Fear clogs my throat, making it almost impossible for me to speak. Though she’s right here in front of me, I can’t battle back the terror of almost losing her. With soft footsteps, I approach her bed. “Hey, Rach.” I hold her hand in mine, immeasurably thankful for its warmth. “You made it,” I whisper against her skin, a single tear tracking down my cheek. “You get some rest. I’ll be back in the morning.” Careful not to disrupt the IV in her hand, I give her one more kiss and tell her I love her.
When I get back into the waiting room, I catch the tail end of Dylan’s phone call to Reid, telling him that Rachel is fine and that we’ll be heading home soon.
He collects the bag that Reid brought in earlier. On the short elevator ride down to the main floor, I rest my head on Dylan’s shoulder, exhaustion taking up residence in every square inch of my body. “What’s in the bag?” I ask through a huge yawn.
“I wasn’t sure how long we’d be here, so I asked Reid to stop at my place and grab a few things in case we stayed the night.” It’s a simple gesture, one I’m sure he didn’t even have to think about twice. But to me, it means so much.
Pulling his face to mine, I say against his lips, “I’m so lucky to have you.”
“No,” he kisses me softly, filled with more emotion than an innocent kiss should ever have, “I’m the lucky one.”
Chapter Twenty Four
June 17, 2015
Taking in every inch of tanned, hard muscle currently sprawled across my bed is my new favorite way to wake up. With an arm tucked under the pillow and the other stretched out across my chest, he’s damn near perfect. It’s impossible not to follow every ripple and curve of his strong arms with my fingers. The lightest of touches makes him stir. His hand flexes on my chest. With a light graze of his short fingernails across my skin, a wave of goose bumps races everywhere.
With a thickly drowsy voice, he mumbles, “Morning,” as he slides closer to me, resting his head on my shoulder.
I press my lips to the top of his head, inhaling the lingering scent of his shampoo. “Sleep okay?”
He nods. “Woke up even better.” A warm, sleepy smile graces his face before he presses a soft kiss to my neck. “Thank you for everything these last few days.”
Lightly combing my fingers through his hair, I look down at him. “Of course. I was able to move some meetings and sessions, so I have the rest of the week off to be here for you and Rachel.”
His arm bands around my waist, pulling me tightly to his side. On a long yawn-turned-sigh, he says, “I should get up.” Propping himself up on an elbow, he adds, “I need to get to the gym before I go to the hospital. Peter’s been great, but there are a few new staff members coming in and out today and I want to make sure he and Eddie have everything taken care of.” As he rolls out of bed, I miss his warmth immediately. “Gonna grab a shower first.”
His boxer-brief covered ass struts out of the room, making my mouth go dry. My mind wanders—Conner all soapy and wet, slick and hot. Thoughts of water cascading in between the ridges and planes of his sculpted body do nothing to calm the raging erection that’s currently tenting the sheets at my waist.
His boxers land next to me on the bed. “You gonna join me or what?” His laughter fills the room; his naked body is framed by the bathroom door, accentuating the piece of art he is.
Not needing to be asked twice, I leap from the bed, strip out of my shorts, and join him in the hot water. “You’re in a good mood this morning.” It’s impossible not to notice. He’s pulled me into his arms, trailing kisses and bites along my neck.
Pulling away from me, I notice some of the worry lines that had creased his brow since Rachel’s surgery a few days ago are gone. “Yesterday was a good day.” Now, that’s an understatement. Some of the swelling reduced and the doctors were able to lower her sedation meds. Right before we were ready to leave last night, Rachel actually opened her eyes. She was even able to recognize Conner and me and have a very short conversation with us before she fell asleep again.
Lathering up a handful of body wash, I massage the bubbles into his shoulders. “You want me to help you out down at the gym today?” He moans, leaning into my touch. Rolling his neck to the side, I rub away the built-up tension.
“No,” his word is near breathless. “It’ll do me good to get down there for a bit.” He turns around to face me, his face slack and dotted with droplets of water.
