Perfect Distraction

by Allison Ashley

  I think about you always.

  I care about you.

  I’ve been wanting you.

  I adore you.

  She lost herself in his kiss, his smell, his breath. His tongue swept into her mouth and she moaned, letting him in completely. He released a low growl from deep within his throat, and suddenly his hands gripped her hips and she felt herself being lifted into the air. Her butt hit the granite, and he moved between her legs, putting her at the perfect height. Face-to-face, she tilted her head and kissed him deeply.

  He pulled her to the edge of the countertop and their hips came together, her legs wrapping around his waist. She arched herself against his broad torso as they kissed feverishly, stopping only for brief seconds to take in ragged breaths.

  Andrew’s hands were everywhere and nowhere at once; the second she sensed his touch in one place he moved to another. Her face, her hair, her waist. A few times his lips dipped to her neck or collarbone, only to return to her lips within seconds.

  “Never stop kissing me,” he breathed into her mouth. “Never.”

  She didn’t stop. Not for a long, long time.

  Finally, she mustered the resolve to pull back, but she left her hands where they gripped Andrew’s waist. That part of him was as hard and muscled as she’d imagined. Damn him and his healthy eating habits.

  His warm brown eyes were full of passion and affection. She blinked, taking in the gravity of what she’d done.

  She tucked her lips between her teeth and furrowed her brow. “Oops.”

  He stared at her for a moment, then threw his head back and laughed.

  She couldn’t help but start giggling, too.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever had that response after kissing a woman.”

  “What’s the standard one? They probably rip off all of their clothes, don’t they? Wait,” she quickly added. “Don’t answer that. I don’t want to know.”

  Andrew’s laughter came to an abrupt halt and his eyes met hers, his gaze smoldering.

  “You know, it’s weird.” He traced her cheekbone with his thumb. “I know I’ve kissed other women before you, but I can’t seem to remember a single thing about them.”

  She leaned in to his caress.

  “You’re all I think about,” he said.

  “It’s the same for me,” she admitted. “No matter how hard I try to stop it.”

  He kissed her softly, and her pulse was like fire in her veins. She slid her fingers around to his lower back, gripping the waistband of his jeans. A low rumble rose from his chest, and he fisted his hands in her hair.

  “This is…” He tore his mouth away, and his forehead came to rest on her shoulder. “I can’t even describe this.”

  “Consuming,” Lauren supplied, and he nodded, tilting his head to brush his lips against her neck. “What…” Her voice wavered when he sucked on a particularly sensitive area of skin near her throat. “What are we going to do?”

  Andrew lifted his head. “What do you mean?”

  “How are we going to do this? Your last chemo is in twelve days. I don’t want to be with you publicly until then, and to be safe, I don’t want to tell anyone until after your scan.”

  Andrew searched her face. “We can’t go back to the way things were. I can’t.” He brushed his fingers across her lips. “Not after this.”

  Lauren couldn’t, either. “We have to be careful. Especially at the cancer center, but in public, too. We can’t go on dates or show outward affection when we’re around people. You never know who could see us…” She thought of Gavin and his warning.

  “I’m all for lying low until after the scan. You’ll just move in here, yeah? We’ll hole ourselves up at my apartment for the next two weeks. I mean, if you insist, we don’t even have to leave my bed.” He grinned and winked, a boyish, hopeful gleam in his eye.

  She smacked him on the shoulder, smiling. “I still have to work, big man. And you don’t get me in your bed yet.”

  “That’s fine.” His expression turned serious. “I was kidding about that part. I’m in no hurry. I want to take this slow, do it right.” He stopped for a second and gripped the back of his neck with one hand, suddenly appearing vulnerable. “I chose you even when you weren’t an option. I won’t do anything to mess this up now that you’ve chosen me, too.”

  “Andrew,” she murmured, reaching up to tug at his hand. He let her bring it between them, where she pressed it against her chest. “My heart chose you a long time ago. Even if it took my mind a while to catch up.”

