by Erin Noelle
“Forget the tray and come here.” I patted my lap and offered a sexy smirk she usually couldn’t resist. “The only thing I want to eat is you.”
A look of panic flashed across her face, but she quickly covered it with an apologetic smile. “Babe, you know I’d love to, but we can’t. The doctor went over all of the discharge and at home instructions today before we left, and he emphasized the no sex for two weeks, which was a bit mortifying in front of your mother, by the way.”
“We don’t have to have actual sex. I can scoot down and you can come straddle my face. Just let me have a taste. I miss you, Butterfly.”
She set the tray down next to me on the mattress and leaned over to press her lips against mine. It wasn’t a time-stopping, earth-shattering explosion of passion, but as our tongues softly stroked each other’s, I relaxed a bit, enjoying the first real kiss I’d had in days.
“You’re hurt, and we’re not going to do anything to jeopardize your healing,” she maintained as we broke apart. “My primary concern is making sure you get well, even if that means putting everything else aside for a little bit.”
Ignoring my groan, she tipped her chin toward the food and continued, “Now eat up. I made your favorite—a special grilled cheese and tomato soup. I’m going to go fold the clothes in the dryer real quick and then we can watch a movie, your choice.”
“Anything I want?” I waggled my eyebrows playfully at her.
“Anything except porn,” she called out as she left the room.
Chuckling, I peered down at my deflating cock. “Sorry, big guy, looks like we’re gonna have to wait a little bit longer.” Then, I pulled the tray closer and dug in to my delicious, non-hospital meal. At least I had that.
By the time physical therapy sessions began the following week, I was dying to get out of the house. I had the worst case of cabin fever and things between Scarlett and I were still not back to normal. I could no longer pretend her distance—both physically and emotionally—was all because of the accident and my injuries. Something was off, but I didn’t know how to approach the topic, and truth was, I was more than a little scared to.
“You sure you’re okay with me leaving you here?” Scarlett asked again as we sat next to each other in the waiting room of the treatment center. “I can just read while you’re in there.”
“No, it’s fine. Go run whatever errands you need to. It’s supposed to last an hour and a half.” I leaned over and gave her a peck on the cheek. “I love you. I’ll be okay.”
Hesitantly, she made her way outside, throwing one last worried glance over her shoulder, and as soon as the door closed behind her, I slumped over in my chair and ran my aggravated fingers through my longer-than-usual hair. What in the fuck was going on with us?
Unfortunately, or shit, maybe fortunately, I didn’t have time to ponder the question long before my name was called to go back.
“Good morning, Mr. Walker,” a young blonde girl greeted me as she held the door open for me to maneuver my crutches through. “Welcome to Pathway Rehab. I’m going to give you a quick tour of the place before we get started, and since it looks like you’ll be a frequent visitor,” she paused while glancing down at my chart pulled up on the tablet she held, “for the next couple of months, I’m sure you’ll become well acquainted with each and every station.”
I hobbled around after her as she gave short explanations of what all of the equipment did, pointed out the restrooms, and showed me where the lockers were to store any personal items like wallets, phones, and keys, but I had a hard time focusing on what she was saying. My thoughts were elsewhere.
I couldn’t believe that two weeks prior, my life had seemed damn near perfect. I was living the life I’d dreamed of—I had a great job doing what I loved, I lived close enough to the beach that I could surf several times a week, and I woke up and went to sleep next to Scarlett every day. And it all changed so fast.
At the end of the tour, she’d asked if I had any questions, and instead of asking her to repeat all of what she said, I shook my head and smiled. “Nope. I’m ready to get started. Just tell me what to do, Chief.”
Her cheeks flushed a rosy pink under the spackle of light freckles, and I noticed for the first time how cute she was. Tiny like a little pixie, but cute with her pink highlights and bright blue eyes.
“It’s Kymbree,” she pointed to the name tag on her chest, which caused me to inadvertently eye her rack, which upon further review was not tiny, “but we can go with Chief. I kinda like it. I’ll be sure to tell my boss to call me that from now on too,” she joked as she led me over to one of the strengthening stations by the back wall. When I realized I was still staring, I quickly ripped my gaze off her boobs and dropped it to the floor.
Jesus, the lack of action in the sack was making me a creepy pervert. I cleared my throat and tried to make normal conversation before things got too awkward.
“Kymbree.” I said her name aloud, liking the way it felt rolling off my tongue. “That’s one I’ve never heard before.”
She laughed softly and shook her head. “My parents couldn’t agree on a name so they compromised. Dad wanted Kimberly and Mom wanted Aubree, and they eventually agreed on Kymbree. They could never decide on a middle name though, so I just don’t have one.”
“I like it. It suits you.”
“Thank you. I like yours too.”
For a brief moment, our eyes locked and something weird happened. I wasn’t even sure if it could be considered flirting, because I wasn’t trying to flirt . . . I loved Scarlett after all. But I felt an odd pull inside of me, and my gut told me she felt it too.
And I couldn’t decide if it scared or excited me more.
MASON
“You want to go back to the bus?” she asked in between kisses while grinding her crotch against mine.
