Part 18 (1/2)
Soon the rain would stop too and the main evidence of the storm would be humidity, which was rare for Phoenix, and everyone waking up to their cars covered in dirt. Every car wash would have a long line both before and after work hours.
From what he had heard on the news over the car radio, a few power lines had gone down on the southeast side of the city and lots of tree limbs had ended up in yards and even a few in swimming pools, but no major damage had been reported.
The hab.o.o.bs became more and more prevalent every year. When he'd been younger, the Arizona monsoon season had lasted for three months and consisted of several days of rain per week, but the raging dust storms were rare. Over the past twenty years that had all changed.
He would still take living in Phoenix over anywhere that had to deal with snow, blizzards, tornadoes, or earthquakes, but the dust storms could also be dangerous.
When he parked in his reserved spot in the parking garage at Club Desire, Sandra moaned and sat up, pus.h.i.+ng the blanket away.
”How are you feeling?” He was instantly on alert, watching her carefully to see what she might need.
She groaned. ”My head really hurts and I'm getting hungry.”
Brent bit back his own groan, remembering the last time Sandra had told him she was hungry in his alcove before their play with the violet wand. ”Let's get you upstairs and I'll call the kitchen and order some food. You can't take the Percocet on an empty stomach.”
She started to nod and then stopped, bringing her hand to her forehead. ”Ugh. No nodding. I'm ready for food and Percocet.”
She started to open her car door, but he laid his hand on her arm, stopping her. ”Are you okay to walk? I can carry you, or I think there might be a wheelchair in the storage room.”
She started to shake her head and then stopped, sucking in a breath instead. ”No wheelchair. I can walk.”
Brent came around the car and helped her step out. After a few seconds she looked a little steadier on her feet, so as she leaned on him, he guided her toward the private elevator that would take them up to his personal suite of rooms. It had been another added expense to design things so he could maintain some level of privacy while still being accessible to the staff, with easy access to the main areas of the Club. But it had been worth every penny.
Sandra seemed to be more alert after her nap in the car. She had slept on and off at the hospital in between tests and the poking and prodding that came as a normal part of any hospital experience, but he could tell how much she had wanted to escape.
After she had been cleared of everything except the mild concussion, the police had stopped by to take her statement and see if she remembered anything about her attacker.
She confirmed what Brent had seen, that the man was tall with a medium build. But with the storm, the dark, and everything happening so fast she never got a good look at his face, although she said she hoped that he still carried some of the scratches she'd left there, and she had been quite proud that her head b.u.t.t to the groin had brought the man down.
Just saying that much had worn her out, so the doctor had kicked everyone out while her discharge instructions were processed, and the police had promised to wait until the next day to drop by Club Desire to see if she was feeling well enough to speak with them more.
”Mmm.” She leaned against him on the elevator ride up to the fourth floor and he enjoyed wrapping his arms around her to keep her steady. She was warm against his side and tucked perfectly against him. There were a few times she began to sway and he held on to her to keep her from falling. She seemed ready to fall asleep standing up.
If he ever got a few minutes alone with the man who had caused this, he wasn't sure he could contain his anger. But for that few minutes it would be immensely satisfying beating the man to a b.l.o.o.d.y pulp.
As the elevator came to a stop, the slight jarring of the car made Sandra groan softly and pull away to stand on her own.
He kept his arm around her and guided her down the hall, reveling in the fact that she would be falling asleep in his bed tonight. With him.
He didn't often spend the night with women, even after s.e.x. And since he had opened Club Desire, no woman had slept in his bed. In fact, he couldn't remember ever bringing a woman up to his suite of rooms.
But that was before Sandra.
- Sandra was surprised when Brent took her to his own suite of rooms rather than back to the guest room where she had stayed before. She knew he had agreed to watch her during the night because of the concussion, but she had a.s.sumed he would just check on her throughout the night.
Something warm squeezed her chest at the thought of spending the night with Brent inside his own s.p.a.ce.
When he guided her through the front room and into the living room, she had only brief impressions of a tastefully decorated but comfortable room before Brent led her to a large bedroom decorated in various shades of blues and grays.
”Here we go. Let's get you settled, and I can call the kitchen and get you something to eat. The doctor suggested soup as a good start. I think they usually have tomato basil and French onion as well as a rotating soup of the day, but they might have more.”
She headed for the California king bed and sat down, happy to find that it gave a little with her weight. In her experience, men usually preferred beds that were much too hard. But Brent's seemed perfect. She pushed on it with her hand a few times, testing it, before tugging at the collar of her robe, as it rubbed uncomfortably around her throat.
