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He presses the insides of the leaves to my flesh, and the relief is almost immediate. I sigh heavily.
“Does it hurt?” he asks, his eyebrows coming together in the middle.
“Actually the opposite,” I say. “It’s the first time my feet haven’t hurt in a while. It’s a real relief.”
He grabs my hand and kisses it.
“I’m glad,” he says, and then goes right back to smoothing the cooling sap on my blisters.
The next week passes in the most delightful way. Kanen completely welcomes me into his house, and when he isn’t taking care of me, he has his staff do so. I’d wondered what he meant when he said someone had made our steak and potato salad that day, and now I know. Kanen has a cook who prepares all the meals. He asked me my preferences and gave them to the cook, and every meal has been better than the last.
Every night, and if I’m honest, every afternoon, is better than the last as well. Sex with Kanen is beyond hot and sexy. That’s not to say he’s not blowing my mind physically—he is.
He’s taken me in so many ways, in so many positions, but all the while I’ve felt closer to him. He looks deep into my eyes as he penetrates me, or his hands are caressing me as he pounds into my body. We writhe together, getting as close as we can, unable to release each other for even a moment. One time turns into another and another, as he hardens again while he’s still inside me and he claims me again for his own.
My feet are better every day as the aloe vera does its magic. I’m able to put a little more and a little more pressure on them, slowly walking a bit more upright. Kanen took to calling me “penguin” after he said how I made my way to the bathroom, but it beats being carried every time.
During the day he sits with me outside at the pool, and I sometimes dangle my feet in the cool water, and we hang out together.
I’ve been ignoring my texts from Lacey for the most part. I just really don’t want to hear about how I’m doing everything wrong when I’m having the time of my life here with Kanen. I told her I was okay, and busy, and that I’d call her soon, but didn’t answer any of her questions. Thinking about how she must be dying for more information, I have to smile after the way she tortured me, but I’ll put her out of her misery soon enough. I figure I’ll be able to go home tomorrow and take good care of myself, and we’ll see what happens then.
“Hey, babe,” says Kanen, as I stick my phone in my pocket. “Would you like another drink?” He holds up a pitcher of fruity sangria that Michael, his chef, brought out to us.
“Sure, thank you so much,” I say. I could get pretty used to this.
I better get out of here before I do, I think as I sip the sweet liquid.
The next day, Kanen drops me off at my place at my request. I thought about it all night, and decided I better not stay longer.
“You know, I’m uh... gonna miss you,” he says into my hair as he hugs me goodbye.
“Are you kidding?” I say. “A surprise guest for a week, and you’re going to miss me?” I wink at him. The truth is that I’m going to miss him too, a lot. It’s not easy to get so close to someone so that you’re with him at every turn and then be alone, but it’s better for both of us if we have some time to ourselves. Besides, what’s the alternative? Moving in with Kanen? No, it’s time to go. I probably shouldn’t have stayed as long as I did.
Still, it’s proving hard to let him go. His strong embrace is echoed by mine, and I bury my face in his chest for one last moment before I look up and he bends to kiss me.
“I’m going to miss you too,” I murmur when our lips part.
“Chastity, you’re the sweetest,” he grins. And then he taps me on the butt. “All right, I better go get ready. I have to ride
tonight.”
“You be careful, now.”
“You know I will.” His smile becomes devilish. “But not too careful! That ain’t no fun.”
I try my best not to hobble too much on the way back to my door. As I grab my key out of my purse, I flip the lid of the mailbox and grab the small stack of mail that accumulated when I was gone. I stick it under my arm, wave goodbye as Wrecker honks, and hobble upstairs to my apartment.
I toss the mail on the table as my phone beeps. It’s a text.
“Hey stranger, are you free today?” It’s Lacey. I guess I am. I write her back. “Wanna meet me for a drink?”
“If you can come over,” I say. “I’m here!”
“See you in ten.”
Before long, she’s sitting at my table as I open a bottle of wine. “What’s this?” she says, holding up an envelope.
I take a quick glance. “I dunno, Publisher’s Clearinghouse?” I ask. It looks kind of official, in that weird kind of way.
