Normally I would push the guy away, throw on my clothes, and leave, never returning another call.
But we were here, at my place, and I didn’t want him to go.
Even if we only ever did this one, I was far from done.
Chapter 32: Darion
Something hard-core was going through Tina’s mind. Even in the low light coming in from the kitchen, I could see that her eyebrows were pressed toward each other. She seemed pained.
“Are you all right?” I asked gently. “Does anything hurt?”
She opened her eyes, baring just a flash of vulnerability, then she laughed. “You are such a doctor. No, nothing hurts.”
I dragged her against me. We were still pressed tightly together. I had spent the last hour worrying about crushing her. Sometimes I swore she was nothing more than feathers and vellum paper, so light and delicate.
But tough. Tina was a set of extremes I’d never seen in a woman.
“You’ll want to get that,” she said, looking between us. “Let me find a box of tissues or something.”
She slid out from under me, her body pale and gleaming above the stockings. Now that would be something to paint. She had hidden my earlier work in the art closet, but I could start another one. Her lithe little body, the striped legs. I stirred again just thinking about it.
I didn’t know what she would want now, for me to leave or stay. I needed to check on Cynthia, but I had to be careful about logging in with Tina so close. And to go to my place. Damn, my mind was already buzzing. I didn’t want that. I just wanted to be right here.
Tina returned and passed me a box. I crushed the condom in a tissue and reached for her. “Come here,” I said.
She sat beside me, but I pulled her onto my lap again. I wanted to keep touching her. I could not get enough. “Let’s just be for a while,” I said.
She nodded.
I pulled her down on the fuzzy sofa, facing me, and I cradled her against my chest. She tucked one knee between my legs, and I held fast to her. Her heart hammered, a little fast. This was good. She was engaged with me. I had this fear that she would kick me out, that she would be unaffected and want me gone.
But her own pulmonary response gave her away. I ran light fingertips along her neck and up around the base of those pigtails. Such a girl-woman. She built this whole way of protecting herself, but it couldn’t last. She felt things too deeply. I would take care with her.
We stayed like this for a long time. She slept a little, and I listened to the sounds of her apartment. A faint drip of a faucet. Doors slamming in other apartments. Cars coming and going in the lot.
I wanted to memorize her. I couldn’t stop looking. When she woke a little while later, I ran my hand along every curve I could reach, gently. I wanted her again, but I wouldn’t push for it, just wait and see.
“These are probably hindering circulation,” I said, tugging at the elastic of her stocking.
“You’re talking sexy again, doc,” she said.
“Do you sleep in them?”
“Not usually.”
So, I pushed one, then the other, over her knees. They got loose, and I tugged them down. “Now I get to see the rest of you,” I said.
“Are you one of those puritans who gets hot for ankles?”
I trailed my fingers across the bump of her ankle bone. “I do for yours.”
Maybe I would press. I was rock hard now. I shifted so she could feel it against her belly.
Her eyes got wide. “I can work with that,” she said. “Too bad there isn’t a gurney close by. That one thing you were doing when I was sitting —”
I couldn’t take any more and silenced her with a kiss. I nudged her knees apart with my thigh. She seemed fairly flexible, so I lifted her leg and locked her ankle on my shoulder.
Now I had all the access I wanted. I thumbed her little nub, and her breathing immediately sped up. God, I loved her reactions to this. Two fingers in, her body warm and wet and ready, and she was making these little gasping noises again.
I could not get enough of her. I keyed her up, working until she moved with me, until she clutched my arms.
I felt around for my wallet. I’d better buy more condoms. Thank goodness I had two. I wasted no time on this round, lifting her onto me as I sat on the sofa, back to the cushions. She reached on either side of me to hold on to the sofa, her pert little breasts right against my face.
She slid over me easily, and I clasped her hips, driving up into her until she cried out. I worked her hard and fast until I could tell she was close. I made sure she had solid contact with me and grinded against her until she began to tighten against me.