  Lauren didn’t make it home that day, and not because a foot of snow covered the ground.

  She and Andrew were all over each other all day, kissing, touching, and tangled up together. Lauren had, without question, never enjoyed kissing someone so much. He alternated between slow, languorous minutes where he took his time learning what she liked and how she responded, and greedy, hungry kisses where it seemed he couldn’t get enough.

  She’d never felt so safe and wanted. Was this how it felt, to be in a real relationship? With someone who cared about you, who maybe even loved you? It felt surreal, the joy inside her, ready to burst at any moment.

  No wonder people loved falling in love.

  Lauren saw Andrew every day the following week. After work on Friday, she tried to keep her distance so she could get some things done.

  Key word: tried.

  Andrew: Come over.

  Lauren: Can’t, I need to study.

  Andrew: Study over here.

  Lauren: You know that’s not what I’ll end up doing.

  Andrew: I can control myself.

  Andrew: Promise

  Andrew: I miss you.

  Lauren: You said we’d study last night, and when you came over you pinned me to my couch for two hours.

  Andrew: Funny, I didn’t hear you complaining.

  Lauren: Duh

  Lauren: Regardless, I really have to study tonight.

  Andrew: I want to see you. I should study too. The Grind House?

  Lauren: Can you keep your hands to yourself?

  Andrew: I can be discreet.

  Lauren: That’s not the same thing.

  Andrew: It’s a risk you’ll have to take.

  Lauren: I’m not going until you promise me you’ll be good.

  Andrew: No one’s even going to be paying attention to us. But I promise that if someone looks at us, they’ll have no idea about the dirty thoughts running through my head.

  Lauren: …

  Andrew: Fine. I’ll be good, I promise.

  Lauren: Okay. I’ll be there in twenty.

  Nineteen minutes later, Lauren walked into The Grind House to find Andrew already at a table. He’d done well, grabbing a two-top near the back corner, partially hidden from the busiest part of the café.

  His eyes tracked her as she made her way to him, a sweet smile on his face. He tugged the gray knit hat a little farther down on his head as she approached. Tempted to forgo her own rule and give him a quick peck, she steeled herself at the last second and sat down across from him.

  “Hi.”

  “Hi.”

  The air between them sparked with energy, and she wondered how long they’d last.

  “I got us coffee.” Andrew pushed a mug in her direction.

  She smiled. “Thanks.” She pulled out her notebook and laptop, powering it on. She felt his gaze still on her. “Are you going to study or not?”

  He flattened his lips to hide his grin and obediently shifted his eyes to the open laptop sitting before him.

  To help her focus on the material and not on Andrew, she plugged in her headphones and started her reading playlist, consisting mainly of classical piano music. She got in a solid half hour of studying before it all went to hell.

  It started with Andrew’s
foot. The concept of “playing footsie” with someone had always seemed a little ridiculous, because how on earth could touching someone’s feet with your own be a turn-on? When both parties were wearing socks and shoes, no less?

  Well. She had some things to learn.

  When his shoe first slid along the inside of hers, she looked up to find him watching her, his brown eyes dark in the dimly lit corner of the coffee shop. She tried to keep her attention on her study guide, but then he nudged her foot to the left, forcing her legs apart. Butterflies filled her belly and swarmed aggressively when his knee pushed between her thighs.

  “Andrew,” she chastised.

  His eyes went wide in an innocent expression saying, what did I do?

  Lauren arched an eyebrow. He knew exactly what he was doing. He halted his movement but left his leg where it was.

  Five minutes later her phone lit up with a text message.

  Andrew: You look really beautiful.

  Lauren: Thank you. We’re supposed to be studying.

  Andrew: Don’t I look cute, too?

  She kept her attention on her phone, feeling his eyes on her.

  Lauren: You’re easily the hottest guy here. There’s a girl to your left who keeps checking you out, and it’s all I can do to stay on my side of the table. She needs to know you’re taken.

