He pulled away, jaw clenching as she let out an unconscious whimper of protest. How many people had ever missed him when he’d left their beds? No one. That had always been his goal with women. Use them and let them use him in turn. A physical release was fine. Emotions? Hell no.

He sat and, in the distance, the waterfall laughed. Go ahead, let the water have its fucking snigger. It wasn’t as if it would get to run wild and free to the ocean. Soon it would be rerouted, sucked into some aqueduct to feed the insatiable, thirsty millions in Southern California. In a week this water would be irrigating a rich man’s putting green, then who’d be laughing?

He scrubbed his face.

Is this how hermit madness began? Talking to inanimate objects?

He fumbled for his cane, wincing as it scraped the floorboards, but Quinn must be a sound sleeper. A good thing because it wasn’t as if he could tiptoe. At first he’d balked at the idea of a two-bedroom cottage, thought one room would suit him plenty. He didn’t plan on having company and didn’t want to give Archer or Sawyer any excuse to stick around and play nursemaid.

But it came in useful tonight.

He got to the spare room, turned on the lamp and stripped off his sweater, t-shirt, and jeans. His cock poked like a hard and insistent bastard against his boxer briefs but he wasn’t going to be able to get any relief with his own poor hand tonight. Loneliness took hold, made it hard to breathe. For once, he didn’t crave release. What he wanted was connection.

He’d gotten the prosthetic and compression sock off when the floorboards creaked. Quinn had ten toes perfect for quiet movement.

“What are you doing?” he snarled at her outline in the doorway, acutely aware he was exposed, his stump on display to ruin everything.

“I rolled over and you were gone,” she whispered. Her eyes weren’t fixated on his leg. For some reason she stared at his chest.

His back muscles tightened as his ears grew hot. “Go away.”

Instead she came closer.

“Dear God, do you bench press sequoia logs or something?”

“Huh?”

“Seriously.” She licked her lips. “How do you have such an amazing body? You’re like a statue or something. I used to keep a D encyclopedia under my bed, to check out Michelangelo’s David and—”

“Please, go. I can’t stand it.” He sank his hands into the blanket, a freight train running through his head.

“You are beautifully made, don’t you know that?” She bent, bracing her hands on his thighs and lowering herself down to her knees.

He made himself well acquainted with the area where the opposite wall met the ceiling. “You’ve got a sweet-looking mouth for a liar.”

“I speak the truth. I don’t want a one night stand,” she said, “but I also can’t deny that I want you. Badly.”

His muscles coiled as tightly as springs.

“Can you please look at me?” she whispered.

“Can’t.” It was all he could say with his throat in a vise.

She was quiet a moment. From this room he couldn’t hear the falls, but the memory of the laughing water echoed in his skull. “What are you so afraid of?”

“I’m not afraid.”

“Wilder. You’re trembling.”

Shit. He was. Toss another log on the pyre. Tonight this woman was going to burn him alive and he didn’t mind a bit.

“Is it this?”

He jerked as she touched his leg, stump, whatever you wanted to call the useless appendage.

“Your injury isn’t an issue for me,” she murmured. “You survived a terrible accident. I’m sorry for what you suffered. But that doesn’t subtract anything from who you are, the man I see.”

He snorted. “Man? I’m not a man anymore.”

She reached, her fingers tracing his chest hair. “You look plenty manly from where I sit, just saying.”

Her damn hand kept moving, down over his chest, his gut tightening as she reached his navel, the place where the hair began again, the thick arrow, an unsubtle guidepost.

She reached the elastic of his boxers and stopped. “I won’t go further unless you say it’s okay.”

“Isn’t that supposed to be my line?”

“Right now I feel like the seducer.”

He seized her with a groan, lifting her easily, falling back on the mattress and carrying her with him. It was short work to get off her shirt. Her jeans were a little trickier. They were tight, which was good and meant she had to shimmy her hips to get them lower, which was better.

He groaned and clasped her ass, the little scrap of lace doing not much more than framing the high perfect swell of her ass.

“I don’t have a condom,” he rasped.

“I’m on birth control.” She kissed him again. “But we’re barely acquainted.”

“Never mind, I can make you feel good in other ways.” He ran his thumb down the center of her panties. No hiding the wetness. No hiding anything. Her entire body was a live wire. She trembled against him and he shuddered once.

“Wait.” She jerked up, shoving hair from her face. “I forgot. I have a condom in my purse. For emergencies.”

“Emergencies?”

“I was a Girl Scout—always come prepared. It’s stashed in my first-aid kit. I have a pocket-sized one.”

“In case you get a cut, need a Band-Aid and then a fuck to make things better?”

She narrowed her gaze in mock ferocity. “Listen, buddy, I saw this whole survival show on cable. Condoms can hold water. You can even make slingshots.”

“Slingshots?”

“Or a blow-up friend if you’re stranded. Draw a face on it, you know, like Tom Hanks did with Wilson during that one island movie.”

“Jesus Christ.” He groaned. “Now I’m hard and thinking about Tom Hanks with that beard.”

“Hey now.” She gave his chest a shove. “He was pretty great in The Shawshank Redemption.”

“You mean The Green Mile?”

“Yeah, yeah.” She waved her hand as if flapping away pesky details. “Still a movie about prison and sads, right?”

“They are nothing alike.”

“I’m really messing this up, huh?” She scrubbed her face. “We’re supposed to be having hot monkey sex and instead I’ve got us discussing Tom Hanks. Need to share any deep thoughts on Big? Splash?”

“When you get back . . .” He gave her a long lingering kiss. “We’re talking less, deal?”

“Got it.”

Another kiss, short this time, but deeper. “Not that I don’t like talking to you.”

“No, no. Right, I get it. I like talking to you too. But this is about getting down.” She waggled her brows. “Got a one-way ticket to dirty town.”

He picked her up and deposited her onto the ground, giving the side of her ass a playful slap. “Go on, trouble-maker.”

“Going, going.” She fled the room.

Fuck. He was laughing. When had he ever laughed? Especially with a woman?

His dick throbbed. He was more turned on than he’d ever been and as much as it was disturbing, it also felt disturbingly right.

She came back and looked around. “Is it gone?”

“What?”

“The mood.”

“I’m not sure what we had could be classified as mood.”

“Atmosphere?” She jutted her hip.

His cock twitched. “Let’s get you out of what’s left of those clothes and see how much oxygen is left over.”

She climbed up on the bed, passing him the condom. “Want to know a secret? You’re sort of fun.”

He clapped a hand over her mouth. “Don’t tell anyone else.”

“I’m glad Kit stranded me,” she said through his fingers.

“We can send him a dozen roses.” His eyes rolled back in his head when she skillfully sucked his finger.

She took one more down before pulling back and biting her lower lip.

He tore open the foil and sheathed himself. “I haven’t done this in a while. And not since . . .”

“Hey.” She settled a hand on his bicep and squeezed. “Hey, be with me. Right now all I see is your face. And all I feel is this.” Her other hand encircled him at the root, guided him home.

He didn’t even have to push. She was more than ready and, fuck, so was he. Too ready. One thrust and he had to close his eyes, stop, and breathe. “Need a second.”