She still wore the robe that Brent had bought at the hospital gift shop, since the clothes she'd been wearing were a muddy mess. The robe was soft, fluffy terry cloth and much better than the d.a.m.n hospital gown, but she didn't want to sleep in it.
Brent opened the top drawer of a polished oak chest of drawers and pulled out a sage-green cotton T-s.h.i.+rt. ”This might be more comfortable to sleep in than that robe since you don't have any of your things here. I can send Jake to Mich.e.l.le's tomorrow to grab some things for you.”
She smiled that he had picked up on her discomfort. She had felt cherished and cared for ever since waking up in the hospital. Well, at least after being angry and annoyed with all the tests, prodding and poking, she did. ”Thank you, Brent.” She slid the robe off her shoulders and let it fall around her, leaving her b.r.e.a.s.t.s bare to the air in the cool room. Her nipples puckered, but not from any type of arousal. Even with Brent in front of her looking delicious as always, and his bed beneath her, s.e.x was the farthest thing from her mind right now.
Brent's intake of breath sounded loud in the quiet room, and she lifted her gaze to his to see only concern and tenderness.
She was surprised when his gaze raked over her torso and shoulder but didn't linger on her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. ”You've got a lot of bruises. Do they hurt?” He looked like he wanted to reach out to touch them, but decided not to at the last moment.
Her throat tightened with emotion at Brent's obvious concern. He really did care for her beyond just being his sub. That much was obvious in his actions and how he treated her. ”The bruises don't really hurt except the ones on my back where I fell. But I'm not sure I would notice with my throbbing head. Not only from the concussion, but my scalp hurts where he yanked me across the lawn by my hair.”
Brent's expression looked stricken and he closed it off quickly, making her wonder how much of his emotions he was hiding from her. He helped her put the s.h.i.+rt on, careful not to drag the material over the back of her head or to put too much pressure against her back.
When it was on, he smoothed down the material over her shoulder. ”You'll love this s.h.i.+rt. It's soft and large enough that it should work as a very serviceable nightgown.”
She pushed to her feet and Brent took her arm to steady her. The T-s.h.i.+rt slid down her body to fall around her mid-thighs.
Perfect. ”You were right.” She smiled up at him as he pulled the robe off the bed and laid it on the chest of drawers, out of the way.
”I usually wear panties with an oversized s.h.i.+rt to sleep in.” Standing and managing to verbalize that long sentence was exhausting, and she nearly fell back on the bed with her energy depleted, but settled for slowly sitting, enjoying the slight give in the mattress as it took her weight.
Brent steadied her again, taking a moment to skim his fingers down her cheek. ”The gift shop at the hospital didn't have any panties, and yours were a total muddy loss, so I figured you wouldn't mind going commando just for one night.” There was a slight trace of teasing in his voice. More than she had heard all night. She knew tonight had been stressful for Brent too. She'd been the one attacked and hurt, but Brent had done most of the fighting and had been busy worrying about and taking care of her.
”That looks much better on you than it ever has on me. I might have to give up my favorite T-s.h.i.+rt. But it would be worth it if I get to see you wear it now and then.” He cleared his throat. ”I'd better go order that food. I'll be right back.”
Exhaustion pulled at her, but the pain was persistent and her thoughts diffuse. ”Brent? Diet Pepsi?” She didn't have the energy to say anything beyond that, but a Diet Pepsi sounded really good right now.
He nodded and pulled the covers back so she could lie down and find a comfortable position on her side that didn't put pressure on the large b.u.mp on the back of her head.
The soft sheets and amazing bed were almost enough to lull her to sleep, except for the throbbing pain in her head.
- Sandra woke the next morning curled against a very warm, male body. At least if the large erection against her a.s.s was any indication of the person's gender.
Her thoughts were slow and muddled, and her head still hurt, but she remembered Brent feeding her tomato basil soup and a wonderful piece of fresh-baked sourdough bread last night before she took her Percocet and then fell asleep in his arms.
She only wished she'd been more alert so she could have enjoyed it.
She must have given some sign that she was awake, because Brent laid his hand on her hip.
”Good morning. How are you feeling?”
His voice was gravelly and low and she loved it. She had just spent the night with Brent cuddling her almost reverently, and this morning, other than the pain and being a bit foggy, she felt almost buoyant. Like she could fly. ”Good morning,” she mumbled, her own voice raspy and a bit hoa.r.s.e. ”My head still hurts and I'm kind of hungry.”