by Isabel Love
“Oh, nonsense. You know the ER will benefit from having Caleb on staff as a consultant,” he says condescendingly. He’s completely steamrolling her and speaking on her behalf as the director.
I clench my jaw, unsure how to help.
Monica blows out a breath and squares her shoulders. “Dad, please stop. This is a party. Can we leave shop talk for another time? I really don’t want to discuss this now. Caleb, remember that I am not responsible for keeping any promises my father makes on my behalf.” The steel in her voice makes me proud.
Caleb smiles and holds up his hands, placating her. “No worries, Monica. We can have lunch this week and discuss it further.” His eyes skim down her body, not quite taking no for an answer. Fucking douchebag. I involuntarily inch closer to Monica and he notices. His eyes narrow at me.
Monica crosses her arms and she glares at him. “I’m afraid you’ll have to take it up with Dr. Finley yourself.” I almost can’t contain my smile, but I feign disinterest.
Soft music is playing in the background and the DJ announces that we should all be seated for dinner. Reluctantly, I leave Monica and make my way to my table with Tate.
“Sheesh. Those two are so snobby. Monica is nothing like her father,” Tate comments.
We sit down and I’m happy to see that my seat gives me a great view of Monica. She is only two tables away, and our seats are on opposite sides of the table, so we’re facing each other. She catches my eye and gives me a small smile. Then I see the douchebag push in her chair and take the seat next to hers. My smile is stiff and I look away quickly, not wanting to see anymore.
Simone is sitting to the right of me and asks me what I thought of my first time volunteering at Safe Zone.
“Honestly, it was an eye-opening experience for me. I loved helping the residents, but I also felt pretty helpless at the same time. I wish I could do more to protect them.”
Her eyes soften at my response. “They really liked you, Max, especially little Lucy. She loves that stuffed monkey you guys gave her. What’s its name? Coco?”
“Coconut,” I correct her. Warmth settles in my chest at the thought of Lucy keeping our monkey and remembering me in a positive light. “Lucy was really afraid of me at first. I’m glad she came around.”
The chatter continues around me as we are served food. Everyone makes polite small talk, but I really like Simone and her husband, Will. Tate and I end up chatting with them the most.
I’m doing my best to stay focused on the current conversation, but I can’t help glancing up at Monica every few minutes. She looks more relaxed than she did earlier, but I notice the douchebag has his arm on the back of her chair. She is sitting up straight so her back is not touching the chair, but he lifts his hand to graze his fingers along her bare back. My blood boils at the sight of his hands touching her. She stiffens at his touch and scoots forward on her chair to get out of reach; he drops his hand and straightens in his chair. Her reaction stops me from marching over to her table and physically removing his hands from her body.
“Max,” Tate repeats my name.
I snap back to attention, looking away from Monica. “What?”
“We were just talking about a program I’m thinking of starting with the kids at Safe Zone. They need positive interactions with men and I think you’d be great with the kids. It’s kind of like a big brother program,” Simone tells me.
“I’d love to help out. Thank you for thinking of me.” I think of Lucy and other kids like her, and my heart squeezes.
As dinner winds down, the lights dim and the DJ announces that the bidding table is ready and dancing will start soon. People start to get up from their seats to mill around. The people at Monica’s table have gotten up, but she remains seated with fuckface. He’s turned in his chair to face her and is smiling his most winning smile as they talk. I wish I could hear what he’s saying.
She must feel my stare because she looks up at me. I pull out my cell phone and discreetly type a text to her.
Me: Hi.
I watch as she retrieves her cell from her purse and checks my message. Her lips turn up into a small smile and she bites her lip as her fingers swipe across her phone. My cell vibrates a moment later.
Monica: Hi. How’re you doing over there?
Me: He touched you.
Monica: I know, but only for a moment. I moved away from him, didn’t you see?
Me: Yes, but it makes me want to touch you.
Monica: I like it when you touch me.
“Max, how are you tonight?” I look up to find Dr. Rosetti standing next to me. I pocket my phone quickly and stand to talk to him.
