I pretend he's not staring at me as I check on the meatloaf. If I'd have known he'd be all weird, I wouldn't have planned a dinner that took so long to cook. Being in my small kitchen with him is starting to get overwhelming, especially with the side-eye he keeps giving. This is probably pay back for all the crap I've pulled since running into him last week. Seriously, this has been the longest six days ever.
Ian stands at the counter, a little too close for my comfort, and does some leg lifts. Now he's rising up and down on his toes.
"How's the leg?" I'm doing one of those things where I'm pretending not to watch him, but totally watching him. I perfected this maneuver in high school.
"Today is a little better. The swelling is definitely down and my range is better."
"Therapy tomorrow?"
"After Grand Rounds and lecture."
He starts trying to do squats, using the counter to stabilize himself. I will not look at his ass. I will not look at his ass. Whoops, too late. Damn.
In spite of the injury and the temporary disfigurement from the surgery, Ian is quite a fine example of what a man should be. Muscular and fit. His chest is firm and sculpted. What is enthralling me currently are his bare feet. It's not as though I have a fetish or anything, but there is something innately intimate and sexy about his toes.
Then I realize he's not still talking, and my gaze is glued to his feet. I must have missed what he said. "Oh, what? Sorry."
Ian cocks his head but doesn't respond. He moves over to the table and gingerly lowers himself into the chair. He begins to massage his thigh muscle. I am jealous of his hand. I am jealous of his thigh.
But he's still looking at me like I have three heads. I guess the more things change, the more they stay the same. So much for my previous decision to throw caution to the wind and go for it with him. With the looks he's been giving me since I got home, I doubt he'd touch me with a ten-foot pole at this point. It's as if I'm hitting the repeat button on high school, complete with the requisite, ever-present heartbreak.
Blinking back a threatening tear, I excuse myself for the privacy of my bedroom. Except it doesn't bring me solace, knowing he was in my bed all day. Not to mention last night. Us, curled around each other. He probably just went along with my kiss the other day to humor me and because he needs a place to stay.
I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not … dammit.
From the kitchen, I hear the distant beeping of the oven timer. I need to pull myself together. Obviously there are more important things than my heart breaking again, like not overcooking the meatloaf.
When I get out to the kitchen, Ian's removed the meatloaf from the oven and is carrying it over to the table. He gently places it down on the trivet. What kind of man is thoughtful enough to use a hot mat so he doesn't scorch the table?
Oh right, the kind who wants nothing to do with me.
I deserve this torture for what I did to him. This is my punishment. It has to be. As if it wasn't bad enough that he friend-zoned me for our whole childhood, I can tell he's about to do it again.
I should probably beat him to the punch. The best defense is a good offense and all that shit. Before I can work up the gumption to say something, he starts talking. "So, I, uh, talked to my mom today."
"I figured. Any idea what time Evan's going home or is he home already? How's he feeling? I'm sorry, I should have asked sooner."
"He should be discharged by now." Ian looks down. "Mom mentioned she saw your sister and mother there with … what's his name again? Texas?"
I nod, not correcting the name.
He continues. "Do you have an update? Do you want us to call Rainne and see if he's okay? I know it's scary when a little kid is hurt. I might be able to get to the bottom of what's injured. She's got to be beside herself. Plus, I can probably give her tips on wound care. I am a trained professional, you know," he says with a playful wink.
My heart sinks with the mention of my sister. My biggest fear. He still has feelings for her. He wants to rescue her. He thinks he can save her from her difficult life. He sees himself swooping in with his good job and reasonable sensibilities and his love of children to make her world a better place. He doesn't realize that Rainne thrives on drama and actively seeks it out, so no matter how much stability he provides, she'd still upset the apple cart.
My mind swirls with these thoughts, so I address the only one I can. I don't know if I have the strength to go through this with him again, but the least I can do is make sure he knows the kids’ names. I hated it when my mom's flavor of the month couldn't remember our names. "Vegas. His name is Vegas, not Texas." I hate to even admit it. "I know and yes."
