Wicked Angel Page 8

  Now the long pause comes on my end. She has caught me completely off guard. I actually have to think a moment.

  I would never invite her to my place because it’s full of ghosts and weakness. But her place is a different matter, I suppose. It’s no different than when we stayed together at the hotel, right? Even though our original arrangement was to meet at The Wicked Horse, it doesn’t mean we are in any type of committed relationship if we go outside the club. So far, we’ve managed to keep a healthy distance from each other in all aspects of our lives except for the evenings.

  “It’s no big deal if you don’t want to,” she rushes to assure me, filling the void of silence. “Just a suggestion.”

  “No,” I quickly say. “It’s not I don’t want to. I was just thinking about my schedule tomorrow. My first surgery is at seven AM.”

  She sounds disappointed when she says, “Oh, that’s way too early. And I’d totally keep you up way too late if you came here.”

  “What if we just make it a very early night?” I suggest. “I can leave in about half an hour to come straight to your place. But I’m not staying all night. I can’t trust you to let me sleep.”

  Elena laughs in delight. I love the deep, husky tones of it. More than anything, I love I made that sound come out of her.

  “Okay,” she says while still chuckling. “You can come here. And we will make it an incredibly early night. I’ll kick you out of my bed as soon as we’re done fucking.”

  “Can I pick up some food on the way?” I ask.

  “Strawberries, chocolate, and whip cream. Two cans.”

  “On it,” I say.

  ♦

  “That was intense,” Elena drawls before rolling away from me to grab a strawberry out of the bowl on her bedside table. She takes a bite, then reaches out to plop the other half in my mouth.

  We’re both laying naked on her bed, having just recently reacquired rational thought and normal breathing after the amazing fuck we just had.

  And she’s correct… That was intense.

  When she had led me back to her bedroom a bit ago, she had had a variety of toys laid out for my perusal. I’d grabbed a bottle of lube and one of her larger butt plugs. Her eyes got wide with awe and excitement.

  I took my time getting her ass ready for it. Once I had that monster inserted firmly within, I fucked her slowly from behind, knowing every thrust put pressure on the plug. I lost track of how many times she came.

  “You’re very skillful with your fingers,” she says as she rolls to her side to face me, plopping her head into her hand.

  I laugh. “It’s why I am a good brain surgeon, I guess.”

  “What type of surgery do you have tomorrow?”

  “A craniotomy to resection out a suspected glioblastoma,” I say grimly.

  “That sounds serious,” she replies softly.

  I turn on my side to face her. “It is. The most aggressive form of brain cancer.”

  Her expression saddens.

  “I don’t understand stuff like that. So senseless, you know? I often question why God does that to people, but I know His plan is greater than anything I can hope to understand.”

  Yeah, I know all about senseless things, too. I don’t respond to the God comment because he ceased to exist to me a long ago. Truthfully, I believe it’s bullshit when people think God has a greater plan because there can never be anything good about taking the lives of innocents.

  Elena leans over and presses a kiss to my shoulder, which I think is incredibly sweet. But then, she starts pushing me away with both hands, trying to force me across the mattress.

  “Okay, get out of my bed. You gave me good orgasms, got a great one yourself from what I could tell, had ass play, which I don’t just grant to anyone, and you have an early morning surgery tomorrow. So go… get out of here.”

  While I wasn’t ready to leave yet, she’s right. If I don’t go now, I’ll stay all night. We’ll talk for a little bit more, then we’ll fuck again. Probably doze off. Wake up. Fuck again.

  If I don’t go now, it’s not going to happen.

  I roll off the bed, chuckling, then make to grab my clothes from the floor. Kicking an empty can of whipped cream out of the way, I look back over my shoulder. She’s laying there so unabashedly perfect, sexy, and fresh looking. Her smile is sweet even though she’s a hellion in the bed.

  I don’t want to leave. I want to crawl back in bed, eat strawberries, and talk.

  Fuck all night.

  But I make myself go.

  Because the fact I don’t want to leave spells all kinds of trouble for me.

  CHAPTER 12

  Elena

  “Okay… I have something to tell you.”

  “What?” Jorie demands.

  “I met someone, and I want to get your advice on it, but I want to hear all about your doctor’s appointment first.”

  Jorie rolls her eyes. “No. Tell me your thing first.”

  I shake my head adamantly. “No, it’s not important. I only mentioned it to start off this lunch so I don’t chicken out later and decide not to tell you. So I’m outing myself, which will ensure you hold my feet to the fire later.”

  Jorie just smirks. “You are so weird.”

  Grinning, I nod enthusiastically. “Right? But it works for us.”

  Her resounding laugh is from the belly. “Totally.”

