“Hey, Megan…”
But just as I said her name, the orderly arrived.
We were free of the hospital late Monday night. I wanted to go to a Broadway show or a nightclub, but the tests had left me tired. We ended up having room service hamburgers and watching reality television. Then I slipped off to my room and crawled into bed, my phone cradled in my hands.
“How are you, beautiful?” Hayden asked over a text.
“Missing you,” I typed, hesitating before I pushed the button. Did that make me sound too needy? Too invested? But then he came back, the same sentiment sent from his phone.
“What are you wearing?” came next, making me laugh even as a blush burned over my cheeks.
“I’m more than a thousand miles away.”
“But you’re still mine.”
It was a double-edged sword when he said that. I wanted to be his. I wanted to know that he wanted no one else but me. But I was afraid of what would happen if we went further than this.
I must have taken too long to answer because my phone rang, Hayden’s face filling the screen. I mumbled a soft hello as I answered it.
“What are you wearing?”
“Hayden,” I whispered, my heart in my throat.
“Tell me.”
“Shorts and a t-shirt.”
“Take them off.”
“Hayden, Megan’s in the next room!”
“She doesn’t need to know. Go lock the door and then take off your clothes.”
His voice…it was an order that I knew I couldn’t disobey. I did as he said, padding across to the door that separated my room from the rest of the suite. I could hear the television still on in the sitting room, so I knew that Megan was only a few feet from where I stood. My heart was pounding.
I stared at the phone as I slowly undressed, almost as if he could see me through the eyes of a picture I’d taken nearly three years ago.
“Okay,” I said softly into the phone, trying to keep my voice down.
“Lay on the bed. Get comfortable. Listen to my voice.”
My heart was still pounding. It was the kind of pounding that a month ago would have scared me to death. But now I just wanted to listen to his voice, just like he said.
I settled back against the pillow, pulled a light sheet up against my body, and closed my eyes.
“Okay.”
“I’m there with you,” he said. “My hands are itching to touch you, but not yet. Right now, I’m lying close to you, so close you can feel my heat, but I’m not touching you. I’m just enjoying the sight of your beautiful body. My eyes are moving over you, pausing at the sight of your erect nipples, at the sight of the tiny goosebumps the cool air has caused to rise on your creamy peach skin. I want to touch your breasts and feel the weight of them against my palms, but I’m waiting. Waiting for you to ask for it.”
“Hayden…”
“Shh, baby. Just listen.”
He cleared his throat before he continued. “My eyes move further down your body, moving over your hips, the flare of bone, and then the little curve that defines your femininity. Your thighs, the way they part naturally to leave you free for my touch. My fingers ache to touch you there, to feel the moisture that tells me how badly you want me—how much you want me inside of you. My tongue tingles at the thought of pressing it there against your clit—at the idea of tasting you and the sweetness no one else has ever experienced.
“My cock is rock hard just at the thought of touching you. My fingers are almost numb they tingle so intensely. I move close to you, my mouth so close to your ear that you can feel the heat of my breath against your skin. You turn your head, aching for my kiss, but if I kiss you, I’ll lose all control.”
I bit back a groan, and my chest ached as my heart continued to pound. My breath was coming in quick little gasps; my body was swollen with need. I moved my hips against the cool sheet, the movement almost like a touch of his hand. And that just made the need erupt even more intensely along my hips, my belly.
“I move over your body, my breath the only thing touching you as I move close. I move low as I lean over you, my naked body so close, but still so far away.”
“Hayden…” I whispered, my eyes still closed, my imagination burning with the images he was creating for me.
“Say my name again,” he demanded.
“Hayden. Please, Hayden, touch me.”
He groaned. “I want to touch you. But I know I’ll lose control. I’ll cum so fast that neither of us will get the satisfaction we need.”
“Are you really…?” I didn’t know how to say it. But I wanted to know. “Are you really that close?”
“I am so close, baby. My body aches for yours. Whenever I close my eyes, or I feel a breeze pass over my skin, I see you; I feel you. Just the sound of your voice does things to me.”
“I wish you were here.”
“I am there, baby. I’m leaning over you, my nose less than a hair from your skin, my mouth so close to you that I can feel your nipple against the roof of my mouth. I can feel that soft, erectile tissue swelling inside of my mouth.”
“I want you to touch me. I want you inside of me.”
“Touch yourself,” he whispered. “Slide your fingertip against your clit, rub it in circles the way I would.”
His request pulled me out of the fantasy. I sat up, a blush burning my cheeks that almost matched the red flush that burned across my chest. The sheet fell and I could see myself in the mirror on the far wall. I saw another woman who was different from the one I’d known before. This woman was aroused; she was sexual. Erotic. This woman was…beautiful.
“Are you still there, baby?” Hayden asked. “Are you still with me?”
“I’m still with you.”
I lay back and adjusted the phone, freeing one hand as I turned sideways, away from the mirror. I ran my own hand over my breast, touching my own nipple in a way I’d never done before. Then lower, my fingers brushing against my belly as they moved lower still.
“Where are your fingers?”