"Yes?"
"It's a terrible name, and yes, that is where he was conceived. I guess wherever she made Avril wasn't that interesting, so she named her after the month of conception, and well, Tequila."
Ian shakes his head. "Yeah, I'm not going there. But um, well …" he stammers. I'm not used to seeing cool, calm, and collected McCallister flustered.
Silence hangs between us, thick and unsettling. I can't take this one minute more.
"Listen, I know what you're thinking." He looks up at me, startled. It can't surprise him that I can see through him like this. "You don't need to worry about it. You should most definitely not worry about it." I have to try to talk him out of this. If not for me, for him.
"You do? I don't? What if I want to worry about it?"
"Why would you want to invite that into your life? Trust me, you don't."
He stands up and takes a step toward me. "Maybe I do."
I back up a step, his nearness heating up my cheeks, a warmth spreading all over. "Ian, come on. Think about it."
He steps forward, closing the gap. I move backward but hit the counter. I'm out of room in my kitchen. Why is he invading my space like this? "I have been thinking about it. All afternoon. I haven't been able to think about anything else."
It's worse than I thought.
"I thought you were supposed to be studying. You need to focus. You can't let this distract you." God, Rainne is going to ruin his life again. If he can't pass—finish—whatever his residency because of her, I swear to God I will kill her.
"But that's the thing." He leans in close. A little too close. "It has been distracting me. In fact, it's been a huge distraction."
"See? The whole thing is not good for you."
Ian is definitely invading my personal space. He sniffs my hair and sighs. What the hell?
"I know. You're detrimental to my health."
"Me?" What does he mean by that? Is it because I made him think about her again? That's bullshit. "See—this is the shit I deal with. Always getting blamed when it's not my fault." I grasp the counter behind me for support. His presence is making my knees feel a bit weak.
A lot weak.
Ian leans in, putting his hands on either side of me. My stomach flutters as my heart beats double time. My mouth goes dry and I lick my lips. He's staring at them.
"Rio, I need you to be honest with me." His green eyes are intense, and I swear he can see all the way to my soul as his gaze locks on my eyes.
"I'll do anything you want." This answer is neither voluntary nor well thought out. But it's the truth. I'm caught in the tractor-beam of his presence and am putty in his hands.
He dips his head low. A little lower, a little lower, and then his mouth is on mine. Slightly tentative at first, but after a moment he leans in a bit, brushing his lips against my own. The sensation, delicate and promising, causes me to let out a small gasp. His tongue sweeps in and my own returns the gesture. He raises his hand and grasps the back of my head, tipping it slightly to give him more purchase. A small moan escapes me. It only serves to encourage him.
Now, he's pressed against me, and I can feel him. All of him.
The heat that started in my cheeks has now spread everywhere. But especially down there. I press my thighs together, desperate for more of his body. I will either spo
ntaneously combust or attack him right here. Either way, this is going to end with us naked.
There's no more time for thinking or overanalyzing. There will be time to talk in the future, but I will not miss this one last chance to be with Ian. I let it all go. Every single bit but the here and now. And the here and now is about to get undressed.
It's time to act.
I release my grip on the counter and find the hem of his shirt. I know this is going way too fast, but he's driving me crazy.
My brain has officially short-circuited, and my libido has taken over.
Fine by me.
I don't even take the time to caress his abs. Grasping the hem in the back, I tug up on Ian's shirt, pulling it over his head. He releases the back of my head and allows the shirt to come off. He doesn't seem to mind that I toss it on the floor.
My eyes widen as I take in his firm chest and the sculpted planes of his abs, for the first time really looking.
"You've been working out, Dr. McCallister." My hands glide over his pecs and down toward his waist. "You've certainly filled out."
He smiles a very wicked smile as he reaches for my blouse. My hands drop helplessly to my side as he meticulously undoes button after button.
