by Lily Harlem
I slumped against him a boneless heap, my arms and legs weak as he continued to pump into me. My breaths were ragged, my heart wild, even my vision was blurred. I nestled my head in his neck, totally wrecked, as he slowed and finally became still.
We stayed like that for several long moments, breathing hard in the cascading water, and then he lifted my head from his shoulder and kissed me gently.
“Can you stand?” he asked.
I nodded, unhooked my legs and carefully slid them down until my feet hit the shower floor. I could take my weight though my knees didn’t feel like my own. I was trembling inside, I could still feel him pounding into me, my clit was still humming, my pussy spasming.
“Turn around,” he said, touching the top of my shoulders with his fingertips and urging me to face the wall.
I did as he asked and pressed my palms against the tiles for support. I didn’t think I could take any more. I was feeble. If he was going to take me from behind he would have to hold me up, entirely.
I felt his hands tangle into my hair. His long fingers ran over my scalp and pulled all the wet, thick strands out of my face and plucked them from around my neck. I heard the click of a bottle. Then the air filled with a sweet, jasmine scent and he was filling my long, dark hair with shampoo, rubbing and massaging, circling and tugging, working up lather. I let out a sigh of happiness, just when I thought it couldn’t get any better, it did.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Mmm,” I managed.
“Let’s get this rinsed off.” He turned me round and I leaned my body against his. We moved back under the stream of water and he carefully smoothed out the bubbles. “You want me to bring you breakfast in bed?”
“That would be nice.” I smiled up at him. He could turn from a wild, rampant lover to a soothing carer in a flash. It was dangerous and unpredictable and I was falling for it with all the grace of a meteor plunging to earth—hard and fast. I wondered if Gaby had felt this way about him. I wondered if Quinn had been this way with her.
*
“How long does it take?” I asked Liam as we sat in the hospital radiography department four hours later. He looked too big for the small plastic chair he was sitting on. His knees were high and his shoulders wider than the backrest.
“About forty-five minutes.” He shrugged and looked down at our entwined hands. His thumb was rubbing the back of my hand over and over as it rested on his thigh.
“You sure I can’t come in?”
“Positive, even Quinn doesn’t. They all sit behind a screen whilst a mechanical voice tells me to keep still, hold my breath, breathe in, breathe out.”
“Will Quinn be in there now?”
“Doubt it, he’ll be up on the ward, but I expect he’ll be down later, he’ll want to know the result.”
“Do you get nervous, you know, when you have your yearly scan?”
“Hell, yeah.” He looked at me, three frown lines plowed across his forehead. “I always wonder if this will be the one, the one that brings my world crashing down again.”
I looked into his eyes. They were filled with anxiety, the deep blue depths clouded with apprehension. “Do you feel sick, ill, like you did before when you went to the doctor and were diagnosed?” I couldn’t imagine how there could be anything wrong with Liam when he looked such a prime specimen of health. Buff and sun-kissed, strong and vibrant. But he’d probably looked like that back then too.
“No, I feel fine, I had all sort of symptoms before—tremors, confusion migraines, hot sweats. Now if I complained of a headache or if I mixed up one word Quinn would have me in like a shot for an image. Last year I picked up a virus, it made me sick and gave me a buzzing in my ear, Quinn had me scanned quicker than I could say ‘neurology’.”
“But it was clear,” I said.
“Yeah, it was clear. Guess it’s just all part of having your doctor as your best mate, can’t be a bit off color without having a full medical.”
“Liam Rosser,” a radiologist in a stiff white uniform suddenly called from an open door that led into a darkened room.
“Yep.” Liam quickly jumped up and released my hand.
I rose from my chair, tugging at the short skirt I was wearing. “See you in a bit.”
He turned to me, gnawing at the inside of his cheek.
“It’ll be okay,” I said quietly, stepping forward to touch his jawline. “You’ll see.”
“I’ve just got so much more to lose now.” He frowned down at me. “Now I’ve met you.”
