“Is this the invalid party room?” Rosie says as I wheel Zach into her room. “Who else do we know that’s been stabbed?” I laugh. “Something like that. Does that mean I’m not invited?” “I’ll make an exception for you this time,” Rosie says. I smile as I push Zach over and pull up a chair beside her. Rosie looks worn out. There are dark circles under her eyes and she’s got a tube of oxygen in her nose. There’s an IV dripping clear liquid into her hand. “How are you feeling?” I know it’s a silly question, but I can’t think of anything else to say. “Awful,” Rosie says with a grimace. “But I’ll live.” “This is all my fault. I’m sorry.” Both Rosie and Zach make a noise in protest. Zach puts a hand over my arm and Rosie squeezes my hand. “You did nothing wrong, Harps,” Rosie says. “We knew he was deranged.” “If anything, it’s my fault,” Zach says slowly. I turn my head and see the pain in his eyes. “I didn’t bother to know what was going on in my own company. I should have known what was happening a year ago, I never would have let it go on like it did. I should have been there with you when he showed up. I’m sorry.” “Will both of you stop it,” Rosie says with an exaggerated sigh. “It’s nobody’s fault except Greg’s. Did you come to my house and stab my six times?” She looks at me. “No? How about you? Did you do it?” She looks at Zach. “Right. That’s what I thought. It was Greg Fucking Chesney. Now both of you need to stop beating yourselves up. We’re all here, we’re alive, and the baby is ok. That’s all that matters.” Rosie lies back in bed and closes her eyes for a minute as if to say, that’s the end of that discussion. “Maybe you’re right,” I respond. She snorts. “Still, I wish you hadn’t been stabbed.” Rosie grins, her eyes still closed. “At least I get to enjoy the best that the hospital cafeteria has to offer. And I’ll have some cool scars.” I glance at Zach and he nods. I take a deep breath. For some reason I’m more nervous about this than I thought I would be. “Rosie,” I start. She makes a noise but doesn’t open her eyes. “Zach and I were talking and…” I hesitate. “Will you be the baby’s godmother? You’re my best friend and you’ve always been there for me. I’d love it if you were part of my – our – kid’s life as well.” Rosie finally opens her eyes and turns her head. They’re misty and wet and she smiles weakly. “Of course,” she whispers. “I’d be honoured.” Warmth floods through my chest I reach over and hold Rosie’s hand. Zach puts his arm around my shoulders and the three of us sit there in silence. A peacefulness settles over us as we share a quiet moment. Rosie breaks the silence. “Your kid better not be a little shit. If it’s annoying you’re going to hear about it.” “I never knew you were so nurturing, Rosie,” Zach quips. I laugh. “She’s definitely got the Mother Hen gene.” Rosie smiles and shrugs. “I’m just telling it like it is.” We spend a few more minutes talking about nothing and everything, talking about anything except what we’ve just been through. I watch as both Rosie and Zach wince whenever they move and it’s as is I can feel their pain in my own body. The two people I love the most have been hurt because of me. No matter how much they tell me it wasn’t my fault I still feel responsible. I fiddle with my grandmother’s ring, turning it around and back on my finger. This is the ring that enraged Greg. The ring that made him stab Zach, the ring that was proof in his eyes of my connection to him. Now I know that he took it from my office, he used it to threaten Zach. He took it off my finger when I was unconscious and used it as a threat again, as proof of our indiscretions. Zach slips his hand into mine and stops me fidgeting with the ring. I glance at him and he smiles sadly. He knows what I’m thinking, I don’t need any words to know it. Rosie clears her throat. “Alright, lovebirds. I’m getting tired and the nurse will be here soon to change my bandages. Party’s over, I’m afraid.” I smile and lean over to give her a one-armed hug. She pats my back gently. “I’ll be back tomorrow, ok Rosie?” “Just take care of yourself and the kid,” she says. She smiles and I see once again the kindness and strength that makes her who she is. I push the wheelchair out the door and down the hallway. Zach reaches his hand up towards me and interlaces his fingers with mine. Even that simple touch calms me down. We’re passed words, passed explanations. We both know that I’m his, and he’s mine. Epilogue – Harper
Four months later…
“Zach! Zach give me your hand!” I reach over in bed as Zach grunts, just barely awake. “Come on give me your hand!” I grab his palm and place it over my stomach. My skin is warmer than his and the touch is refreshing. After a few seconds, Zach sits up and looks at me, wide-eyed. “Was that a kick?!” “Yes! It just woke me up!” Zach’s eyes are still as big as saucers. He glances from my face to my stomach, moving his hand around gently. “Wow,” he breathes. The giggles burst out of me. “It’s kicking! That’s such a weird feeling.” “It’s kicking so much! It has to be a boy!” I roll my eyes. “It doesn’t mean anything. And I know you, your heart would melt if you had a little girl.” “I don’t care what it is,” he says as he runs his hand up my body, cupping my breast and dipping his chin towards me. “As long as it’s healthy and you’re healthy it doesn’t matter what it is.” I smile as his lips touch mine. My happiness is complete. I’ve finally moved the last of my things into his apartment and we’re having our first lazy Sunday morning in bed together in our apartment. I run my fingers over the scar