by Pamela Ann
“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 Nine
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 the 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 an
d 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.
Languid and mollified, I was lost to the magic of his touch. The sensual rhythm of it, basking in his faint signature masculine scent—I was drunk off it all. Bit by bit, touch by touch, my arousal intensified, strengthened by each passing second until reaching that pivotal point of no return. My hips slowly shifted and gyrated, causing a small ripple of waves as I moaned, unrestrained. And just before I was about to completely lose it, I felt the warmth of his hand cup the crevice between my thighs.
“Shh … Let me take care of it, babe,” he roughly grated out against my ear, breathing heavily on it as he began to glide his middle finger from the top of my nub all the way down, as if testing the slickness of it. Then he brought it back up and targeted that sensitized button, rubbing it with relentless accuracy, honed expertise, and bold determination.
“Drew!” I cried out, sobbing at the powerful intensity his ministrations were creating within me.
“I love it when you say my name like that,” he hissed into my ear before he furiously bit the side of my neck while his finger continued building chaos within.
A sharp gasp came out of my lips when I felt his lips suck the area he had bitten into, as if pacifying the ache. It accomplished that and then some. The double effect took me on a tumultuous storm as my climax began to climb to its peak before shattering me into pieces while screaming out his name in vain.
Freefalling back to the bottom took quite a toll on me, leaving me a breath away from a deep coma.
Chapter Ten
It was the faint echo of a man’s laugh that brought me slowly into awareness. My mind took in the sound of my surroundings, the body following suit. And not before long, my eyes gradually debuted themselves, greeted by the sharp brightness of the room.
I was in a middle of a small groan, feeling the mind-numbing pain travelling from the tip of my foot to my hip, more so my foot. It felt as though someone were squeezing it so hard they were almost about to crush my bones. Shitcakes. It wasn’t the greatest of feelings to wake up to.
Frightened to move an inch of my lower body, I shifted my face to the side to check the time and was taken aback at what I found, instead. There was my medication next to a bottle of water and my crutches casually leaning against the table.
A deep frown creased my face. I blinked a few times before my eyes took in all the items, and then a quick, vivid flashback of last night’s events made me lose my breath. What the flying fuck had I done?
“Did I really try to hump the bathtub?” Holy cunty! “Was I that high or what?” Obviously, I had been beyond high, though I had to take into account that, despite being out of my mind, I had taken pleasure from everything that happened. I could catalogue each passing second that he had touched me, biting my neck before he nibbled on the back of my earlobe with his feral lips and tongue while giving me one of the best orgasms I’d had in my life. Well, I had to take into account that there hadn’t been many, so there wasn’t much to compare it with. Nevertheless, I had acted like a shameless cunty, and so I must face the backlash in my walk of shame, which would happen quite soon. I cringed silently and colorfully cursed myself until I ran out of vocabulary.
Blowing out a breath, I ran a hand through my hair before my eyes dropped, and I noted that I was wearing a shirt that wasn’t mine, a black shirt that was rather too large for my frame. It had to be Drew’s. Helpless, I lifted it to my nose, breathing in his familiar scent. That musk that was all him reminded me of his feral eyes, those lips, a tongue that could make me lose my name, his teeth that deliciously dug into my skin and absolutely whetted my arousal to new heights.
I want him. Still.
The silent admission didn’t shock me, but what would I do about it? And if I did decide to do something, what was I willing to sacrifice? Because I wouldn’t come out of it unscathed, not with him. Never with him. This was Drew Cavendish, my Drew Cavendish. I had known him since childhood. I knew what he preferred and despised, how he privately dealt with his pain. I knew how his mother’s death troubled him far more than he cared to admit, that on Sundays, he particularly felt more alone than any other day. He was as guarded as he was generous. He was the guy who had secretly watched chick flicks with me. He had gifted me sweet nothings all throughout my life; my old room was littered with little tokens from him.
Yes, it wasn’t a hardship falling for him. The man used to be the center of my universe. The rest of the world was black and white, while he solely existed in vivid colors. He took care of me in ways no one ever had. Even last night, in a wicked way, he had relieved me from my own misery without wanting anything in exchange. True, I might have been quite a pitiful sight while I had become a demented horny woman, but even still, he hadn’t laughed at me. Instead, he’d offered his expertise to release the unsated wantonness side of me. Only he could achieve such a feat. Only he could bring me to such unadulterated ecstasy.
Left with such a weighty dilemma, I pondered while I took ahold of the small medication bottle, opened, and released one big pill before washing it down with the water he had also provided. Before I could prolong my wondering, though, his amused laughter echoed through the hall. It was profound since my door was left ajar, as if he had been consistently checking in on me throughout the night.
Whom was he talking to who made him laugh like that? It was no business of mine, but I couldn’t help wondering. Whomever it was, it was someone he truly liked. He wasn’t one to be easily amused by women, because when he was with them, he aimed for a different entertainment, and laughter wasn’t usually part of that.
Both he and my brother had indubitably changed since they had moved here. Was I the only one bothered by it? They seemed to accept it as though it weren’t a big deal.
How could anyone throw away years of friendship? I couldn’t imagine doing the same thing to Courtney. My conscience wouldn’t let me sleep a wink if I was indirectly hurting her.
But like Drew had stated before, people changed. And if they both had, how did one deal with a familiar stranger? The question applied to them both just as it did with me in regards to Drew alone. He was a familiar stranger. Familiar because we had a past and years upon years of memories together, but a stranger since I didn’t know his heart, how the worki
ngs of his mind ticked—well, not anymore. He used to open up to me before that night had taken place.
My heart sank at the thought of the past. After all those tears, the unending hard work of trying to move on exorcising his memory from my mind, from my heart—they were all for naught. After all, here I was, back to square one, figuring out how to survive this with less damage to my heart.
Yes, I was bracing for the inevitable. How and when that would take place, I had no fucking clue. All I knew was I was trying to act smart about it by trying to protect myself, even if it was on a miniscule scale. Whatever happened, I vowed never to be like I had been before: the zombie-like Chloe who lived and breathed with one purpose in mind—Drew Cavendish.
First loves, from what I had gathered, were the ones that scarred you for the rest of your existence. Whoever said that had seriously gone through some mental and deep psychotic shit, a subject beyond relatable to me.
I moved to sit on the edge of my bed before grabbing the crutches. My right hand added some serious pressure while I maneuvered to stand on one foot, leveling myself until I was fully aware and balanced with the crutches securely tucked under my arms. Blowing out a reassuring breath, I took a small yet steady step forward, needing to use the bathroom. Getting there felt as though I were slower than a turtle, but I managed to accomplish the feat with no accident, which made me proud of myself.
There was no doubt that my life for the next four to six weeks—if that—would be done at a snail’s pace. God help me while trying to work this thing around campus. I had never felt so much for the disabled. Such brave souls to do what they did each day, and they did it with a smile. I shouldn’t complain, really. Life could be worse. With that positive perspective in mind, I carried on toward the door.
I wasn’t going to lie; I was terrified of what our conversation would be like after last night, but I would rather it happened right this instant than let it fester like a rotten wound. It would worsen if not treated. It was an extreme comparison, but he had been my wound … and he had never fully healed. I had merely applied a Band-Aid to it and wished it away, fooling myself into believing I was well and truly over him. Each passing day here in New York had proved to me otherwise.