Oh God, he's barely touching me and I am already gasping for breath.
His fingers delicately glide up the now parted edges of my blouse, teasing my skin as he brushes the swell of my breasts. Finally, he parts my shirt, sliding it down my shoulders, as his hands move swiftly to cup my breasts.
"Same," he grunts.
"They were always there. You just never noticed." I have a brief flashback to that other night when he made it to second base and commented that he didn't realize the girls were so big. He, like many people, never realized that I was the better endowed sister.
"How could I have not seen these? They are spectacular," he says, leaning in to kiss one while caressing the other. My head drops back, and I moan again, this time the sound not muffled by his kissing.
He pulls his head back, making me want to scream at him not to stop. "Um, should we take this out of the kitchen? While I'd love to christen the counter or the table, I'm not at one hundred percent mobility or strength yet."
"Oh, right. I don't want to injure you more. Are you sure you're up for this?"
Ian glances down at the bulge in his shorts. "Oh, I'm quite sure," he says with a grin. "I mean, I won't be at my full acrobatic potential, but I am definitely sure I can make you scream."
He was not wrong.
Ian
I may have overdone it, but man, it was so worth it. I still haven't asked Rio about what my mother said about her being in love with me. It doesn't matter because I think I'm in love with her.
That realization hits me like a ton of bricks. I may actually be in love with her. I look over at her sleeping next to me. She's undoubtedly the most beautiful woman on the face of the Earth. And it doesn't matter if she wasn't part of my plan, as long as she's mine.
Of course, there's the big elephant in the room that neither of us seem to bring up. A small part of me wonders if Rio isn't trying to stick it to her sister in some way, and I'm just a pawn in her scheme. I highly doubt that, but it's a detail we should probably discuss before too long. Before I have no hope of turning back.
Who am I kidding? I'm already a goner.
There's not time for discussion now, as I actually have to leave the apartment today. Rio gets up and heads to the shower, and I wish I could join her. Maybe next week when my knee's a bit more stable and strong. If getting back to work hadn't been a motivator, Rio certainly is. There are so many possibilities running through my head—damn. I need to focus on what lies ahead for me today. Grand Rounds. My first PT session. Follow up visit with Dev. He's going to take the sutures out today so I can finally shower.
Shower. Rio. Nope, I can't be thinking about this now. She returns to the bedroom, her body cloaked in a thick red bathrobe. Her face is free of makeup, and yet again, her beauty strikes me. Every time she walks into the room, I discover something unique and appealing about her.
"My God, you're beautiful." It's out of my mouth before that internal censor can tell me to shut the hell up.
She twirls. "Oh, this old thing?" She releases her hair from the clip on top of her head, spilling her long, dark mane down her back.
I sigh. It's not fair. The timing of this. It probably couldn't be worse if I tried. Not only do I work sometimes ninety hours a week, but I'm behind because of my knee. I don't have time for Rio. I certainly don't have the time to spend hours upon hours ravishing her like I'd like to. And now that I've had a taste, I know this thirst will never be quenched. Her name is fitting. I could drink from her river forever, and it still won't be enough.
"I … uh … I need to get cleaned up. Pete will be here soon." I need to stay focused on the task at hand. My career. What I've worked day and night for over the past ten years. I'm in the home stretch and can't lose it now. I need to make all the sacrifices and time away from my family worth it.
But I know, as I'm getting cleaned up, that Rio is worth it too. And if she asked, I'd be tempted to throw it all away for her. The gravity of that thought sends me reeling. We're going to have to talk. Really talk tonight. About this. About us. About what being with me is going to be like. She needs to understand before we spend one more night together. I can't let her give herself to me without understanding my limited ability to give back right now. Not because I wouldn't want to but because I'm too invested in my career. It's reasonable. I only hope she sees it that way too.
I shouldn't ask her, but I will. I want her that much.
