by Pamela Ann
The paramedics busied themselves with asking me questions ranging from the incident to the level of pain I was in, and I couldn’t help feeling relief when they injected me with some powerful drug to numb the pain.
Upon reaching the hospital, I was unloaded in the Emergency Room before a proper doctor came to see me and addressed my wound without a hitch. After getting X-rays and a thorough examination, he had to place my entire foot in a boot since there was an injury in one of the ligaments that supported the joint, a stage two sprain. It could take four to six weeks to heal, depending on how my body responded to medicine and therapy.
“Is there someone we can call to pick you up, Miss Armstrong?” the nurse asked me after the doctor had signed the discharge papers before being paged to the trauma unit.
Jackson wasn’t here, so I had to rely on someone else. “Yeah, there actually is.” Clearing my throat, I scrolled through my contact list with the newly cracked screen then showed the nurse his phone number.
She left me to make the call while I filled out the paperwork and what not. The chaotic madness in the ER made me even more anxious. The sound of the sick and the dying wasn’t any comfort. It was a major contrast to the world outside these walls.
While the other side fought the stock market and brokers, in here, mortals fought to survive. And when I overheard that an ambulance was coming in with survivors from a tragic head-on collision, it made me realize how small and irrelevant my problems were. My toe and ankle seemed pathetically laughable at the thought of what others were dealing with here tonight.
“Chloe?” Drew’s alarmed voice appeared out of the blue as he finally found which section of the room where I was located. The moment his eyes rested upon me, they imminently widened. “Christ, Chloe, what happened? Are you okay?”
“Sorry, the nurse made me bug you. I wouldn’t have bothered, but they wouldn’t discharge me if I didn’t have someone to care for me in the next twenty-four hours. You, my friend, are the chosen one.”
He shook his head, solemn. “You should know better than to hesitate to call me. I’m always here for you. Always. Why can’t you understand that?”
Because so much has happened between us that it’s gotten so awkward, and nothing’s been the same since.
As much as I wanted to state how I felt, this wasn’t the time or the place.
“Drew Cavendish?” The nurse came back before systematically eyeing him, as if he were a good specimen to be studied. There was a blatant glimmer of interest before she reverted back to business, clearing her throat as she did. “She was given Percocet, but the doctor prescribed a lesser dose for her to take home. Make sure she takes these with a meal and a full glass of water.” She pulled out a paper that outlined how to care for my foot and how to gauge my pain and knowing when to call for help.
By the time he helped me into a cab with the use of a crutch, my body was in such an elevated state euphoria and sleepiness that I was going in and out of consciousness.
“Let me carry you upstairs,” Drew kindly offered after the cab dropped us outside the apartment building.
“Over my dead fucking body. I am capable of walking.” Albeit, I would be slower than usual, but I could very well function. The less contact with him, the better. I might have bruised my ankle, but I surely hadn’t lost my mind… yet. While that was still thriving and intact, I would rather not depend on him for anything. It was the only way I could keep him at bay.
Our journey from the entrance of the building to the 8th floor was done at a snail’s pace, but I was adamant to stand my ground, undoubtedly quite high from the drugs given to me.
“Did you have anything to eat?” he asked the moment we entered the door, regarding me rather too closely for comfort.
Acting unaffected by his presence, I merely shook my head before releasing a casual sigh. “I had a sandwich for lunch.”
“That’s it?” He glared at me, obviously displeased that I had been able to function by supplying my body with a mere sandwich.
“Yeah.” Why was he so appalled? Not only was a sandwich convenient and easy to make, they were available everywhere. What was his deal?
“Okay, let’s get you fed first because you’re going to take your medication before you sleep.”
I shook my head. The thought of sitting and eating made me gag a little. Sleep, on the other hand, I needed.
“Just give me cereal or something. Nothing too heavy. I’m ready to crash.” Besides, I had already taken up much of his time by him coming to my rescue. Fussing over me was not needed. I could take care of myself.
My retort didn’t go down well with him. Instead of having a normal reaction, he surprised me by taking my crutches away before plucking me up as though I were weightless then heading for the kitchen. Upon reaching the dining table, he used his left foot to push free the chair before depositing my stubborn self on it.
“Sit down, Chloe. I won’t feed you generic crap. You’ve got to eat. I’m not going to watch you starve yourself to death just so you can maintain this figure.”
WTF! That was uncalled for!
“I’m not starving myself! What do you expect from me? Just because I don’t stuff my face with the nearest cake, it doesn’t mean I’m not eating. You’re being an idiot. Besides, I don’t want you to cook. I’m fine.”
He immediately shut the fridge and gave me a hardened stare. “You have something against my cooking for you? You used to love it. I thought you’d like that veggie soup Nana used to make.”
It was my favorite, and he knew that. I appreciated his effort, but I just didn’t want to get hurt. The more I spent time with him, the more I questioned myself, an indication that my emotions were too unstable to be trusted where he was concerned.
“Drew, please, my body aches. Arguing with you is pointless.” The drugs made me feel much better. I knew by tomorrow, though, I would be singing a different tune.
“Fine,” he muttered before spinning on his heels and hunting down a bowl and spoon. “Lucky Charms, okay?”