I squeezed my eyes shut, stars bursting in my head as I did.
“I’m doing what you said. I’m…I’m touching there.”
There was a deep, warm chuckle on the other end of the line. “Say the word.”
“My…clit. I’m touching my clit.”
“Good girl.” His voice was so deep, vibrating through my chest. “Now, slide a finger inside. That’s what I’m doing, baby. I’m reaching down between your legs, sliding my finger from your clit to your opening, sliding deep inside of you. That’s the only place I’m touching you, just your glorious, hot, wet pussy.”
“I feel you,” I whispered.
“Good, baby. I want you to feel me. I want you to know how desperately I want to make you cum. I love the way your eyes roll back in your head and your lips part as the sound of a silent scream slips from your throat. I love the way your thighs quiver and your hips grind against me. The way your lovely cunt milks my cock.”
I moaned, no longer capable of speech. I could hear his breathing change, growing heavy across the miles. I desperately wanted him here. I wanted to see his face. But I could imagine it, remembering it from the few nights we’d already spent together. I grew lost in the memory of his touch, in the very real feel of my own touch. I’d never done anything like this. I had always been told it was unnatural, unclean. But it was the most natural thing I’d ever experienced.
My orgasm rushed through me and my chest constricted. I was afraid for a moment I’d need Megan’s help, my breathing was so rough, my chest so painful. But it slowly began to return to something not quite normal, but not quite abnormal.
“Sam? Babe? Are you still there?”
I’d dropped the phone. I would have laughed, but I didn’t quite have enough air for it.
“I’m here.”
“You okay?”
“Wonderful.”
He laughed. “Good. I’m glad I could help.”
I did chuckle then. “Y
ou did more than that.” I settled back against the pillows, still working to calm my breathing. “Tell me something about your day.”
“My day?”
“I want to know what you did today.”
He laughed again, but then he launched into a story about Dominic and how the two of them had attempted to run an operation on the owner of a bar who was skimming his waitresses’ tips, but the guy saw them coming a mile away. He was apparently former military, and he picked them out the moment they walked into the bar.
“A failure. That’s new.”
“We all fail sometimes.”
We talked for hours. My breathing never really settled back into a normal pattern, but I don’t think Hayden really noticed. When we said goodnight and I curled up against the pillows alone, my chest felt heavy.
I was walking a dangerous line here. I was suddenly hoping that the doctor Megan dragged me here to see might have answers that were more encouraging than Dr. Alvarez’s were. I didn’t want to hope, but Hayden was changing the entire game.
Chapter 9
Megan
Sam was breathing a little oddly. I found myself watching her from the moment she joined me for breakfast in our suite, half expecting her to collapse at any moment. We hit half a dozen department stores and she was jumping from rack to rack, so excited by this new sense of freedom she seemed to have developed. She bought slacks that actually showed off a few curves, blouses with cleavage, dresses that were knee length, shockingly short for her. And it was all in bright colors—reds and blues and greens and yellows. It all looked awesome on her—except some of the yellow.
“Let’s go to Victoria’s Secret.”
I stared at her. “Who are you and what did you do with my best friend?”
She laughed. “Every girl should have some sexy underwear. I have exactly”—she rolled her eyes as if she was really trying to remember—“two sets, and one of them is the set you gave me.”
“You’ve never wanted anything sexy.”
“But now I do.”
“Why?”
She shrugged, but there was a telltale blush burning across her cheeks. I knew Sam well enough to know what that meant.
“You and Hayden?”
She walked away, refusing to answer, but that was answer enough all in itself.
“Sam!” I rushed after her, grabbed her arm and forced her to turn around. “Are you and Hayden together?”
“It depends on how you define together.”
“Sam!”
She laughed. “We’ve spent a couple of nights together.”
“Really!” I hugged her. “I can’t believe—”
And then I stepped back as the full impact of what she’d just said hit me.
“You lost your virginity and didn’t tell me?”
Sam looked pointedly around us, clearly embarrassed by my loud comment. But I didn’t care.
“Sam, we promised we’d always tell each other everything.”
“I was going to tell you. I just…it’s so new.”
“Are you happy?”
She beamed. “Yes.”
“Good.” I hugged her again, and then linked my arm through hers. “Let’s go get you some pretty underwear. Then we’ll go to lunch and you can tell me everything.”
“We have lunch with Dante’s coworkers. But we can talk about it later.”
“Oh, yeah.” I followed her out into the mall, half her bags in my hands. “What would I do if you weren’t here to keep me on schedule?”
“You’d never remember anything.”
She was right. I knew she was right.
We spent more than an hour in Victoria’s Secret. The saleslady was quite helpful after she realized how much money we were planning on spending. She measured Sam, picked out bras that would fit her body style perfectly. She ended up buying nearly a dozen bra and panty sets and a couple of sexy nighties, blushing furiously the whole time. It was fun to watch.
Sam was clearly exhausted when we got to the restaurant at lunchtime. She sank into a chair and sighed, but then she pulled out her phone and she had this smile on her face that made it pretty obvious she’d gotten a text from Hayden.
