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I shut my eyes, the traitors. “You are so full of yourself.”
He ran his hand up my cheek into my hair, pulling my face close enough to where I could feel his breath dance across my skin. It had all my systems wound up and praising the heavens above.
“Am I?” His warm lips brushed across my nose, then my cheek.
“Yes,” I stuttered out.
“Then tell me to stop and I will.”
That was probably a good idea, seeing as we were in a hospital bed, and, you know, we had some serious things to iron out. But my endocrine system shouted, “Tell him to stop and we’ll stab you in the thyroid gland.” Apparently, that particular system was violent.
“Do you want me to stop?” Drake whispered above my lips.
The honest answer was, “No. But just for the record, this is you accosting me first.”
“I can live with that.” His lips crashed into mine and my soul sang, Glory hallelujah. He did this magical thing where his tongue gently glided over my lower lip while all our limbs tangled together, IV line included. It sent shivers so strong down the length of my body, making me tremble in his arms. He groaned, knowing that was all him, while his tongue overtook my mouth, dancing with my own and sweeping every part until he tasted everything.
Minute upon minute we got reacquainted with each other, falling into the perfect rhythm of touching and tasting, as if we had never been apart. I would gasp and he would groan. My fingers would skim over his bare skin, and he would press his hand against my back, begging my body to get closer—as if it were possible.
It was in a word, beautiful.
Until . . . “I’m here to check . . .”
Drake and I broke apart and stared at a flustered nurse, so red in the face she looked about ready to have a stroke.
“I see you’re feeling fine,” she managed to say, before hightailing it out of the room.
“Look what you’ve done.” I cringed. Soon the whole world was going to know I was making out with Drake Foster in his hospital bed.
“Me?” He nuzzled my neck. “You were a full participant.” He had me there.
“But you started it.”
“No, you did, the day you walked into my life.” His eyes bored into mine. “The best day of my life.”
My heart got caught in my throat, rendering me speechless for half a beat. “Do you mean that?”
“I will never lie to you.”
“We have a lot to talk about.”
“We will. Later.” His lips found mine again.
Later worked for me. Oh, Hallelujah.
Chapter Seventeen
“I can’t believe you were making out with him in the hospital.” Izzy beat the eggs I was going to use for omelets with a vengeance.
I set down the knife I was using to chop some veggies and leaned against the butcher-block counter I was so in love with. “It’s not one of my prouder moments, I admit, but you weren’t there—although you were shouting loudly in my head, thank you very much.”
She dropped the whisk in the bowl of eggs. “You should have listened to me.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t make the soul mate rules.”
She folded her arms. “Soul mate rules? What are those?”
“Well, apparently, one of them is if you’re in a hospital bed together, you have to kiss.”
She grimaced.
“Sorry, it’s not my fault I’m a rule-abiding citizen.”
“Char, why were you in a bed with him in the first place? In a hospital, no less.”
“Um, hello, if you haven’t noticed, I haven’t gotten much sleep the last several nights, which by the way is your fault. May I remind you that you invited Drake here.”
Izzy pinched the bridge of her nose. “Obviously, I regret that.”
“Why? Because he wants to be part of Jameson’s life? Isn’t that what you wanted?”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “Are you sure that’s what he wants?”
I stepped closer to her and took her slender hand. “Izzy, I know how hard this is. Believe me, I do. And I know what you’re really worried about.” She didn’t want me to get my heart broken. “I’m worried too, which is why I told Drake we are going to keep it mostly platonic for the time being.”
“What does ‘mostly’ platonic mean?”
“Like I said, I can’t break any soul mate rules. I might have to kiss him sometimes to comply. Besides, my endocrine system has threatened to stab me in my thyroid gland if I miss out on, let’s say, certain opportunities.” I slyly grinned.
She rolled her eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Izzy.” I squeezed her hand. “Drake wants to make a go of this.” I could hardly believe those words myself, but it was true. Last night, he’d told me all he could think of while lying on the bathroom floor thinking he was dying was that he’d regretted all the time we had spent apart, and that he wasn’t going to get to see his son grow up. As a side note, only a man would think he was dying from some sharp back pain.
