by Emerson Rose
But he’s awake and more than consensual, so I take a deep breath and try to imagine he’s one of my ninety-year-old patients.
His eyes follow my shaky hands to the catheter. I attach the syringe and let out the fluid from the balloon. Then, I grasp his thick cock at the base and detach myself from the situation as much as possible and ease the catheter out slowly.
He inhales sharply, and I look away to throw the catheter in the trashcan next to the bed. When I’ve snapped off my gloves, I feel his hands slide around my waist. He turns me around and reaches up, placing his hands on my cheeks to guide me down so he can press a soft, quick kiss on my lips.
He smiles and whispers, “That hurt.”
I jolt upright and take a step away from the bed.
I’m speechless and breathless and embarrassed.
What a time to make a pass, I was taking out his catheter, for God’s sake. At least I can scratch gay off my list of questions.
“What was that?”
“A kiss, Imani. I can familiarize you further if you come back over here.”
“But wh… why?”
“Because you were holding me in your hands; it seemed as good a time as any.” He’s so cocky, pun intended.
There’s a knock at the door. He is still exposed and, as impossible as it is, he looks to be aroused. I step closer and quickly cover him with the sheet, blanket, and comforter, anything to disguise his growing erection. He’s smirking all the while, eyebrows lifted mischievously, “What’s wrong, Imani? Don’t want to share?”
“No. I mean, yes. I mean, ugh, just cover yourself, will you? That could be anybody.”
He knows he’s embarrassing me, and he likes it.
“Come in,” he calls, and Elijah enters the room with a bag from Dominus. Did he go all the way to the restaurant and back already? It doesn’t seem like a place that would be open for breakfast. I wonder who cooked for him at this early hour.
“Your usual, sir, and this,” Elijah drops a white-gold chain with a large crucifix hanging from it onto Marcus’s open palm. He goes about arranging the food on the bedside table, just like a good wife would do.
The food smells delicious. He’s brought an omelet made only with egg whites, bacon, and fresh squeezed orange juice. Somebody who knows exactly what he likes cooked this for him.
My stomach growls loudly, and both men look up at me.
“Sorry, I need to go home and shower and get something to eat,” I say, and gather up my purse. My damn stomach did that on cue, I swear.
“No, Imani. Sit. Eat with me. You can’t leave, do you work tonight?” He asks, trying unsuccessfully to keep the alarm out of his voice.
Elijah looks up from the food apparently taken aback by Marcus’s response.
“I’ll step out,” he says and exits the room without making eye contact with me.
“No, I don’t work tonight. I’m not scheduled for two more nights.”
His hands begin to clutch the sheets, and a fine layer of perspiration forms on his forehead.
“Marcus, are you ok?”
No response.
I move to sit on the edge of the bed and pry his fingers from the sheet. I hold his hand between both of mine and speak in a gentle voice, “Marcus… can you hear me? Do you know where you are?”
It takes a while but, finally, he turns to look at me.
“Imani?”
“Yes, where did you go just now?”
“Where is Megan?” he asks again. It’s the same question he asked me last night.
“The woman who was with you in the accident?”
“Yes. I told you that last night.” I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, God, I’m relieved that he remembers.
“Yes, you did. She was your friend?”
“Yes, my friend; she worked for me in the club.” His expression is flat, and there is no emotion in his voice.
There’s no other way to do this. He needs someone to confirm that she’s dead. “Marcus, the passenger in the car with you didn’t make it.” He grips my hand so tight it’s painful, but I don’t complain.
“I know.”
“You do? Do you remember the accident?”
“No, not exactly, but I remember seeing her floating next to me in the car. In the water, she was already dead. Her eyes were open and empty. She kept staring at me.”
“Oh, Marcus, I’m so sorry. Do you need me to call your sister? Maybe having some family here with you would help?”
“No.”
“You know Elena’s been coming to sit with you every day.”
“I could hear her. I wish she hadn’t come.”
“Why? She really seems to care about you. She sat every day by your side and made sure you had the best doctors. She even requested that only I take care of you if I was working.”
“She wasn’t here because she loves me. She was here because she fears me.”
He looks out the windows into the lush forest and lowers his voice, “She deserves everything I have and more. And she will have it if I die, I made sure of it.”
I’m not sure what he means. “Why do you think she fears you? I didn’t get that feeling at all.”
“You don’t know anything about us, Imani. Believe me when I tell you Elena has her reasons for being here, and they aren’t warm and fuzzy ones of love and devotion. I’m not saying any more about it.”
“Does she know you’re awake?” I don’t like being dismissed, and I’m not quite done with our conversation even though he is making it crystal clear that he is.
“I don’t know. You’re the only person other than Elijah that I have spoken to.”
“And whoever answered the phone at your restaurant,” I say, “If the rumors fly at your business the way they do in the hospital, the whole world knows you’re awake.”
“Some of them at Dominus gossip, but they know what happens if they get caught so it doesn’t run rampant. I don’t want anyone to call Elena. I don’t want her here.”
“I promised her I would.”
“I don’t care. I do not want her called. Do you understand?” His heart rate is in the hundreds. I drop the subject for now, but I’m not done with it.
