Reggie and Ben’s arrival takes her focus off her abused body, as does the food they carry with them. “We’ve got your favorite,” Ben crows. He pulls out a cheesesteak from a paper bag, and her stomach rumbles.
“Great. Thanks. I didn’t realize how hungry I am.” The cell phone she worked so hard to get is resting next to her waist. She can look at it later. “Did you get my cell phone charger?”
“Yup. You’re all set. We even brought the laptop.” Ben places the food on a rolling table, the smell mouth-watering.
She seeks out Reggie’s eyes and smiles, relieved when she receives a sweet grin in return. Reggie kisses her on the cheek, and Chrissy can’t help but pout. She wants to taste Reggie’s lips. Or maybe not. She hasn’t even used the restroom since right before the attack occurred. She probably looks a mess. And her breath must reek.
“Here you go,” Ben says as he guides the table across Chrissy’s lap and pulls up a chair.
Reggie perches on the bed on the other side of the table so she can use it, too. It’s intimate and homey eating this way, which is a minor miracle since they’re in a hospital room on Christmas Eve. After they finish eating, Chrissy hobbles to the bathroom. Her calf is hurting like a bitch, and each step reminds her she needs to move slowly to avoid jostling her ribs. She insists she can take care of herself once in the bathroom. She doesn’t want Reggie to see her in such a compromising position. Chrissy knows it’s her pride talking, but she wants Reggie’s first time seeing her without her pants on to be when they’re about to make love.
Looking down at herself, she realizes she’s wearing scrubs. It’s a good thing she’s leaving the hospital today, because these clothes aren’t that comfortable or warm. She’ll be glad to don some flannel pants and a thick sweatshirt. And socks—wool socks. Untying the drawstring, Chrissy allows the pants and her panties to pool around her ankles. Now for the hard part. She grasps the hand bars on either side of the toilet and lowers herself, groaning and squeezing her eyes shut as her abused ribs complain. She breathes in and out to the count of five, waiting for the pain to dissipate. Once she opens her eyes, they move to the surgical tape over the wound on her calf. Blood covers the area. Well, there’s no way she can wash that off right now.
She nearly passes out from wiping herself. This is ridiculous. Biting back a groan, she pulls on her clothes again and stands, wincing from the pain and the realization she’ll have to bend to flush the toilet. She looks at the door, tempted to call Reggie in to help. Shaking her head, she leans forward and flushes, moaning as a knifelike pain shoots through her.
“You okay in there?” Chrissy hears Ben’s worried tone of voice and grimaces.
“Yeah. Still alive,” she jokes. Hearing the loud silence, she realizes her poor joke. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
She moves in front of the sink, eyeing herself in the mirror. Pale. Dark circles under her eyes. Chapped lips. Matted hair. Smeared eye makeup. She’s quite a fright. She grabs some tissues from the sink and wets them, washing her face clean. A brush is on the side, as well as a new toothbrush and toothpaste. Chrissy uses them all. She still looks like she’s been through a battle, but she’s cleaner. That makes her feel a bit better. She’ll take it as a win.
She lifts her shirt to look at her ribs. Deep bruising is settling in, and the area is swollen. I’ll have to ice the area more. With a frown, Chrissy recognizes this is the best she’s going to look today. Opening the door, she meets concerned eyes. Chrissy smiles. At least she tries. Reggie must read something in her face, as she’s over in a flash, wrapping her arm around Chrissy and guiding her back to bed.
“You should have asked for help,” Reggie says.
“I’m pretty sure you didn’t sign up for wiping my ass,” Chrissy mutters, frustrated with how her body has betrayed her. She looks around to make sure Ben hasn’t heard her. He has his earphones on, his foot tapping to the music he’s listening to on his phone.
“Christina,” Reggie whispers, her voice breaking. She doesn’t say anything else until Chrissy is back in bed with the ice pack on her ribs. “I would never even think about that. The bending must be torturous. I’m so sorry.”
“Please don’t apologize.” Chrissy regrets allowing her frustration to get the better of her. “I’m sorry for acting like a spoiled child. I’ve never learned to deal with feeling sick or helpless or in pain. I’m a horrible patient. And this isn’t how I want you to see me.”
