To Each Her Own by Molly Mirren

Author:Molly Mirren [Mirren, Molly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: quirky heroine, devoteeism, paraplegic fiction, disability sex, disability romance, paraplegic sex, caretaker alpha hero, injury to the spine, hero with a disability, spinal cord injury motorcycle accident
Publisher: Molly Mirren
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

Someone was squeezing her. It wasn't unpleasant, wasn't cutting off her breath. It was just a heavy weight resting on her waist and hip that felt safe and protective.

She was home. She knew by the softness and just-right puffiness of the pillow beneath her cheek and the familiar scent of the fabric softener—lavender Bounce—in her sheets. The fake lavender mingled with other scents: the natural smell of her own body (not unclean, just there, just normal), and a male spiciness that she knew without a doubt belonged to Jay. Tentatively, she moved her hand until she felt a warm, masculine hand and then an arm lightly dusted with wiry male hair. Her heart instantly beat faster, a flashing beacon seeking a response.

Why was Jay's arm around her? Why was he in her bed? She knew she should open her eyes, but she waited just a few more blessed seconds. She wanted to savor the fact that she finally felt clear-headed again, that the nausea, the headache, and, worst of all, the terrifying paranoia she'd felt had subsided. And then there was Jay's body heat wrapped around her like a warm blanket.

She didn't remember much. She'd smoked the A-bomb and then drunk way too much at Lars Bar before leaving at the end of her shift with Duncan and some of his friends. They'd done more drinking and drugs, and everything after that was spotty. She remembered Duncan on top of her, trying to get her clothes off. She remembered terror and hands gripping her too hard and not letting go. She remembered walking but going nowhere. She remembered hands again, flapping around her like crazy white doves. She remembered more fear, more sickness, more shame.

She remembered a familiar face—a handsome, chiseled face with dark, blue-gray eyes—a whiskey voice, strong soothing hands, cool water easing down her throat, back rubs, fingers tenderly holding her hair back to get it out of her face as she threw up. She remembered peace.

How long had she been out of it? Had Jay taken care of her the whole time? She was horrified by the thought. There was no telling what he'd seen. She must have been at her worst, like shitty-butt-wasted worst. Guilt squeezed her belly, along with the embarrassment and fear of what she might have done or said. She suddenly felt tense all over, her shoulders stiffening.

The arm around her waist tightened and pulled her closer, and then Jay's voice was there, a rich, sleepy vibration in her ear. “What's wrong, darlin'? You need something?”

She closed her eyes, almost groaning with pleasure at the sound of him. “Um, no. Thanks. I'm okay.” Her voice sounded like someone else's, kind of froggy and craggy; her tongue and throat felt like they'd been sanded and Spackled.

Jay's arm relaxed but still held her close. It was a nice feeling, but her need to fill in the blanks was overwhelming. Erin rolled over to face him, his arm remaining steady as her body twisted beneath it.

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