Then I unleashed, controlling the strokes, holding her in just the right place as it all let go, tight, then loose, relaxing, coming down. She shuddered against me and rested her forehead on my shoulder.
Damn, this girl had gotten under my skin. I no more finished one round when I was already thinking about the next.
I knew she had to be tired. It was late. I scooted forward on the sofa and brought her legs around my waist. She weighed next to nothing, so I was able to stand up with her on me.
I held on to her back and walked down a hall that I assumed led to her bedroom. It was seriously dark back here, but I spotted the illuminated numbers of an alarm clock and headed for them.
I could make out a pillow, then the bed.
I bent over, laying Tina down on it. As much as I wanted to curl in next to her, I knew I couldn’t. I needed to log in at the hospital, check Cynthia’s last vitals. Pick up clothes at my apartment. Shower.
Life. Work. So much getting in the way.
“I’ll stop by the art room tomorrow, okay?” I said.
“It’s Saturday, doc. We’re off.”
“Not for residents. I have to do a pediatric run.”
“Kiss Cynthia for me.”
“I will.” I squeezed her hand and let go.
Back in the living room, I got dressed and found a trash can for the tissues. The kitchen was bright and lit up, mostly empty. On the wall was a small framed photograph in black and white. I walked up to it. A premature baby, less than twenty weeks’ gestation by the look of it, photographed against a white sweater.
This must have been Tina’s. I thought for a moment about watching Cynthia slip away and realized,
Tina has already lived through it.
I was never going to be as strong as her.
Chapter 33: Tina
I woke up to soreness in all the right places. I peeked under the sheet. Yep, still naked. I vaguely remembered the good doctor tucking me into bed.
I pulled the covers to my chin. Whoa. I should have added more doctors to my list. I had a feeling I wouldn’t be scouting around for one-and-dones for a while.
Had I really just thought that?
I sat up and peered at the numbers on the clock. Good God. Morning was half over. Darion had probably already seen a dozen patients, saved three people, and cured some obscure disease. AND painted a picture.
I flopped back on the pillow. Who was this man?
I had to know more.
I leaned over the side of the bed and pulled my laptop out from under the side table. I propped it on my knees and fired it up, heading straight for Google.
I typed in the search box.
Dr. Darion Marks.
I got some easy hits at first. His graduation from med school. A couple hospitals’ press releases when he joined their staffs. His LinkedIn profile.
But nothing about a wedding. No dying wife. I found his father pretty easily, though. Dr. Gerald Marks, on the medical board. Hmmm. I wondered if he was the mysterious benefactor that got me my job back. But Darion said he didn’t know anybody with that kind of money. I took him at his word on that.
He was thirty-two Good to know. Nine years older. A largish gap, but not unreasonable. I clicked on a strange link that I felt probably wasn’t related to him but looked interesting.
Then sat straight up. The doctor took his art more seriously than he let on. While he was in medical school, he actually had a show of his work at a small gallery.
I clicked through the images. They were not unlike the one he had knocked out in my art room, almost impressionistic images of people, very close up, faces filling the canvas, or hands, or legs. No nudes, not like the one he had done of me. This made me a little happier than it should have.
I closed the laptop. I couldn’t think of anything else. Darion. Darion. Darion. Had he written me while I was sleeping?
I jumped from the bed and dashed into the living room. When I saw the Pink Monster, I couldn’t help myself, but dived right onto it, naked skin and all.
I buried my face into the fur, squealing a little as I remembered him braced over me.
I wanted him back. I wanted him right then.
My bag was under the table, so I bent over the arm and snatched it up. My phone had three text messages.
Two were from Darion.
I fell back on the sofa, clutching the phone to my chest. God, I was like a lovesick teen.
For the first time since I had been a teen.
I refused to go down any dark path. The third message was from Corabelle, so I pulled it up first. That way I could build a little anticipation for what Darion might have said.
Don’t forget the bachelorette party tonight! We’ll be by to get you at 8!
Damn. That was going to be so fun. But what if Darion was free?