“Alright, I won’t call her, but I hope you’ll reconsider.”
A light rap on the door interrupts us. “Come in.”
Elijah pokes his head around the door.
“Can I get you anything else, sir?” he asks.
“No, just email me the paperwork we discussed and the schedules for the Seattle and Miami locations. You can go now.”
“Yes, sir, I’ll send them right away.” Elijah closes the door, and he’s gone.
“I need to leave, too,” I say, grabbing his full attention. He reaches out to grasp my hand again.
“Come back,” he says, his bright green eyes darkening. “Please?”
“Since you asked me nicely, I will.” My mood is playful, but before I go, I get serious and ask him what’s been on my mind since I answered the phone last night.
“Why did you ask for me when you woke up?”
“I needed you.”
“You needed me? But you hadn’t even met me.”
His brow wrinkles into a frown. “I don’t know. I just woke up, and I needed you. I have been listening to you for days, but it was dark, and I was paralyzed, I couldn’t speak. You kept telling me to wake up, and when I could finally move and speak, all I could think about was you, your voice, your touch, it was all I could remember.”
Honesty suits him. Silence hangs thick between us and my heart constricts.
He seems so sad and alone right now, and it’s then that I realize he is alone. He has no family other than his sister, whom he has some serious problems with. He has employees that are petrified of him, and no girlfriend or wife at his bedside. Marcus Castillo is completely alone in the world, and I have a feeling he’s made it this way on purpose. Until now, that is, until his mind was no longer in control of his body, until
me.
Ten
I sit on the edge of Marcus’s bed and stroke his arm while I hold his hand. He frowns when he sees our hands together but begins caressing his thumb over my knuckles slowly. His touch is like fire and electricity combined. How am I ever going to get out of here to go home and shower? I can hardly drag myself from the room to get his breakfast, let alone drive all the way home.
Marcus’s eyes flash so many changing emotions that it concerns me. There is a commanding, authoritative, confident man there sometimes. But I’ve also seen the eyes of a tortured lost soul, and then there is the seductive, sexual predator waiting to pounce. Who is this man?
“Marcus, I’m going to try and run home to shower and eat, but I promise I’ll come right back.”
“What do you mean by try?”
Ok, decision time.
Do I let him know that he makes me feel like a supernova that’s outshining the entire galaxy after exploding in space? Should I admit that I haven’t wanted to leave his side for even a second since I first I laid eyes him in that bed? Or should I keep my heart safe and stay quiet?
I’ve never had feelings like this before. What’s worse is that I have them for a stranger. It’s ridiculous. Men have frequently pursued me for ten years, and I’ve shot them down without a second thought every time. Even if my body reacts to a handsome man, my mind rejects them.
Marcus demolished the stone wall I've spent ten years building around my heart without even knowing it, without even trying.
Maybe the slow progression of my introduction to him was the key? He was unconscious. I had nothing to fear from him. He couldn’t respond or flirt or judge me. There was no fear of rejection.
I don’t know how it happened, but it has, and these feelings aren’t going anywhere anytime soon. I’m going to tell him.
I stare at our joined hands and take a deep breath before jumping in with both feet, “It’s hard for me to leave you. It has been since the first time I saw you in that bed. So, when I say try, I mean it takes a lot of effort to go.”
Well, there it is. Now let’s see what he does with it. He’ll probably think I’m a needy, clingy nutcase, but at least it’s out there in the open.
Marcus props himself up on one elbow and lets go of my hand. I have a moment of regret and a jolt of panic, but when he reaches out to tuck a strand of loose hair behind my ear, it all fades away.
He feathers the back of his fingers down my cheek and over my shoulder until his hand rests above my breast.
I don’t think my heart is beating, and I’m positive I’m not breathing.
“I don’t want you to go. I can’t explain it. I don’t know a thing about you, but I am drawn to you. I realize you can’t hold a vigil at my bedside, but I need you to come back today, soon if you can. Please.” My heart starts again, and I inhale a deep breath and blow it out. He said please like it’s foreign and painful, but he said it, and I think that may be a big deal coming from Mr. Bossy Pants.
God, my heart is pounding so hard now, he can probably hear it. And he feels the same way, or at least it sounds like it. That realization allows relief to spread through my body, warm and comforting. I didn’t know how important he was to me until right now.
“I’ll be back in an hour, one hour, I promise.” I hold up one finger for emphasis. I happen to know that it eases a patient’s anxiety if you give them a specific time that you’re going to check on them.
He frowns again. He frowns a lot, I’ve noticed. With a wrinkled brow, he pulls that sexy, full bottom lip between his teeth for a long moment before he concedes.
“Ok, an hour, as in one. I don’t want that other nurse giving me a bed bath.”
I smile wide and breathe a sigh of relief that he’s willing to compromise. “Don’t worry. You won’t be getting a bath unless it’s from me.”
“Alright, go then. The sooner you’re gone; the sooner you can come back to me. Hurry up.”
Something strange and possibly insane inside of me makes me happy to comply. I don’t like to be told what to do, especially by a man, but it’s different with Marcus.