  Andrew: I support whatever you need to do, even if it means jumping over the table to maul me.

  Lauren looked up with a laugh. “Maul you?”

  “A man can hope.” He waggled his eyebrows and tapped at his screen again.

  Andrew: And Lauren? I’m taken whether she knows it or not.

  That did funny things to her heart, and she lifted her eyes once more, letting all the emotions she felt for him shine through. She was still aware of their situation, though, and where they were. When his hand slid across the table in her direction she shook her head, dropping her gaze back to her phone.

  Lauren: Apparently, I’m territorial. Who knew?

  Andrew: I like it.

  Lauren: I like you.

  Andrew: I’m dying to kiss you.

  Lauren: I love it when you wear that hoodie. You wore it the first day we met.

  Andrew’s foot curved around her ankle, entwining their legs together. Breathing became a little more difficult.

  Andrew: I remember everything about you from that day. Your laugh, the way you wore your hair. Your freckles and the way you blushed when you “accidentally” ran into me.

  Lauren: Yes. It was my brilliant attempt to get you to notice me. I was hoping for a second-degree burn but the coffee wasn’t hot enough.

  Andrew: Lukewarm did the trick.

  Lauren: Tell me truthfully. Did you see the picture on my phone? Before the coffee incident?

  Andrew: The breasts? I most certainly did.

  Lauren: They weren’t mine, you know.

  Andrew: …I can’t think of a gentlemanly way to say that I know they weren’t yours.

  Lauren: Oh.

  Lauren: You know, if you wanted to be a little ungentlemanly…sometimes…that would be okay.

  Andrew shot to his feet. He slammed his laptop closed and was standing next to her chair with his belongings in one hand in fifteen seconds flat. “We’re leaving.”

  Lauren blinked, only now processing where she’d allowed their text conversation to go, and taking in his large body looming over her. “We are?”

  He leaned down to speak directly into her ear, his breath tickling the tiny hairs on her neck. “If we don’t, I’m going to maul you right here in front of everyone.”

  Her mouth went dry, and she ran her tongue across her bottom lip to moisten the surface. Andrew’s mouth dropped open slightly as he watched her.

  She cleared her throat. “Right. Let’s go.”

  …

  Exactly one week later, Lauren sat in front of her computer at work, typing progress notes for the patients she’d seen that morning. She heard a feminine groan from behind her and swiveled around.

  “I’ve lost it,” Kiara said, throwing her hands in the air.

  “What?” Lauren asked.

  “My momentum.”

  From Lauren’s other side, Emma laughed. “No kidding. It’s Friday, we’re all a little fried.”

  “We’ve got two patients left this morning and none this afternoon,” came Dr. Patel’s voice from across the room. “I know you’ve got it in you.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Dr. Stanford grumbled, and Lauren nodded. Their afternoon was booked solid.

  As Lauren typed a note to document the chemo education she’d just finished, she heard Dr. Patel and Emma converse about Andrew, who was there for a routine visit.

  She felt a jolt of anticipation run through her at the sound of his name. She hadn’t seen him for three days because she’d come down with a virus and didn’t want to expose him. He wasn’t happy about it and had let her know via text and through her front door when he brought soup and tea to her house. It had nearly killed her, as she’d slumped against the other side of the door, to not open it and fall into his arms. But his recent lab work had shown a low white blood cell count, and protecting him from whatever bug she had was more important than her desire to touch him.

  Today she finally felt back to normal, and her fever was gone. She couldn’t wait to see him, and she tried to act normal as she eavesdropped.

  “Kiara, be sure we have a PET scan scheduled for Bishop next week,” Dr. Patel said. “If things have gone as planned, he won’t need more chemo.”

  “I’m on it,” Kiara replied, and picked up the phone.

  Emma looked around. “Where’s my damn stethoscope?”

  Lauren gave her the side-eye. “Around your neck.”

  Emma’s hand flew to the curve of her shoulder, and she smiled sheepishly. “Oh. Thanks.”

