Chapter Five

Normally, Sam enjoyed being taken care of. He’d never been a man who disliked some sweetness, when a female would bring him things to dote on him.

Then again, during those times in the past, he’d been able to do it himself, as well.

And he hadn’t had a flighty omega in danger whom he couldn’t protect.

What used to give him pleasure now annoyed him. The way he had to lean against her, the fact he’d brushed his teeth in front of her, in the bed. All of it burned at his pride, especially when he wanted her to think well of him.

Tracy stared at him, an expectant look on her face. Great, I wasn’t paying attention. Must have asked me something.

“What was that?”

“I asked if you wanted a shower.”

The idea of hot water washing away the bits of dried blood still on him sounded amazing. The hospital had cleaned what they needed to clean, but nothing else, and the man who had done the cleaning had had as much charm as a rattlesnake.

Then the reality hit him, as it liked to do. A shower would require a not-so-sexy bag over his cast and a lot of help from a certain skittish omega.

Not like I’m about to go ask Dylan for help. He’d drown me.

“Probably not a great idea.”

“Why not?” Even though she asked, the look on her face said she knew why.

If she needed him to spell it out, he would. “I’ll be naked, honey, and I don’t think that’s what you want to be anywhere near.”

Her gulp came out loud and nervous. Even so, she pressed, and Tracy never pressed anything. “I’m here to help you, Sam. This happened because of me, and I saw the look on your face when I asked. You want a shower.”

“Think about it. I’m going to be naked, and while getting you naked and wet is a goal of mine, this isn’t how I saw it happening.” He tried for the joke, as though it could slice through the tension and make things better.

She didn’t laugh. “I can do it. I trust you, Sam, and I want to take care of you.”

He sighed. When she dug in her heels like that, he knew better than to argue. Hell, he knew better than to argue with any omega who had her shoulders set like Tracy did. They could out-stubborn even him. “Why don’t you grab one of those plastic cast covers the hospital sent home, then start the water?”

Fifteen minutes later, Sam realized he’d never outgrown feeling like an idiot. At least, he hadn’t when faced with a woman he wanted desperately while he wore a bag over his damned arm. Not the way I pictured our first time getting naked, that’s for sure.

His medication had kicked in, so he could move with more energy, the painful tugging inside him lessening to a dull ache. He’d still leaned on Tracy during the walk, but maybe that had more to do with the feel of her body against his.

The removal of his clothes had proven problematic. The shirt he’d needed help with, since his arm couldn’t bend enough to get over his head. Tracy had averted her gaze as she helped take the fabric off. At the sweats, he’d leaned against the counter and had her turn her back.

Not like she isn’t going to see everything in a minute.

The push of the sweats off his hips and down his long legs was easy enough, and he used his feet for the bottoms so he didn’t have to bend. It left him naked and in the room with the female he’d fantasized about since the moment he’d met her. Keep it together.

“Ready,” he said with a voice that was nowhere near controlled.

Tracy turned, her gaze pinned to his eyes, as if she was being damn careful not to risk a look farther down.

Go on, look, please.

“I should probably take some of this off.” She gestured to herself.

His turn to gulp. “Probably. Only as much as you want, though. You don’t need to be naked, but I’d imagine a sweater that thick will get soaked fast.”

She nodded, and with trembling hands, caught the bottom hem of the sweater to pull it free.

It was the first time he’d gotten a look at her outside of those three-sizes-too-big clothes, and it stole his breath.

He’d known she wasn’t very large, but he’d failed to realize just how pixie-like her body was. Her shoulders were small and light freckles showed all over her skin, though the parts hidden by the clothing nearer matched the tone of her skin. They all matched the light honey of her wide eyes. She didn’t have much of a chest, but that didn’t stop Sam’s brain from taking a detour into filth as he imagined how it would feel to take one of her pert little nipples past his lips and tease it until she was a moaning mess. Her waist was narrow, and her hips didn’t spread out too far. Stretch marks showed like silver stripes on her stomach from where her short tank top had ridden up, the marks from carrying a child to term when she was already so small. She didn’t have a porn star body, with huge fake breasts and a perfect hourglass figure, and yet her body didn’t fail to get a rise out of him.

He yearned to drop to his knees and worship her, to slip his tongue along the slit he knew was tucked away between her thighs, covered with the loose leggings she wore.

His gaze moved up to her eyes, and the fear there forced him to leash his wants.

It wasn’t all fear, though. Or, maybe it was, but not fear of him. He could tell with the way her scent had strengthened and the tentative response of her body that the fear had more to do with her own reaction. She didn’t want to want him, and she didn’t know how to handle it.