I watched, happy to see her so clearly happy. But there was an uneasiness attached to it that was beginning to eat me up.
Our guests arrived a minute later. Polite smiles filled their faces as they held out their hands to us.
“Sergeant Miles,” I said, shaking the older man’s hand. “And Officer Cullen.”
They were polite and clearly not bothered by having lunch with two attractive women. We exchanged polite conversation while we made our choices from the menu. It wasn’t until food was ordered and we had our drinks that we delved into the conversation we’d come to have.
“You know Dante Saladin?”
The two men exchanged glances. “Yes, ma’am. We ran patrol together when he was assigned here to the 157th.”
Officer Cullen seemed a little nervous, picking at a napkin as he waited for my next question. But Sergeant Miles was leaning back, sipping at his soda, looking around the restaurant like this was his first time in such an opulent establishment.
“Was he a good cop?”
Miles leaned forward just slightly, focusing on me. “What is your interest?”
“He works for me. I’m just following up on the background check we did months ago.”
Miles and Cullen exchanged looks. Cullen gestured for Miles to speak.
“Saladin was a good cop. He was a beat cop when he started with us, and he took the detective’s exam a year later and was moved uptown.”
“Did he have any family that you know of?”
Cullen nodded. “His mother was living in a nursing home upstate. I think she died, though.”
“Anyone else?”
He shook his head. “I don’t believe so.”
I frowned, that phone call Dante got from Honeysuckle still bothering me. What were the chances that he had a loved one there? It wasn’t the biggest nursing home in Houston, nor was it the best. Luke chose it because it was close to his mother’s home so that she would be in the same neighborhood and because it was affordable. I offered to pay for a nicer facility, but he didn’t want my family’s money to pay his obligations, never mind the fact that my family owed his mother a huge debt for all the years she worked for us. But, to Luke, it was about our relationship. He’d always felt inferior to me. That would have just made him feel more so.
“He had a friend, though,” Miles suddenly interjected. “A cop he came out of the academy with. He was shot not long before he moved uptown. I remember him asking about long-term care facilities. He wanted to help take care of the guy because he didn’t really have any family.”
I glanced at Sam, but she was watching Cullen with interest.
“That tattoo,” she said suddenly, gesturing to the man’s wrist. “What does it mean?”
Cullen pulled up his sleeve a little higher, showing off the narrow tattoo on his wrist. It was numbers, something that must have been personal to him. I glanced at Sam, wondering why she would ask such a question.
“It’s my badge number. A lot of cops tattoo their badge number on their bodies as sort of a badge of honor, if you know what I mean.”
“Like a soldier tattooing the emblem of his chosen branch on his arm?”
“Exactly.”
Sam nodded, sitting back again just as the waitress came with our meals.
Cullen and Miles relaxed once the food was there, telling us some stories about their time on the force. We didn’t really talk much about Dante after that, but I don’t think anyone noticed. I was fairly satisfied. The idea that Dante would pay for long-term care for a fellow cop was kind of nice. And it really wasn’t any of my business. I never should have looked at his phone. He would tell me about Honeysuckle when he was ready.
We spent another day shopping—as though Sam hadn’t gotten enough already. She bought an entire wardrobe, picking out clot
hes that would be daring even for me. She wore one of her new dresses to the Broadway show we went to that night, catching the attention of the ushers and several of the men sitting near us. I think she even caught the attention of one of the actors, though that could have just been him forgetting his line.
She tripped as we made our way to the car. I grabbed her arm and realized for the first time that she was pale as a ghost.
“Sam?”
She touched her chest, her breath coming in quick, tiny puffs. The chauffeur must have realized something was wrong because he was instantly at our side, lifting her up into his arms. I followed, snagging her purse just before she dropped it.
“Sam?”
I lay her head in my lap. She was conscious, her eyes staring right at me, but she couldn’t speak. I sat her up a little, frightened that she wasn’t getting enough air. She was breathing so hard, but she was blue around her lips.
“Drive faster!” I called to the chauffeur. A second later, I felt the car accelerate around me, but it still seemed to be going so slow.
When we got to the hospital, people came out of nowhere, lifting her out of the backseat, carrying her to a gurney waiting just inside the door. A woman was calling questions to me as they rushed her down the hall, asking about her health history. I said aloud the things I’d been trying to avoid saying since they’d slipped off the end of that cruel, ugly doctor’s tongue.
I didn’t like the sympathetic looks they shot in my direction.
I paced for more than an hour in the waiting room. Sam’s phone chimed over and over with the tone for text messages. It was odd because I’d never seen her get that many text messages before. And then it occurred to me that that was because most of the messages she ever got were from me.
I pulled it out, not meaning to read the messages. But they were from Hayden and he was clearly concerned. What should I tell him?
I didn’t know what to do.
I was about to call him and tell him that Sam was in the bath or some other stupid excuse, when the doctor came out.
“Ms. Bradford?”
I stared at him, remembering the lack of bedside manner the last doctor had. I crossed my arms over my chest, holding myself as tight as I could, preparing for the worst.
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