“Nah, doll, we’re leaving pretty soon. No time for all that tonight.” I replied as I stood up, causing her to do the same. Glancing down at my jeans, I made sure she hadn’t left a wet spot where she was dry humping my leg and blew out a breath of relief when I saw dry denim.
I called them all doll ‘cause I couldn’t remember their names from night to night. They were just a blur of fake eyelashes, pouty lips, and annoying voices. Sticking around them only as long as I had to, once Jag gave me the signal that the paparazzi had snapped a few shots, I’d get the fuck away as quickly as possible. I hated having to do it, but I wasn’t really given an option when the VP of our record label made a special flight out to Idaho to have a “heart-to-heart” with me.
Explaining to Scarlett why it was in the band’s best interest for me to appear like a man-whore to the public was almost as fun as poking myself in the eye with a needle. Our conversations were limited as it was with Ash being home twenty-four/ seven, and that entire one was nine and a half minutes of pure torture. Then, once we hung up, I got pissed at her nerve to get mad at me when she went to bed every fucking night with a guy she admittedly loves. And even though she claimed she wasn’t having sex with Ash anymore, and she was just waiting on the right time to break the news to him, it was still a fucked up situation.
That night I may have had three girls in my lap. All at once.
Unfortunately, they only made me feel shittier.
“I can be real fast. I promise.” The doll of the night begged, tracing her long red fingernail down my chest.
Shaking my head, I grabbed her hand and kissed the top of her knuckles. “I’m sorry, but my manager is calling me now,” I tipped my head toward Jag in the corner of the crowded dressing room. “It was really nice meeting you, doll. Thanks for coming out to the show.”
I struggled to keep up the charming façade, pretending I was interested until I was safely on the tour bus, and as soon as I hit the top step, I started stripping to get the smell of perfume off of me. Nobody smelled like heavenly like my Angel.
Eighteen days after we saw each other in Vegas, we had a show in L.A., and I was finally going to get
to see Scarlett again. I’d originally hoped it’d be when I was picking her up to take her on tour with me, but she still hadn’t found the right time to talk to Ash, and I was really beginning to wonder if it was going to happen at all.
Part of me wanted to send him the picture of her and I together in Vegas and force him to realize the truth—he’s only been playing house with my girl—but I knew that would piss her off, so I didn’t. However, I planned on confronting her about it all and giving her a deadline at the private lunch I’d set up between us.
Not knowing what in the fuck was going on was driving me crazy, and the only good things that came out of it were the songs I wrote on the bus. Lyrics poured out of me faster that I could jot them down, overflowing on page after page of my notebook. Writing during the day and performing at night were the only forms of release I had for my pent-up frustration and growing impatience. I loved the girl with everything I had in me, but wasn’t interested in being strung along for a never-ending game of back-and-forth.
The first thing I noticed when I saw her at the door of my hotel suite was the dark circles under her tired eyes and her paler-than-normal complexion. She plastered a courageous smile across her face as she strode inside, stopping to wait for me to close the door and lead the way.
“Hey, Angel, I’ve missed you,” I murmured as I wrapped my arms around her shoulders, crushing her against my chest.
Clasping her hands together behind my back, she buried her face in my t-shirt and sagged into me, breathing only my name. “Mase.”
We stood there a long while, neither of us saying anything, currents of relief running back and forth between our bodies. And instantly, all of my aggravation and irritation with her was gone. Whatever was going on with her, the way in which she melted into me told me she wasn’t coming clean with Ash because she couldn’t, not because she didn’t want to.
It wasn’t until the room service attendant knocked, announcing the arrival of our lunch, did we break apart. She tried to casually dab the wetness away from under her eyes when I turned to open the door, but I didn’t miss it. Seeing Scarlett cry destroyed me. I’d have given anything to make her happy.
“You can leave the trays on the table,” I instructed the guy, pointing to the small table and chairs situated in the corner of the room, and then grabbed some money out of my wallet.
After ensuring we didn’t need anything else and thanking me for the tip, he disappeared back out into the hallway, leaving the two of us alone again. I took her hand in mine and dragged her over to the over-abundance of plates, lifting the lids on each to show her everything I’d ordered.
“I wasn’t sure what you’d be in the mood for, so I got you everything I knew you liked.” I grinned over at her and winked, loving that the corners of her mouth tilted up in a small smile.
“It all looks delicious,” she shook her head, eyes wide with amazement, “but there’s no way I could eat all of this food in a week. There’s gonna be so much left over.”
Scooting one of the chairs out, I motioned for her to sit down, then did the same across from her. I wished she would’ve sat in my lap instead, but I didn’t want to press too hard too fast. “Don’t worry ‘bout that. The guys won’t let any of it go to waste, I promise. Just eat what you want.”
Another period of silence fell over us as we picked at the food, both doing our best to avoid the big-ass white elephant in the room. My heart alternated from feeling like it was attempting to explode straight out of my chest to me wondering if it was beating at all. A huge part of my future—a future I envisioned with Scarlett—was riding on that next conversation.
“So, how have things been here?” I finally asked, not sure where exactly to start.
