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“Whatever for? It’s Saturday.” Her need to leave is cute. Cute? What the hell? Since when do I care about cute? Also, why am I asking her to stay? That’s a first for me.
I rarely bring women to my home. Mostly because when I’m at their place or in the club I can leave freely. It must be the months of unwanted celibacy that have me this possessed.
“I have people waiting for me in the hospice,” she calls before she runs the water.
I flop back with my hands behind my head, grinning. I’m actually grinning. Well, I have reasons to celebrate since my virility is back.
With my few pro bono cases, a healthy lifestyle and returned libido, I might return to Chicago sooner than planned. Who would have thought that changing the scenery really works?
London comes out of the bathroom wearing her dress, her shoes still in her hands. Her hair is tucked into the back of her dress neckline.
“Are you sure you don’t want to stay?” I pat the spot beside me.
She narrows her eyes, her typical mildly annoyed mask back in place. “I don’t do sleepovers.” She turns. “See you later.”
Rolling my eyes, I jump out of bed and follow her. She picks up her cape and takes the three steps to the landing where we discarded her underwear and tights. She sighs and kicks them to the side.
“I’ll get you a new pair,” I offer.
“Don’t bother.” She turns and makes a face. “You’re naked.”
“You didn’t mind earlier.” I jog up and corner her by the door.
Cupping her face, I seize her lips. I devoured that red lipstick hours ago, but that changes nothing about the way I enjoy her lips. She smells like sex, and a hint of mint. She must have used my toothpaste in the bathroom.
She moans against my tongue, and I fist her hair.
“Dominic.” She drops the shoes and grips my shoulders as I deepen the kiss, exploring her mouth. She tastes like a combination of everything forbidden, the sinful pleasures you know you shouldn’t have but still indulge in. And once you get a taste, you can’t stop.
My hand wanders down the length of her beautiful body, cursing the dress that covers her skin. I lean in to reach the hem of it when we hear a commotion behind the door.
“What’s going on? Oh my God. Dad.” She pales and spins around to open the door. Paramedics are in the hall. Fuck.
I rush to grab my sweatpants, but by the time I get to the hallway the paramedics are gone, and Bianca and London are retreating inside. London is shaking her head and Bianca wraps her into an embrace.
“What happened?” I try to push the sense of hopelessness to the darkest corner of my mind. I’ve just regained my usual drive—I won’t sink back into that fucking emotion.
Bianca gives me a tired, weak smile. “Fever.” She explains how Micah’s temperature hiked rapidly. There is always a threat of infection looming when someone’s immunity is weakened by a disease or the treatment, so she called the paramedics. “He refused to go to the hospital. Hopefully it breaks by the morning. I’ll go sit with him.”
London dashes across the hallway toward me, her nostrils flaring. “I knew this was a bad idea. He needed me and I wasn’t there.” She digs her finger into my chest.
I grab her wrist. “Stop it. His fever would have spiked regardless of your whereabouts.”
“But I should have been there.” She yanks her hand away, but I close my grip tighter.
“Stop making yourself a victim. You should have been there? Nothing would have changed. The outcome would have been the same.”
“But I would feel better. I should be with him. Support him.” She wiggles her hand again, but my grip is unforgiving.
“To make yourself feel better? Listen to yourself. Chils, I know you’re scared and need to blame someone. Suit yourself and use me for that if you need to. You’re doing everything you can to make him feel loved and supported during this time. But if you think he wants you to put your life on hold, you’re mistaken.”
“That’s rich coming from someone putting their life on hold,” she snarls.
“Don’t act stupid. We both know these two situations are nothing alike. And if you want to blame someone, let me remind you, you knocked on my door.”
She raises her eyebrows. “You’re right. I only have myself to blame, so please let me go so I can do just that, asshole.”
We glare at each other. She’s set on punishing herself regardless of what I say. Our mutual frustration trembles through our bodies, and I want to fuck it all out of her.