“You’re not going to lose anything.” I reached up and kissed him. “We’ve all found one another, it’ll be good, you wait and see.”
He tried to smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes and barely stretched his lips. Then he turned and walked away. The big, white door shut and I was left looking at a yellow triangle sign with little black blobs and wondering what the hell I would do if the scan was anything other than perfect.
I quickly decided I couldn’t stay in the small, sterile waiting room with hard plastic chairs and three-year-old copies of Home and Country, so I pushed through the swing doors and ambled down the corridor.
It was deserted, which seemed strange for a hospital in the middle of the day, and as the scent of disinfectant clung to my clothes I found myself walking a little quicker. I turned two corners, still no one. The signs dried up and there were no colored arrows on the floor directing me to surgery, or medicine or care of the elderly. I’d gotten myself lost in only a matter of minutes.
I turned and scratched my head, then spotted a flash of red, someone a little way behind me had ducked into a doorway. “Excuse me!” I called. I started back at a half jog, keen to ask for directions. I pulled up at the door. It had no sign but there was a small, dark window. I cupped my hands around my eyes and peered inside, wondering if I should just go in and see if I could find someone to ask.
There were no movements. It was very dark with big, square shadows like filing cabinets narrowing into the distance. But I’d seen someone go in there and I couldn’t carry on walking these corridors, they were miles long.
I placed a flattened palm on the door and pushed. It was heavy and creaked. The sound bounced around the corridor and stale air wisped out. A papery smell, old files perhaps.
“Can I help you?”
A sudden stern voice wrenched a gasp from my throat. I let go of the door and spun, hand on chest. A burly porter with flushed red jowls and an armful of brown envelopes frowned down at me.
“Oh, you made me jump,” I said on a taut sigh.
“Not allowed in there,” he said, nodding at the door.
“Oh I’m sorry, I wasn’t going in, not really, I’m lost.”
“Looked like you were going in.” He frowned more and a deep crease formed between his eyes. Globs of white spittle sat in the corners of his mouth. “Confidential information in there. Staff only.”
“Well, I was going in but only to ask for directions, not to look at anything.”
“There’s no one in there to ask.”
“But I thought I saw someone going in, someone in a red hat, is that part of the uniform here?”
“No, no it isn’t.” He glanced into the darkness. “Where do you need to get to, Miss?” He turned his attention back to me.
“I, er, neurosurgery please.”
“Top floor, ward seventeen. Head down there.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Turn left then right and take the lift just past radiography, it’ll take you straight up.”
“Okay, thank you, thank you very much.” I turned and scooted down the corridor, my soft shoes echoed around the walls and my breaths came quick. Something about the encounter and the man I’d seen dart through the darkened doorway had spiked the hairs on the back of my neck. I couldn’t shake the feeling of unease and was glad when I finally came to the lift.
I whizzed upward, my stomach rolling, and when the lift doors slid open I was greeted with a long, bright corridor, the far end buzzi
ng with people. Nurses darted in and out of rooms with trolleys and trays and drip-stands on rattling wheels. Admin staff in smart green suits shuffled notes and answered phones at a wide desk.
Several doctors in white coats strode my way and headed into the lift. One smiled and said hello. I nodded and walked into the ward, past shut doors with white signs—sluice, linen, sterile supplies, IV fluids. I moved past a row of bedrooms, each one occupied with a patient and several members of staff. Strange beeps pinged through the air, rhythmic and loud, in several different tones.
I turned a corner to the main body of the ward. There were two rows of beds, again all occupied. Each one had a table and locker and some had heavy green curtains drawn around them. There was another, longer desk buzzing with activity, nurses, physiotherapists, more admin staff.
To the right was an enormous white board covered in boxes, each filled with scrawling writing. Before it stood a group of doctors in pale blue scrubs and standing at the center, the only one wearing dark navy scrubs, was Quinn. His face was concentrated as he gestured with his hands and I caught his heavy American drawl vibrating around the ward. A few doctors took hurried notes, someone raised their hand and asked a question, which Quinn answered by drawing a quick diagram on the white board.
