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“Nah, I think I’ll stay here, thanks for the offer though.”
My God, I forgot how ruggedly handsome he is. Seeing him here, standing in the kitchen in his grey sweatpants and faded Rafferton Ram’s t-shirt, his hair still damp from the shower is doing things to me that only make the proverbial elephant in the room that much more suffocating.
The l-word elephant, not the hockey elephant. One elephant at a time. You know what a herd of elephants is called? A parade. As if elephants stampeding in your kitchen should be cause for celebration. Parades are fun. Parades are a good time. Nope. Not mine.
“Can I help you with something? You’re acting strange, Damien. Should I call the doctor?” I eye him skeptically; his usual scruff is more of a beard than scruff lately. He let it grow during his hospital stay, despite my numerous offers to shave it for him. Something about not trusting me with sharp objects near his face.
I think he just wanted to torture me, really. Because this beard is doing all kinds of things to enrich my fantasies. It’s almost like I can feel him between my legs just standing here looking at him.
Damn parade.
“Nope. It’s Friday, which means my bedrest is up. Mama Patterson is gone. Astria is at her playgroup. And I just took the best damn shower of my life.”
“Shit, it is Friday. You’re up, like up - up. How are you feeling?” I realize suddenly that he’s right. How did I not remember? I’ve been counting down the days, and somehow, I still managed to forget.
“Want to know a secret?” Damien steps into me, ignoring my question. He places his hand on my hip and I nearly melt into a puddle on the floor at his feet with the contact.
This is not a normal reaction, right?
This isn’t how you react to your brother’s best friend, a man you saw go through his onion armpit, yellow braces phase.
This is how a woman reacts to her husband.
Only this isn’t what we agreed to when we signed our marriage certificate. Get it together, Gia. Remember the onion. Do not simp on me now.
“You stole too many pain meds this morning?” I ask nervously, my heart skipping along happily on the yellow brick road, but my mind short-circuiting with his proximity.
The parade. Where the fuck is the parade route right now. I need a map. Somebody get me a map because I fear we have veered off course.
He works his thumb slowly under the stretchy fabric of my tank top, skimming my bare skin and sending chills skating down my spine and prickling the tiny hairs on my neck.
We can’t do this. Not now. His heart. His brain. The injury. I don’t know what the protocol is. He just got off of bedrest today. He hasn’t even been fully cleared by the doctor yet. He still has rehab. What is he doing?
He leans into my body until his mouth is right beside my ear. I can feel the heat from his breath. I can smell the soap he used in the shower, and Dial has never smelt so damn delicious.
Just when I think my legs will give way beneath me, he whispers into my ear, “I remember.”
∞∞∞
DAMIEN
I’ve been good. I’ve obeyed the doctor’s orders, and despite what he said about my hockey career I am planning a full recovery.
That decision has already been made in my mind. Much like this one.
“What exactly is it that you remember?” She tries to act nonchalant like she’s not sure what I’m referring to, but I can tell by the slight tremor in her voice and the hitch in her breath that she knows exactly what I’m talking about.
I slip my hand fully under her shirt and slowly move it around to the base of her spine, just above the waistline of her black jogging pants. I feel the lines that I know are etched into her skin, dipping just above her plump ass. An ass I have done nothing but dream about every damn day since I woke up immobilized in a hospital bed.
I’m like a deprived child. I was given a brand-new toy only to play with it once or twice and then have it snatched away. I’m taking back what’s mine.
She made me a promise. I fully intend on her keeping it.
I lower my mouth just far enough to allow my lips to brush the delicate line of her neck before bringing them right back up to her ear. Her breathing quickens and I smile because we haven’t even scratched the surface yet of what I plan to do to her.
Not today. I know my limits, but I want her to know that just because we haven’t talked about it does not mean I’ve forgotten the promises we made to each other.
“We can pretend like the fight never happened, Gia. We can pretend like my hockey career isn’t hanging in the balance of fucking medical release. What we aren’t going to pretend about though? The fact that you made me a promise. You promised me that our relationship wouldn’t change.”