Still, even if they both wanted anything, even if they’d both been on board and horny, he was too damned injured to live up to it. Wild sex was off the table. “World’s most boring strip-tease, huh? Maybe we shouldn’t put dancing as a back-up plan for us.”

The joke forced a smile across Tracy’s tense lips, and didn’t that help him even more? It was a stupid joke, but it did what he needed it to. It broke that hold they’d been stuck in, turned the situation from sexual to something else.

They were naked, and they had attraction between them, so it wouldn’t ever be totally platonic, but at least it had shifted to something easier to handle.

Tracy leaned into the shower to feel the spray once more, and the caution charmed him. She was a caretaker at heart, wasn’t she? A deep breath, then she stripped off the leggings as well and set the folded pile of her clothes on the counter. It left her in the tank top and a pair of boy short panties that showed off long, lean legs.

Fuck, I’m in trouble.

Tracy slipped an arm around Sam, trying to ignore how good all his heated skin felt pressed tight against her. She knew how dangerous alphas were, yet she craved him. It never failed to make her want to shout at the injustice of it all.

Though, it was hard to fear Sam. In fact, when he’d watched her with such intensity, with a hardly-hidden lust, a warm flutter in her stomach had shocked her.

His gaze had traced her body, and the heat behind his eyes had said he didn’t find it lacking. He’d paused at her chest, at her hips, at the length of legs. Richard’s harsh words, when he’d criticized her lack of a larger bra size, when he’d called her boy-shaped, those hurtful words couldn’t find a foothold inside her when Sam watched her with open admiration.

And that terrified her. More than she feared the man himself, how quickly she’d fallen for him did the trick. Was it just that she needed someone? That she’d take anyone if they weren’t as bad as Richard?

The idea cooled some of the lust as she helped him into the shower. A large built-in bench inside offered the perfect place for him to sit, and she ignored the clingy sensation of her clothing as water soaked it.

I’m helping. It’s a professional obligation, nothing more. Even as she said it, she knew it wasn’t true. Excitement and fear of touching him fought for purchase inside her, and none of it had anything to do with a professional obligation.

It had a lot to do with an ache that had started between her legs, however, with the way her nipples had tightened to erect peaks beneath his sinful gaze.

Tracy rubbed the soap on a washcloth, then smiled at the scent. So much like him. Something masculine and simple, like sandalwood. She worked it into a lather, then started at his neck.

His thick muscles twitched and tensed beneath her light touch, but the action so engrossed her she didn’t notice much else.

Instead, she worked the cloth over his shoulders, which were wide and covered in more muscle. She avoided the line of the bag that kept his cast dry and skimmed away from any of the bad bruising or cuts.

His body enthralled her. Hard, solid, strong. And yet, each brush of her cloth over it got a reaction, as if it wasn’t as impenetrable as it seemed.

His first deep groan was cut short, as though he didn’t want to startle her, yet the erotic sound only tantalized her senses. She wanted to hear more like it. She wanted to draw out those sounds he couldn’t keep in, so bone-deep that they escaped from his soft lips no matter how hard he fought it.

It made her feel powerful.

The word didn’t feel right, not when used about her, yet that was how she felt.

“You okay?” His voice had dipped rougher, deeper.

She nodded as she moved to his firm chest, teasing over his flat nipples, rewarded with a full-body shudder and a sound that lived somewhere between a groan and a growl.

And even with that, she couldn’t find the ever-present fear.

Was it because he was hurt? Did she somehow feel safer? A strong wind could blow him over which made her feel less like prey.

When she went for the next pass over his chest, the washcloth dropped to the tile floor. It left her inquisitive hands, already soapy from the bodywash, to finish the job.

His skin burned her, making the water spray on her back feel lukewarm in contrast. He didn’t complain about the change, didn’t say a word about how her fingers now skimmed over his bare flesh, her touches only a cheap mimic of cleaning anymore.

If he was happy to play dumb and ignore her behavior, so was she.

She could hear heart beat even over the steady rhythm of the falling water. Steam filled the tile surround, and it caused sweat to run down her forehead. It made her heart speed, too.

That’s not the water.

Tracy kept going, down over his pecs, over his stomach. She followed the dark hair that became sparse over his abs, and when she dared to dip lower, he wrapped his strong grip around her thin wrists.

She lifted her gaze to his, arousal clouding her thoughts until she couldn’t understand why he’d stopped her. For the first time in so many long years, she’d enjoyed touching another. She wanted to keep touching.

“Maybe that’s enough,” he said, voice more gravel than sugar.

