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“A hotel not far from where you found me. I told them we had an accident, just in case we ran into anybody.”
I’m content to let him call the shots now. I’m so glad to be with him and know he’s okay.
Also, to know that he’s not sleeping with that blond woman. There’s still a story there, one he obviously doesn’t want to share with me. I don’t mind. At least I know I’m the only woman in his life, sexually.
That has to mean something, right?
He turns on the TV, and for a while, I zone out while the meds I took start to take effect. After an hour or so, I’m feeling much better. I’m not even queasy anymore. It’s easy to laugh at the brainless comedy Lucas turned on.
After a few seconds, I find I’m laughing alone. When I glance up at him, he’s not even looking at the TV but staring at the wall above it.
His features are pensive and tense, and he has a permanent scowl.
“What can I do?” I whisper, sitting up. “I hate seeing you like this.”
He looks pained. “I wish you didn’t feel like it’s your responsibility to take care of me. That’s not fair.”
“Who said anything about fair? Besides, it’s my choice. Nobody is making me care about you. I can’t help it.”
I wish so much I could take away the pain that etches itself across his face. Not physical pain—something tells me he can handle that pretty well on his own. It’s deeper than that, and I’ve always sensed it there. It’s the worst sort of helpless feeling, watching someone suffer when there’s nothing to be done about it.
Or maybe there is, at least for a little while. I can make him forget.
I look up and down the length of his body. He’s stripped down to his boxer briefs, and I see a bruise along his ribs. I lean in and place a gentle kiss over it.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing.” I kiss him again, this time over his abs. The muscles go tense.
“Delilah. Come on.”
“Come on, what?” I lift my gaze, looking him in the eye. “You expect to lie in bed like this and not have me wanting you?”
“Don’t even pretend you’re in the mood for this with that bump on your head.”
“I hardly feel it anymore.” I allow my fingers to dance along the ridges of his abs before slipping further down, playing along the edge of his waistband. When his breath changes, it stirs heat in my core.
He’s crazy if he thinks this isn’t a turn-on. I wasn’t remotely horny before, but now, I’m getting wet at his reaction.
I have to remember this is about him, about getting his mind off things. I focus on his growing bulge, twitching under the cotton shorts.
I drag my nails gently over that bulge, and he hisses. “Oh, fuck…”
“Just relax,” I whisper, caressing him again. He closes his eyes and lets his head fall back against the pillows while I continue playing with him. Pretty soon, a small wet spot grows, hinting at his arousal.
“Oh, yeah,” he groans as I lower the waistband, taking it an inch at a time. I want him to think about me, only me. What am I going to do next? How am I going to tease him this time?
All I want is to please him and take his mind off everything for as long as I can. So I drag it out, by the time his dick springs free of its cage, he’s rock hard, and his body is rigid with tension.
I lean down, extending my tongue and taking a slow, deliberate tour of the underside of his shaft. The way he gasps and moans the higher my tongue travels makes me bolder than ever, so I experiment with taking his head between my lips and sucking gently but giving him no more than that.
“That’s right. Suck. Take all of me.”
I don’t give him what he wants right away, scraping my teeth gently around the ridge before replacing them with my tongue, swirling it around like I’m licking an ice cream cone.
“Are you trying to kill me?” he grunts, thrusting his hips upward like he wants to take control. When he does, though, I pull back.
He grits his teeth and groans helplessly. I can’t pretend I don’t love the sound. Knowing I can do this to him, for him.
