by Marni Mann
“Hey,” Whitney said as she came into my room at a few minutes before seven.
The electrical fireplace was on across from my bed, the warm glow lighting her face. Even from here, I could tell she hardly had on any makeup, just something shiny on her lips, creating a natural appearance that was achingly beautiful. She wore a pair of tight jeans and a sweater that fell off her shoulders, showing her delicate neck and a sexy collarbone.
“Look at you.” I tried like hell to keep my eyes above her chest.
She attempted to hide her grin as she said, “I told Veronica to take a few hours off. I hope that’s okay?”
As she walked closer, I couldn’t help my stare from dipping again, taking in her olive skin that was teased by the long, dark hair that hung over it, the narrowness of her waist, the gap between her legs. “Perfect.”
“I thought we could eat at your table.” The wheelchair wasn’t far from the bed, and she rolled it over. “Sound good?”
With Whitney coming over on her day off, I certainly didn’t want to spend our time together with only one of us in bed.
In the last week, even with the pain so present, I’d had more practice at getting up. I pulled back the comforter, sliding my legs over the edge of the mattress, feeling for the ground beneath my toes.
“Wow,” she exclaimed, “look at your improvement.”
Her arm slipped around me, guiding me as I got on my feet, and she put the chair behind me once I turned. I reached for the armrests, taking several seconds to breathe through the throbbing in my legs before I carefully sat down.
“Give me a second,” I told her, the burning traveling down my back and into my ass and to my knees.
She shook her head as she stared at me. “You did amazingly well.”
I waited to speak until the agony died down enough. “Amazing will be when I can do it without wanting to rip my legs off.”
She smiled and moved behind me, whispering into my ear, “We’ll have to agree to disagree.”
She brought me into the kitchen, where I saw several paper bags on the island and a large bakery box.
“What’s all this?”
Her laugh was a sound I wanted to pipe through the speakers of my condo, playing it on repeat. “I brought the ingredients for dinner.”
“And you want me to cook?”
She parked me between the stove and island and moved across from me to the other side of the counter. “I was hoping you could tell me what to do, and I could cook for you.”
Air huffed from between my lips. “Whitney, that sounds like a date.”
“You can call it whatever you want,” she joked, using my own words.
She reached into the bags, removing several different types of cheeses, a box of lasagna noodles, sauce, onions, peppers, and mushrooms along with sausage and ground beef. There was also a loaf of French bread and a bottle of wine.
“Google gave me the ingredients. I’m hoping you know what to do with it all, or we’re going to be eating some absurdly thick noodles with an obscene amount of cheese.”
Her adorable side. I’d seen hints of it but never as evident as it was now.
I couldn’t get enough.
I held out my hand. “Come here.”
With the bags empty, she put them in the recycling basket and came around to my side.
When her fingers were clasped in mine, I said, “Thank you.”
“No, no, no.” She shook her head. “I’m not here as your nurse. I’m here to spend time with you and to see what that feels like.”
“And?”
“I’m really liking it so far.” She licked across the lip I had once watched her bite. “Had we not been interrupted, I would have told you, I would love to be your guest but under one condition.”
“I’m ready.”
Her other hand moved to her hip. “This can’t affect your improvement in any way. When I’m in my scrubs, you will listen to every direction and order I give. During those hours, I’m here to make you the healthiest version of the new Caleb Hunt. Deal?”
“Hell yes.” I laughed.
She squeezed my fingers before releasing me and went over to the clear bags that housed the vegetables. “Now, direct me because I’m terribly lost.”
While I gave her instructions, Whitney filled me in on a little more about her life. In the time she’d been working for me, we’d covered the basics, but this conversation gave me a deeper knowledge of the details. I learned what it was like for her to grow up in a large family in Stowe and to have Emily as her roommate at Boston University before they rented the same apartment they’d been living in for the last five years. That she didn’t get to visit her family in Vermont, where all of them still lived, as much as she wanted. She was just starting to describe her desire of traveling when the timer went off.
She mitted her hand and took the lasagna out of the oven. “Look at the masterpiece that you made,” she said, placing it on the counter.
“You did all the work; I’m not taking any of the credit.”
“Let’s decide who gets the award after we’ve tried it.” She plated two pieces and several slices of bread and brought them to the table.
I carefully rolled myself in that direction, my body clenching from the movement, and she met me halfway, positioning me across from her seat.
“I’m going to grab the wine. I’ll be right back.”
As she turned, I took a glimpse of her ass, the jeans hugging that impeccable heart shape, one that was even tighter and more flawless than I had imagined. I was still staring at her when she returned with a bottle of red that she poured into our glasses.
“This deserves a toast.” I held mine high in the air. “To your first home-cooked meal, which smells exceptional, and to many more together.”
Her grin grew with each word. “I like that.”
We sipped, and I reached for my fork, cutting the corner of the layered pasta. “Mmm,” I groaned. “This is fucking delicious.”
“Really?” She set down her wine and tasted the lasagna. “You weren’t kidding; it really kind of is.” She chewed, even adding in another mouthful.
