by C. M. Stone
“It’s sparkling juice. You’ll be fine.” He leaned in to kiss her cheek, then stepped through the door, hoping his own words were true. “Are you okay?”
“Completely.”
She looked comfortable, having changed out of her scrubs and into yoga pants. The simple domesticity of it appealed. Her color was good, and she was moving around just fine, but it was difficult to shake his fear entirely as he headed for the kitchen. “I hope you like pad thai.”
“It depends. Does it have shrimp in it?”
He tipped the container to show her inside. “Chicken.”
“Perfect.”
The need to know was gnawing at him. No matter how many times he told himself it was unlikely to be something serious, he couldn’t shake the fear. “What happened to you today?”
Darla wrinkled up her nose. “Syncope. You know, the fancy medical way of saying I passed out. My meds had lowered my heart rate too much and then I ran. It made for a bad combination is all. Not much different from standing up too fast, really.”
It sounded like it would be a bad combination for the rest of her life if she insisted on working in trauma. And that was just one complication. He’d read about others. Infective endocarditis. Congestive heart failure. Cardiac arrest. Even if they were rare, it was hard to not worry about all the things that could go wrong. He gave her a pained look. “And you’re sure you’re okay?”
“My pride is the only thing that’s been harmed,” she assured him.
Once they each had a plate, they sat the kitchen island to eat. He’d spent almost every free moment of the day thinking over what to say to make her stay, but now it all sounded so trite when he replayed it in his head.
“I don’t want you to go.” There. Direct, simple.
Darla washed her food down with a sip of the grape juice, frowning. “I was kind of hoping you didn’t want me to go. I’m not sure I’d let you come over if I thought you did.”
“I mean I want you to stay.”
She looked down at her food for a moment, poking at the rice noodles with her fork. “I never planned on being this far away from home. The resident match didn’t include a single Midwestern hospital, so Vegas was the best choice out of all of them.”
His heart sank. “I guess you’ve got a lot of family and friends back there.”
“Not really. It’s mostly my mom and me. I had other family, but they moved. I lost touch with most of my old friends during med school and all my med school friends are scattered around the country.” She sighed and finally raised her eyes from the noodles to meet his. “I hate leaving my mom all alone.”
The thought of worrying about his mother in that way and moving across the country for her struck him as foreign. He loved his parents, of course, but hadn’t made a single decision with them in mind since he’d turned eighteen.
“Most people move away from their mothers eventually. It’s okay.”
“I’m not most people. We always had this plan, the two of us. I’d become a trauma surgeon and work at her hospital and we’d kick ass and take names together.”
“You know you could do that with her at any hospital. Doesn’t sound like she has anything keeping her in Chicago, either.”
Darla started to say something in response, then stopped, her mouth forming an adorable O. “I hadn’t thought of it like that.”
“So think about it. You know lots of people here. You’ve got me, all your girlfriends, your roommate Brad.”
She drew her brows together for a moment before the confusion on her face cleared to be replaced with a smile. “You mean Brandon?”
Shit. At least he hadn’t used the wrong name to his face, as far as he could remember. “Yeah, him. You seem happy here.”
She tucked her hair back behind her ears, head bowed forward slightly to make it difficult to see her expression. “I am.” The words were so soft he nearly missed them.
“So stay.”
“For you?”
“In part.” Jackson set his fork down to reach out to her and comb his fingers through her curls. Whatever new things she’d started doing with them, he approved. It made it difficult to resist playing with her hair constantly, though.
She leaned into the touch like a cat. “Aren’t you still worried about what Singh said and the two of us messing up your career?”
There was no delaying it any longer. “He called me out on lying to him today. I had to tell him the truth. He didn’t fire me.”
“Crap, Jackson.” She sighed heavily. “I’m sorry.”
“We’ll deal with it.” He tried to make his voice sound optimistic, even if he felt anything but. “Don’t worry.”
“Do you know how silly it is to tell me of all people not to worry?”
He laughed in spite of himself. “Okay, yeah. But I think things will work out all right. If you stay.”
She was quiet for a long time, her eyes closed, her head tipped back a little while he played with her hair. It drew his attention to her neck, stretched and inviting his kisses. While he waited for her response, he kissed the smooth column of her throat, then rested his lips over her pulse point. Feeling its steady beat was reassuring.
“Let me think about it.” The words were a whisper against his ear, and then she curled in close to him, wrapping her arms around him. “I still worry about the chief and my mom and if this is even a good reason to stay.”
Her doubts stung, though there was nothing he could say in response. There was no telling what Singh would decide. Maybe it was healthier for her to go back to Chicago and have her mother nearby. The deal with Singh was obviously moot now, but he’d still never explained it to her. Would she stay if she knew? He couldn’t envision it, nor could he blame her for leaving. The ethical choice was so clear it might as well have been in neon letters on the wall.
Later, he decided. He’d be completely honest, eventually. He just needed a little more time with her first.
Jackson caught her in a kiss to silence any more of her fears and his own thoughts. As he slid off his stool, he pulled her up into his arms and off her seat, making her squeak in shock. He laughed at the undignified sound and gave her another quick kiss. “Do you mind?”
