Heartbeats Amidst Chaos, Part 2

4. Chapter 4

Chapter four

R issa’s feet felt like lead as she walked up the townhouse steps and fumbled with her key in the lock. Late night had given way to early morning exactly five hours ago, and now the sky was beginning to show hints of dawn.

Although they never actually threw her in a jail cell, Russo and Cornell had kept her in the interrogation room all night, leaving and returning multiple times to try and pry more information from her. In between their reams of questions, Rissa put her head on the table and caught a few winks, but she had no real rest.

Props to the detectives for being committed to their job—whoever they were working for. But the more they pushed, the more Rissa had pushed back. It had been an automatic reaction, born of years of fighting her way from the bottom of a situation to the top: from the new kid in the foster home to the big sister everyone listened to; from one of only two women in her first course in med school to graduating at the top of her class; from lowly intern to respected resident. The more people tried to break her down, the more Rissa stepped up.

In this particular situation, she found it was a little harder to determine what exactly she was fighting for. Was she sure Elio was innocent? Of the bombing, yes—at least, she was pretty sure. Was she doing him or herself any favors by making enemies of the top two detectives on the police force? Quite possibly, not.

Either way, the two had finally been forced to admit they had no actual proof that she had assisted Elio in his escape and had released her—not, of course, without a stern warning to “stay in town.”

Rissa pushed her front door open and stepped inside. Even though it had only been thirty-four hours since she left for work, the house smelled stale.

Yeah, it felt like a week to me too, she thought, closing the door behind her and leaning against it. She desperately wanted to do so many things at once: sleep, shower, and sit down at her computer to look up everything she could find about Elio Accardi and his apparent connection to the Italian mafia . She couldn’t deny that had been a bit of a bombshell when Russo dropped the information on her.

But no, that was the one thing she was not going to do, she thought. Innocent or guilty, she had done what she felt was her duty to him. Elio was nothing to her anymore. He had been her patient. She had been his hostage. He had kissed her. And that was that.

Rissa nearly laughed aloud at how crazy it all sounded, even in her head. She needed sleep.

But first, she decided, she needed a shower.

Dropping her purse on the cluttered kitchen counter, the young doctor headed straight through her bedroom to the bathroom, stripping off her clothes as she went. The shower heated quickly, and Rissa closed her eyes as she stepped into its warm embrace, releasing a long, slow breath.

Beneath the rush of hot water, she lathered her hair, involuntarily remembering the way Elio’s fingers had buried themselves in the tresses, gripping the back of her head and tipping it backward. She had been helpless to resist him, her body bending to him like hot glass to the forge. Again, she felt his lips against hers and his tongue forcing them open—the way his other hand had snaked up under her shirt and— no .

She physically shook herself out of the memory and was surprised to find tears running down her cheeks. She was just so tired, and it had been so long, and it was all so confusing. . .

And it’s all behind me now. I have to let it go. Let him go.

Risa used the sudsy loofah as if it could wash away her conflicting emotions along with the smell of the hospital and the blood. . .and him. She finished her shower by scrubbing her skin until it was slightly pink and smelled of lavender. She slipped into the silky blue robe hanging in its usual spot in her bathroom and stepped into her bedroom, gently towel-drying the ends of her hair.

Elio was in her room.

The towel dropped from her hands, and she took a step back, stumbling and catching herself against the wall. Her lips parted as her breath hitched in a quiet gasp.

He was standing by the window, peering past the curtain in a way that allowed him to see the road outside without being seen himself. The only light in the room came from a lamp by the bed and the gentle beginning of dawn, but she didn’t doubt for an instant that it was him. At the sound of Rissa’s gasp, he turned, his hazel gaze raking over her and leaving her even more breathless than before.

Somehow, somewhere, he had showered and changed—and broken into her house. He was standing in her bedroom, larger than life. Immediately, Rissa’s fight with her emotions was over. They flooded her, entirely focused on the man before her. He took a step toward her, and she held up her hand, a feeble protest as her body trembled with an equal mix of desire and shock.

She opened her lips again, and this time, words came out, just above a whisper. “W-what are you doing here?”

“I won’t hurt you,” he said.

“I know.”

He took another step toward her, and then another. He was standing so close that she could have reached out and touched his broad chest, which gently strained the material of his charcoal gray shirt as he breathed. Rissa remained rooted in place, her racing thoughts tangling in her tired brain and slipping away, leaving only the memory of the interrupted kiss a few hours before.

Almost of its own volition, her hand reached out and she lay her palm above his heart, feeling its hard, steady beat.

And then he was stepping closer, taking her touch as an invitation. And her body was melting into his as he put his hands on her hips and pressed her back against the wall. He leaned in until mere inches separated their bodies, and she was completely immersed in his shadow. His legs straddled hers, his chest and shoulders sheltered her, his head bent to hers.

Her hand was still on his chest, holding him there, just inches away. His heart was beating faster than it had been before. As was hers. She felt breathless—smothered and safe at the same time. He smelled of sandalwood, laundry detergent, and warm, clean skin. His heat enveloped her, burning through the thin fabric of her robe.

She wanted him to keep coming closer until they merged into one being. Slowly, she lifted her eyes, just as his own fluttered closed. He bent centimeters closer until his temple rested against hers, his breath a featherlight touch on her cheek. His hands slid lower, lifting the short hem of her robe and brushing her butt cheeks with warm, calloused palms.

She caught her breath again and gave in completely. Her hand slipped from his chest to the back of his neck as she pulled him in, burying her fingers in the thick, soft depths of his hair and turning their faces to meet each other in a kiss that was somehow even more perfect than their first.

Her hands clutched at him, pulling him closer, slipping beneath his shirt, and caressing his muscled abdomen. Heat pooled at her core, and her kiss grew frantic. She drew back just slightly and caught his lower lip between her teeth, biting it gently, and he groaned—definitely not with pain this time.

She caught herself smiling as his hands moved to her neck and slid down her shoulders, taking her silky robe with them. He cupped her breasts in his warm palms as the light garment slipped easily from her body, pooling about her bare feet and leaving her naked. Then, his hands were sliding down her sides, over her hips, clutching her buttocks once again and lifting her into him, deepening a kiss she hadn’t thought could go any deeper.

Rissa was completely lost to her better judgment as she gasped for breath between kissing him. She wrapped her legs around him, feeling the hard swell of his clothing-blocked cock between her legs once again. With one arm wrapped around his neck, the fingers of her other hand fumbled lower, toward his waistband, and Elio winced.

Abruptly, Rissa was yanked back to reality. She remembered the maze of bruises and cuts that covered Elio’s body, the sutures she had put in. Despite the virility she felt surging through the form pressed so closely to hers, he was in no condition to be doing any of this.

And now that she was returning to her senses, she was not at all sure that they should be doing this. He was no longer her patient and she was no longer his hostage, but where did that even leave them? And he hadn’t answered her question.

Elio must have felt the sudden tension that overtook her. When she suddenly drew away from the kiss, dropping her feet to the ground and untangling herself from his grip with almost frantic haste, he did not resist. He released her immediately and stepped back, his face lost in the room’s deep shadow as she snatched up her robe and pulled it back around her, shock at her own abandon quickly cooling her arousal.

With her robe tightly back around her, Rissa somehow still felt naked and exposed before him. She took a moment to catch her breath and order her thoughts. Then, she asked him again, this time in a tone that broached no avoidance.

“What are you doing here?”