  The waiter arrives, then sets down two glasses of ice water along with two paper-wrapped straws. We’re regulars here at this establishment, so he knows we’ll be ready to order. I always get the chicken salad, and Jorie fluctuates between a ham and cheese panini or a Cobb salad.

  She surprises me and the waiter when she says, “I’ll take the cheeseburger loaded, with extra fries on the side.”

  When our server is out of sight, I lean across the table and whisper, “You know you can’t use your pregnancy to eat whatever you want, right?”

  I get an exaggerated eye roll. “Yes, I know that, Mother. But I was a little too nauseated this morning to eat, and I’m starving now.”

  “Morning sickness?” I ask with concern.

  She shrugs. “Who knows? Just because it’s called morning sickness doesn’t mean it necessarily happens in the morning. But it can start occurring at around six weeks, which is exactly where I am, so I’m assuming that’s what it was. Which sucks. You know I’m such a sissy when I’m nauseated.”

  “Poor baby,” I sympathize in a cooing voice. “Any other symptoms?”

  Jorie being pregnant is fascinating since I’ve never had another friend go through this. Growing up and coming from a big family, I had always thought I would have a big family myself. Three, four, maybe five children. But since I’ve soured so much on what it takes to maintain a relationship, which isn’t necessary but can be important in having children, that dream has sort of waned.

  “My boobs are a little sore,” Jorie says as she swirls her straw around in her ice water. “Have to keep reminding Walsh to be gentle with them.”

  “Just smack him hard on the head. After a few times, he’ll remember.”

  We share a laugh, then Jorie proceeds to fill me in on everything she learned at her doctor’s appointment earlier in the week. I’m fascinated when she explains her baby is the size of a pea, but at the end of the trimester, will be as big as a peach. The visual is helpful.

  “So have you discussed names for the baby?” I ask.

  I’ve got my own personal thoughts on it, but I expect they don’t want to hear they should name their child, whether it be a girl or boy, after its godmother Elena.

  “We’ve been discussing names since I threw away my birth control pills in Paris,” Jorie says with a grin. “We both agree on the boy’s name. Josiah Aaron.”

  My eyebrows slip upward. “It’s kind of biblical.”

  “Weird, right? But we just started tossing names out of the blue. Weirdly, it sounded right to us both.”

  I shrug. “Whatever floats your boat. Although
I think you should give careful consideration to Elena.”

  “For a boy’s name?” Jorie asks with one raised eyebrow.

  I don’t answer her question, but rather blow her skepticism off with a wave of my hand.

  “What about for a girl?” I stare pointedly, almost daring her to throw out the name Elena.

  She knows that’s what I want, and she pointedly ignores me. “Walsh wants to name her Daenerys.”

  I blink at Jory. Blink again. A few more times.

  She just stares back.

  “Wait… from Game of Thrones?” I ask incredulously.

  Jorie grimaces in pain. “Yup.”

  My chin pulls inward, and I shake my head. “I hope you nixed that.”

  She snickers loudly, then leans across the table toward me. “He thinks it will be cute. We can call her Dany. He wants her crib to look like a dragon.”

  “Your husband is twisted,” I drawl in disbelief. “What do you want if it’s a girl?”

  Now is the time for her to seal our bond as best friends.

  “Arya.”

  I frown. Not Elena? Not even something reasonable.

  “From Game of Thrones again?” I ask.

  “Yup.”

  “You are both entirely too weird for me.”

  Jorie snickers and I laugh, having had our fun. I truly don’t care what she names the baby as long as he or she is happy and healthy.

  After taking a sip of her water, Jorie gestures in a circular motion. “Okay, enough about baby names. Spill it on your stuff. What’s going on?”

  I poke my straw up and down in my water, watching the ice cubes bob around. Where to begin? What to tell her without giving away too much?

  “You’re stalling,” she presses.

  I toss my straw down into the water, meeting her gaze. With a huff, I lean back in my chair and say, “Okay, fine… I’m sort of seeing someone.”

  As expected, this gets Jorie’s attention. She shoots straight up in her chair, spine straight and eyes sparkling with interest. “Who?”

  I give a wave of my hand. “No one you know.”

  That, at least, is the technical truth. She didn’t know Benjamin when she saw him at her birthday party, and I doubt she knows him now.

  “But that’s not important,” I continue before she can press me for details I don’t want to give just yet, especially since he’s a friend of Walsh’s. “See here’s the thing… well, he’s sort of piqued my interest.”

  Jorie leans forward, resting her elbows on the table and putting her chin in the palm of one hand as she drawls dramatically. “Oh, do tell.”

  Her dreamy, hopeful expression has commenced.

  “Well, he’s the guy I hooked up with on the fantasy app at The Wicked Horse. Remember?”

  She jerks in surprise. “Hot-wax guy?”

  “Yeah, and well… we’ve been seeing each other pretty frequently since then. Mostly at the club, but he came out to my house last night.”