“It’s okay, I guess. The same thing every day,” her fork clinked against the plate as she shrugged, “but he does seem to be improving quite a bit with the physical therapy.”
I had to bite the inside of my cheek to not ask the question quite yet. “That’s where he is now? At physical therapy?”
“Yeah. Monday through Friday, two hours each session.”
“For how much longer? When will he be able to take care of himself again?” I knew the second question was borderline rude after an accident like he had, but I didn’t fucking care. He was alive and going to heal. That was my limit for concern over the guy who stole my Angel from me.
Shifting uncomfortably in her seat, she stared down at the food in front of her, refusing to meet my eyes with her own. “Therapy should last another five to eight weeks, just depending on his rate of healing.”
“Fi—five to eight weeks?!?” I sputtered, my stomach clenching with panic and disbelief. “You’re not gonna wait that long to talk to him, are you? I mean, you said it was his left leg. He should be able to drive soon and get around like on crutches or a walking boot or something.”
“I’m not planning on waiting that long, but I can’t just dump this on him right now with everything he’s been through, Mase. I told you that already,” she protested, her voice cracking with emotion.
I leaned back in my chair and blew out an exasperated breath as I ran my fingers over my closely-shaved head. “Why not? Do you think he’d rather not know you want to be with me? That you still love me?”
Lifting her gaze up to mine, I watched the tears trickle down her cheeks and I felt another jab in the gut, hating the whole fucking situation we were in. “It’s not that easy and you know it. I love him too.”
Her words ripped through me, even though she wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t already know. In Vegas, we’d talked about the different kinds of love she felt for us, and no matter how much I fucking hated it, I was well aware her feelings for him weren’t the kind to just go away. But I believed in the love she and I shared enough to think we’d make it work in the end.
Maybe it was stupid . . . shit, I knew it was fucking ridiculous sounding to most people, but they didn’t know Scarlett. And they didn’t know how we felt about each other after everything we’d been through. I couldn’t give a flying shit what anyone else thought, including Jag and his stupid ass plan to make me look “available” to the public. The minute she said the word, she’d be with me permanently, and I wanted the whole damn world to know.
“I know it’s not easy, Angel. Don’t cry.” I abruptly stood up and went to her, crouching down in front of her chair and threading our fingers together. “I just need some kind of time table here. Please try to understand where I’m coming from. I feel like I’m just dangling from a rope, not knowing when you’re gonna pull me in, and after a while, I start wondering if it’s ever gonna happen.”
She leaned forward and pressed her lips to my forehead while the streams of wetness continued to flow. “I promise you I’m going to talk to him soon, though I don’t know where that’s going to leave any of us, but I’ll tell him how I feel. After that, I think it might best for me to go home to Texas for a while.”
“Best for who?” I whisper, nuzzling my face into her neck.
“Best for all of us.”
I didn’t like her answer, but somehow I knew she was probably right. Instead of replying, I pulled her down into my lap and held her until it was time for her to leave, having faith that once she walked out that door, our love would survive.
And it did.
THREE YEARS LATER
ASH
It’s funny how quickly things can change in the blink of an eye. One day I was this guy who was living what I thought was the perfect life, and then, all of a sudden, I realized it wasn’t.
I know without a doubt that my surfing accident was fate’s way of redirecting me to the course I was supposed to be on. Sometimes your journey in life is a straight line and other times call for you to take a sharp ninety degree turn, one you may or may not have been prepared for.
Turned out that summer day as I was spinning out of control under the strong current of the Pacific Ocean, my life was actually righting itself onto the correct path. An
d despite the pain—physically and emotionally—that followed, I’ll forever be thankful for what happened.
After all, it’s what led me to my best friend . . . my life partner . . . my wife.
“Ash, love,” Kymbree called out as she bounded down the stairs of our townhome, then sticking her head into my home office, “we’ve gotta go if we’re going to make our flight. Have you already put the suitcases in the car?”
“It’s all packed and ready. Just let me finish this last email and I’ll officially be on vacation,” I replied, peering up at her over my laptop screen.
Her wicked smile reached from ear to ear as vivid blue eyes sparkled back at me, reminding me like they did every day of how blessed I am to have her. “Good, ‘cause I don’t want you thinking about any exploding stars while we’re gone except for the ones I’m gonna make you see with my mouth and my sweet pussy.”
Oh shit.
My dick throbbed underneath the zipper of my jeans and I glanced down at my watch, checking if we had time for a quickie right there on my desk before we left. I loved her filthy little mouth and she knew exactly how to use it to get whatever she wanted.
“Come here,” I growled, pushing the chair back and patting my lap.
“No time for that. We’ve got a wedding to attend, and I don’t think Scarlett will be too pleased if her man of honor wasn’t there in time, but I’ll be sure to take good care of you tonight.”
She blew me a kiss as she disappeared from the doorway and I groaned, making a mental note to pay her back later for teasing me when she knew nothing could come of it. As soon as Scarlett and Mason’s wedding festivities were over, Kymbree and I were headed to a different Dominican resort—one on the complete other side of the island—to enjoy a much needed getaway for the two of us.