A hand settles over hers, and Chrissy’s frustration crests, tears forming. “Christina, please don’t be so hard on yourself. Your body needs to heal. Give yourself some time. Let me take care of you.”
It’s hard to rely on someone after being independent for most of her life. With her autonomy compromised, she feels like a burden, even though she recognizes how irrational she’s being. It doesn’t help to know that she’ll have to wait weeks before she can explore Reggie’s body, worship it in the ways she’s dreamed about all these months.
“I’m not going anywhere, Christina.” Reggie’s soft voice wraps around Chrissy like a soothing hug.
The promise in Reggie’s eyes makes her breathless. Reggie squeezes her hand before she lets go and crosses to her purse. Chrissy watches her retrieve a pad of paper and pen, her forehead crinkling in an adorable way while she jots down her thoughts.
“Are you working?” Chrissy asks. “Can I help?”
Reggie looks up from her notes and shakes her head. “Not work. It’s for when we get out of here. I’m afraid I’ll forget.” She grins. “It’s hard getting old.”
“Please. You are not old, and your mind is like a steel trap.”
“Maybe, but I also prefer to jot down my thoughts whenever possible.”
Chrissy nods, watching her write. She’s pretty worn out, and she knows traveling to Reggie’s home is going to take a lot of energy. She closes her eyes. It soothes her to visualize Reggie’s warm brown eyes and sparkling smile.
***
“Are you sure, Reggie?” Chrissy stands in the doorway of the bedroom, taking in the queen-sized bed with navy sheets and a matching comforter. The walls are painted a cream color, the hardwood floors partially covered with an intricately designed rug. Near the windows are some cushioned upright chairs and a small coffee table with magazines spread across them. The art on the walls include photographs of castles, crashing waves against a lighthouse in the middle of a storm, and the sun shining on snowy Boston brownstones as children throw snowballs at each other. The room is rich and complex, a perfect reflection of Reggie.
“This room has an en suite. It will save you from having to walk too far.” Reggie places the bag of Chrissy’s clothes on a gray chaise lounge at the end of the bed. She takes Chrissy’s hands. “Besides, I want to be near you, and if you stay in one of the guestrooms, I’ll have to get up several times each night to check on you. You don’t want me to have to walk through the cold, dark hallways throughout the night, do you?” She pouts.
Sleeping in a bed with Reggie sounds like heaven. “No, of course not. I’d rather know you’re close and safe.”
“Good,” Reggie says with a small smile. “Let’s get you set up, shall we?” She bustles around the room, changing the bed sheets and bringing a few more pillows out from a closet. “Do you need me to help you change?”
“No. If you can bring my clothes into the bathroom, I’ll manage.”
Reggie looks like she’s about to object, but she snaps her lips shut and nods. A moment later she returns with a pair of Chrissy’s nightclothes—a navy fleece top and matching flannel sweatpants—and leads Chrissy to the bathroom. “Here you go.” She leaves the clothes on top of the sink. “Let me know if you need help.”
“Thanks.” Chrissy’s exhausted by the time she finishes changing. Once she returns to the bedroom, Reggie helps her into bed, propping her up with pillows. The afternoon flies by, and Chrissy fills the time by taking catnaps and reading a magazine Reggie gave her.
“What are you
thinking?” Reggie asks from her seat next to the window. She’s reviewing some legal documents, and the last thing Chrissy wants to do is distract her.
“Nothing important.”
“I beg to differ.” Reggie removes her reading glasses. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”
“It’s just, I came so close to losing everyone I care for. Ben. You. And now I just want to pull both of you close and never let go.” After a pause, she admits in a small voice, “It’s entirely irrational, but I wish I could hold you.”
“That sounds pretty important to me.” Reggie smiles, rising from her seat.
“No, no. I don’t want to interrupt, and you’ve already lost time from yesterday’s events.”
“Christina, please humor me.” Reggie relocates to the bed, plumping up some pillows before leaning against them. “I lost time yesterday due to a madman who tried to kill me, not because you’re hurt.” She nestles into Chrissy’s right side. “Let me know if this is too much.”
