lisa. The three of them sat in companionable silence while Atticus systematical y ran his fingers through Lisa's heavy black hair to make sure she didn't have fleas.

CHAPTER THREE.

"Jesus," Cruz said a couple hours later, gaping as though he'd discovered Sasquatch making out with a Martian on his porch.

Lisa figured he'd be surprised to see her, but what she hadn't factored into the equation was the shock of seeing him in his negligible pajamas.

Her insistent pounding on his front door had roused him from bed and now he stood il uminated by the porch light in al his glory, which was considerable. His black curls were a wild mess and his eyes were sleepy, but his body was the kind of thing Lisa hadn't thought existed outside of an NBA locker room.

Only a pair of real y ugly red plaid bottoms stood between him and the night air, and the bottoms were slung so low over his notched hips that the situation could change with the slightest movement. Perfect tan skin gleamed everywhere she looked: across his sculpted shoulders, down the defined muscles of his long arms, and over the ladder rungs of his tight abdomen. A swathe of sleek black hair ran between his flat brown nipples, over his bel y, and disappeared into parts unknown south of his waistband, and Lisa, who'd always admired bare-chested men, found her mouth watering at the sight of it. Big bare feet with strong toes peeked out from under the too-long cuffs at the bottom of his jammies.

It took a lot of effort to shift her focus from that body to the topic at hand, but after a mental head-shake and a deep breath or two, Lisa was ready. "So . . . I had a talk with Atticus."

"Atticus? " Cruz's voice squeaked on al three syl ables and he paused to clear his throat. "You did?"

"Yeah."

She edged closer until she could feel the waves of heat flaming off Cruz's big body. With the kind of s.e.xual boldness she'd lacked her entire life until this very second, she circled his bel y b.u.t.ton with slow fingers- G.o.d, his skin was hot-and ran her hand up to the middle of his chest.

Like magic, his lungs began to heave and his pulse to pound with the force of a marching band.

"I told him there were going to be a few changes."

Flattening her palm, she gave Cruz a gentle push, backed him through the open screen door and into the house, and slammed the door shut behind them. The light was dimmer inside his enormous foyer, with only a smal lamp on a table at the base of the staircase to il uminate his gleaming brown eyes. He stared down at her without blinking or moving, but she felt the restless energy vibrating from his body and waiting to spring free and wild at any moment.

Licking his lips, he stared at her mouth. "What . . . kind of changes?"

"Wel ," she said, reaching behind her back to unzip her dress, "if I'm going to be spending much more time over here-with you-he needs to take good care of Keenan."

"Yeah?" Cruz whispered, eyes bulging as he watched her shimmy out of her dress and kick it to the floor. He stood motionless as she straightened and stood before him in only her black strapless bra and bikinis. "What'd . . . what'd Atticus say to that?"

Lisa crept closer and planted her hands on his sides.

Shuddering with relief, joy, and the rightness of being with him, she pressed her b.r.e.a.s.t.s to his chest, her hips to his.

He shifted, letting her feel his size, his want, and his need, and sank his fingers into the hair on either side of her face.

Sighing with pleasure, he rested his forehead against hers and held her close.

"What'd he say?" Lisa echoed, trying to remember the topic at hand. "He said, 'Eeee-eeee-eeee,' but I'm pretty sure he meant, 'No problem, Lisa.' "

That wicked grin, the one that stopped Lisa's heart every time, even after al these years, flitted across his face. "His English is terrible."

"Yeah." Wrapping her arms around his back now, she writhed against his hard length, setting off a wave of contractions that radiated out from her s.e.x. With a gasp - G.o.d, he was going to make her come and he' d barely even touched her-she turned her face into his neck and absorbed the earthy scent of sandalwood on his skin. "But I think we understood each other."

"Good." He groaned as she sc.r.a.ped his shoulder with her teeth. "He's a-he's a pretty smart monkey."

After that, there wasn't much more talking. Cruz palmed her b.u.t.t to grind against her aching s.e.x-she was feverish and soaking wet by then-and caught her lips for a nipping kiss that was so sweet and deep she felt it in her throbbing nipples and over every shivering inch of her bare skin.

"I love you," she whispered.

"Yeah?" A faint smile worked the corners of his mouth.

"You should. I'm a good guy."

"I know you are. And I've been waiting for this. I've been .

. . Ahhh-"

"What? This? "

On this, he kneaded her b.u.t.t with a rough, slow caress- down . . . down . . . down. On the up stroke, he thrust his hips and found the exact right spot- her sweet spot, G.o.d, right there, right there-and she came with a long, keening cry that he caught in his mouth as he kissed her. The pleasure was piercing and bright, strong and deep enough to rearrange her body down to the last atom in the marrow of her bones. Sagging against him, weak now, she was dimly aware of him dragging and half-carrying her to the staircase.

"Bed," he said, his voice hoa.r.s.e, his eyes glittering and wild. "Now."

They made it in record time and then they were in the darkened bedroom, tumbling onto the ma.s.sive, rumpled, decadent bed that had luxury sheets, the intoxicating smel of Cruz, and the lingering warmth from his body.

Lying back, she levered up on her elbows, watched as he kicked off those awful pajamas, and caught tantalizing glimpses of his long muscular legs, thick patch of dark hair, and jutting erection.

"Oh, G.o.d." She opened her arms and legs to him. "Oh, G.o.d."

"Shhh, mi amor."

He came to her, easing between her thighs, removing her bra and panties, and arranging her limbs the way he wanted them: her legs tight around his waist, her hands in his nape, filtering through his silky curls. Staring down at her, his reverent hands stroking over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, he crooned.

"Mi Lisita," he said, kissing her and swal owing her whimpers. "Tu eres mi amor. Angelita . . . angelita. "

The kisses became slower . . . deeper . . . and Lisa was beside herself.

"Please." She arched against him, shamelessly rubbing and begging.