“I’ll meet you there later, then?” My question mingles together with his moan-of-an-affirmation and I run my soapy hands across his chest, tracing down the deep-cut V of his abs.
As my hand wraps around the thick bulge of his cock, he’s rendered speechless. A nod is all I get as my fingers glide over every veined, hot inch. His forehead falls to mine, the hot steam of the shower billows around us, mixing with the heated gasps of pleasure falling from Conner’s mouth.
“I love hearing you moan, driving you crazy.” I pull his mouth to mine and push my tongue in his mouth in perfect sync with the rhythm of my stroking. We turn so his back is to the water, blocking the spray from falling on me as I drop to my knees. Though the water is scalding, the heat of his dick sliding past my lips is even more so.
His hand cradles my face, splaying out across my jaw, tracing the outline that the wide crown of his cock makes against the thin skin of my cheek. “Fuck . . . Dylan . . . your mouth . . .” His hips gyrate, pushing deeper and deeper, as he fucks my mouth. I reach up and tweak a pierced nipple, smiling around his dick as a low grumble falls from his mouth.
Conner pulls me up and crushes his mouth to mine, reaching between us, and taking both of our cocks into his large hand. My fingers wrap around his and we stroke ourselves in some kind of erotic tandem motion. “Condoms,” I slur against his lips. “We need condoms.”
He doesn’t release his grip as he looks me pointedly in the eyes. “I’m clean. Was tested after my last relationship.”
“Me, too,” I breathe, pulling his lower lip in between my teeth. As his hold on our dicks, and his control weakens, he presses me up against the wall. A thick digit probes at the ring of muscle of my ass. Loosening quickly, he adds another as he continues to jerk me with his other hand.
His teeth sink into my shoulder at the same time that his cock sinks into my body. Attuned to everything about our lovemaking, my body relaxes instantly, opening to him, reveling in the feel of his fullness. “God, you feel amazing. So fucking huge, Con.”
His grunts rumble against my neck as his fingers dig into my hips, pulling me onto his rock-hard dick as he pushes it deep inside. With a soap-slickened and wet hand, I stroke myself, to the beat of him fucking my ass.
What were once smooth and measured thrusts become erratic and frenzied. “Coming . . .” he calls out, nearly making the glass on the shower door shake with his booming voice. Miraculously, I’m able to hold back. His motions slow, but before they stop, I turn him around, pressing him up against the wall.
“My turn,” I lean my body against his and he looks at me, a triumphant and satisfied grin on his kissed-swollen lips.
His thick legs slide open as my fingers graze over his ass. Spreading his cheeks, I probe my cock at his puckered hole, pressing slowly. Never fully entering or leaving the heat of his body, I tease him—back and forth, in and out, slow and steady, until my own control hangs on by no more than a thread.
With one hard and fast push, I bury myself in him. The heaviness of my sack slaps up against his turned-pink-by-the-hot-water skin. “Fuck . . .” His head hangs low, nestling against my neck once again, but his body instantly relaxes, pulling me even deeper into him. With a white-knuckled grip on his shoulders, I pound into him, my orgasm building at the base of my spine, pulling my balls tightly against my body.
On a loud roar of pleasure, I come, throbbing and pulsing on my final move. Despite having just woken up and being in a soon-to-be-too-cold-to-stand-it shower, a satisfied and sedate feeling washes over my body. Resting my cheek against Conner’s heaving che
st, I press a kiss there. “That was incredible.”
He takes a deep breath and pulls me into his arms. His eyes dart around my face, almost like he’s only seeing me for the first time. His mouth opens and closes rapidly, like a tossed out of the water fish gasping for air. Droplets of water spray my face as he runs his hand through his hair. “I’m trying, but I just . . . I can’t . . . I mean, I don’t know how to put to words what I want to say.” His words shred me, melt me, and then somehow, magically put me back together again.
“I feel the same way.” I smile, crooked and ridiculously happy. We stay under the water just long enough to rinse off before we both start to freeze, despite never being more than an inch away from one another.