“I will,” Chrissy whispers. She’s glad that Reggie is next to her, even if she’s feeling rather needy. A knock on the door precedes Ben entering the room.
“Mind if I hang out here?” he asks.
“Not at all. Sit wherever,” Chrissy replies.
His eyes wander the room before he shrugs and plops himself on his stomach at the end of the bed. Chrissy turns her head to catch Reggie’s eyes, and they grin at each other. It feels good to have both of them close.
They while away the afternoon reading, working, and when a thought needs to be shared, chatting. It’s comfortable, their past interactions the perfect foundation to get them to this point.
A kiss to her jaw captures Chrissy’s attention, and she looks at Reggie, melting into her smile. “Hi,” she whispers.
“Hi,” Reggie whispers back, stroking Chrissy’s arm. “Are you hungry?”
“Getting there.”
Nodding, Reggie grabs a drink on the bedside table and hands it to Chrissy. “Drink this, and I’ll have Ben bring you a refill.” She takes the empty glass and rises from the bed. “Ben, how do you feel about helping me whip up some supper?”
He looks up with a smile. “Sure!”
“Do you need to use the bathroom?” Reggie asks.
“Yeah. That’s a good idea.” Chrissy holds her ribs while slowly swinging her feet off the bed onto the floor. She glares at her feet for a moment before wrapping her arm around Reggie’s waist and rising. Once standing, she catches her breath. “Okay.” They make their way to the en suite while the sun sets, the seasons change, and her hair turns gray. Chrissy’s patience fades with each step.
“Do you need help?” Reggie asks, her voice soft, once they cross the threshold into the bathroom.
“No. Later, though, maybe tomorrow morning, I’d like to take a shower. I might need help then.” Chrissy stares at the floor. Although she doesn’t like Reggie seeing her this way, Chrissy doesn’t want to make her injuries worse or the recuperation time longer by being stubborn.
“Whatever you need.” Reggie’s voice is soothing, and Chrissy knows it will be okay.
Taking her time in the bathroom, Chrissy lifts her right foot while she’s seated to look at her bloody calf. Maybe she’ll ask Reggie to help her clean it off. And her shoulder. She knows she won’t be able to do it herself, and seeing the iodine and blood bothers her. Finishing up, Chrissy returns to the bedroom as Ben comes in. He holds a drink and a new ice pack.
“Thanks, Ben.” She swallows some of the ginger ale, smiling at how Reggie remembers such small details, and Ben takes the glass, placing it on the bedside table. He helps her back into bed and places the ice carefully on her side. “What are you and Reggie cooking up?”
Ben’s eyes light. “Something you’ll love. Are you okay for now?”
“Yup. I’m good.”
“Be back soon. It shouldn’t take long.” He practically skips out of the room.
While waiting for them, Chrissy turns on her cell phone and is surprised to see a number of missed calls, texts, and emails. Most are from the media, and she wonders how they got her contact information. It’s probably better she’s not at home.
Skipping through the voicemails, she listens to one from Cathy. She wants to come by tomorrow afternoon to say hello. David shouts in the background that he wants to come, too, and Chrissy laughs before she remembers it hurts to do so. They’re good people. A couple of messages are from parents of Ben’s friends, reaching out to see if she needs anything. She’s surprised since she’s had limited interactions with them. She sends several texts before setting the phone aside.
“Here we go,” Reggie says as she enters the room with a tray. Ben walks in behind her with another tray. Both are laden with food. The aromas of toasted bread and tangy tomatoes are amazing.
“Oh, my God, that smells heavenly.” Chrissy’s stomach growls.
“You can call me Reggie, dear,” Reggie teases as she sets the tray down. Ben chuckles. Chrissy ignores him. Her attention is focused solely on the food—garden salads, grilled cheese sandwiches, and tomato soup. Each looks a thousand times better than anything she’s ever tasted.
“This looks great, Reggie.” Chrissy emphasizes her name, flashing a quick smile, and they eat on the bed together.
Moaning as she chews the sandwich, Chrissy’s eyes are captured by Reggie’s intense stare. She watches as Reggie’s pupils dilate, widening so much she can hardly see the brown irises. A flirty smile spreads across Reggie’s face.