on his chest and he shivers. He puts his hand over mine and we lay there, our hands over his heart, over his scar. I can feel his heart beating and I lean into him. “Getting stabbed was the best thing that ever happened to me,” he says. “Now I have this as a reminder of what I almost lost.” Zach lifts his head up and strokes the side of my face. “I love you.” “I love you too. I wish you didn’t get stabbed though,” I grin. “There’s lots of less painful reminders that I’m the best.” He smiles and then chuckles and my heart melts. I’ve never felt the kind of bursting feeling in my chest before. It’s like I’m so full of love and happiness that I’m coming apart at the seams, like my body can’t contain the sheer emotion that fills me up. Zach runs his hand over my chest and down my arm. He spreads my hand and slides his fingers in between mine. His lips find mine and they fuse together. I’ll never get sick of kissing him. He grips my hand a little bit tighter and then pulls away, looking down at our interlocked fingers. He turns my hand around and watches as my grandmother’s old ring glints in the morning light. “You only ever wear that one ring.” “Yeah,” I reply. “I’ve always worn it.” “Would you ever consider wearing another one?” I frown and my heart starts beating a little bit faster. Is he saying what I think he’s saying…? “I mean… I guess?” Zach grins. “What I mean is, if I gave you a ring would you wear it?” “Are you asking me to marry you?” “Would you say yes if I was?” I laugh. “What is this, Sunday morning riddles? What are you saying, Zach? Spit it out.” “I’m saying marry me.” I can feel my eyes crinkling as the smile breaks my face open. If I felt like happiness was bursting through my chest before, I had no idea what I was in for. It feels like I’m about to float away, and the only thing holding me down is the weight of Zach’s body over mine. My vision goes blurry as the tears of joy flood my eyes. All I can do is nod. “Yes,” I croak. Zach’s kiss is more ardent than ever before. Suddenly his lips are on mine, his hands are over my body. He strokes my stomach gently and then runs his fingers down over my mound to my aching centre. I wrap my arms around him and my legs fall open as his hand inches closer. Every night we spend together is better than the last. Every touch is more intimate, every kiss is more passionate. I’ve never been this happy. That feeling reaches a new peak this morning. It feels like I’m vibrating with love, with emotion, with passion. I let myself be taken away by it, letting my hands sink into his flesh and my lips explore his body. Our bodies start an intricate dance that only instinct can explain. His movements are my movements, his touch is electrifying and comforting and exciting and intoxicating all at once. My body spasms and contracts and his does the same. My hands roam over his skin,
hungrily touching every single inch of him. I can’t get enough. We grab and grope and touch and moan as we let ourselves be carried away. It’s passion on another level. I throw my head back and listen to myself moan and say his name over and over. Zach, Zach, Zach. I’m panting, he’s groaning, I’m moaning, he’s grunting. The sounds of our passion fill the room. I’m riding an indescribable high. His hands are everywhere, our bodies are fused together until finally we both fly over the edge together. I grab onto him and he grabs onto me and we don’t let go until our heartbeat has gone back to normal. Even then, our legs stay intertwined and our arms are thrown over each other. My lips are near his and our breath mixes as we recover. “I love you,” I whisper. “I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love you,” he replies. He kisses the tip of my nose and I close my eyes. The baby kicks and Zach makes a noise. “We love you too,” he says, sliding his hand over my growing bump. His words send another shiver down my spine and I nuzzle my chin into his chest. Zach wraps his arms around me and I sigh contentedly. I’ve moved into a new house and I’ve found a home, a husband, a family. I smile as I think of the doctor who told us we were pregnant. Miracle baby, he’d said. I’m starting to think he was right. I hope you enjoyed Knocked Up by the CEO! I’d love it if you left a review to let me know what you think.
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Doctor ‘O’:
A Modern Romance
Lilian Monroe
(Twitter: @Lily_Author
Facebook: @MonroeRomance)
Copyright Ⓒ 2017 All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the author except for short quotations used for the purpose of reviews.
Chapter 1 – Valerie
I’m lying in bed staring at the ceiling for the thousandth time. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to focus on my hand as it moves down and over my mound, savouring the electric warmth that ripples with every movement of my fingers. I concentrate hard, trying to think of something sexy. Abs, or… muscles. Hands gripping me. The touch of a man’s tongue over me. Umm… throbbing… members?
There’s a warmth growing inside me and I move my fingers faster, travelling up and down between my lips. My brow furrows as my fingers move faster, circling around my clit with more intensity. I’m holding my breath.
It’s going to happen, I can feel it. I’m going to feel the shockwaves course through my body and the anticipation is making my heart hammer in my chest. I concentrate harder, moving my hand faster with the excitement.
And then all of a sudden, nothing.
It’s gone. My orgasm slips away into oblivion, just like it does every single other time I’ve ever tried. I sigh.