She looped her arms around his neck and leaned back to give him a narrow-eyed look, though it didn’t stop her lips from curling up in a playful smile. “I don’t know. Where are you taking me?”
“I was thinking the bed.”
“The bed?” She gasped and widened her eyes. “That’s pretty kinky. I don’t know if I’m ready for a bed.”
“The best way to find out is by trying it.”
Chapter Twenty
Darla’s bedroom was as modest as the rest of the apartment, completely dominated by the bed that took up most of the small floor plan. It only took Jackson two steps from the door—which he kicked shut—before he laid her back on the bed and climbed on top of her.
Laughing, she pulled him down closer to catch him in a brief kiss. “You really do love to be in control, don’t you?”
He drew back a little to give her a puzzled look, brows drawn together. “What do you mean?”
“Picking me up. Carrying me around like a Viking with his conquest.” She pushed his chest to make him roll over onto his back, then straddled his hips. He was beautiful from every angle she’d ever seen him from, but she had to admit that him lying on her bed was an especially nice view.
“I thought you liked that.”
“I do, but…” Her lips brushed over his softly. One of his hands moved up into her hair to pull her into the kiss and she felt his lips part under hers to deepen it. Rather than give in, she pulled back and grinned. “I’d like to do some exploring of my own.”
“Exploring?” His eyes darted off to the side as if searching for something and he frowned. “What do you mean?”
She slid her hands between them to push his shirt up. “Your body.”
His pale green eyes darkened with hunger, and she felt his h
and tighten its grip on her hip. “I wouldn’t complain about that.”
She tugged his shirt up and over his head, then dropped it beside them on the bed. As soon as it was off, he wrapped his arms around her again, but she wasn’t done yet. Leaning into him, her hands slid lower to start at his belt. Her lips brushed against his again, then pressed more firmly as she deepened the kiss. This time he let her take control. She sighed into the kiss as her tongue slid past his lips, first tracing over his teeth before seeking out his tongue with hers. He responded warmly to the kiss, but didn’t try to take control, though she could tell by the tension in his body that it was difficult for him.
Once she had his jeans open, her hand slipped inside his boxers to stroke him. He felt thick and heavy, and she marveled that he could be so gentle. Her fingers slid along his shaft slowly, wanting to memorize every inch of him. If she stayed, she’d have more than memories, though. The thought filled her with a warm glow. Soon, she couldn’t stand it any longer and broke the kiss with a quiet gasp. Her eyes moved over his chest and stomach, then lower to admire him.
“I don’t know how you manage to be so beautiful.”
Using the tip of her tongue, she traced the lines of muscle on his chest, just as she’d been wanting to do since the first time she saw him shirtless. His response was a soft moan, his hand entangling in her hair. She dragged her tongue over his nipple and then breathed against the flat oval. He shivered and goosebumps rose on his skin, making her grin. She repeated the tease on his other nipple, then continued lower. His body was pure masculine perfection. His stomach taut with gentle ripples of muscle visible through the skin. Her favorite part of his bare torso was the V of muscle on his abdomen that narrowed down between his hips, like a natural frame for the rock hard shaft there.
Her tongue followed one side of that muscle, moving downward and inward until she reached the dark brown hair at the base of his shaft. She nuzzled into it, then shifted her grip on his arousal so she could kiss her way up its side uninterrupted.
She brushed her lips against the ridge of his head, then kissed lightly at the tip. He made a quiet sound low in his throat. His eyes were narrowed, watching everything she did with a level of need she had never seen on his face before. The tip of her tongue teased at his crown, tasting the salt of his skin, before she closed her lips around him to draw him deep into her mouth.
The reaction was wonderful. His hips rolled off the bed, his hands gripping the bedspread, and he groaned as his head fell back. His eyes closed for a moment before, with what looked like a great deal of effort, he opened them to watch her again.
As she continued to tease him, the small, involuntary movements of his hips and his quiet moans guided her. “I think I like you exploring.” Her belly tightened at the raw need in his voice.
She concentrated on what she was doing. There was something truly amazing in worshiping his body, knowing that he was enjoying everything she did as she reveled in him. Being the entire focus of his attention and hunger made her feel more desirable than she had ever felt in her life. Gorgeous as he was, he wanted her. Not just for a handful of nights, but enough to ask her to stay. So many doors for the future were open now, and she didn’t know what to do with them.
“Stop, Darla.” He sounded breathless and his fingers combed through her hair to gently nudge her back. “There’s a lot more I want to do before I’m done tonight.”
“What is it you want?”
He immediately kicked off his shoes, then moved to remove the last of his clothing. Once he was nude, he sat up on his knees and cupped her cheek in his hand. “You.”
His lips found hers again, making her sigh and lean into him. His arms moved around her to stroke over her back, then down lower to get underneath her yoga pants. Both hands gripped the full curves of her ass, tugging her close. The kiss left her breathless and reeling. Just when she thought she couldn’t take it any longer, he broke it off. His silky soft lips slid over her throat, before he nuzzled and she felt the scrape of stubble there. It was followed a moment later by his teeth nibbling over her pulse.