“Good, how are you, Rosetti?”
“Well, I had to get dressed up in this monkey suit, so I’m not quite as comfortable as I’d like, but the food was good, so that’s a plus.” He pulls on his collar. Tony Rosetti is much more comfortable in his scrubs or shorts and a t-shirt.
“The food was amazing.”
“Did you see who Monica is here with?” he asks me.
Shit. Maybe Monica is right about him suspecting us. “Yes, I met him earlier.” I’m trying so hard to keep my tone light.
“I think she needs to be rescued,” he says.
I look over to Monica and find him standing next to her with his hand out. He’s asking her to dance. She shakes her head in protest, but he pulls her up, nodding toward the dance floor. Fuck. My blood pressure starts to rise at the sight of him ushering her away from me. I feel Rosetti’s eyes on me and I try to rein in my emotions.
“Maybe you should rescue her,” I suggest.
He chuckles. “I’m going to need rescuing in a moment. As soon as my wife sees the dancing has started, she’s going to try to drag me out there. I’m on my way to get another drink and hide.”
At this point, Monica and the fucktard are in the center of the dance floor and he has wrapped his arms around her. She stands there stiffly with her hands on his chest, preventing him from standing flush against her. I can’t take this.
“I’ll come have a drink with you.”
“You’re a terrible actor,” he says quietly. “Just go to her. It’s obvious she wants to be with you and you want to be with her. I don’t know why you guys are tiptoeing around each other.”
“No, it’s not like that,” I say quickly, trying to backtrack and deny.
He holds his hands up, placating me. “Okay, fine. Sorry if I was out of line. I just think you guys might be good together.” His positive reaction to the thought of me and Monica as a couple is a balm to my rotten mood. “But I’m sure of one thing: she doesn’t want to be with that guy. So, do me a favor and go over there. Tell her she was paged by the ER, whatever, just make something up so she doesn’t have to dance with him.”
He doesn’t have to work hard to convince me because I really want to go over there and cut in. “Okay, here I go. Catch you later.”
He slaps me on my back as I make my way to the dance floor. I find Monica and Caleb and my eyes zero into his hands stroking her back again. I clench my jaw and try to keep my muscles loose. They both look at me when I step up close.
“Mind if I cut in?”
Monica’s eyes widen and she looks around to see if anyone is watching us.
“No, we aren’t finished here.” Caleb brushes me off and turns Monica away from me. I see his fingers dig into her back and my blood pressure starts to rise. I’m about two seconds from breaking his fingers.
I step to follow her. “Dr. Morgan, Dr. Rosetti said he needed to talk to you about a page from the ER.”
She looks up at me, eyebrows raised. “Really?”
I nod. “He says they paged the both of you, did you get it?” I know she left her phone and purse at the table. She starts to pull away, but Caleb won’t let her go.
“Don’t you have someone covering for you tonight?” Caleb asks, holding on to her arm.
“I do, but I need to check this out.”
“Come on, let’s finis
h this discussion. You can check in later.”
“If someone was paging you from your department, would you put it off until later? Please let me go, I need to check on this.” She wriggles out of his grasp and walks with me to her table to get her purse. “Thank you for coming over there. I’m sorry, Max, but he kept insisting that we dance. I was trying to pull away from him.”
“I know.” I clench my jaw.
“Is there really a page?” She looks at her cell phone to check for messages.
“No, but act like there is. Let’s go find a quiet place you might go if you needed to return a call.” Caleb is watching us from where we left him standing on the dance floor, hands on his hips, scowl on his face.
Monica grabs her purse and we walk out of the ballroom into the hall. To the left is a hallway with restrooms, and to our right is a dark hallway with several closed doors. We head that way to the end of the quiet corridor and test out the very last door. It’s unlocked and opens to a dark empty office. I usher her inside and close the door behind us.
As soon as the door latches, I push her up against it and kiss her. I touch her everywhere, her soft face, her silky shoulders, her bare back, down her waist to her amazing ass. She moans into my mouth, drops her purse, and clutches at my shoulders.