I took a deep breath and scrolled back to pull up his first message.
You looked so beautiful sleeping there. You made it hard to leave. I’ll message you later, when you’re up.
I pressed the phone to my skin again. He definitely knew what to write a girl.
Then the second message.
Cynthia is doing well. It’s been a good day. I wish when I walked by the art room, you were there. Let me know when you are up.
I checked the time stamp. The second message was at 8:30 a.m. Ha, we were not a good match on sleeping in. But I could have guessed the doctor was an early riser.
I could cure him of that in a hurry.
What to say back? Please come back here and do everything again?
I laughed out loud. So much for one-and-done. I was practically begging him back.
Besides, we’d gone for two in the same night.
I held my phone directly in front of my face as if it could tell me what to say.
Finally, I figured it out.
Feeling pretty sheltered this morning. Off to buy more condoms.
He didn’t answer right away, which I would expect since he was at the hospital. I decided that rather than sitting around to wait for a break in his day, I would shower and get myself together. I had a long night ahead.
I tapped off a quick note to Corabelle about the bachelorette party, asking her what to wear, and stepped into the shower.
I could not stop thinking about Darion. His hands on me. His mouth. I stuck my face in the spray, trying to shake off the memory. I had to get on with life.
But I didn’t want to. I wanted to stand there and relive every minute.
And I wanted to do it again.
My phone chimed a couple of times from the counter, but I forced myself to take my time washing my hair and wait to see who it was. Probably just Corabelle and Jenny. They were super fired up about tonight. We were going to have dinner at some Italian place, then head to a party hosted by Jenny’s director guy. Supposedly the whole cast of some movie would be there.
Gavin was meeting us. I wondered if Darion could go.
Good grief. I wanted to introduce him to my friends already? What had happened to me?
I toweled off and picked up the phone. Corabelle had told me to wear something sensible, since it would be a long night. Ha. Her definition of sensible and mine were probably not in the same universe.
Jenny had also written, telling me to ignore Corabelle and wear the skimpiest, most daring outfit in my closet and I could probably end up with three hot hookups before the night was over.
Oh, that Jenny.
I ran my fingers over the third name. Darion. He must have been watching for my message.
If you’re buying the condoms, I’m going to go lobby Duffrey to get you a raise.
I smiled and typed in another one.
Off to a bachelorette party for a friend tonight. What are you going to be up to?
He was clearly between patients or on break, because he answered immediately.
Pining for you in Surgical Suite B. On the clock until midnight.
I glanced at the clock. Did I dare? I could do what Jenny said, put on my trampiest outfit, and then show up at the hospital. I felt a little rush as I typed my next message.
Tell me when to meet you, and I’ll see you there.
Chapter 34: Darion
I checked on Cynthia just before my scheduled break at 6:30. She was sitting up, practicing her card tricks again. After her little friend Andrew got the Pokémon I sent him, he had sent her another special deck. I was glad she had found another child her age to relate to. I hoped her immune system would bounce back soon so she could see him more easily.
“Are you and Andrew going to run around taking money off the staff?” I asked her. “Because I wholeheartedly approve.”
Cynthia shook her head at me. “Dary, I’m not a cardsharp. I’m a magician!” She held up the fanned-out deck. “Take a card!”
I reached out, then pulled back. “From anywhere or a special place?”
“Anywhere!”
I pulled a card out.
“Look at it, but don’t show me!” she said.
I took a peek. Ace of spades.
“Now put it back in,” she said. “Anywhere.”
I stuck it back in the fan.
She awkwardly shuffled the deck, catching an errant card that popped out. I pretended not to notice it was the ace of spades. Finally she fanned the deck out again. “Pick any card.”
I pulled another one out.
“Is it the ace of spades?” she asked.
I held it out. It was indeed. “Very good,” I said. “You’re getting better.”
She took the card back and held the stack close to her chest. “Yes, I am.” A card slipped out of her grip and landed on her lap. Another ace of spades. I pretended to look at my iPad and held in a laugh.