“Tell me where you’ve traveled to.”
“Mostly just New England. Emily and I took a quick trip to Chicago once, and in college, we went to Cancun for spring break.” I watched the fork slide between her plump lips. “I keep a notebook next to my bed of all the places I want to go, but the list is unattainable at this point. Caleb, I’m twenty-eight, and I’ve seen nothing.”
“That’s not true. Being in your line of work, you’ve seen more than most, but I understand what you mean. Traveling has been a massive part of my life. The day of the marathon, I was supposed to be in Dubai with Smith.”
“A city that’s high on my list,” she sighed. “Why didn’t you go?”
“Work.”
She nibbled the bread. “I love Boston; I have since I was a kid. I’ve always wanted to live in the city, but as soon as I found a job here, I was chained to the hospital, and the opportunity to travel and see more never presented itself.”
“The handcuffs are off.” I smiled, and her eyes widened as the realization seemed to hit her. “The world is now yours.”
She sat back in her chair, sipping her wine. “That’s an overwhelming freedom.”
“Where’s the first place you’re going to go?”
She shrugged, taking the final bite of her dinner. “Any suggestions?”
I scooped my bread through the remainder of the sauce and finished swallowing. “Take me into my office, and I’ll show you.”
Giving me her wine to hold, she rolled me toward the other side of the condo, where the guest rooms and my home office were located. I flicked on the light from the doorway, the far wall showing a collage of framed photos.
“Those are the best trips I’ve ever taken.”
“Damn, Caleb, you’ve been everywhere.”
She moved us closer, and I started on the right side, pointing
. “That’s in front of the Great Pyramid of Giza in Cairo,” I told her and aimed for one lower. “That’s the Western Wall in Jerusalem.” Some of the photos were with friends, some I stood solo, and others were only of the locations. “Cinque Terre in the Italian Riviera,” I said, shifting again. “The water is a blue I’ve never witnessed before. You would love it there.”
“How about that one?”
“St. Petersburg, Russia. That was a hell of a place too.” I nodded toward the left of it. “So was Moscow.” I went on to describe the pictures of Amsterdam and Bangkok, Caracas and Montreal. When we finally reached the end, I added, “I’ve probably been to thirty of the states, but those pictures aren’t up here.”
There was amazement in her eyes as she studied the photo of Smith and me skiing in the Swiss Alps and asked, “Do you always travel with friends?”
“More often than not, I go by myself.”
“You don’t mind the quiet?”
I’d never considered that question. “I actually prefer it.”
“That surprises me.”
I turned my chair to face her, the slight action reminding me that there was still so much pain. “I’m an only child, Whitney. I’m used to silence.”
She shrugged. “I would just think it’s easier, maybe more rewarding, to experience it with someone else.”
“When you’re alone, it no longer becomes a trip about compromise.” I glanced at the picture of Japan, remembering the challenges that had presented itself and the language barrier. “When you can’t rely on someone else to steer you, a confidence builds from within, and you learn to use your senses more. That’s when you really find yourself.”
She took a drink of her wine. “Caleb, I’ve never even eaten at a restaurant by myself.”
“You should try it. You don’t need chatter to keep yourself occupied. Just listen to what the room is trying to tell you. The experience will really surprise you.”
She leaned into the edge of my desk. “Your adventurous side is so inspiring.”
I glanced down at my legs, a view I still wasn’t used to. “You have to put yourself in uncomfortable situations. That’s the only way you’re going to grow. You know that, Whitney; you even taught me that.” As I stared into those dark pools of hope, the words began to come out on their own. “For example, if I wasn’t in this wheelchair, I would lift you onto that desk, place my hands on your cheeks, and ravish your lips. It’s a risk—something or someone could intervene—but one I’d be more than willing to take.” A heat spread across her face as I continued, “That’s how you have to treat life. Book that trip; take that adventure. Reach for that kiss—”
She pushed off the wood, setting down her wine, and closed the space between us. Her hands immediately surrounded my scruff, her lips pressing against mine. I growled as I took in her tender mouth, tasting the coconut scent as it mixed with the wine on her tongue. A sensual and savory combination, making me crave more of her. So, I circled her waist, pulling her as close as I could get her.
She felt like a fucking dream, and I breathed, “Whitney,” as my cock hardened even more, throbbing in my shorts.
“My God, you’re a good kisser.” Her mouth was on mine again, more softly this time. Her grip tightening on my skin, her tongue sliding in, teasing.
I moved in deeper after each inhale, feeling where her hips dipped and the arch of her back, the muscles in her legs as she stood between mine. I wanted to shred these clothes off her and cover every spot with my tongue. That urge grew, the longer her mouth was on mine.
When she finally separated us, she stayed dangerously close, her wind still passing through me.
“I was so lost …” she whispered. “I never expected to find myself while I was here with you.”
Her admission hit me hard. Something gnawing as strongly as the torture in my spine.
I kissed the back side of her wrist and said, “I want to show you one more thing. Do you mind taking me out onto the balcony?”
“Of course.”
I leaned my head up for one more brush of her lips, and then she grabbed her drink and brought us through the living room and out the sliding glass door.