About half an hour later, we’re walking out of my building to go about our day. The familiar sound of his motorcycle rumbles in my ears as I pull out into traffic and off to the office to take care of a few last minute details.
“Thought you were out for the rest of the week?” Reid makes himself comfortable on the small couch in my office after tossing his suit jacket on the chair.
“I am,” I joke.
Folding his arms behind his head, he lets out a healthy chuckle. “Clearly.” Sarcasm colors his words.
“Conner had to take care of some stuff this morning, so I came here to do the same, and then I’m off.” Reid shoots me a wry look, mocking me and my never-take-a-day-off mentality.
“How is she?” The real concern in his voice is evident. I fill him in on Rachel’s progress and prognosis. The elation and relief can clearly be heard in my words.
I’ve already sorted through a huge stack of papers and filed a dozen more. Clicking through the last of my emails, I realize this morning was supposed to be the last session at Calhoun. “Why didn’t you remind me?” I demand, frustrated for not following through on the case.
The look on his face suggests that he knows exactly what I’m talking about. “Untwist your balls, would you?” He kicks his legs off the couch, but stays seated. “I actually just got back from there.”
“And?” I prompt, perhaps not so calmly.
Reid shakes his head at my fairly worked up attitude. “Seriously, Dylan. You’re going to have a heart attack by the time you’re thirty if you don’t chill the fuck out.” He stands and strolls over to my desk.
Flopping back in my chair, I let out a heavy sigh. “You’re right.” My hand flies through my hair as if doing so will help me get a grip on reality. “The last few weeks have been a lot to take.” A flippant laugh passes my lips. “But, seriously, tell me what went on. You know how involved I was.”
“You remember Dean’s father, right?” Of course I do. He seemed to be the primary reason for Dean lashing out against Carlo. He was riding his son about being the best at everything, about being the star quarterback that he once was, way back in his glory days. Carlo, who did nothing but move into the district and want to try out for the football team, set things in motion for Dean and his father. Weeks of taunting progressed into actual physical fights. When it became too much for school officials to mediate, they called us in. I nod, responding to his question without losing my cool. From the moment both Reid and I heard about Dean’s father, we instantly thought about Reid’s father and the deadly effects he had on our childhood.
“I talked to him and-” Reid’s confession nearly makes me fall out of my chair.
“Wait,” needing clarification, I stop him mid-sentence. “You talked to Dean’s father?”
Reid stands from his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head. “I know it breaks protocol. We’re just supposed to be there to help the kids figure it out and all, but Dean told me he tried talking to him, and there was just something there that reminded me so much of Shane that I had to talk to his dad.”
A look of understanding passes between us and he carries on. “He was on the side line at one of Dean’s lacrosse games. I introduced myself and to say he was indifferent to talking to me would be an understatement.” Reid chuckles sarcastically. “But, he eventually gave me a few minutes of his time. Probably because it was half time and he wouldn’t miss a second of the action. Anyway, I told him about my dad, about Shane, about everything.” Reid stares silently out the large floor to ceiling window of my office. “When I spoke about how much I missed my brother, how much I wished he was still a part of my life, I think I broke through that first layer of ice. But when I told him that I heard echoes of Shane’s pain in his son’s words, saw bits of Shane’s brokenness in his son’s eyes, he thawed even more.”
His raw and real emotion forces me from my desk and I walk over to him. My hand falls to his shoulder, clasping it gently. “I’m so proud of you.” Reid turns to face me, and unnamable look on his face. Realizing the strange look has more than likely been caused by the fact that he so very rarely hears that someone is proud of him makes me pull him in for a brotherly hug. “Shane would be proud, too.”
“Of you, too, man.” His voice is muffled between our backslap-slash-hug. When he breaks it, I notice his eyes shining, but he turns away before I see too much more—before he sees the same thing in mine.
Casually, and with a lighter step than usual, Reid strolls over to the chair where his suit jacket is draped and swings it over his shoulder. “You’re not allowed back for the rest of the week, now.” He leans up against the doorframe, pointing a stern finger at me.
