No, she wanted John’s heart.
“Couch won’t do, baby.” He was shaking his head as he fixed breakfast, his broad back to her.
John had been lean, metro muscular rather than bulky. He had been strong before, but as she watched him move, watched the muscles in his back and shoulders shift, she realized his body had changed more than she had once suspected.
Those muscles were now tight, hard, powerful. She wondered what it would feel like if she ran her hands over them, dug her nails into them.
“You’re making my dick hard staring at me like that,” he stated without turning around.
Sierra almost lost her breath at the husky, controlled lust in his voice.
“What makes you think you’re worth looking at, dummy,” she snapped out angrily.
He chuckled and the sound went straight to her thighs, tightened them, then zipped to her womb with a blast of heat. Damn him, she could feel her juices flooding her pu**y, her inner muscles tightening, clenching in hunger.
“I can feel you looking at me. I’ve always been able to feel you looking at me.” By the sound of his voice, it wasn’t an admission he particularly liked.
“It’s called killing looks,” she informed him as she moved to the bar to watch him more closely. “Most of the time I slap you upside the head with something.”
He flashed her a grin. A charming, rakish grin that had the butterflies in her stomach doing cartwheels in arousal.
“That doesn’t explain why it’s always felt like a very intimate stroke, now does it, darlin’? Personally, I think you’ve wanted to be in my bed for years.”
He knew she had.
John turned back to the stove for the simple reason that if he kept looking at her, breakfast would burn and his dick would likely rip right through his jeans.
He should have realized years ago what was going on with her, but he hadn’t. Just as he should have realized what was going on with him.
Half the time he’d either been angry with her, or perplexed by the fact that she affected him. He’d done everything to excuse his arousal around her, from the very convincing lie that she was simply a pretty woman and he was too damned sexual, as most of his lovers accused him of being.
The fact of the matter was, he’d wanted her. She’d been a part of his life since she was little, so admitting it hadn’t been easy. Until the night his pretty little Sierra had rescued him from a life in a frozen marriage with Marlena, he hadn’t wanted to face exactly what she had been doing to him since she hit the tender age of eighteen.
“Personally, I think bumming around in the mountains has rotted what little brains you had left in your head,” she snapped back.
He didn’t have to look at her to realize her gray eyes were lit with equal parts anger and arousal. Hell, he could hear it in her voice, he could feel it flaming in the air around them.
He glanced back at her anyway, and hell, he should have kept his eyes on the food. His gaze was drawn instantly to the small imprint of her ni**les beneath her blouse.
She wasn’t wearing a bra.
He’d realized that earlier, and it made sense that she wasn’t. If the bruises were as bad as he’d learned, and he had no doubt they were, then a bra would have been extremely painful.
Without a bra, he could see his effect on her, though, and the thought of getting her ni**les in his mouth again had his c**k throbbing in response.
He could feel the sweat beading on his forehead as he jerked his gaze back to the bacon frying and almost cursed before flipping it quickly.
Yep, she was going to make him burn her breakfast, and he didn’t want to do that. She needed a good meal and plenty of sleep.
“Don’t you have drugs to take before you eat?” he asked, changing the subject quickly.
“I don’t like taking them.” There was a mutinous tone to her voice. “They make me dopey.”
“They make you heal, now take them.” He wasn’t arguing with her where her health was concerned. “Dad has a doctor lined up for you, he’s a good man. He’ll be here tomorrow afternoon. You can discuss the prescription with him. Until then, take the medicine.”
He laid the bacon out on a plate, slid the skillet back, and turned to look at her.
Her arms were crossed over her br**sts, her eyes narrowed.
“You can’t make me,” she informed him, her chin tilted stubbornly.
John sighed at that. “Do you really want this fight, Sierra? Over something as important as your health? Take the pills, or I won’t let up. I’ll harass. I’ll bitch. I’ll call Rowdy, and his dad and stepmother will come to the boat, and trust me, Ray can be a bigger mother hen than Dad is. If that doesn’t work, then I’ll call Rowdy’s cousins and wives in. They’ll bring the babies, and won’t let you hold them. They’ll frown, they’ll advise . . .”
“Stop already!” Her hands went in the air as she turned, stalked to her purse, and pulled out the bottle as he grabbed water from the fridge and set it on the bar for her after opening it.
She was too sore to stomp back, but she tried. She did take her medication, though, glaring at him every second. He could see so much in her expressive face, emotions and needs that infuriated and drew him. Infuriated him because he should have seen them all along.
“I’ll make you pay for this,” she warned him furiously. “See if I don’t.”
“As long as you’re healthy enough to attempt it.” He shrugged with a grin. “Then you have my permission to try.”
“Try to knock some sense in your head,” she muttered as she sat down gingerly on one of the bar stools. “You’re a pain in the ass, John.”
“Not yet,” he promised, and the thought of that sweet ass nearly took his breath. “But I will be. I promise, lollipop. I will be.”
FOUR
Breakfast was eaten in a strained silence. Sierra could almost feel the clock ticking, the knowledge that once the meal was finished, she wouldn’t be able to fight his insistence that she go to bed.
She was so tired, and the medication only made the weariness sink deeper inside her.
The doctor had warned her that she needed to sleep as often as possible, to rest and recuperate. Whoever had attacked her, for whatever reason, had been strong. Strong enough that the blows to her thighs as she fought him had gone incredibly deep, not to mention the hold that had left the prints of his fingers in her flesh.