“Good Lord,” she groaned, stepping up to the banister. “I’ve been admiring this view from inside. Seeing it up close and at night definitely brings it to another level.”
I was holding the back of her thigh, my eyes only on her. “For as long as I can remember, that city out there has represented work—something that’s always come first in my life. I never even took the time to come out here. I was either at the office or traveling, moving so goddamn fast that I didn’t know how to stop.”
Her stare was searching mine.
“I let nothing get in the way, and I let no one in.”
Her hand raked through my hair. “You were just as lost as me.”
“Maybe when I get out of this chair, even if things look different, I can loosen those shackles a bit.”
Her fingers lowered to my face, thumb brushing where she had kissed. “Caleb, this moment couldn’t be more perfect.”
“There will be many more just like it. That’s something I can promise.”
Ten
“How’s my favorite patient this morning?” Whitney asked as she came into my room, wearing a pair of purple scrubs, her hair in a high ponytail, a much different look than last night.
Veronica was at the foot of my bed, supervising my last set of exercises.
“I’m doing great,” I answered.
Whitney’s smile made up for the loose-fitting outfit.
“He’s sore and a little stiffer today,” Veronica told her.
Whitney came around to my side, fixing the pillows that surrounded me. “It’s raining; that could have something to do with it. Fortunately, it’s going to clear up in a few hours.” She watched me lift my leg into the air, and then I straightened my ankle and rolled my foot in a circle before bringing it down to the bed. “How many sets have you done?”
“Three,” Veronica responded. “He did six last night after you left.”
Whitney sat in the chair next to me. “That’s another reason you could be so sore.” She looked at Veronica. “How about breakfast?”
“I made him a smoothie and a couple of eggs.”
Whitney gave me another grin, showing how pleased she was.
She harped on about eating every chance she got. Even though my appetite hadn’t returned—pain just didn’t trigger hunger—I was doing my best to keep myself fueled.
Veronica checked her watch after I completed my last leg lift. “Do you want me to grab anything before I go?”
“No,” I said. “Thank you.”
Once she left the room, Whitney moved over to the bed, sliding down the blanket. “Lean up for me. I want to check your bandages.” I rose several inches, and she gently lifted my shirt. “Perfect. You can lie back down.” She examined my hip and thigh, going as far as my foot. “Just making sure everything looks okay.”
“Does it?”
“I don’t see anything too alarming.” She winked and covered me back up, sitting on the mattress again. “Promise me something?”
I nodded.
“As you get stronger, you’ll continue being honest with me about how you’re feeling. And you’ll tell me if you’re in pain and if you’re doing too much.” Her hand went on top of mine, fingers linking. “Caleb, I know how badly you want out of this bed and your wheelchair, but you have to move at a pace your body can handle.”
“I promise.” My other hand went behind her head, holding her hair, and she grazed her face against my forearm. “You know what would make me feel even better?”
Her smile grew, and she climbed over me, the scent of coconut like a tropical wind. She kissed me, and the morning taste of her lips was as sensual as their flavor last night.
I went up and down her sides, her breathing changing with each pass, her skin so warm through the thin fabric. “Whitney, you feel so fucking
good.”
“And you feel like trouble.”
I held her, so she didn’t move. “Wait until I ask for a shower.”
“Veronica didn’t give you one?”
I shook my head, licking her off my mouth. “I wouldn’t let her.”
She laughed. “Oh boy, you’re even worse than I thought.” She kissed me once more, gripping my shoulders until she pulled away. “Your physical therapist will be here in thirty minutes, and then I have something planned for after lunch—as long as you’re feeling up to it.”
When she leaned back, I took in how stunning she was, wearing even less makeup than our date and looking just as gorgeous. “Oh yeah?” I replied. “Are you cooking again?”
“It’s a surprise.” She untangled from my arms and got off the bed. “In the meantime, I need you to relax and reserve all your energy for PT.” She straightened her clothes, grabbing the empty bottle of water off my nightstand. “I’ll be back in a few minutes with a new one of these”—she shook the plastic—“and an Oreo cookie.”
“Straight after my heart.”
She chuckled as she walked out, unintentionally giving me a full view of her ass.
My physical therapist had set me up on the couch, lying across the cushions, a few hours ago after our session. It was a nice change from my bedroom, and the news was playing on the TV. The station was showing an update on the bombers; one had been shot and killed by the police, and the other was in custody, pictures of both filling the screen.
I wasn’t in the forgiving stage yet.
I wanted that motherfucker to suffer.
The flat screen went black, the remote in Whitney’s hand before she returned it to the coffee table. “Enough of that. I need your mind off of what’s happening, not focused on it.” She sat next to me, handing me another drink. “How are you feeling?”
I gulped down several sips. “Decent.”
“How decent?”
My fingers slipped around her thigh, gently tracing to her knee. “Well enough to do whatever you have planned.”
“Caleb …”
My eyes finally glanced up from those sexy legs, and she concentrated on my gaze, one I was positive she could see straight through. “You promise you’re feeling strong after PT?”