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Bad Case of Loving You

Page 18

by Laney Cairo


  she said.

  “Eight thirty,” Matthew said. “Can I call you to be collected? Will you be finished by then, too?”

  I nodded. “Yep, I should be home by seven. Give me a ring.”

  He disappeared, dumping his tray onto the waiting trolley, and merging into the milling people around the main hallway.

  London Hospital didn’t have a car park, so Matthew couldn’t bring the Morris into work. However, because I spent so much time at the hospices the hospital serviced, not only did I get one of the highly-prized parking bays, but the hospital provided a Smart car.

  Henry had shrieked with laughter when he’d first seen it, and we all called it Mickey, based on the resemblance of the emergency vehicle lights to mouse ears. It looked absurd, but I had a pass to take it into central London, and I’d done the emergency driving course to be able to use the lights. I’d never used the lights, but I parked on the sidewalk constantly.

  My phone rang as I stood up, and I slid my tray onto the trolley and said, “On my way. Just give your wife another dose of morphine immediately, and I’ll be with you in twenty minutes.”

  * * *

  Matthew was standing beside my car bay at the hospital, slouched shoulders underneath his jacket, and I unlocked the passenger door for him.

  “Hey,” he said, leaning across to kiss me. “Thought you were going to finish at seven?”

  “She died,” I said. Matthew would know that meant I had to stay, at least until the mortuary ambulance turned up.

  Matthew nodded, and he looked tired by the interior light of the car. “Let’s go home,” he said.

  There was food in the freezer, curries and lasagnas, hinting at a level of domestic organisation that I had not previously managed to achieve, and I tossed a pack of pasta and sauce into the microwave and hit the shower.

  Matthew opened the shower curtain, held out a glass of wine for me, and then kicked the lid of the toilet shut and sat down on it. I drank a big gulp of wine and put the glass down beside the basin, then went back to washing myself. I didn’t really feel like talking, but the company was good, and when I glanced back over my shoulder when I reached for the shampoo, he was leaning back against the cistern, idly rubbing at his cock through his jeans.

  “Turn the taps off,” he said, and I did, then reached for the towel he held out for me.

  The bed was unmade, and I pushed aside the bunched-up sheet and duvet and spread the towel out, aware I wasn’t dry and was still dripping shower water on the bed, but I didn’t care, not with the weight of Matthew dipping the mattress beside me.

  “Close your eyes,” he said, and the drawer beside the bed slid open with a scrape. I let out a long breath, closing my eyes and letting my body relax.

  There was a rustle of packaging, and the snap of latex, and while my breathing was smooth and slow, my heart rate had picked up.

  “God, I need this,” I said, and he kissed the back of my neck.

  “I know,” he said, and his tongue licked drops of water from my shoulder and two lubed fingers slid into me.

  I needed him, too, in a way that still scared me a little; belly-twisting, heart-pounding need. It was more than that moment, what he did to me; it was everything.

  He pulled his hand back, slid it forward again; increased pressure and the best kind of sting. I was distantly aware I was rambling at him, telling him how much I loved him, until he leaned forward and kissed my cheek.

  “I know,” he repeated, with emphasis. “And I love you, too. You ready for all of me?”

  Always, but I couldn’t tell him right then. I was too busy breathing and feeling to speak, but I would always love him.

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  Copyright

  Torquere Press

  www.torquerepress.com

  Copyright ©2006 by Laney Cairo

  First published in www.torquerepress.com, 2006

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