Page 23 of Christmas Wish
For a split second, a look of confusion fell across her face, then she tilted her head. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said and shifted her gaze back to the spitting fire.
A comfortable silence stretched between them. Savannah leaned over and put the mug on the coffee table then leaned back against the cushion. Seeing her breasts rise as she crossed her arms behind her head ignited his desire. His gaze stayed with her every movement as she ran her fingers through her golden hair and licked her bottom lip with the tip of her tongue. He began to sweat as his excitement escalated.
Ryder adjusted his jeans as he stood up, mumbling that he needed to take a shower. The truth was that he had to get out of the room. His dick hadn’t gone soft since Savannah had come back into the room, and he didn’t put much trust into keeping his hands to himself. Ryder’d been fantasizing about her too damn much.
He dashed to the bathroom and started the water, then shed his clothes and put a large plastic bag over his prosthesis. Two minutes later, he stood under the warm jets, stroking his swollen cock as he imagined sinking into Savannah’s hot, silky pussy. Seconds later, his balls roiled and constricted, and his lower back stiffened.
“Fuck,” he murmured.
The top of his scalp prickled all the way to his toes. Pulse after pulse, threads of his release splattered on the shower tiles as he panted and leaned against the wall to keep from toppling over.
That woman is fucking killing me.
Ryder stood there until the blood finally rushed to his head, and his breathing grew steady.Fuck, that didn’t last long.Grabbing the showerhead, he aimed it at the tiles and watched his spunk wash down the drain, wishing it were inside Savannah.What a fucking waste.
Later that night, Ryder escaped to his workroom and shut and locked the door. He didn’t think he could handle another evening of Savannah’s scent wrapping around him as they sat on the couch watching a movie.Too close, yet too fucking far.
He wanted his life back with his normal routine: thumbing through biker magazines, creating wooden toys, drinking until he passed out. Glancing at a worn wooden chest his father had given him years before, Ryder gritted his teeth as he stood up. If he wasn’t so fucking stubborn, he’d ditch the leg and give his skin some time to heal. Even though Savannah had suggested it, he didn’t want her to see him without his leg.I know that’s stupid as fuck.But that’s the way he felt.
Ryder bent down and opened the chest, then he pulled out a large cigar box and walked back to the chair. His insides twisted as he placed the box on the worktable and slowly opened it. On top of a stack of photographs was the Purple Heart awarded to him because a fucking landmine blew off his leg in Afghanistan. He ran his thumb over the gold-colored profile of President Washington, then moved it across the textured purple ribbon.I can’t believe you’re gone, buddy.Images of Jeremy’s bloodied face and scattered chunks of his charred and red-stained flesh stabbed at Ryder’s mind.Why the fuck did you follow me? I told you to stay back. Fuck!
Suddenly, gunshots erupted around him, and he felt the dust of the desert choking him as he yelled out to his best friend. More screams—explosions—chaos. His fist slammed down on the worktable, breaking one of the smiling wooden people he’d made for the train set. Gulping in deep breaths of air, Ryder tapped his arm repeatedly. “I’m in the workroom. I see my drills and saws. I see the unpainted train cars.” He continued to say out loud everything that was in the room in order to ground him to the here-and-now. It was a technique he’d learned at one of the counseling sessions to combat PTSD.
After what seemed like hours, his body stopped shaking and his breathing returned to normal again. Ryder tucked the Purple Heart under a stack of letters, then he picked up a photograph of a grinning younger version of himself, holding a young boy in one arm and draping the other around a pretty dark-haired woman.
A soft knock on the door interrupted his memories.
“Are you all right?” Savannah’s muffled voice drifted under the crack.
After a long pause, he rose to his feet and opened the door. Concern etched her face, and he wanted to pull her into his arms and hold her tight as if she were a life raft saving him from drowning in the memories of his past.
The photograph fluttered down from his hands and fell on the floor. Before he could move, Savannah had picked it up.
“Is this you?” she asked, pointing to the tall man in uniform.
Ryder nodded.
“Who’s the young boy?”
Another long pause.
“He’s my son.” Icy fingers tightened around his heart, and he clenched his jaw.
“I didn’t know you had a son. Is … was this your wife?”
“No … we were planning to get married.” Not wanting to dredge up the past, Ryder snapped the photo from Savannah’s hands and walked back to the table. He shut the cigar box and slammed down the top of the chest.
Savannah didn’t ask any more questions, and he was grateful for that. He sat down and picked up one of the trees he’d made and stared at it.
Then her scent enveloped him, telling him she was near. Her soft hands fell on his shoulders as strands of her hair brushed the back of his neck.
“Come watchHow the Grinch Stole Christmaswith us. I’m making caramel corn.”
Her touch, her laugh, and her kindness shone light into the darkest corners of his heart. He stood up and let her take his hand in her own as she led him out of the room.