I leaned my shoulder against the wall and hoped I’d be able to indulge watching Quinn in action for a few more minutes before someone questioned my presence. Was he really mine, this wild genius who took on the worst the world threw at innocent victims and made it better?
The V of his top hung low enough to see his dark chest hair. Around his neck a white surgical mask sat at an angle along with a heavy black stethoscope. A shiver ran up my thighs and settled between my legs as I remembered how sexy he’d been in the shower only hours ago, naked and wet and hungry for me. Whilst all his team were waiting on the ward, he was ravaging me, taking what his deepest desires needed and giving me so much in return.
I dragged in a breath and crossed my arms over my chest, hoping my nipples weren’t too visible beneath my thin bra and t-shirt. Quinn’s fingers were so graceful as he pointed at names on the board and then gestured to individuals in his team, I didn’t have to think too hard to remember how they felt on me, in me. Sliding over my wet skin and tangling in my hair. He moved with such confidence, his actions fluid with self-assurance.
He appeared to be allocating duties and one by one the junior doctors turned and headed into the bay of patients, serious expressions on their faces and clipboards clutched to their chests. One doctor, a guy about Quinn’s age, lingered. For a few moments they spoke as Quinn tapped a pen against a name on the board then Quinn nodded, changed around some figures and the other guy walked off.
Then he turned and looked straight at me. For a second I wondered if he’d known I’d been observing him, but the surprise that glanced across his face assured me I’d caught him unawares.
He strode over in five ground-eating paces. “Hey,” he said, cupping my elbow and urging me back up the corridor without a pause in his long strides. “What you doing up here?”
“Liam’s having his scan. I didn’t want to wait on my own,” I said as I tottered alongside him. “Too many scary thoughts buzzing in my head.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean.” He was walking with such determination that I almost wondered if he was angry with me.
I picked up my pace and looked up at him. “Aren’t I allowed up here?”
“Not really,” he said. “But I’m glad you are.” He pushed down the handle of one of the doors by the lift, glanced left and right and then urged me into the small, narrow room. It was lined with shelves, each one piled with towels and sheets, pillows and blankets. There was a tiny, high window at the end that looked out on a brick wall and provided only dim light. Quinn stepped in behind me, stooped and shoved a door jam between floor and door.
“Are we supposed to be in here?” I asked, remembering the trouble I’d already been in with the porter for heading into unauthorized places.
“Probably not,” he said, leaning his back against the door and dragging me to him. “But everyone’s busy, no one will notice if I just give my girl a quick kiss in the linen closet.” He grinned his cockiest smile. Creases darted from the corners of his dark eyes and his mouth stretched wide.
I pressed my body against his and felt a bubble of joy burst inside my chest. “I like being your girl,” I said onto his lips.
“And Liam’s.”
“Yes, and Liam’s.”
“Good.” He bent his head and gave me a long, hot kiss.
When he’d finished I dragged in a breath and rested my hands on his pecs. “I know about Gaby,” I said.
I felt him tense. “You do?”
“Yes, Liam told me.”
“He shouldn’t have, it’s ancient history.”
“No more than his tumor is.”
“That’s different.”
“Not if it’s still hurting you it’s not.”
“It doesn’t hurt. I’m well over her.” He frowned. “We were simply not compatible.”
“So prove it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Give me a slice of control.”
“Control?”
“Yes, control.”
“I told you when we had dinner that first night, I’m a control freak, don’t try and change me, Ariane, it won’t work.”
“I’m not trying to change you and I’m not asking you to hand control over in every part of your life, just a few things, where I’m concerned.”
“Like?”
“Well, to start with…” I pulled in a deep breath. “To fall in love, you have to accept the person you’re in love with will have some control over you…control over your heart.”
“Go on.”
“So do it.”
“What?”
