Consumed: A MMA Sports Romance (24 page)

I straighten my knees on
the tenth rep and I’m resolved to finish this set out, no matter what. Two reps
is doable.

Bending my knees again, I
slowly drop into a full squat, making sure I’m getting everything I need to be
getting out of the motion. As my vision goes black and I feel my sense of
balance turning into a practical joke, I think I may have gotten a little bit
too much.

Chapter Twenty

Le Grand Réveil

Ash

“I know I don’t have my
license yet or anything, but I am fantastic at what I do,” I tell Mason,
admiring my textbook bandage work on his forehead. “You know, with you being in
fights a lot and passing out at the gym and everything, I bet I’m going to get
more real world experience than anyone else in my class.”

Mason’s lying in bed, his
eyes still closed, though I know he’s awake.

“How long do I have to
stay in bed?” he asks.

“Until you’ve given your
body enough time to recover from the enormous strain you’ve been putting it
under,” I answer.

He groans, wincing either
from a throbbing head or my unwelcome glee.

This is day three. His
sense of humor ran out some time ago.

“My muscles are going to
atrophy if I don’t get up and do something,” he says.

“No, you passed out from
exhaustion all without anyone around. It’s a miracle you didn’t get more than a
goose egg,” I tell him.

Based on his spotty
recollection of what happened, I’m surprised he was in good enough shape to
call me after he came to. When I got there to pick him up, I didn’t have a key
to get in, though I could see him lying there on the floor. I was well on my
way toward panicking until I realized he had his phone out and was angling it
toward his face.

His text came through a
few seconds later, saying, “I’m going to have to let you in, but you’re going
to have to give me a minute to get there.”

After seeing him
basically crawl through that little window, I have no remorse keeping him
bed-ridden. Well, there are a couple of exceptions. I don’t think either of us
wants to have a bedpan enter into the relationship just yet.

“You know, when you said
you didn’t want me doing anything, I didn’t think you actually meant it,” he
says.

“The way you keep
repeating that, I’m starting to think you might have conked your head a little
harder than you thought you did,” I answer in my cheeriest nurse’s voice.

He groans again. “Just
annoyed is all,” he says.

“Well, I’m going to be a
nurse, and if I don’t sign off on your health, you’re not fighting,” I tell
him.

I think I’m starting to
appreciate the draw of having power over someone else. It hasn’t gotten to the
point where I’m willing to abuse it or anything, but it is kind of fun teasing
him like this.

“I know,” he says.
“You’ve done a solid job blackmailing me.”

“Actually, I think it’s
extortion,” I tell him. “Then again, I’m not sure there’s a difference.”

“They’re similar enough
that it can be easy to get the two confused,” he says, “but where you’re
threatening to call the cops to shut down the tournament, exposing not only me,
but a lot of people I’ve grown to tolerate over the years makes it blackmail.”

“Between your knowledge
of the law and my knowledge of medicine, maybe we should start working toward
being one of those doctor/lawyer power couples,” I tell him.

“What, like your
parents?” he asks.

“Don’t think that just
because you’re in bed at my urging that I’m above smacking you around,” I
answer. “And no: If my parents are a power couple, it’s only due to all the
money they’ve tucked away over the years. Neither one of them is actually good
at anything.”

“You don’t really like
your parents very much, do you?” he asks.

I know what he’s doing.
He’s uncomfortable being confined to his bed, so he’s going to try to make me
uncomfortable by talking about my parents. He tried this yesterday. It didn’t
work then, but maybe he thinks my resolve has weakened since then.

Fortunately, I know just
how to get out of this.

“You know, maybe we
should use this time talking about our families,” I tell him. “Neither one of
us is going too far for a while: You’re supposed to stay in bed until further
notice, and I don’t trust you to do that unless I’m right here.”

“Don’t you have school or
something?” he asks.

I feel as much of the
unbandaged portion of his forehead as possible to see if he’s spiked a fever.

“Summer break started
last week,” I tell him. “You don’t remember?”

He looks up at me,
saying, “They have summer classes, you know. Don’t you want to get your degree
already? I mean, why wait?”

“Because I have to work
during the summer,” I tell him.

“Then isn’t there a job
you should be getting to or something?” he asks.

I pat his chest. “It can
wait,” I tell him. “Right now, I think maybe it’s time for your sponge bath.”

“I don’t know what your
obsession is with wanting to do that,” he says, “but I really don’t want to
have that be what you’re thinking about when you see me naked.”

“I’m a healthcare
professional-ish,” I tell him.

He says, “That’s exactly
the sort of thing you want to hear from—”

“Well, I’m not going down
on you until you’re all nice and sparkly clean, so I’m open to suggestions,” I
say and then turn away, trying to hide my face as I feel the hot blood rising
toward the surface of my skin. I’m trying to play it cool.

The way things have been
recently, it’s been a little while since either of us has gotten particularly
flirty. I think it’s about time we change that.

“I can take a shower,” he
says. “I’ll be in and out in five minutes.”

“Nope,” I tell him. “Hot
water thins the blood and with you having a problem with lightheadedness
because you didn’t stop when your body told you to stop, I really don’t want to
risk you going in there and cracking your head worse than you already have.”

“I’ll take a cold shower
then,” he says.

“No, from what I’ve heard
from sitcoms and late-night talk shows, that’s kind of the opposite of what
we’re shooting for,” I tell him.

Yeah, I could use the
release, but that doesn’t mean I have to make it easy for him.

“A bath then,” he says.
“I’ll make the water warm, but not hot. I’ll get in, make sure I’m good and
clean and then…”

He keeps going, but I
just have to laugh. I could use the release, but I’d dare say that Mason here
is flat-out horny.