“Why?”

His large hand hung loosely around both her wrists, a showcase in their size difference. “I might be injured, but I’m still a man, and I don’t think you’re going to like the effect this is having on me.”

The comment drew her gaze down to his lap without any conscious thought from her. Sure enough, his cock was hard, jutting away from his body, pre-cum beading at the thick head. The sight brought on an initial burst of fear, but that fear couldn’t gain a foothold.

Her lust made it slip away, so she didn’t leap from the shower and run crying like they had both expected.

She tugged her wrists until he released her, until she could return her seeking fingertips to the hard expanse of his stomach. This time, she didn’t bother to avert her gaze. She openly stared, her body having already decided it liked what she saw before her mind could butt in.

His cock pressed against his lower stomach, long and thick and curved up slightly. A line of dark hair ran from his navel to his groin, the same dark hair that started up again on his thick, muscular thighs.

What would it feel like to sleep with him? Sam had never given her a reason to fear him. He’d been nothing but careful, restrained. Was that what sex would be like with him? Could she actually enjoy it?

Before she’d had sex, she’d thought about it, like any young girl did. She’d scoffed at the whole idea of women being proper, of how they were expected to hate sex. She hadn’t known she was an omega at the time, had assumed she’d grow up like any beta, find some handsome boy, get her heart broken, break a few of her own.

A soft sigh left her at the naïve girl she’d been. She hadn’t been afraid of her own shadow back then, hadn’t run from anything, hadn’t put up with anyone’s nonsense. No, she’d expected to go out and do things in her life, important things. And sex had been one of them.

And at the start, sex had been good. That was one of the things she’d learned at the group home, that abuse didn’t start off bad. It hadn’t for her and Richard. The first few years, Richard had been everything she’d thought she’d wanted. She’d enjoyed toying with him, teasing him until they spent all day wrapped up in bed together.

That had changed, though, and by the end, by the time Karen was born, she’d loathed his touch. She’d flinched each time his looming hands would brush against her, and no matter what he’d tried, he hadn’t been able to make her want him anymore. That part of her had withered, but perhaps not died.

“What are you thinking about?”

Tracy slipped her hands down his sides until she stroked her thumbs against his lower stomach on each side of where his dick rested without touching it. “That I always wanted to like sex.”

It was the privacy, the thundering of the shower droplets as they splashed against the tile and the heat of his skin that coaxed her into answering.

A rough chuckle left him and vibrated through her hands. “Well, when we get there, you will.”

“When?” She brushed his cock with her thumb, the touch so soft she only knew she’d done it for sure by the growl that left his lips, fast and hard and all instinct.

When he spoke again, that growl might have stopped, but it still vibrated in his words. “I’d never force you, but I’m pretty sure we both want this. I don’t care how long it takes, but yeah, I’m thinking it’s a when, not an if.”

“Why?” This time, she stroked a thumb down each side of his scorching length in a blatant stroke. The conversation made it easier to not focus on what she was doing, on just how close his dick was, on how she teased him. Even so, the twitch of his cock at the touch, the way the heat of his shaft made his skin seem cool all made her bold. “You can’t tell me there aren’t less complicated omegas out there.”

“Less complicated? Maybe. Complicated hasn’t ever mattered to me much, though. I took one look at you that first night I met you, and I knew you were meant for me.”

A humorless laugh left her as she recalled the night. Her leg had been torn up, and Claire had been injured because of her. If Tracy had been stronger, smarter, braver, none of that would have happened. And when Sam had shown up? As she’d sat in the back of an ambulance and Sam had spoken from the door, outside the tight space, not crowding her, she’d hardly said a word. Some catch. “You have a thing for cowards?”

Strong fingers at her chin lifted her gaze to his. “Coward?”

“I was hiding in the back of that ambulance and not talking. No one even came in because they knew I was too scared.”

“Then you don’t remember what I do. You were in that ambulance, yeah, but I didn’t stay out of it because you were afraid. You had Karen tucked behind you and your teeth bared. You were a hair from going into a rage. That’s why none of the EMTs were in there.”

Tracy frowned, the event hazy. Only, then she recalled a rough vibration in her throat and the way a few of the EMTs and other police had backed away.

Sam stroked her jaw with his thumb. “The way you protected Karen, the flash in your eyes, that wasn’t something I’d be likely to forget.”

Tracy frowned as she trailed her fingers down the length of his cock, this time a purposeful stroke rather than an accidental brush.

His fingers tightened. “As much as I’m enjoying this, and as much as I’ve thought about it, you should probably stop.”

