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"Speaking of later tonight, I was thinking about supper," I said, trying to keep my voice light. "The fridge is pretty empty. Should we have supper with my father and Elaine? Or would you rather stay here?"
He shrugged. "Up to you. I am entirely at your command."
I hesitated. It was nice being alone with Drake, but at the same time, I wouldn't see my father for a long time. "Let's go to my father's for dinner. Once we go, I won't see them for six months, so it would be nice to see them as much as possible."
"Fine with me."
I called my father and let him know we'd be over for supper. He seemed pleased and said he'd be on a conference call between five and six o'clock, but would be glad to see us for drinks after that and dinner at seven.
Drake and I spent the rest of the afternoon listening to news reports on the television about an earthquake in China, lounging around the apartment, reading the paper and talking about the trip. I finally felt relaxed and enjoyed our together time. I felt like we were a real couple for a change.
It was nice.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Later, while I was getting dressed for supper, while I was still in my bra and was bending over, pulling up my stockings, Drake came up behind me in the bathroom and grabbed hold of my hips, pulling me against his body.
"Ms. Bennet, when you stand like that, with just your garter belt and your bra, I'm unable to resist you." When I tried to stand up, he stopped me, one hand on my shoulder keeping me still. "No, stay like this for a moment. I like this position. I'm getting ideas…"
I smiled and glanced up into the mirror, watching as he ran his hands down my back to my buttocks, pulling me against his hips once more. I could feel his hardness pressed between my cheeks. We hadn't had sex the previous day or that morning and even I felt a bit deprived. But I said nothing more, waiting to see if he pushed things or was enjoying it.
Finally, he let go of my hips and pulled me up so that I was standing facing the mirror with him behind me. He watched my face and body in the mirror, our eyes meeting while he stroked my belly with one hand and cupped a breast with the other. Then he exhaled and bent down to kiss my shoulder and said nothing more. He slid his hands down my bare arms and clasped my hands, standing with his cheek resting on my shoulder. All he had to do was touch me and I was ready for him.
"Well, as much as I'd love to fuck you right now, I guess we better get going," he said finally, letting go of my hands. "Don't want to keep your father waiting."
I nodded and resumed dressing. Despite his happy news about the donor match, I could hear the fatigue in Drake's voice. He sounded crushed by the burden of stress of the past few days. I wished I could do more to comfort him, but wouldn't push anything, letting him use me for comfort in whatever way he wanted.
We arrived at the apartment on Park Avenue and found my father and Elaine sitting in the living room with drinks in their hands, some light jazz playing on the sound system.
"Come in you two," my father said in his gravelly voice. "What can I get for you?"
Drake held up his hand. "Let me bartend," he said and went immediately behind the bar. He took out Yelena Kuznetsova's shot glasses and poured us two shots of Anisovaya, then brought them over to the couches by the fireplace. He handed one to me and then held up his glass.
"To us," he said.
"To us," my father replied. We all held up our drinks and toasted each other and then Drake and I shot back the vodka.
"We've been so looking forward to dinner tonight," Elaine said. She turned to us when Drake sat beside me. "We thought you two would be gone in a few days. We're glad we'll have you here for a few more weeks."
"I'm happy to stay for as long as Drake wants," I replied. "Everything's packed and repacked and repacked again. We have our passports and Drake has his papers and offers of employment so as soon as Drake's ready, we can go."
Drake rested his arm on the back of the couch behind me, saying nothing as if he was content to listen to the conversation. He was still so subdued, I knew he wasn't yet over the shock of this news – his son, the leukemia, the donation. It was a lot to process.
"So Drake," my father said, turning his attention to Drake. "You're still going to be able to teach?"
"Luckily yes," Drake said, brightening. "The third semester starts in March. I'm going to teach two courses in the Masters of Medicine Neurosurgery program. One is intro to neurosurgery and the other is for 6th year students and was the final neurosurgery course in the program. It's called HMS 1001:Principles and Practices of Neurosurgery and focuses on the kind of surgery I do at Columbia. Stereotactic surgery for epilepsy and deep brain stimulation for Parkinson's and other movement disorders."
"Are they lectures or is there actual surgery involved?"
"Both," Drake replied. "Lectures, demonstrations, and surgical rotations with me. It's really hands-on at this point. The final course is taught in the last year of their neurosurgery program so they're almost finished."
"You must be pleased."
"Very. I've wanted to go and teach there for a while. Ever since I did some volunteer work a couple of years ago."
"Sad that you have to cancel the surgery you’ve got lined up."
Drake shrugged. "It'll be hard for them to find someone qualified to