There’s nothing medically
wrong with him at this point, apart from some lingering exhaustion. He has some
cuts and bruises, but they’re bandaged and healing. If we do have sex, I’m
going to have to do all the work, but right now, I’m pretty okay with that.

The only problem is that
he’s still trying to convince me.

“…one of those things
that I think we can agree, I’m really good at,” he says. I don’t have any
context. I wasn’t paying attention.

“Make it quick,” I tell
him. “Momma’s gettin’ antsy.”

“Not gonna lie,” Mason
says, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed, “that’s more
than a little creepy.”

“Whatever,” I say,
smacking his ass on his way past. “Just don’t get too worn out in there,” I
tell him.

He gives me a sideways
look, but doesn’t bother calling me on how quickly I made things awkward.

From a medical
standpoint, Mason’s fine walking, though from the careful steps, I’d guess that
he’s still pretty sore from the way he’s been hitting the gym.

It’s continued to
surprise me how he can stay so lean with all the lifting he does. I would have
expected that he’d be somewhere between bulky and musclebound by now, but he’s
obviously learned how to stay at a given weight by now.

I follow Mason to the
bathroom.

Exhaustion is simple
enough to treat, but it’s not an instant cure type of thing. Even with nothing but
solid rest, the body takes time to rebound. Mason knows this just as well as I
do, but I still get the feeling he thinks the rules don’t apply to him the way
they apply to everyone else.

It’s a good primer
watching Mason get undressed as the tub is filling up with water.

I check the temperature
just to make sure it’s not too hot or too cold.

If it was hot, it wouldn’t
kill him or anything. He just wouldn’t be too steady on his feet for the walk
back to his room, and after that, he’d probably just fall asleep. Too cold
might not help him drift into a peaceful sleep, but it can kill a guy’s mood.

If it didn’t feel like eons
since he and I have had a chance to connect physically, the temperature of the
water might not be such a pressing concern for me, but at the moment…

“Leave the bandages on,”
I tell him. “I’ll change those out later. Right now, I’m just going to need you
clean from the mouth down.”

“That’s some pretty solid
dirty talk,” he laughs.

“Need any help?” I ask.

“No thanks,” he says.
“I’m just barely on the right side of weird with you standing there watching
me. Maybe if you’d played down the nurse thing a little, I could relax, but oh
well.”

I give him my most
inviting smile, saying, “Well, you’re a reasonably attractive man. You can’t
blame a girl for wanting to catch an eyeful now and then, can you?”

He chuckles softly
through his nose and continues to wash himself. After a minute, I do step out,
not wanting to actually make him start associating my seeing him naked with him
being uncomfortable, but I stay close.

After a few more minutes,
I can hear the water splashing and I go back in as he’s getting out of the tub.

“Now, where were we?” he asks,
grabbing a towel which I then grab from him.

“You were going to stand
really still while I help you get dry,” I tell him. “You’re my patient, and
it’s my duty to make sure that you’re well taken care of.”

Am I really going for the
sexy nurse role play here? Am I
so
in
need of a good lay that I’m willing to cheapen my profession by turning into a
bedroom game?

“Yes, Nurse Butcher,” he
says and before the next breath, he’s laughing.

“What?” I ask, feeling
suddenly on the spot.

He tries to collect
himself. “I’m sorry,” he says. “It’s just—Nurse Butcher. You’ve got to think
that’s going to make some people a little nervous.”

“Oh, ha-ha,” I moan,
rolling my eyes. “Keep acting like you never put my last name and the
profession I’m training for together before.”

I’m not going to tell him
this, but I actually did consider changing my last name when I decided to go
into nursing. People are jittery enough when they’re in the hospital, and
having someone called Nurse Butcher coming in and out of the room isn’t going
to make that any easier.

For now, though, I let
the towel glide over Mason’s firm body. In the days since he passed out, we’ve
really started getting closer than either of us would allow before then. I
really don’t think it’s all because I’m taking care of him, either.

The last few days, things
have just been easier. We’re talking without the awkward pauses; we’re joking
and teasing each other. It’s the way our relationship started, and I’m just
glad that part of it isn’t gone for good.

Mason is still and
cooperative as I dry his body, spending a little bit more time than is strictly
necessary around the more exciting parts of his anatomy. His response is what
I’d definitely call a positive one.

I resist the temptation
to go too far before he’s safely back in bed, though I do lead him there with a
new, dry towel in one hand while the other is wrapped around his erection.

He lies down and I tell
him, “Be still.” I tell him, “Just relax.”

There’s no complaint.

I set the towel on the
bed next to him and unfold it. He lifts himself and I slide the towel
underneath him.

He eases himself back
down and I start lifting my shirt.

“Need any—” he starts.

“I’ve got it,” I
interrupt. “You just relax. Nurse Butcher will be with you in a moment.”

“You know, the title’s
not nearly so intimidating when you’re getting undressed,” he says. “I don’t
know if that’s something you’d want to do with all of your patients, but it’s
really doing wonders for my morale.”

“Shh…” I respond, putting
an index finger to my lips before returning both hands to my shirt and lifting
it the rest of the way off of me.

I unfasten my bra and
remove it, dropping it off the side of the bed.

“I’ve got to check your
temperature,” I tell him.

I run my hands over his
chest and down his hard abs, and I lower my mouth over him, guiding his tip between
my lips. His skin’s cool from the bath, but he’s already starting to warm up against
my tongue.

His hand comes softly,
his fingers brushing through my hair, but I lift my head, telling him to just
relax. When I feel him against my tongue again, he’s warmed up considerably.

With one hand around him,
I take him a little deeper in my mouth. He lets out a long, low hum, and I feel
him flex a little as I continue to suck him.