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Sighing softly, his fingers trace the crease of my elbow, causing my skin to tingle. I hate when he does that. He has no idea what he's doing to me. If I made him aware, would he continue to randomly invade my space? Not sure I'm ready for the answer.
He leans over me, his face mere inches from mine. “I know because you are a force and nothing can stop you. Most men wouldn't be alive after suffering through what you have. You've gotten through worse, and you can overcome this too.”
He's not only talking about my missing hand. He's referring to the loss and grief squeezing at my chest, making it hard to breathe. Yes, Samantha was a bad person, but she was also my sister. The girl I sang lullabies with and who taught me to ride a bike. She held my hand as we walked across dangerous roads together and gave me half her lunch at school whenever I forgot mine.
“It all feels like a bad dream.” Tears cling to the corners of my eyes.
His other hand lifts to my face, brushing a strand of hair away. “I wish I could tell you that you'll wake up soon and everything will be back to how it was again. I really do. But I can't. I will be here whenever you need someone to talk to. Losing family isn't easy, no matter what they did, and I'm sorry that was your last memory of her.”
Did he lose his family too? How else would he know? He never talks about them. It's probably easier for him not to. “It hurts more than my battered body.” The pain is excruciating, ripping at my insides. My gut is twisted more than usual and the thought of eating causes bile to rise up my throat.
“I know, little one. Tell me what will make you feel better.”
I swallow back the words I want to say. Now isn't the time to be perverted and think about my erection. I almost died and yet my cock acts like it's a regular day and my body hasn't recently gone through the ringer. “During bad flare ups, my mom would rub my scalp or back.”
He smiles, sliding his fingers through my hair. He lightly massages my head, and it's hard not to close my eyes and lose myself. I've been in love with this man ever since the day he found me out cold on the beach from a bad blockage. What happened almost a year ago feels like only a few days. He took care of me. I made him promise not to tell my dad and he didn't. The secret stayed between us, and it would be the first of many.
Lightly gliding his nails over my scalp, he hums a tune I don't recognize. “Focus on the good as much as you can and allow the pain to become background noise.” The glass tips over in bed, falling from my grasp and he grabs it to set it on the nightstand closest to him.
Getting lost in his hands and presence, I push away everything else, burying all the sadness and torment under the wonderful sensation. It doesn't take long for my body to subconsciously search for more. Lifting my head a little, I close the small distance between our faces and press my lips to his.
Instead of pulling back, he freezes in place. His lips tense and his eyes are wide. The confusion and shock is evident in his pale face.
My stomach shifts and the bad comes rushing back.
I fucked up. Panic rises inside me and my head spins. He scoots his chair back and quickly stands up, his gaze falling everywhere but me.No, come back,I want to say.Touch me again. I'm already forgetting what good feels like.
Gripping the sheets with my fingers, I swallow the lump in my throat. The air is so thick and dry between us, I'm having to take in deeper breaths than before. “I…” My words get caught behind my heavy tongue.
He shifts, tugging on the bottom of his suit. If he didn't hate me before, he probably does now.
“I should check to see if your father is awake. Make sure he doesn't need anything. The doctor won't be back until tomorrow and I'm supposed to be checking in regularly on both of you.”
Sitting up slowly, I slump against the headboard. “Yeah, okay. I'm going back to sleep soon anyway.”
His eyes deepen with worry. “What about dinner? You haven't eaten all day.”
“I'm not hungry.” My gaze shifts to my restless hand. “You can go now.”Instead of standing there staring at me like you wish you were anywhere but here, I want to add but don't. I can't take the awkwardness any longer. Why did I have to change everything between us? Can I get away with blaming the pain meds?
“Okay. You'll have to eat something tomorrow. How's your stomach?”
“I said you can go now.”
“Enrico…”
“Are you having trouble finding the door?”
He releases a deep sigh. “I'll come back a little later.”
“That won't be necessary,” I say, aggravation clear in my strained voice.
“If you prefer, I can always send Antonio.”
I shoot an annoyed glare in his direction. “I'd prefer to be alone for the rest of the day and you aren't giving me that.”
He frowns, his forehead wrinkling, making his age more evident. “I'll see you tomorrow then.”
I don't say anything and shift my gaze toward the wall to keep from watching him walk out. I'm so stupid to think he'd want me back. He's straight for Christ's sake and the same age as my father. I'm nothing but a kid in his eyes. Doesn't matter how much I grow, he'll always be out of my reach.