“I take it you’re enjoying the food,” Reggie says with a throaty voice.
“That’s an understatement.” How Reggie can make such simple fare taste orgasmic is beyond her understanding. But she’s grateful. So grateful. And that smile. It hints at a passion Chrissy briefly tasted at the party.
“I told you the way to Mom’s heart is through food,” Ben says.
“So it seems,” Reggie says, her amusement clear.
Chrissy blushes because it’s true. Food is important to her, and Reggie is an awesome cook. It’s another reason to love her.
“I realized that at the holiday party.” Reggie picks up Chrissy’s hand and kisses her knuckles. “Before then, I thought you might have a sweet tooth, or maybe a soft spot for tiramisu. Now I know better.”
They grin at each other, and Chrissy wonders whether the mistletoe is still in the den.
“I took it down,” Reggie whispers.
“Pity,” Chrissy whispers back.
“I no longer need an excuse to kiss you, do I?”
“Not at all. I’m all yours,” Chrissy says, and although they’re flirting, she’s serious.
Reggie cups her face with both hands and leans her forehead against Chrissy’s. They remain that way for a few moments before Reggie pulls back. Her eyes assure Chrissy the feeling’s mutual. They finish eating, and Ben leaves to shower and change for bed. It’s still early, but he’s tired. Chrissy is, too.
After piling the dirty plates on a tray, Reggie places it and the other tray on top of the bureau. Returning to Chrissy, she settles next to her. The kiss is unexpected. Chrissy moans, as Reggie’s tongue swipes across her lower lip. Allowing entrance, Chrissy tilts her head to get closer, their tongues rubbing together. Reggie’s fingers weave through Chrissy’s hair, and Chrissy loses herself in the taste and texture of Reggie’s addictive mouth.
Soft lips move down to her chin, sucking on it before butterfly kisses are delivered down her neck to her pulse point. Those magical lips stall and suck for several exquisite moments, and then Reggie’s tongue and teeth join in, driving Chrissy crazy. Chrissy keeps her eyes closed, head leaning against her pillow, hands holding Reggie close. These feelings Reggie inspires overwhelm her, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.
“I love you, Christina.” Reggie takes Chrissy’s earlobe between her teeth and sucks it. “And I intend to take every opportunity to show you. To make you feel my love.”
“I do,” Chrissy says breathles
sly, trembling with the force of her desire. “I feel it. And I love you. So much.”
“Good.” Reggie pulls back and they beam at each other, hands clasped between them. “I know you’re tired. I think we all are. I’m going to take care of the dishes and prepare some of the food for tomorrow. Don’t feel you need to wait up for me.”
“I don't think I'll be able to even if I try. Don't take too long.”
“I won't. I plan on holding you all night long,” Reggie promises.
Chrissy believes her.
Chapter Ten
The bedroom is quiet, peaceful, and warm. Reggie’s body is curled against her, arm around her waist, and fingers splayed on her belly underneath her T-shirt. She’s glad she shed the sweatshirt for sleepwear. Reggie is a furnace. Guess I’m the little spoon. Not that she minds. Soft breasts press into her back, and toned thighs hug hers. It feels glorious.
She slept surprisingly well. Her ribs ache, but she’s able to breathe deeper. Opening her eyes, Chrissy places her hand over Reggie’s, stroking it with her thumb. She hears an inhalation, and Reggie’s breath hits the back of her neck, stirring the little hairs at her nape. She shivers. Reggie’s nose pushes aside her hair, and lips kiss the juncture of neck and shoulder before sucking. Chrissy hums.
“Merry Christmas, Christina,” Reggie says, her hand turning over to capture Chrissy’s fingers, intertwining them.
“Merry Christmas, Reggie.”
“You feel wonderful in my arms. I can’t remember the last time I slept so well.” Reggie delivers several featherlike kisses to Chrissy’s neck.
“Same here.” Chrissy tilts her head, sighing with pleasure. I can get used to this.
“I’m going to make you the best breakfast you’ve ever tasted.”
It’s as if Reggie has declared she’s going to make love to her until they can no longer move. Chrissy’s body lights up, and she shudders. Reggie’s knowing chuckle does nothing to help Chrissy calm down.
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