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My name is Anders Trask.
Yes, that’s me sighing. Anders Trask of the Boston Trask family.
The ones who fought in the Revolution and all that, yeah. Made their money before the War of Independence and then again during the Civil War, and then again during Prohibition and then once more after World War II.
Son of the Senator. Nephew of the Governor. The Trask Library – yeah, that’s after my Dad’s gift.
Can we talk about his later though? Right now, I need to make sure Christine is okay.
I push through the door and out into the hallway of the second floor, heading right, searching for the door to the nurses’ station as I go. She starts to move just a little, almost…snuggling against the front of me as I carry her. I cradle her closer, feeling protective as I do. Yeah, she shouldn’t have snuck into my office to check Facebook and we’re going to have to have a chat about that, but damn, what she saw wasn’t what she deserved. What any woman deserves.
I backed my way into the nurses station, Christine cradled in my arms. She’s nuzzling my chest now, her eyes still not open, and I have to wonder what she’s dreaming about to have that kind of reaction to it.
I bark at the student nurse who comes out of the examination room, “Look at her, now! I think she has a concussion!”
With a gulp and a nod, the student opens the door wide and I carry Christine into the room. Hopefully, now, we can get her some help.
3
Christine
All right, fine. I’ve been awake for ten minutes now. I’ll admit it.
Well, only to you. I’m not about to admit it to Sex-on-a-Stick Professor here.
I mean, what would you do if you awoke to the man of your dreams carrying you in his arms? Snuggle in further and start sniffing his cologne while imagining yourself licking your way up his body?
That’s what I thought.
And what if you saw Professor Sex eyeing your chest?
I mean how can I not as a red-blooded American woman not give him a better view?
Being carried in his arms, his eyes on me, makes me want to let my arm fall so I can accidentally squeeze his cock.
Maybe he then let me give him an accidental blowjob. And we can have some accidental sex.
Right. I’m supposed to be completely shocked about George, right?
I should be. But I’m sorta just relieved.
In fact the biggest thing I wish I could do right now is go on Facebook and change my relationship settings. Only, I’m supposed to be comatose.
Except, I’ll admit, my acting skills are, like, nonexistent. He’s busy telling the student nurse that he thinks I have a concussion and yeah, my head hurts a little – I must’ve hit it on something when I blacked out – but I’m pretty sure it’s just a scratch. Certainly not concussion worthy.
I just want to go back to the point where he was carrying me around in his arms. His arms that are so damn mus
cular and sexy, I’m sure there are girls who spontaneously started ovulating just by glancing at them. I know I felt…well, fuck, amazeballs to have them wrapped around me.
Except now he’s laid me down on some hard table and he’s stepped away. I can still smell him so I know he’s still in the room, but his warmth isn’t wrapped around me anymore. Dammit. I shiver, the cold of the table seeping through my bones.
The junior nurse, lackey, whatever his title is, suddenly starts prying my eyelid open and shooting a bright light into it.
“Oww!” I holler, swatting the offending light away and then freeze. Goddammit.
Did I mention that I suck ass at acting? Apparently, that includes playing dead when someone shines a flashlight in my eye. They should warn people about that sort of thing beforehand.
I slowly open up my eyes, blinking slowly against the bright fluorescent lights.