  Dr. Patel and Emma finished reviewing the patient charts and went into their respective exam rooms. Lauren listened while Kiara spoke to radiology and scheduled Andrew’s PET scan, and made a mental note that it would be next Thursday at seven-thirty in the morning.

  He’d hate having to be there so early, but at least he wouldn’t have to go all morning without eating. She’d remind him of that when he complained.

  Emma was back in the workroom after only ten minutes, reporting that Andrew was doing well. She put her hands on the back of Lauren’s chair, turning Lauren around to face her. Emma looked her right in the eye and said, “He said he had a medication question, and asked if any pharmacists were around. I told him I’d send you in.”

  Emma had both hands on the armrests of Lauren’s chair, leaning toward her, her head angled to one side.

  Lauren glanced at Kiara, who wasn’t paying them a lick of attention, and back to Emma, who continued to stare at her. Was Emma acting weird, or was she imagining things?

  She scooted her chair to the left so she could stand. Dr. Stanford had just gone to see a follow-up patient, and Lauren had finished the note she was working on. “Sure, I’ll see what he needs.”

  Emma muttered something under her breath that sounded almost like “I bet you will,” but when Lauren looked back at her, she’d moved on to Kiara. Lauren shrugged it off and entered the hallway.

  Anticipation spread through her as she checked the board and went to the room he was in. She knocked on the door before entering, as she did every time she went to see a patient, and walked in.

  Andrew was alone.

  Lauren closed the door behind her and walked forward two steps, then stopped.

  The expression on Andrew’s face was unlike anything she’d ever seen. His eyes trailed down her body and back up, slowly.

  “What?”

  Andrew shook his head as if to clear his vision. “You’re wearing scrubs.”

  She fidgeted. “So?”


  “I’ve never seen you in scrubs before.”

  “I woke up late,” she said defensively, her eyebrows furrowing slightly when Andrew stood up. She loved how tall he was. “Someone kept me up late texting, and I didn’t have time to—”

  “Let me stop you right there,” Andrew interrupted. “What I should have led with is how hot you look in scrubs.”

  Lauren’s cheeks warmed. “Oh.” She backed up a step as he closed in on her. “Andrew, what are you doing?”

  His hands came up to rest on her waist. He looked down at her. “I don’t know,” he said quietly. “I’m so glad it was you. I took a chance. I’ve missed you. How do you feel?”

  “Great,” she whispered. She needed to stop this. Move away from him, away from his hands and his scent and his intense eyes. But it was hard to breathe now that his thumbs were sliding up and down along her hips. “Andrew…” she whispered. Her heart rate sped up and her breath joined the race. “I can’t…we can’t. I’m at work. If someone saw us like this…” Speaking the words aloud restored some of her willpower, and she gently slid his hands away from her body. The loss of the warmth of his fingers almost made her want to cry.

  Andrew dropped his hands to his sides, then lifted one closed fist to his mouth. He shook his head slowly. “But…the scrubs…”

  Lauren laughed a little. “What’s the deal? You have a fetish or something?”

  Andrew swallowed. “I had it bad for Isabel Stephens.”

  “From Grey’s Anatomy?”

  “I binge-watched it a few summers ago. Couldn’t get over how hot she looked in those blue scrubs…with that drawstring that’s so easy to tug loose…and I don’t know how it’s possible, but you look ten times sexier than she ever did.” Andrew’s eyelids lowered slightly, and his free hand inched toward her waist.

  “Andrew, you’re not taking my pants off!”

  He jerked his hand away, and his eyes widened. “Shit, I’m sorry. You’d better go.” He moved back a step. “And don’t wear those around me again, unless we’re not here.”

  A tingle shot down her spine, and the temperature in the room seemed to increase by ten degrees. Andrew’s gaze was hot on hers, and his nostrils flared slightly with his heavy breathing. Suddenly he was right in front of her again. He softly touched her face, sliding his fingers across her cheek.