“Let yourself fall in love with me the same way I’m falling for you.”
“You are?” His eyebrows twitched upward.
“Oh yes.” I brushed my hand through his short hair. “Quinn you’re not rich in time, but you are rich in many other things, things that really do it for me.”
“Like what?” He shook his head from side-to-side, looking genuinely perplexed.
“Things like generosity and empathy, consideration and passion, I’m sure there’s even a sense of humor lurking in there somewhere.”
His dark lashes hung low and a muscle flexed in his cheek. He sucked in a breath. “Ariane, it knocked me for six,” he said quietly. “When Gaby wouldn’t marry me, she really did break my heart, she made me feel like I wasn’t loveable, like there was no way I’d ever be any good for a woman, as a lover, as a husband or as a father. But now I’m so near to tipping over the edge again, giving you that piece of me.” He swallowed then grimaced as though he’d had something sharp in his mouth. “It scares me, it makes me feel so damn vulnerable to think you could have the power to break me, I don’t know if I’d get up, I wouldn’t have last time if it hadn’t been for Liam.”
“That’s not going to happen again.” I smoothed my hand over his chest and let it rest above his heart. “I’m not going anywhere. But love is worthless until you give it away, what’s the point of keeping it bottled up in your heart?” I kissed him gently and probed my tongue just inside his mouth. “Soon I’m going to be in love with you Quinn Gilbert,” I said. “And you’d better believe it. I’m falling, fast, despite the fact you’re a workaholic and a control freak and you somehow managed to twist saving your best friend’s life into an act of selfishness.”
Suddenly the kiss intensified, he turned up the heat and took control, wrapped me tight in his arms and pulled me to my tiptoes.
“Wait, wait,” I said, pushing at his chest and stepping backward.
“What?” His forehead creased.
“I said there were a couple of areas I wanted control in.”
His brows twitched higher.
I stepped back up to him and reached down th
rough the waist of his scrubs. “Like just here,” I said in a thick, velvety voice. I delved into his boxers and wrapped my hand around the thick shaft of his penis. It was semi-erect but as I said my next words it went to full hard-on in a second. “Let me make you come, in my mouth, without you doing anything except standing there and enjoying it. Can you do that, Quinn? Do you think you could give me that control over you?”
“I don’t know.” His fists clenched at his sides.
“Sure you can.” I let my hand glide up to the head of his cock, my thumb smoothed over the slit and then slid back to the base.
He let out a groan and went to catch my mouth again. But I dodged and sank to my knees. Curled my hands around the top of his scrub trousers and tugged to release his erection.
“You really want to do this…here?” he asked, pressing his back harder against the door as his cock jutted forward.
“Does it make you feel vulnerable, out of control?” I asked, licking my lips. The head of his penis was shiny and plump, flushed red with arousal, it twitched from his forest of black pubes. “To think someone might come in, Quinn, to think that you’re under my control, does it make you feel vulnerable?”
“Yes,” he said in a tight voice, his eyes flashing as he looked down at me.
“So let me look after you. Trust me.” The tip of my tongue arrowed into his slit and the salty taste of pre-cum seeped into my mouth. I wrapped my hand around his shaft, preparing to ride him over my tongue to the back of my throat.
“Fuck, we shouldn’t be doing this here,” he said on a groan. I felt his hands fasten over my ears, holding my head steady and firm. “I’m the goddamn senior consultant,” he muttered. “I really shouldn’t be doing this.”
Despite what he said, he was definitely up for doing it, here and now. His hands tightened on my head and his hips jerked forward.
I dodged, shook my head to rid his hands and stood. “No,” I said. “I’m in control, remember?” I wrapped my fingers with his and extended his arms out, one each side. Then carefully wound his fingers around the wooden slats of the shelves and pressed them into place. “Keep your hands here,” I ordered. “I’m running the show. You’ll come when I make you, not when you ram your dick down my throat to your own tempo. I’m in charge. You have to be able to trust me to please you, okay?”