“And if I don’t want to stop?” She swiped her thumb over the head of his dick, the thick stickiness of his pre-cum so different from the water and steam that surrounded them. “Will you make me?”

With that, Sam leaned his head back against the tile, as if he’d lost some internal fight, and his voice came out thicker than the steam in the shower. “No. It might just kill me, but no, I won’t stop you.”

And nothing had ever looked quite as good as Sam sitting there, naked, like a sacrifice.

Sam feared his ribs might break again with how his heart pounded against them. The meds took the edge off, so the pain had receded to manageable.

In fact, that he could even get hard amazed him. It must have been Tracy herself, her scent reaching down past the pain and the meds and the injuries, and if she wanted him, his body would damn well give her anything. Bonding hormones are incredible.

She dropped her gaze in a slow perusal, and when her scent thickened in the room, he knew she liked what she saw.

Even with him banged up, even with a bag over his broken arm, she still liked how he looked. It made want to puff out his chest and stand taller, something that stroked that old primal part of him that wanted his female’s approval.

His female? Yeah, she was. It didn’t matter how uncertain it was, how new, how complicated—she was his. He knew it with everything inside him, and he’d do whatever he had to so she felt safe, protected and wanted.

And right then, that meant keeping himself still even when what he wanted was to taste her.

He’d dreamed about her taste, woken in the middle of the night sweat-soaked and panting after a dream where he’d feasted between her thighs.

Worse, her nipples had pulled to tight little tips beneath her drenched shirt, and with no bra to obstruct his view, he saw it all. It would be so easy to reach out and cup one, to thumb the hard peak until she moaned for him. I want to hear her moan. I want to make her moan.

The tension through her said she’d bolt if he so much as tried, so he stayed put. He rested in surrender for her, even when she wrapped fingers around his thick shaft.

Well, he stayed still, but couldn’t help the grunt when she stroked him, the strangled sound at the searing touch that went so much deeper than heated flesh.

Her hands were hesitant, unsure. She touched him as if deciding if she even liked it, if she was interested at all.

Of course, he could smell her interest. It hung in the air, thick and tantalizing. She liked it, but she walked a thin line, something between who she’d been and who she wanted to be.

She dropped to her knees, and he parted his legs to make room for her. If he’d been controlling this, he’d have never put her below him like that. Still, she didn’t seem afraid.

Her full bottom lip was trapped between her teeth when she lifted her gaze. “What do you want me to do?”

The question made his lips tip down. “Whatever you want.”

Tension thrummed through her, and he could see the anxiety rising. She might not trust him, but she didn’t trust herself, either. Selfish, maybe, but he didn’t want to lose the moment. “Stroke me, Tracy,” he said, like a plea.

A breath of relief from her, then she followed the direction. She made her small hand into a tight fist for him, and stroked up his full shaft.

He followed the motion with his ravenous gaze, fascinated by the sight she made. “That feels good, even better than I thought it would. Just like that. Tighter, honey.”

She obeyed each direction, relaxing into the situation, into his orders. It was as if she could turn her mind off, switch off that fearful part of herself and only obey.

We’ll have to work on that later. For now? I need this.

He neared his release too fast, but who would blame him? He’d pictured this too many times and having her sweet hand on him felt too good. Hell, it wasn’t like he had to hold out because she hadn’t come. There was no way she’d let him touch her, not yet.

“Faster,” he growled out, not bothering to hide the desire that saturated his rough voice. Let her see it, let her realize the depths of how badly he needed this. “Keep that up and I’ll come, honey, so you need to decide fast if you want that.”

She didn’t hesitate. If anything, her hand sped even more, jerking him off with rough strokes that were clumsy and yet hotter than anything he’d felt or seen before.

Sure enough, moments later, he lost it. He dropped his head back so it smacked the hard wall as the sensations rolled over him. His legs, his ass, his lower back all tightened before he came, seed leaving his shaft to coat his stomach and her fist.

She didn’t stop, and the feeling of her hand turned uncomfortable on his softening and sensitive cock. “Stop,” he croaked, body so tired he could have slept right there in the shower.

She stilled, but she didn’t release him, didn’t break the connection.

He forced his eyes open to stare down at her. She still knelt, stroking him almost lovingly in something like reverence, an odd situation seeing as she’d gotten him off, as she’d done him a favor.

“I…”

When she didn’t continue, he stroked his hand across her cheek despite his lack of energy. “What?”

Her lips pressed together, and it was clear she wouldn’t say.

Fine. He’d said he’d wait, and he would.

He’d wait just as long as she needed, because the longer he spent with her, the surer Sam was that he couldn’t let her go.