He knew I loved that little green leprechaun dude and the dried up cute marshmallows. “Yes, that’ll do. Thanks.”
It took him a few minutes to stride over and carefully place the bowl in front me. He then took the chair to my right before leaning against the chair, effortlessly cool and laid back, watching me as if I were some reality show unfolding before his eyes. If it hadn’t been for his phone ringing so he had to stroll away toward the other end of the flat to get it, I would have melted from the force of simply having him there, scrutinizing me while I ate.
Minding myself, I tried to muster enough appetite to finish half of the cereal he had given me. He had filled it to the top, which was such a waste to throw out, yet I couldn’t take another bite.
“I’m done,” I meekly said before murmuring a soft thank you.
He took the dish away and placed it in the sink then took out the prescription. “I’ll give you juice instead of water since you didn’t eat much; is that cool?”
It was kind of him to think about the little things. It wouldn’t have crossed my mind at all.
“Yeah, that’s sounds good.”
After pouring me half a glass and placing it before me, he then excused himself, leaving me for a few minutes. Then he returned to assist me in balancing myself while slightly delirious from the pills.
The moment we got to my bedroom, I heard the bath water running in the bathroom. Confused, I gave him a frown while my heart sped up to an unprecedented rate.
“What’s that for?”
“You pointed out that your body’s in pain. I figured that your body would be in less pain tomorrow if you helped ease it out with a warm bath.”
I got that, but … “I’m too tired to worry about that tonight. I just want to go to bed. Besides, it would be too hard to get in and out of the tub with only one good foot.”
“I’m going to be there to help you,” he stated like he had just suggested something mundane a
nd not something outrageous.
Flabbergasted, I stared at him with my mouth hanging ajar. Had I just heard him say that he would help me bathe, naked and all?
“That’s the craziest thing I’ve heard in my entire life.”
“I know, but your body will be in better condition tomorrow.”
Without preamble, he effortlessly lifted my body, taking us toward the bathroom.
I meant to protest—I truly did—but he was beyond determined and didn’t give me the opportunity to voice out an objection. Stuck in this odd predicament and slightly delirious, I wasn’t sure if this was a good idea at all. It wasn’t because I feared drowning. My concerns were that I wasn’t sure how I would handle it if something indecent were to happen. Given the state I was in, it was something to ponder.
Chapter 44
Cautiously, he put me down, making sure my good foot was properly planted on the carpet while I leaned against the nearest flat surface before he shut off the water. The tub was half-filled with water with one of my favorite scents permeating the air.
Watching him through my lashes, I saw him dip his hand to check on the temperature before angling his face toward me, donning a half-smile on his chiseled face.
“Ready?” he asked when our eyes clashed, evoking an inner turmoil within me.
No, I was in no shape or form ready, and I doubted I would ever be.
“Not quite, but I don’t think you’re going to let me undermine your plans, so either way, I’m screwed.”
Drew let out a sexy laugh before shaking his head as he strolled toward me, his eyes bluer and brighter than before. “I’m going to take care of you, Chlo…” He trailed off, cupping my cheek. “That’s all there is to it.”
What else could I say? Besides, I was sapped out of arguments, bone-weary, and inconveniently mesmerized by his handsomely chiseled face. Had his jaw always been that sharp? I wasn’t sure. And more to the point, I couldn’t resist a lovely bath. It was my answer to stress or physical pain, and I knew his suggestion would benefit me.
A little light-headed and unmistakably nervous, I painstakingly eyed him while my throat bobbed as my eyes flickered back and forth between his. I trusted him, and that was enough to understand that he wouldn’t intentionally hurt me. He cared, or he wouldn’t be wasting his time by going out of his way to make sure I was fed and looked after, and I couldn’t fault him for that.
“I don’t know how to do this. I know it’s absurd, but I might need you to turn around while I take my clothes off.” My cheeks reddened profusely. It was an irrelevant request since he would eventually see me naked. Nevertheless, I felt this urge, this need to do something on my own without those eyes filtering everything I did. The situation was already dire. I needed to sustain some sort of decorum, even if it was fleeting.
“Whatever makes it easier for you,” he responded before spinning on his heels, granting me that tiny piece of privacy.
I couldn’t decipher if he was mocking me or not, but since he was unbothered by the request, it made me feel less moronic.
Putting my entire weight on my good foot, I began to take my top off before quietly dropping it on the floor next to me. Next came my black leggings, pushing against the stretchy band as I slid them down my legs. Once they reached my ankles, I realized I hadn’t taken the boot off yet, and I would have to sit somewhere to fully accomplish the simple task.
I would have to move past Drew, which would defeat this entire “securing a little decorum” I’d had going minutes before. For a few seconds, I contemplated what to do. Would it be like this for the weeks coming? How the heck was I going to live if I needed rescuing at almost every damn turn? I was confident I could find some tricks that would make it less of a difficulty, functioning like a normal human being. However, I was too exhausted to attempt to figure it out at the moment.
Releasing a defeated sigh, I grumbled a bit before a small, cracked voice came out of me, “I have a problem.”
