'Maddox-' she gasped.
He glanced at her, looking quickly back at the bearded man who had started to squirm beneath his grasp. Maddox pulled something out of the back of the man's trousers and shoved it against the back of the man's head.
A gun, Iris realized, panic setting in all over again. 'Maddox. Don't-'
Maddox looked up at her, his eyes cold and hard. His breathing was fast and labored, his jaw tight with anger. Iris could feel his fear, his rage, so overwhelming that it blotted out all the twinges and pains from both men's injuries.
He jerked the bearded man to his feet. 'Give me the key.'
The man reached into the pocket of his trousers.
'Slowly.' Maddox warned with a growl.
The bearded man withdrew a room key and handed it to Maddox. 'You don't know what you're doing.'
'Yes, I do.' He grabbed the man and shoved him up against the wall by the door. He kept the gun barrel tight against the base of the man's skull as he jerked open the door. With a hard shove, he sent the intruder through the door into the corridor. 'Don't come back.'
The stranger turned to face Maddox. His green glare as hard as stone. 'It's not over. Heller.'
Maddox slammed the door in his face and engaged the safety bolt. He turned to face Iris, wiping blood from his cheek with the back of his arm. 'You okay?'
She nodded. 'I'm fine.'
He laid the gun on the dresser and walked slowly to where she stood by the balcony doors, his steps unsteady.
'I was so afraid' she whispered, stepping toward him as he closed the space between them. 'I was so afraid of what he'd done to you-'
He cradled her face between his hands. 'You don't have to be afraid. It's okay.'
She touched his cheek, a soft hiss escaping her lips. 'You're hurt'
His gaze settled on her lips. 'No, I'm fine ' he murmured, dipping his head toward her.
She should push him away. The aches and twinges rolling off of his battered body were almost more than she could bear, and he'd barely touched her yet. But a different sort of ache had settled over her the second he took a step toward her. A need to be closer to him, to feel his skin on hers.
His mouth moved over hers, gentle but hungry. Her lips parted, her heat mingling with his. He released a low groan of pleasure that rumbled like thunder around them.
'Iris.' he whispered against her lips, his hands sliding up her back, bunching the soft jersey cotton of her sundress under his palms.
She felt every pain he was feeling, but she also felt the heat of his desire, a flame racing to meet the blaze of her own need where it simmered low in her belly. The potent mingling of pain and pleasure came as a surprise; she hadn't known until this moment that they were two sides of the same coin.
She threaded her fingers through his hair, curling, twining, pulling him closer. His tongue darted against hers in response, an invitation she couldn't have refused if she'd wanted to. He started backing toward the bed, bringing her with him. She went willingly, wanting more.
Wanting everything.
His knees buckled as he hit the edge of the bed, and he fell backward, pulling her down on top of him. His knee twisted as they went down. Agony wrenched through her leg, making her gasp. She forced her mind back to the pleasure of his hands on her back, large and strong, holding her to him.
When he pushed her away suddenly, she almost fell off the bed. She caught herself, rising to a sitting position next to him. She scraped her hair out of her eyes and stared at him, confused. 'Maddox?'
He turned to look at her, his blue eyes dark and fierce beneath his furrowed brow. 'You felt that.' he said.
Iris met his gaze with pain-dark eyes. She didn't answer him, just stared at him with a curious mixture of fear and hope.
Nausea shuddered through his gut. He swallowed hard, forcing it away, 'It's what that woman talked about at the lecture. What do you call it-empathic sensitivity. Right?'
Even as he said the words, he knew they were crazy. Empathic sensitivity? What the hell was that? Who the hell believed in such a thing? That blow to the head must've been worse than he'd thought.
Iris started crying. It wasn't the way he'd seen her cry before, softly and quietly. It was a floodgate opening, racking her with sobs. She bent forward, burying her face in her hands, and cried like a broken hearted child.
He sat against the pillows and watched her, afraid to touch her for fear that somehow his crazy idea was right. It would explain everything that had puzzled him about her, wouldn't it? How she knew what Celia Shore's injuries were. Why she seemed to be in constant pain- was she picking up on the aches and pains of all the people around her?
He shook his head, closing his eyes to the sight of her anguish. The idea was nuts. He was nuts to even consider it.
Yet somehow she'd reacted to his pain as surely as he had. When his knee had twisted as they fell to the bed, she'd gasped before he'd even really felt the pain.
She'd felt it.
Her sobs subsided to a weak hitching noise. He forced himself to open his eyes and look at her. She lifted her chin and met his gaze, her lips still trembling. 'I should call the hotel doctor'
He shook his head. 'I don't need a doctor.' He didn't want to bring a doctor into this mess. If he saw a doctor, the cops would eventually show up. He didn't have much use for Mariposa's finest on a good day.
'Of course you need a doctor.'
'Iris, talk to me. You just felt-'
'You need to lie down. You are hurt' She pushed away from the bed, wobbling a little, and took his arm, 'Lie down and let me take a look at your injuries'
He looked at her through narrowed eyes, confused and suddenly scared as hell. 'I thought you were a botanist, not a nurse.'
'Shut up and quit fighting me.'
He forced a pained chuckle. 'Forceful. I like that.' He stopped resisting, allowing himself the painful luxury of inhaling the fresh soap-and-water smell of her as she helped him lie back on the bed. She was warm where she touched him.
He sank against the pillows, trying not to breathe too deeply. Now that lust and adrenaline had both begun draining away, he was feeling the full force of his injuries. He hoped the stabbing pain in his rib cage was just a bruise and not something worse.
Iris suddenly sat down on the bed, wrapping her arms around her middle and doubling over, A quiet whimper escaped her lips.
Maddox sat forward, closing his fingers around her wrist. She winced and pulled her arm away.
He leaned back against the headboard, his heart racing, 'I'm right, aren't I? You do feel that.'
Slowly, she turned and laid her hand on his left shin. She couldn't hold back a grimace of pain. She took a deep breath and spoke.
'Your ribs are bruised on the left side. One may be cracked-I'm not sure of that. You twisted your knee at some point. It's aching. When you got hit on your jaw, it scraped the inside of your cheek against your teeth. It's raw and probably bleeding.'
He ran his tongue along the inside of his mouth. The flesh was torn and tender.
'You got hurt, somewhere else, too.' Her gaze dropped to the zipper of his jeans.
Laughing to keep from freaking out, he bent forward, his ribs screaming in painful protest, and pushed her hand off his leg. 'Don't touch me, Iris.'
The stricken look she gave him made his stomach hurt. She pushed herself off the end of the bed and retreated to the window, her back to him. Her shoulders shook with new tears.
'I'm sorry.' he said. 'I just don't want you to have to feel what I'm feeling right now.'
She turned to look at him. Daylight filtering through the window outlined her with gold, obscuring her features so that he couldn't read her expression as she slowly approached the bed.
She stopped beside him. 'I can do more than feel it.'