“I need to touch you,” I tell her.
“Touch me.” I do. My hands pull the fabric of her long dress up, baring her legs to me. I can’t see much in the dark room, but I feel that she is wearing thigh highs. Holy hell. I toy with the edges of the stockings and move higher, gripping her hips and moving the dress up to her waist.
“I can’t stand you being with him,” I rasp into her ear. I touch her bare ass and discover that she is wearing a thong. There is a tiny strip of fabric buried between her butt cheeks and I slide my finger under it, pulling on it, testing the strength. She whimpers and wriggles against me.
“I’m not with him.” She shakes her head in denial.
“You’re mine.” I’m a man possessed. I need to prove to myself that she’s mine.
She nods frantically. “I’m yours, Max.”
I reach in between her legs and find the fabric of her underwear soaking wet. My fingers stroke back and forth and she gasps, moving her hips to rub herself on my fingers. I push her underwear to the side, touch her bare pussy, and slide my fingers into her. Her gasps turn into moans and I feel her contract around my fingers. Fuck.
“I need you,” I groan.
“Take me.”
I turn her around so she’s facing the door and she bends at the waist, sticking her ass out to me. It takes two seconds to unbuckle my pants, unzip, and free my painfully hard cock. With one hand, I hold her underwear off to the side, and with the other, I rub my cockhead against her entrance, wetting it with her arousal. I slide it up and down, teasing her clit. She pushes back toward me, impatient.
“Spread your legs,” I command. She widens her stance, giving me better access, and I push inside. Fuuuuck. We both groan at the feel of that first thrust. I grab on to her hips and proceed to fuck her. It’s fast. It’s hard. It’s primal. I need to claim her, mark her, come inside her.
“Max.” She pants, bracing herself against the door as I slam into her.
My orgasm is approaching and while I’d typically try to hold it at bay, this time I welcome it. “I’m going to come,” I warn her.
“Yes,” she chants. She meets my thrusts, grunting as I fuck her. Digging my fingers into her hips, I pull her back toward me so I’m standing still and she’s bouncing off my cock. Her whimpers turn into soft cries, and I feel her pussy start to flutter around me. With a grunt, I bury myself inside her and come. My cock pulses as I fill her up and her pussy clamps down around me with her orgasm. I lean forward and wrap my arms around her, pulling her into my chest. We’re both breathing heavy and I rock in and out of her slowly, milking every last bit of pleasure I can. She sags into my arms, legs wobbly on her heels.
I lean my head down to rest on her shoulder and kiss her soft skin. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“Did I hurt you?”
“No, I’m okay.”
“I don’t like pretending anymore,” I state the obvious.
“I know, Max, I’m sorry. We can leave now if you want.”
My cock starts to soften and she squirms at the feel of me slipping out of her. We look around for some tissues, but don’t find any.
“Does it make me perverted if I admit I like the fact that my come is all over you right now?”
She chuckles. “Jealousy turns you into a caveman.”
The tension from the night has drained out of me and I laugh with her. “It would seem so.”
“Let me go to the bathroom and we can get out of here,” she says with a soft kiss. She pulls her dress down and I tuck myself back in. “Do I look…?” She trails off, feeling her hair to make sure it’s still intact. I stare at her. Her cheeks are flushed but it makes her look radiant, her makeup is no worse for wear, and while her dress has a few wrinkles, it looks beautiful.
“You look perfect.”
I retrieve her purse from the floor and open the door just a crack to see if anyone is outside. I don’t see anyone in the dark hallway so I open the door wide and let her pass in front of me. We make our way down the hall and just as we’re about to pass the entrance to the ballroom to reach the restrooms, the door opens and Monica’s father walks out with Dr. Finley right behind him. The sight of them makes Monica freeze. She drops my hand and steps away from me. It’s probably only six inches, but it feels like a mile.
