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She shrieked, spinning around. "Sam." She covered her boobs with one hand and put the other in front of her pussy. I was so hard, it was damn painful. "Alexa, turn off the music." Madonna shut up instantly. "Oh my God, turn around."
Yeah, that would've been the gentlemanly thing to do from the get-go. But I couldn't think straight. It took all my self-control to turn away. I gripped the edges of the kitchen counter, taking in deep breaths.
"Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God," she chanted as she ran up the staircase, probably to her bedroom. "You were supposed to be here in an hour. That's what the schedule on the fridge says."
"I know," I said loudly, trying to think of extremely unpleasant things so my erection would die down. I thought about scalpels, cutting through skin, blood. Nothing helped. Nothing beat that image of Avery dancing naked in the living room. I wouldn't be able to forget that any time soon.
I heard footsteps on the stairs a few minutes later, and I turned around slowly. I couldn't ignore her the whole evening, or avoid looking at her. She was wearing a blue dress, but I still had her naked body imprinted in my brain.
"Sorry about that," she said.
"I thought about surprising you with dinner. I should've given you a heads-up that I’ll come earlier."
"Why did you get off sooner?”
"I always finish earlier than what’s on the printed schedule. I go for a run, so by the time I get home it’s about an hour later."
"After you work for so many hours, you go for a run?" The look on her face was priceless. It was good for me both physically and mentally—it gave me time to mull over the day and put it behind me.
"How do you think the 'holy hotness' gets to exist?"
She lowered her eyes, obviously still uncomfortable about the whole situation.
"Too soon for naked jokes?" I teased.
Her cheeks turned pink. "Oh my God, Sam." She shook her head, closing her eyes.
I had to take a break from making her squirm and blush, no matter how much I liked it; otherwise, I was going to kiss her. In fact, I might do much more than that. I needed to know how her lips felt beneath mine. And that body. Fuck, I needed to touch her.
"I was going to make dinner," she said.
"Salad again?" I chuckled.
"That's why you thought about bringing dinner, didn't you? You hated my salad."
I looked at her, focusing on her vibrant green eyes and not her tempting mouth. "I didn't hate it, just wanted something more substantial. The Indian food down the street looked good. You still like mango chicken?"
"Yes. It's one of my favorites." She looked at the bag behind me on the counter. "You remembered that?"
I grinned. "I remember everything about you, Avery. Everything."
"And yours is still chicken korma?"
Something twisted in my chest. It was like a pressure had suddenly deflated.
"Yeah. Yeah, it is."
She took out the food, putting it on plates. "Want to tell me why your day was so shitty that you didn't even go for a run? Or you don't have to." She probably saw the change of expression on my face.
"I'll just tell you what happened so you know, but I don’t want to talk about it."
"Okay."
"There was a massive accident, and everyone was brought to our ER. We lost a lot of patients."
"Oh no. I heard it on the news but didn’t realize they were transported to your hospital. They did say the accident was horrific and there were a few deaths on-site. The expressway is still closed. Oh, Sam, I'm so sorry."
"Getting over a loss doesn’t get easier. And this was plural. A lot of people died at the hospital." My mind wouldn’t let go as it played a video of the ER scene; it was massive and dreadful, to say the least.
