Knight In Black Leather by Gail Dayton (ebook reader ink .txt) 📕

hair, wishing he knew how to comfort her better, what more he could do. This was more than merely what happened tonight.

"I've been alone for so long," she whispered.

"Not anymore."

"No, not anymore." She held him tight, crushing her breasts, covered only by thin cotton, against his naked chest, wiping her tears on his shoulder.

Eli bit down hard on the inside of his cheek but it did nothing to quell his body's reaction. He'd been wanting her for too long, but this wasn't the time to bother her with it. He bent his good leg and brought it up, hoping to hide things.

"I feel like--" Marilyn paused to wipe her eyes again, this time on his neck. "Like part of me's been dead. Numb. Like when your leg goes to sleep and when it wakes up, all these pins and needles stab you till it's all the way awake. Only the part of me that's been numb is bigger than any leg, and it was worse than just asleep. Like it was dead and is coming alive again, and it hurts. It hurts bad, Eli."

He stroked her hair back from her face with his fingertips, careful not to bump her with the cast. Then he kissed her forehead where he'd exposed it. He shouldn't kiss her, but he had to. He limited himself to the one, tucking her head back under his chin where his lips couldn't reach it.

"But it's a good hurt, you know?" A sob caught her, putting a hitch in her voice. Her hand on his back pulled him close while the one against his chest drew little circles on his skin. She was making him crazy. "If I let it hurt, after a while maybe it won't hurt anymore and I'll be better. Better than I was before. More alive. Only half dead instead of three-quarters."

"All alive, not any dead. Don't stop till you get there." He couldn't stand thinking of her any other way but completely alive.

She turned her head and laid her cheek flat against his chest. Eli resisted the urge to twist himself around and kiss whatever he could reach. He just held her.

"I can't believe you promised to stay." The motion of her jaw against his chest as she spoke made chills run up the back of his neck. "You don't have to."

"Yes, I do. I promised. And I always--"

"Keep your promises. I know." She moved her hand higher on his chest. "Even if you're released from your promise?"

"I said 'as long as you want me.' When you get sick of me hanging around, I'll go. If you want me to come back, I'll be here."

Marilyn sniffled.

He could feel fresh tears as she turned her face back into his chest. "Oh, hey--I thought you were all done with that crying stuff."

"You're too nice to me. I can't--after so long--to have somebody..." Running out of words, she held him tight and cried.

Eli held on, whispering stuff he couldn't remember the second it came out of his mouth. Marilyn cried and cried, until he was afraid she'd make herself sick with it. He didn't know how else to help her, and finally promised himself that if she didn't slow down in the next ten minutes, he'd call somebody. He didn't know who, but somebody.

Almost as if the silent promise had some kind of weird power, Marilyn's sobs faded in less than five minutes. By ten, she was asleep on his shoulder, sniffling occasionally between breaths. Eli rolled onto his back to keep from accidentally bashing her with the arm cast and tucked her into his side. She snuggled in, spreading her hand flat just over his heart. He could get used to this he thought, right before he joined her in sleep.

Marilyn dreamed she was hot. Not toasty, snuggly warm, but hot. Cleaning out the attic in July without a fan hot. Lying on a Florida beach in August hot. Baked in a furnace hot.

As she struggled up from sleep, she realized she wasn't inside a furnace, merely lying next to one. Or, more correctly, draped all over him. Eli's nearly naked body generated incredible heat, and Marilyn lay with her head on his shoulder, her arm across his stomach and her leg over his broken one with her knee drawn up almost within touching distance of his...package.

Her face burned as she remembered the humiliating way she'd cried all over him last night. He'd been so nice about it. So nice about that awful scene at her mother's, about everything. Which had only made her cry harder because it had been so damn long since anybody was nice to her about anything.

How in the world was she going to extricate herself? Not only from her physical position vis-à-vis his...package, but from--well, from wanting him to stay. From liking him too much. From wanting to take him up on his outrageous proposition. It would end badly no matter what she did. She was sure of that already. But if she wasn't careful, it could get so much worse.

And it would get worse very quickly if she didn't hurry up and get her knee away from his.... She had to stop thinking about his package. No packages. Not now, not ever. Not Eli's anyway. Maybe someday she'd meet a nice forty-mumble-year-old man and she could think about his package but--

Get a grip, Marilyn.

Carefully, Marilyn lifted her knee straight up until it wasn't touching Eli's leg or his cast anywhere, and moved it back where it belonged. On her own side of the bed. Then she paused to see if she'd awakened Eli.

If she had, he was pretending to sleep, for which she was grateful. It was bad enough hoping he didn't know she'd plastered herself all over him. If she knew he knew she'd done it, her humiliation would be complete. As it was, she could still hope.

Inch by fraction of an inch, she moved her hand off his chest, then withdrew her head from his