Page 20 of Reaching Hearts
“That feels good,” he says hoarsely, his voice deepening. “Finally something feels good.”
“So does what you’re doing, Brendan.” I look down at his chest, covered and secret. “Can I see it?”
A nervous flicker passes his eyes, but he nods, and releases me, his hands resting on my thighs as I very slowly pull the cotton of his gown up. The taught abs on his stomach are bent in with his posture and the beginning of a large white bandage comes into view. The skin around it is pink, raw, and hurt. I stare at the space.
His body tenses as I reach out to trace his skin, ever so slowly circling the outside of the gauze like I can heal the redness with my gentle touch. It relaxes him and he watches me with his lungs seeming to rise easier. I trace the center of his chest over his heart. I place my palm on his skin and look into his eyes. “There. All better now.”
He’s staring at me, thinking things I will never know. His left hand touches my hip and his eyes tell me what he wants. I rise a little and push my panties to the side, adjust so I’m above him in just the right way. We smile at each other as he glances to the tubes hanging out of both of us. “We’re so sexy right now,” I grin.
“I think we’re very sexy.”
“You’re probably heavily medicated though.”
“I so am. I wouldn’t be surprised if none of this is really happening.” He looks down and watches as I slide onto him.
“Oh, it’s happening,” I tease. He closes his eyes and lays his head back on the pillow. I slide up and very, very slowly down. To see his face, the lines of it tracing and burning into my memory, is a miracle to me. I love the man he’s grown into. He looks so wise and comfortable in his own skin, even wounded like this. He’s the perfect alpha male and being with him, looking at his face and bending to kiss his lips, makes me feel like the woman I always wanted to be. It’s like we’re two sides of the same coin and don’t exist without the other. Slow down, Annie. You could get very hurt.
He opens his eyes and shakes his head a little bit, disbelieving what we’re doing and smiles into my face. I lean in and kiss him and he holds onto my hips, his right arm out more than the other. He looks down to see us joined together, a small, kissable space appearing between his lips. A slow groan of pleasure escapes him and he has to force himself not to move with me. “It’s torture,” he whispers hoarsely.
I press my lips to his and say without thinking, “I thought this would never happen again.” My heart speeds up; what if that was too much?
But he looks into my eyes, without missing a beat and says, “I didn’t even have your phone number.”
Pleasure ripples through my body. “Oh my God.”
“You feel so good, Annie.” He’s looking at me like he’s mine. And I don’t care what he said earlier – he is mine. I’ve always known that and being with him makes it even clearer. He has to see it. And if he doesn’t, I’ll wait around until he does.
“What is going on here?” a female voice says by the door.
We look over and there’s Rebecca standing in the door with two coffees in her hands, sickened.
“Oh, shit,” Brendan, says. “Turn around, Rebecca. I’m sorry, Annie.” He pulls up on my legs and I quickly dismount, moving my panties back into position as I get off the bed as quickly as I can without bouncing it and hurting him. But the surprise and the tubes and the panties all collide in an unavoidable disaster and I fall flat onto the floor, taking the IV pole with me. Rebecca flips back around to look at me in horror. Brendan’s covered himself and reaches to try and stop my fall, but doing so hurts him and he cries out in pain as I scream from the needle yanking out of my skin.
Maria rushes in past Rebecca and helps me up, turning to Brendan who’s holding his ribs with a horrible look on his face.
“I saw her walking in, and hurried over as fast as I could,” she mumbles, running to check his sutures. I stand up to watch, smoothing down my gown and darting my eyes to the left to see Rebecca staring at him, too. She loves him. It hits me square in the eyes.
“Rebecca, Annie. Annie, Rebecca,” Brendan says, as Maria pulls back his gauze, revealing metal sutures that are shiny red but still intact. He looks at it. We’re all looking at it.
“They’re okay. But you have to be more careful.”
Satisfied he’s not in danger, Rebecca’s focus lashes to me. “Why are you here?” I blink and she adds, “I mean, I don’t understand why you’re in a hospital gown. You were fine yesterday.”
Maria crosses to me and looks sideways at Rebecca before she reaches for my arm, inspecting the needle that has dislodged itself and is hanging precariously by a thin shard of tape.
“I was admitted last night because I fainted and was dehydrated from stress.”
Rebecca turns on her heel and walks out.
“Shit,” Brendan mutters again.
Maria looks over to the door. “I take it she’s not your sister.” She looks back and forth between us. “We’ve got to get you back to your room now. I can get in trouble for this. And I need to get a new needle for this.”
“Right. Okay.” I throw a glance to Brendan. “You okay? Do you want to call her and explain?”
He shakes his head, irritated. “I don’t have my phone.”
Remembering, I say, “Oh! I almost forgot I found your jacket at the bar.”