With a laugh and a look of mock-submission, I nod and agree. “See you later.”
After work, I make my way to the hospital. With a bunch of flowers in hand, I ask if Rachel is allowed to have visitors. The nurse greets me with a gigantic smile. “Sure thing, sweetie.”
“Even though I’m not immediate family?” That’s been the rule since she was admitted, but I wanted to come straight here figuring that’s where Conner would be.
“Yep, she was moved to a regular room just a few minutes ago.” Her nametag reads Keisha and she’s all bright and bubbly. I can’t help but think there’s good news waiting for me on the other side of Rachel’s door. Keisha fills out a visitors pass for me and directs me to Rachel’s room.
The door is slightly open, and with a gentle knock, it opens even more. “You awake?” I ask, peering my head into the room.
“Yes, come on in.” Her voice is full, alert—alive.
Aside from the strip of hair missing behind her ear, and the remaining bandages on her head, Rachel looks unscathed for the most part. Propped up against the headboard, trying to feed herself her lunch around all the tubes, wires, and IVs, she almost looks laughable. I pull a chair up next to her bed, and place the flowers on the side table. “You look pretty incredible for someone who just had major surgery four days ago.”
Exhaling a deep sigh of gratitude, she puts down her fork as a single tear rolls down her cheek. She swipes it away with her non-wire-covered hand. “I had no idea all those headaches . . .”
“Hey,” I pull her hand in mine, patting it calmingly, “no one knew. It’s no one’s fault.” Handing her a tissue, I smile compassionately at her.
“How’s Conner holding up?” she asks around the tissue, wiping her nose.
I let go of her hand and lean back in the chair. Memories from just a few hours ago of our time in the shower, of how my feelings for him have taken over my every thought, fill my head, spreading a huge grin across my face. “Ewww, gross. Not like that.” Her finger waggles in my face, laughing as she does so.
“What?” I shoot upright, not realizing what I must have looked like. “Oh, uh, you mean–”
“Yes,” she cuts me off. “I mean how has he been holding up since I’ve been in here, dork.” Both of us a laugh as she extends her arm to the side, showcasing the room Vanna White style.
“He’s been a wreck, actually. It scared the shit out of him, but when you opened your eyes the other night, even though it was only for a minute, I think he held on to that hope that’d you’d pull through.” A deep breath escapes her lungs, as if it’s just clea
nsed her own concerns over her brother’s well-being.
She returns to her meal, more than frustrated with the food she can barely cut. “Stupid fork.” It clangs against the plate as she tosses it on her table.
Rather than laugh, I simply pick it up for her and cut up her meal. The look on her face is one of appreciation. I nearly choke on my tongue when she asks, “You love him, don’t you?” With a casual, nonchalant attitude, she picks up her fork and returns to her meal, as if she hadn’t just dropped a bomb in between us. “What?” she asks, taking stock of the shocked look on my face.
My hands run though my hair, scrub over my face. Elbows land on my thighs, and thumbs twist in nervousness. My head falls forward, cradled in my shaking hands. I close my eyes and sort through the emotions her words just brought to life. In such a short time, Conner has come to mean so much to me. Maybe if I hadn’t also been in therapy, been willing to work through my own problems then this wouldn’t have happened as quickly as it had, but there’s no denying that I do love him.
His honesty and integrity.
His light-hearted playfulness.
His capacity for kindness and love.
Slowly, I lift my head, and look at the girl who’s scared me to death twice in less than a week. Once with the blockage in her brain and once with the blockage in my heart. “I do,” I admit, more to myself than to her.
Her response of a smug, all-knowing smile fills the room with warmth. “Good, now make sure you tell him, too.”
“Tell me what?” Conner’s voice calls from the door, making my heart beat a little quicker in my chest.
“Nothing,” I deflect, standing to greet him as he walks into the room. His look of wry cynicism tells me that he’s on to me, but it doesn’t seem as if he heard what we were talking about.
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