Without looking down, his eyes meshed with mine with a raised brow, beckoning, hypnotizing. “Hmm …? What might that be?” he whispered close to my face, and I could feel the heat of his breath.
My mouth watered while I tried to swallow the heavy lump in my throat. “I’m … uh …” For a moment, I was rendered speechless, briefly transported back to the adoring eighteen-year-old again, worshipping the man who had centered in my universe, my dream come to life and the hero I had thought he once was. I was stuck. Literally. Figuratively. Stuck. “I’m kind of stuck,” I lamely finished, hating myself that I couldn’t conjure up another word that resonated with myself before I sort of shifted on my foot, indicating my quandary.
His eyes dropped low without hesitation. The heat of his gaze felt as if he were steadfastly burning me with it as it made its way downward, taking in the delicate nakedness of my neck. My chest heaved as he perused the soft slopes of my breasts secured in a bra. I wanted to beg for him to get it over with, but another part of me loved that he was taking his torturous time. Amidst it all, I couldn’t bring myself to utter a single protest, which was why I always found myself in such peculiar settings with him.
A low growl came from him before he looked to the side, as if intentionally redirecting his gaze so he didn’t openly gawk at my simple black thong while he helped me removed the boot and slide the leggings away.
Biting my lip, I shut my eyes and swallowed whatever shame bubbled to the surface. “I’m going to need help with … uh-hmm … you know …” Spelling it out loud would make it seem too aggressive, and that was the last thing I wanted.
I let out a shaky breath, skittish from the moment I heard him take a sharp intake of air and felt the soft brush of the pads of his fingers on the edge of my underwear, somewhat caressing. It was unnerving to be undressed by a man who wasn’t my boyfriend or a love interest, yet here I was, quaking when he finally took the initiative to bite the bullet and free me from my clothing from the hip down.
Unwilling to analyze anything, I immediately sought the back latch of my bra and unhooked it as though the notion of stripping naked in front of a man was an everyday occurrence.
I was already in this sweet hell, so feigning confidence couldn’t hurt. My mother had taught me as much. She had drilled it into my head at an early age, saying any woman could get away with anything as long as she was confident. So here I was, trying my damnedest to apply some form of bravado. Said bravado was due to the fact that I had recently gotten a Brazilian and had no ingrown or bushwhack sort of situation going on south of the border.
“Lean on my shoulder so I can properly lift you.” Drew’s voice broke through my wayward, odd thoughts, bringing me back to the present.
I followed his directions then was swept in his arms, lifted by his steel-like arms before he carefully placed me down in the hot water while properly securing my injured foot somewhat hanging from the edge while the rest was submerged in the bath. The temperature was warmer than expected, so I made a hissing noise when my skin came in contact.
“Too hot?”
Sort of.
Pressing my lips together, I threw him a scant but reassuring look. “Give me a minute. My body needs to get used to it.” It was true; there was no need to make any extra fuss about it. It would eventually begin to cool down. For the time being, it wasn’t all that bad. The warmer the temperature, the better it would work for me.
“You sure? Let me know if you need me to add cold water, okay?” He frowned while on his knees, tending to me. With a soft stroke of his fingers, he tucked the left side of my hair behind my ear before he captured my attention once more. “Before the medical staff got to you, do you remember the particular spot where you were hurting?”
Recalling the events earlier this evening, I knew for a fact that I had been in a lot of pain. The throb in my foot had taken precedence because it had been so acute, but the more I pondered about it, I supposed my lower back and hips had taken quite a fall, and the pain would undoubtedly cripple once t
he meds wore off.
“My back, but I can’t pinpoint a spot.”
He had an intense look upon him, as if discussing my potential aches and pains were a top priority, before he situated his hands on the middle of my back, gauging how tense my muscles were around that area.
“Keep leaning. It’ll feel much better when you put pressure against it,” he softly said right above my head.
I merely nodded as I slowly melted, not from the relief of his ministrations, but from the thought of his hands on me …
With the use of his warm, strong hands, he began to knead the knotted muscles on my lower back, and just as he’d instructed, I was a dead weight against his hands. It amplified the strength of his skilled manipulation against my knots.
“Thanks, Drew … This feels really good actually.” I released a pleasurable sigh. “Sorry if I was being mean earlier. You make me grumpy most of the time.”
His low, husky laugh made my nipples hurt. Jesus Christ, this wasn’t the time to try to get his attention.
I was just about to hyperventilate when I looked down to see the damning sight and was relieved that I was lucky enough they were semi-covered by bubbles.
“Close your eyes,” he whispered close to the back of my neck, sending a tingling down my spine. “Relax.”
He was right, I needed to fucking relax. My mind was riddled with too much garbage, including thoughts of his hands, those enticing lips, a bedroom voice specifically made to make women pant, and those irresistible blue eyes. When they sparked fire, I was truly done for. As much as I wanted to loathe the man, he was the only person on this earth who could evoke so many emotions all at once. I consistently got whiplash from it. And in this very moment, I was suspended in that world where my conscious mind met the subconscious, still and relaxed, dream-like yet aware of my surroundings. I was so into it that I unconsciously moaned each time his thumb pressed into my skin.