“Please, Jackson.”
His lips gently pressed a kiss at the hollow of her throat. “What?”
“I want you.”
He released her to tug her shirt over her head. He shifted to take control and stopped himself. “This is supposed to be about you exploring me, isn’t it? So how do you want me? Whatever you want tonight.”
She stripped out of her remaining clothes before she pushed him back onto the bed.
“I like you like this.” She grinned down at him, noting the way he watched her like she might disappear at any moment. It doesn’t have to end, she reminded herself. They could have countless nights together if she stayed.
“I like you this way too.”
Before she could dwell on it any further, his lips were on hers again, hungrily claiming her. He cupped her breast, massaging the soft mound. The other hand slid over her stomach and then she felt his fingers teasing there before sliding lower. They stroked at her slick folds, making her whimper into the kiss. Just the promise of being with him was enough to arouse her, but touching him had been as much of a sweet torment for her as it had been for him. His fingers slid back and forth, pressing between her lips. One finger lightly circled her clit and her hips automatically jerked forward at the touch.
She didn’t want to stop—God, the man had masterful hands—but his willingness to relinquish control was too great an opportunity to ignore.
As she lowered herself and felt the heat of his shaft sliding into her, she sighed his name and rolled her hips. His arms wrapped her closer, driving him deeper inside her. On the next stroke they found a rhythm together, as perfect as it ever felt with him, but there were so many possibilities now. Jackson held her tighter, kissed her until she was breathless, and every time he drew back from her lips she opened her eyes to see him watching her raptly.
Soon he wasn’t the only one clinging desperately, trying to stretch every second into hours. She kissed his ear, the side of his neck, and along his shoulder, stroking at his skin with her lips to claim every inch of him. Whatever happened, they still had this night, and she intended to make good use of it, but how could she seriously consider walking away? Everything felt too good, too right.
His lips took hers again, and she melted into the kiss, trying to draw comfort from it to chase away the gloom. Their movements together grew faster until his arms tightened around her, pinning her to his chest, and he rolled to pin her beneath him. She watched him through heavy-lidded eyes. With the way he reverently touched her everywhere at once, she would have thought it was his last night on earth.
Nothing could last forever, no matter how badly they tried to draw it out. She rolled up to him with a gasp and then froze there, muscles fluttering and lights flashing behind her eyes. She was dimly aware of his thrusts coming faster and deeper, until he buried himself in her with a groan, clutching her to his chest.
A minute or two passed as she laid there, listening to her hammering pulse and feeling the room spin around her. When she could breathe steadily again, she turned to kiss his cheek and breathe in the welcome, clean musk of his skin. He made a soft sound before rolling onto his side next to her. He wrapped an arm and a leg over her in a possessive gesture that made her smile.
“I really want you to stay, Darla. This feels so right, and I can’t imagine not trying to see this through.”
The sincerity in his voice was enough to make her promise him anything in that moment. Some small shred of reason held her back, barely. “I try not to make major life decisions without pants on,” she joked, “but it feels right to me too.”
Staying in Vegas with Jackson wasn’t the life she’d planned, but maybe some plans were meant to be broken. Had there ever been another man in her life who’d made her so happy? She knew none of her past boyfriends had recognized her strengths like Jackson did or made her feel capable. With him, she felt like her life wa
s full of possibilities instead of limits.
She needed to sleep on it to be sure, but it was hard to relax enough when the thought of a life with him had her giddy.
Chapter Twenty-One
Sizzling onions filled the kitchen with the scent of more meals than Jackson could count. It smelled like his first cooking lesson, a skill left to languish when time was tight and there were so many faster options available. But that first lesson—the first step to making any meal—would never be forgotten.
First put olive oil in a pan with onions, then figure out what you’re making. His mother had given the same lesson to his sister a few years later, but it had stuck with her better. There was some sort of centering magic in it, tying him to the exact moment he was in while drawing up a thousand different comforting memories. It was just what he needed for what he was about to do.
“Huh. I guess the rumors are true.”
Jackson took his eyes off the cutting board, his knife stilling. Standing in the doorway of the kitchen was Darla’s roommate wearing nothing but his boxers. Jealousy crackled like water thrown on hot oil, but it dissipated just as quickly. They were roommates, nothing more.
Darla had corrected him about his name just last night, but damn if Jackson could remember it. Brian? Brandon? Something like that.
“What rumors?”
“You and Darla are sleeping together.”
Jackson scraped the slices of sausage off the cutting board into the pan. He could be forgiven if he’d taken a few shortcuts and used hash browns out of the freezer, couldn’t he? “I don’t think what’s happening between us is any of your business unless Darla decides to share it with you.”
Brandon grinned. “The rumors about you are true, too.”
Irritation was bunching up his shoulders in knots, and he wished he had something more to chop. “Do you have something to say?”
“Do you know they call you Doctor Ice?”
Jackson scoffed quietly at the nickname. “That’s unfortunate. I sound like a rejected Batman villain.”