His hand drifts from where it’s been resting over my wildly beating heart to the swell of my breast, where he pauses, and then down to my waist. He nudges me, and I rise from the bed and back out of the room closing the door with a soft click after one last look at him.
I scan the hall in both directions before I make a beeline for the elevator to avoid any new questions Courtney may have come up with in the past thirty minutes.
When I step out of the hospital, I feel like I’m emerging from a thick fog, the Marcus fog.
I check my phone for the first time since leaving the club last night. Sixteen missed calls and ten texts, good Lord. All of them are from the girls, but most from Lana.
Where the hell did you go? Who woke up? Imani! Answer me!
And on and on - I shoot a quick group text back to them,
I'm alright, don’t worry, it was a patient at work. I’m sorry, I’ll call you later. There, I pray that appeases Lana. I can’t talk about any of this right now, I don’t even know what the hell I’d say.
Uh, yeah, this gorgeous crazy patient I’ve been flirting with while he’s been in a coma for two weeks woke up and decided he couldn’t live without me, so I had to go.
Even thinking it makes me feel unbalanced.
I check around me for strangers while I walk to my car, a habit I’ve perfected after ten years of looking over my shoulder. I press the button on my key fob to unlock the doors and get in, relock immediately, and start for home.
My generalized anxiety disorder stems from the knowledge that one of my kidnappers is still out there somewhere. He knows that I could identify him if he’s ever caught. They never planned to let me out of that house alive, so they had no reason to hide their faces. Now, all three of them are seared onto my brain forever.
My one saving grace is the reconstructive surgery on my face. I don’t think he would recognize me if he saw me today. The attack was so brutal that I needed plastic surgery just to breathe properly. So a nose job it was, along with reconstructing my jaw and my shattered eye socket. I am a different Imani Jefferson now, inside and out.
The morning is brisk, and my entire body is covered with goosebumps when I unlock the door to my apartment. A shower, I need a nice warm shower. Sitting in a hospital chair dressed in club clothes all night left me feeling grimy and sore.
After a much shorter shower than I’d like, I braid my hair and throw on some jeans, a cashmere sweater, and comfy Sperry’s.
Heels are definitely out for a while; twelve hours in stilettos was enough for my poor feet.
It’s been forty minutes when I grab my purse and dash out the door. I only have twenty minutes to get back and prevent another meltdown.
I don’t want to tempt fate by being late. The last thing he needs right now is another episode like last night.
I gave him a specific time so he wouldn’t panic, and I have to be punctual or security will be getting their morning workout in room eight.
Courtney stops me on my way to Marcus’s room, of course.
“Wow, you’re back already? It’s noon, and you don’t work tonight, what gives?”
How can I explain what I’m doing here when I don’t even know myself? Maybe the truth is easiest, or, at least, a partial truth.
“He asked me to come back. Did anybody call his sister last night?” I ask.
“Yeah, I think Sheila did. No answer, though.”
“And she hasn’t been by today either?”
“Nope, which is weird, too, because she’s always here at nine.”
“Did Sheila leave a message?”
“Yeah, I think so. Why?”
“Oh, nothing, I just wanted to make sure she knows he’s awake. I promised her I’d call right away, but it was hectic last night and I wasn’t technically working.”
“I think they are talking about moving him to a regular floor now
that he’s no longer considered critical,” she says.
“Oh, that’s great,” I say, with zero enthusiasm. If he leaves my floor, someone else will be taking care of him. Cue my own panic attack.
“I better go see how he is.”
“Traci is his nurse today if he needs anything, or you can do whatever it is that you two are doing in there.”
“We aren’t doing anything. I’m just here until his sister arrives, so he’s not alone, that’s it.”
“Yeah, sure. You keep telling yourself that, honey.”
I huff out a breath and turn on my heel to work my way down the bustling hall to his room.
Inside, he’s sitting up in bed with his computer next to him on the mattress. He has dark-rimmed glasses propped on his head and papers organized in neat piles all around him.
He looks up from whatever he’s been concentrating on, and I see relief in his bright green eyes.
The attraction is undeniable and mutual. I approach him as if we’ve been friends forever and make myself at home, draping my coat over the back of the chair next to his bed.
He lays the pen in his hand down on the bed. “You came back.”
“I said I would.”
“You look beautiful. I like your braid. In fact, I’d love to pull it.” His eyes darken with lust, and I fiddle with the hem of my sweater.
“Thank you, I think.” I scrunch up my face, unsure if that was a compliment or a come on, or both. “You’d better watch yourself, Mr. Castillo,” I say, folding my arms over my chest and raising an eyebrow.
This game of ‘you’re not affecting me’ is getting harder every minute. I wait for a response as he continues to probe me with sharp green eyes.
I feel my body leaning toward him when I notice a thin circle of purple around the edge of his irises. Everything about him sucks me in, and that tiny bit of purple that I haven’t noticed until now hypnotizes me.
I sit down when his intense stare becomes uncomfortable. I cross my legs and fidget in my chair.
Shit, he’s good at this.
A broad, panty-melting smile spreads across his face, and he chuckles quietly. He looks away, breaking the spell, as he gathers up his papers.