This isn’t going to happen. Not this time, not ever.
I let my hand fall to my side and open my eyes back up, looking up at the ceiling again. Every single time I feel something, anything close to an orgasm it somehow escapes me. Maybe I’m thinking too hard, or I don’t know how to touch myself properly.
It’s even worse when someone else tries to give me one. I tense up or think too much about what I’m doing or what I look like or what they’re thinking.
Even when I am able to relax into the moment somehow it always seems to slip away at the last second. I can be completely in the mood and excited but for some reason I’ve just never gone over the edge. I’ve never felt the fireworks that everyone describes. The back arching, leg shaking, head melting feeling of pure, unadulterated pleasure.
Not once, and it kills me.
My ex boyfriend gave up trying in the end. He’d play with me until I was wet enough for him to enter me and then take his own orgasm without any worry about my own pleasure. I broke it off with him three months ago and since then, like every month and year before that, I’ve been unable to get myself off.
When I broke it off with my ex, my best friend Emma was there to pick up the pieces. We were out at our local cocktail lounge and I’d had two or three glasses of wine, just enough to be a bit giddy. I remember looking at her and blurting it out:
“I’ve never orgasmed.”
She’d nearly spat out her drink and looked at me in shock. Her mess of brown curls bounced around her face as she turned to look at me. She was wearing her signature bright red lipstick and her mouth hung open.
“You mean in the four years you spent with that idiot he was never able to make you come?!”
I’d looked around, worried she was being too loud. We were in our favourite booth in the back corner, with a perfect view of everyone in the bar but shielded from any unwelcome attention. I glanced around to make sure no one had heard her outburst.
She didn’t care, as usual. She never seemed to be self conscious or insecure. She walked into any room like she owned it, swaying her hips and walking in with purpose. All eyes were on her, always. Her figure was a perfect hourglass and she had the attitude to match.
Where she is all curls and curves, I’m wavy-haired, blonde, lanky. I always seem to feel a bit awkward when men talk to me, like somehow they’re making fun of me, or they’re just passing the time until they get their turn with her. She’s the centre of attention and I’m her sidekick wherever we go. I don’t mind, not really. I love her to bits. She’s my rock, my best friend, my confidante. I couldn’t imagine my life without her by my side. She’s been there for me through thick and thin.
The past three months she’s helped me move into my new apartment, made me laugh, brought me ice cream when I needed it. We’d moved to New York five years ago together and would not have survived without each other. She is the best friend I’ve ever had, and it felt good to open up to her about my orgasm-less existence.
I couldn’t help but smile at the horror on her face when I told her my secret.
“No, I mean I’ve never had an orgasm.. Ever. Like, not just with Bryce. Never.”
Emma put down her glass of wine and brought her hands to her temples. This seemed to be difficult for her to understand. She stared at the table intently, processing what I’d just told her.
“Never. As in… Ever? Not once?”
She looked up at me, searching my face. I shrugged, not knowing what to tell her.
“I mean, I’ve tried. Don’t get me wrong.”
I looked at her sheepishly.
“Val, girl. You need to sort this out. I’m telling you this as your oldest and dearest friend, and as someone who has had many mind blowing orgasms. This is a very, very important part of any woman’s life. Did Bryce know? What did he do to try to get you off?”
I’d felt the tears welling up in my eyes when she mentioned him. I didn’t want to tell her how bad our sex life had gotten, how selfish he’d been in bed. How selfish he’d been in general!
She’d understood without me saying anything, as usual. She’d just waived the waiter over and dramatically ordered another round of drinks for us and then turned and winked at me. I’d laughed and the constriction in my throat had disappeared.
I smile as I think back on that conversation. She’d been so concerned, so intent on helping me. She’d given me tips, she described her most intense orgasms, the way they rushed from her centre outwards in waves of warmth and pleasure.
She had been so open and candid with me, talking about the way her back arched and her legs trembled. How her partners had actually enjoyed giving her pleasure, it wasn’t a chore to them at all. I’
d listened to her describing her experiences and wished I could feel the same. I’d tried the tricks that she’d told me and tried to relax into it.
It just seems like I… can’t. I can’t do it. No matter how hard I try I still haven’t felt an orgasm rip through my body. I haven’t been with anyone since Bryce but I can’t bring myself to go through that again. To explain that it won’t happen, it’s not them, it’s me. To see the disappointment in the guy’s face as he tries and tries to get me to climax only to ultimately fail.
Some guys take it on like a challenge but it only makes me feel worse when it doesn’t work. I’ve learned to live with it, sort of. I’ve thrown myself into my career and most days it feels like that’s enough.
I lay in bed wondering if maybe there’s something wrong with me, and it makes me not able to orgasm. When the thought crosses my mind, I turn and reach for my phone. I pull up Google and within a millisecond I’m presented with ten thousand reasons that I’m not able to get off. I start clicking through the top few results.
Knocked Up by the CEO: A Secret Baby Holiday Office Romance Page 14