I need her that much.
By the time I'm as clean as I can be, shaved, dressed, and out of the bathroom, she's about ready to head out the door. Once again, her hair swings in a thick braid down her back. She's wearing a little makeup. Nothing heavy or dramatic like last Saturday night. I like this Rio better. This seems more her than the leather pants. That being said, we're going to have to revisit those—and those shoes—once my leg is healed.
From what I've seen of her work attire, today being no exception, she's quite conservative. Her outfit today is a polka-dotted shirt in black and white and she dons a mint green sweater over it. It reminds me of mint chocolate chip ice cream, which immediately returns my warped and sex-filled brain to the delicious idea of picking up a pint so I can lick it off her later.
"You look very … nice," I stammer, not wanting to scare her off with my filthy thoughts.
She returns my flubbed comment with a tight-lipped smile. "Thanks. I've got to run. I have a client meeting at nine, and I need to get some stuff done before that."
Suddenly, a wave of possessiveness washes through me. I don't want her meeting with men. What if they look at her and think about licking every inch of her body? I don't know how someone couldn't. "And you're wearing that?"
Rio's face crumbles as she looks down at her outfit. "Well, I don't have time to change now. I've gotta go." She hurries out of the room and a second later, I hear the door slam.
That may not have been my smoothest move.
I know I should call her or text her or something, but as I pick up my phone, Pete texts me, telling me to come outside because he's double-parked. I'm still moving slowly, and whether I want to admit it or not, my knee is sore from last night. I pop a few ibuprofen and snag my crutches. I haven't been using them around the apartment, but I know I'm going to be on my feet a lot more today. Plus, Dev will yell at me if I don't have them. I call him to tell him I'm moving slow.
"Yo man, you're ass is dragging, and you weren't even up all night."
"I beg to differ," I mutter as I limp toward the door.
"What are you talking about?"
I don't want to get into it with Pete. Like if I don't say anything, I can keep what's between Rio and me special, and none of the intrusions of the real world will creep in. I know that's stupid on so many
levels. First of all, it's not like she's this magical, delicate flower in need of my protection. Secondly, if this goes anywhere, which I hope it does, our complex past will be sure to rear its ugly head. And when I say complex past, I'm of course referring to Rainne. Even though she cast me aside nearly a decade ago, knowing her, I can almost guarantee she at least once will accuse Rio of stealing her boyfriend.
Rainne is batshit crazy.
I don't know how I didn't see it. From the time I grew my shorthairs, I lusted after Rainne. She knew it and took advantage of it. And after my conversation with my mom yesterday, thinking about prom, I now realize Rainne probably saw me watching Rio and didn't want me going for her. It never occurred to me before now. Rainne didn't want me, but she didn't want Rio to have me either. I was too horny and inexperienced to know any better. Basically, I was stupid and hoping to get laid like most teenage boys.
While it worked, sort of, it wasn't worth it. I know guys are supposed to be all macho and shit, but not only was it humiliating, it really hurt. Rainne and Rio had been my best friends since birth. I trusted them like I trusted my own family. I guess it never occurred to me that Rainne could betray me like that.
Even though the thought had danced through my head earlier, I know that Rio would never use me like that. She wants me in spite of her sister, not because of it. She's too good, too pure, to use and manipulate like that.
You know, looking back, Rio did always seem to be steering me away from Rainne. I thought it was because she was protecting me. If what my mom says is true, Rio must have had other motivations. God, if only I had listened when Rio told me I was too good for her sister. If only I'd taken Rio to prom instead of Rainne.
As much as I'd like to daydream about Rio all day, once I hit the hospital, different co-workers inquiring about my knee and recovery overwhelm me. I stop by the Ortho floor and Dev quickly removes my sutures. Thank God, I can finally shower. I almost consider hitting the locker room right now, just so I can feel totally clean again. Unfortunately, I don't have time before Grand Rounds start.
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