Page 71 of His Girl Hollywood
“Like I got run over by a truck.”
“Miraculously, that is one thing that did not occur this morning.”
“How long was I out?”
Arlene looked at her watch, a delicate gold against her wrist. “Seven, eight hours? It’s five thirty now.” She paused, and he could see her lower lip tremble.
He reached to cup her cheek, ignoring the searing pain in his shoulder as he lifted his arm. “Don’t cry, Lena.”
“I was afraid you wouldn’t wake up,” she sniffled. “The doctor came. He assured me you were fine, but I was still afraid. Afraid that after everything, it was too late.”
He pulled her hand to his mouth and kissed the top of it gently. “You’re going to have to try a lot harder than that to get rid of me.”
She gave him a watery smile. “Don’t…not even as a joke, please.”
He glanced down. His shirt was gone, but he was still wearing the dress pants he’d had on the night of their date. The ones Frankiehad kidnapped him in. There was a sturdy bandage wrapped around his chest and the pressure was soothing. He looked at her, and she answered the question in his eyes before he could voice it. “Mama. She did it before the doctor had a chance.”
He looked around, searching for Pauline, wanting to thank her. “She bandaged you up, and then she went to Bill’s. Some story about promising the boys she’d stay the night.” Don chuckled. It hurt to laugh. Jesus, everything hurt. “She’s not very subtle sometimes.”
He smiled and rotated his head to look at the room. A new quilt with a daisy-chain pattern covered him. The walls had been wallpapered in a light-pink floral print. It was welcoming and cozy. Nothing like the sterile blank walls of his parents’ room. “I like what she’s done with the place.”
“It’s the guest bedroom now.”
“Good. This place needed some new memories.” They were quiet for a second, a comfortable silence as he absorbed how much had changed. He needed to make sure he hadn’t lost his lucky penny in the melee.
He reached for it, wincing with the effort, and she stilled his hand. “What is it?”
“My pants pocket, the right one, is there something in it?”
She reached over and shoved her hand in his pocket, pulling out a penny that was worn from all the times he’d rubbed it in the last decade. She gasped when she realized what she was holding. “It can’t be,” she whispered.
She blinked back a fresh wave of tears, and his heart swelled with affection at the sight of how much it meant to her that he still had it. She looked at him, a question in her eyes, and he nodded, confirming it was her penny.
“I didn’t think you even gave it a second thought. I figured you bought sweets with it on the train or something.”
“I’ve carried it in my pocket every day since you gave it to me. It’s my good-luck charm. Though I’m beginning to think it’s defective.” That elicited a true laugh from her, and he was seized with a desire to kiss her. He pressed his elbow into the mattress and made an attempt to sit up. His body flared with pain in protest.
Arlene jumped up. “No, don’t. You’ll hurt yourself. What do you need?”
“You. I only need you.”
She smiled, and it made him think of daisies in June. Not letting go of his hand, she sat on the edge of the bed. She leaned forward ever so slowly and ghosted a kiss across his lips, her touch as gentle as a butterfly’s wings. She sat back and looked in his eyes as if she was asking for permission. He gave her a smile to tell her it was all right. “Where does it hurt?” she asked.
“Everywhere,” he groaned.
“Show me.” Something mischievous glinted in her eyes. “I want to make it better.”
He pointed at his split lip, and she leaned down once more to kiss it, this time brushing her tongue at the seam of his mouth and slipping it inside. She pulled away and he wanted to beg her for more. “Where else?”
He pointed at his swollen cheek, and she kissed him there, light and airy as a fairy’s touch. Then he pointed to his eyebrow. Another kiss there. His chest. A shower of kisses there. “Here.” He held up both his hands, and she kissed the inside of each palm tenderly, with the reverence of a saint. He pointed back to his lips and she returned to his mouth, following his lead as he deepened the kiss. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her tightly to him, threading his hands through her hair. He nipped at her bottom lip before tangling his tongue with hers. The kiss was both gentle andferocious, one that filled him with a simultaneous wonder and a hunger for more.
She broke away from him and stood, pulling off her father’s oversized fishing sweater that she was still wearing. She folded it neatly, placing it on the seat of the chair she’d been sitting in. He chuckled. “Turnabout’s fair play, I guess.” She looked over her shoulder, biting her lip with a twinkle in her eye.
She turned around to face him once more and loosened the belt holding up her trousers. In moments, she was standing before him in nothing but the camisole that had been under her sweater, covering her bra and underwear. The late-afternoon light painted her body in shades of gold and yellow. He wanted to see it all, kissed by the sun. She looked at him, seemingly awaiting his signal, and he gestured at her slip. “Off.”
She reached for her slip and tugged it over her head. He managed to put weight on his elbows and sit up, so he could study her better. She unclasped her bra and dropped it to the floor. Her breasts were so perfect, small and round, with the strawberry-pink tips of her nipples pointing to him as if they were begging for his mouth. She touched herself, enjoying the journey from her shoulders to her waist. He stiffened at the gleam of pleasure in her eyes that overtook her. Her hand traveled farther south, and she closed her eyes in pleasure as she pressed her finger to her clit through her underwear and made a circular motion.
He groaned. “You’re going to kill me.”