A Harmless Little Game (Harmless #1)
By: Meli Raine
Curled up behind me in this tiny hospital bed, his mouth inches from my ear, he holds me. I could live in his arms forever. I’m so tired, though. I want to say so much to him. The pain comes back, and I can’t think. My head hurts. A painful pulse takes over the left side of my head, and I want to explain, but I can’t. I want to tell Drew all of the thoughts and feelings and reactions and all of the everything that I feel for him.
“Shhhhh,” he says. “You sleep. Later, we can talk.” The hand that surrounds my waist comes up and gently brushes a few stray strands of hair away from my cheek. It’s a soft touch. It’s a caring touch. Drew cares. I don’t know what any of this means, but I do know this.
Drew cares about me.
And not just as a client.
In the quiet, amidst the beeps and background noise, the shuffle of feet in the hallway and murmured voices in this building filled with injured people like me, I melt. I relent. Every muscle that has spent the past four years on alert, tense and ready to fight or flee, gives in.
I give in to Drew’s touch. I give in to the idea that I have held for so long, deep inside my core, that this moment, this truth, is greater than my fear.
All these years, I’ve held on to the fear that Drew did nothing. As I fade off to sleep his warm breath tickling my neck, his hands secure around my ribs, his chest steady against my back, a new truth emerges. And truth always defeats fear.
But on its own timeline.
Chapter 37
I wake up to an empty hospital bed and a thermometer.
“Lindsay?” Someone wearing scrubs is holding a plastic-covered thermometer over my mouth. “We need to take your temp.”
I open my mouth like a good girl, let her slide the thermometer under my tongue, and close my lips. A tooth aches in my mouth.
Where’s Drew?
The medical assistant finishes taking my temperature, blood pressure, and checking my oxygen. All normal.
“When can I go home?” I ask.
“The doctor will be in later to talk to you,” she replies, leaving quickly.
Sunlight peeks in around the edges of the curtains. The door closes behind her. I hear men’s voices in the hallway, and then the door opens.
Drew.
And he’s carrying to-go cups of coffee.
“I hope one of those is for me,” I say.
He laughs.
“I don’t ever joke about coffee.”
He goes serious and looks down. He shrugs. “Here. Have mine.”
I grimace. He didn’t bring me any. My lip hurts. I must have split it. “You drink yours black. I hate black coffee.”
“Someone’s feeling feisty today.”
Our eyes meet and we grin like idiots at each other.
Drew walks to me and hands me a coffee. “Just kidding. I got you one in case.”
“You’re a god.”
“You finally noticed.”
Something between us has changed. Shifted. Morphed. Was it the cuddling last night? I fell asleep in his arms and slept for the first time in ages. Real sleep. Dreamless sleep.
Healing sleep. A part of me wants to call Stacia and tell her that four years of medications, yoga, group therapy, one-on-one therapy, that one electroshock treatment, and all the meditation doesn’t compare to one solid night in Drew’s arms.
But I can’t.
I lick my lip. Yep. Split. Gingerly, I navigate the coffee cup to my mouth and take a small sip.
“Thank you,” I whisper. I let out a shaky sigh. The fluorescent lights in the tiny room filled with machines and plastic gives me a mild case of claustrophobia.
“You’re more than welcome. It’s good to see you smile, Lindsay.”
“It feels good.”
Drew sits on the edge of my bed, near my feet, and drinks his coffee. I take a good look at him. He’s wearing a different suit. There’s a small bandage on his eyebrow.
“You okay?” I tip my chin up.
“This? It’s nothing.”
“Having my car crash into the back of yours must have hurt.”
He stands and stretches. “Nothing a little blood in the muscles can’t fix.” I watch as he reaches up, powerful arm muscles pushing against the fine fabric of his suit. His shirt tail pulls out from his waistband, giving me glimpse of his belly.
My mouth goes dry. My pulse speeds up. I feel my face light on fire and I feel a flimmering, like a butterfly trapped in my stomach.
Except much lower.
Wet heat fills my body below my belly.
I cannot be feeling this.
Not now.
Not—
Drew captures my eyes.
Oh, God.
He’s feeling it, too.
Every beat of my heart matches his. I can’t look away. Some wound inside me begins to recover. A part of me that was broken is now unbroken.
I know that a few hours in Drew’s arms can’t solve all my pain.
But it certainly made a difference.
He’s drawn to me. I feel it. We can’t stop looking at each other. He takes in a deep breath and lets it out, those eyes captivating me. As he sits next to me, I can’t help myself. I reach for his hand.
Just like old times.
The kiss is expected and so, so wanted. His lips are soft and warm, his hand reaching up to hold my shoulder, his other hand on my waist. I have so many tubes and wires coming out of me that I’m afraid to move any part of me but my lips. Then tongue.