The two men are headed toward the exit, and I think we are going to go unnoticed—but then Murphy’s Law decides to laugh in our faces. A short Latina woman exits the ladies room directly across from us and walks in our direction. She is likely headed back toward the ballroom but stops when she sees us.
“Monica! Max!” Paula Ramos shouts as she walks over to us and pulls us into a group hug. Oh, shit. Mrs. Ramos is our salsa instructor. What is she doing here?
This, of course, gets the attention of Monica’s father and Dr. Finley. I have never met him before, but I know he is the head of the board of directors. They stop walking and turn to face us.
“Mrs. Ramos, nice to see you,” I say at a normal volume, hoping she’ll get the hint to use her inside voice. “This is a surprise.” I risk a glance at Monica and she is panicking.
Perfect. Just perfect.
“It is a small world,” she practically yells, beaming at us. “I come to this benefit every year. Did I ever tell you that you two are my most favorite students?” I guess Mrs. Ramos doesn’t know any other volume than loud. I wrap my arm around her and try to walk toward the ballroom before our observers hear anything else she has to say.
“Thanks so much, Mrs. Ramos. You are an excellent teacher.” Sweat gathers on my upper lip as I try to figure out how to change the subject.
She stops walking and carries on loud as ever. “Not to mention my favorite couple. I have really enjoyed watching you two fall in love.” She giggles and looks right at Monica’s dad. “You should see these two lovebirds when the lights go dim. They can’t keep their hands off each other. Reminds me of me and my husband when we first started dating.”
Thank you so much, Mrs. Ramos.
I look over at Monica. The color has drained from her face and she looks like she may vomit. Dr. Finley looks confused and Dr. Morgan starts to walk our way with a scowl. Great. Just great. Monica’s dad and her boss just heard that I grope Monica.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
The only thing to do now is damage control.
“Nice to see you, Mrs. Ramos, but we have to get going.” I reach my hand out to Monica. “Come on, let’s get some air,” I suggest. She shakes her head and takes a step away from me.
Those two little movements—the shake of her head and the step away from me for the second time in the last two minutes—feel like she just slapped me across the face. T
he sting of rejection makes my stomach drop.
Her father reaches us, fuming. “Monica, is this some kind of joke?” he asks, incredulous. “What is this woman talking about?”
Mrs. Ramos’s cheerful attitude is not affected by his scathing tone. “I teach salsa dancing at the studio by the hospital. Monica and Max have been taking lessons for weeks,” she explains with a smile. I close my eyes and sigh. The jig is up.
“Are you dating this man?” Dr. Morgan spits out. “A nurse from your department?” he barks. “And dancing again?” He enunciates ‘dancing’ as if it is equivalent to worshiping Satan.
Monica wraps her arms around her body as if to protect herself from this onslaught.
“Hey, can you lower your voice?” I ask in the calmest tone I can muster.
He eyes me with disgust. “I need to have a word with my daughter. If you’ll excuse me.” Acid drips from his words.
The smile fades from Mrs. Ramos’ mouth when she realizes she has just revealed a secret. “Oh dear, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.” Her wide eyes meet mine.
I give her a reassuring smile. “No worries, Mrs. Ramos. You have a good night.”
“Monica, what are you thinking?” He towers over her, red-faced and angry. Monica cowers further and I see her start to tremble. She is completely losing all composure right now and I don’t know what to do, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let her father physically scare her.
I step in between them, shielding her with my body. “Dr. Morgan, I can see that you’re upset right now, but please don’t talk to Monica like that.” Shock fills his face at my audacity, and he is momentarily speechless.
I take the opportunity to look at Dr. Finley. He is studying this exchange with a frown.
Dr. Morgan gets in my face and says, “Listen here, Mr. Spencer, I’m not sure what game you’re playing at, but you need to leave so I can talk to my daughter.”
“With all due respect, sir, I’m not going anywhere. You can talk with her when you’re calm.” I reach behind me, take Monica’s hand, and pull her with me to the exit. This time she takes my hand and walks with me. I nod at Dr. Finley as we pass.