She seems to sink a little at my silent scrutiny. “Sorry, was that a dumb thing to do? It was a silly impulse, wasn’t it. I hope I wasn’t overstepping—”
I lean over and kiss her hard before she can continue. My chest is so full right now I can’t think, can’t speak. I don’t know how to articulate what I’m feeling, so I let my mouth do it for me. I show her my appreciation and with my free hand, caress her nape. I slide my tongue along her lower lip, delve into her mouth, kiss her with a sensuality that has me rock hard in moments.
I want to fuck her, yes. But more than that…I find myself wanting something deeper.
When we pull apart, our eyes lock, and something passes between us. The same emotion that did when we last had sex, but even deeper. Like the past few days have bonded us.
She brought me food.
When was the last time someone took care of me, without any strings attached, without any other incentive but just to make me happy?
I can’t fucking remember.
I’ve spent the last several years being the one to care for others. Make sure bills are paid. Help them when they needed me. Give advice, keep the bar running. And here comes this woman into my life, and she brings me a meal before I go to work.
It’s so intimate and domestic of a gesture.
Aubrey strokes my chin, her fingers dancing along my beard. She sucks in a shaky breath and exhales, giving a shy laugh. “Shit. I gotta go to work. I’m on the night shift.”
“I’m glad I got to see you,” I tell her. I feel like the outer layer of my skin has been shaved off and my nerves are all exposed. It’s uncomfortable and strange, and I don’t know how to handle it.
Aubrey kisses the corner of my mouth, then leaves, hopping into a Corolla and driving away.
I make myself walk into my entrance, up the stairs to my cool apartment. It’s quiet in here, only the sound of the air conditioner whirring. The scent of the food is warm and makes my stomach growl. I can’t fight the grin that spreads across my face.
I finish every fucking bite of dinner.
In the shower, I scrub down, ignoring my cock, which is still semi-hard for her. Instead, I’m distracted by other things I’m feeling. Something distinctly akin to a romantic affection. I’m developing real feelings for Aubrey.
And I have zero fucking idea what I’m going to do.
Aubrey
“Mr. Dextry, I need you to stay still so I can get your blood pressure.” I try to gently cup his arm to get him to stop wiggling.
He turns to me, his face deeply lined and droopy. His eyebrows are furry caterpillars with wild hairs erupting everywhere, and I see gray hairs sprouting out of his ears. “What?” he yells at me.
I bite back a smile. “Please sit still,” I say in a much louder voice.
“Well, you don’t have to yell it,” he grouses, but he stops moving on his bed and lets me work.
I get his vitals and thank him, then move on to the last room I have to cover on the floor. I’m doing a round to check on patients who have been ill or are currently sick. Mrs. Maze is a feisty woman when she’s sick—hopefully she’s in a good mood tonight. She seemed pleased with dinner earlier and ate all her food, so that should help.
I pause before entering her room and try to stop thinking about Smith. But how can I? Something happened between us earlier. Some kind of shift in our relationship, or whatever the hell you’d call it. I don’t know what is going on with us, but I felt a change in him.
Those kisses he gave me scorched my bones. Every encounter with him changes me on some kind of chemical level. I’m never going to be the same. Smith and I have been doing a slow, torturing tease with each other the last several days. I wondered if that challenge I issued him outside the diner would spur him into acting.
It didn’t. At least, not sexually.
But I can tell he’s feeling as sexually hungry as I am. Something is going to give between us, soon.
I rap on Mrs. Maze’s door, which is cracked open, then peek in. She’s lying on her bed asleep. I gently touch her shoulder. “Hi, it’s time for me to get your vitals.”
Mrs. Maze blinks up at me. Her eyes are a little glassy still, but she seems better than she did yesterday. “Hey, Aubrey.”
I run through obtaining and recording her vitals. As I do, I ask, “How are you feeling?”
That opens the floodgates. She spends the next five minutes giving me a litany of things wrong with her, from how much she aches to how she’s constipated. Nothing to really be concerned with. I murmur in empathy in the appropriate spots.
“Well, your temp is greatly down. You’re barely registering a fever.” I give her a smile and pat her hand. “Try to get some sleep. It’ll help.”
“I could sleep if you guys would quit interrupting me.”