  This completely gets Jorie’s attention because she knows me well. Her eyebrows shoot straight up. “You let a man come to your house? The notorious ‘I’m only in it for casual sex, and I’m a strong, independent woman who needs no one, hear me roar’ person?”

  Shaking my head, I try to explain. “It’s not like that. He doesn’t ask me for anything. He doesn’t pull on me. In fact, I don’t think he needs anything from me, including sex. I mean, he wants it… but I don’t think he needs it. For some reason, that is so liberating.”

  The expression on Jorie’s face transforms. It’s like a light bulb went off within her. She’s had an “aha” moment, which is why I decided to tell her a little bit about Benjamin. I knew she would eventually have some advice. “And that’s why you like him. Because he’s not showing any signs of codependency. He’s a little aloof with you, right? Now you’re even more intrigued by the man.”

  I nod, knowing she’d understand because she gets me. “But I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. For his true colors to come out. Part of me wonders if he’s pulling me in, making me drop my defenses, then, boom, before I even realize it, he’ll be ensconced on my recliner, eating my food and telling me he lost his job but he’ll find one soon.”

  Okay, I’m confident Benjamin would never do that. He’s a neurosurgeon, for Pete’s sake, but still… There are many ways to manipulate a woman other than just monetarily bilking them.

  “So what’s the problem?” Jorie asks, the confusion in her tone apparent. “I mean, you know the signs to look for. You know the losers. A lot of it usually has to do with socioeconomic background. The people who go to The Wicked Horse have money. I’m sure this guy you are seeing has money. You know he’s not going to try to use you like that.”

  “I know,” I admit. “But it’s not always about money. It’s about the draw on me and the pressure to be responsible for their happiness. With men, that’s sometimes tied up in money and creature comforts. Other times, it extends to emotional manipulation. And yes, while I don’t think this man needs me for that, it doesn’t mean I won’t be preyed upon.”

  Jorie leans forward with a serious expression. “You do realize not all men are like that, right? That there are some good men out there? Surely you can’t be that jaded.”

  She makes a good point. With a sigh, I’m forced to admit it. “I do know that, Jorie. And I try not to be jaded. But it doesn’t mean I’m not scared.”

  “Because you like this guy?”

  “I’m not sure. I mean, on its face, all we really have is sex. Like great, phenomenal, mind-blowing, surreal sex. Which is all I ever thought I wanted, yet… I have to believe the reason it’s so good is because there’s an emotional connection. But how can that be? We don’t do anything but have sex.”

  “But is that true? You just meet, have sex, and go on your way?”

  I give a half shrug. “I mean, it started out that way. Lately, though, we’ve been talking more. We even have drinks before we… um… you know, do our thing.”

  “Don’t overthink it,” she instructs. “Off the top of your head, what is it between you two that makes you think it’s more than just sex?”

  I wish I knew. When I replay our conversations, nothing seems apparent. But then something strikes me. It’s not about words.

  “I think it’s the way he looks at me. Like I’m an angel or something. Like I make him reconsider what he thought he knew to be true.”

  Jorie reclines in her seat, crosses her arms over her chest, and nods. “There you go. Sometimes, it’s not about what is said, but about what isn’t said.”

  “I’ve never been that to anyone. Not truly, I mean.”

  “It sounds wonderful. Exciting. Thrilling.”

  “Scary,” I add to her litany of positives.

  “Maybe,” she says with a smile. “But has that ever stopped you from doing anything before?”

  “Not really.”

  “So ride it,” she suggests emphatically, then her tone turns suggestive. “Ride him. See where it goes.”

  But I’ll keep my expectations way down, I think.

  Because, in my experience, even though Jorie got me to admit not all men are the same, I tend to attract a certain type. I’m not going to hold out hope that Benjamin will be different.

  CHAPTER 13

  Benjamin

  The doctor’s lounge at the hospital is no frills. There’s a small kitchen in the form of a refrigerator, stove, a microwave, and a long counter with a sink. Upon the counter also rests a Keurig coffee maker. It’s a place where the doctors can have some privacy while they eat a snack or a hasty meal, rather than using the hospital cafeteria. Because most of the doctors like to socialize, they’ll often use the cafeteria, so this place tends to stay empty.

  I’d sucked down two protein shakes I had brought with me this morning and I’ve got about another twenty minutes before my next surgery. I’m spending the better part of my time scrolling on my phone and thinking of Elena.

  Last
night at her house was fun, and that’s not something I’ve had a lot of lately.

  Let’s face it… the sex was the best part. But there was actual joking and laughing while we played with strawberries and whipped cream. It was fun, jovial, low pressure, and sticky.

  And I didn’t want to leave, goddamn it. I wanted more time with her. I’m not sure if it was for the sex or the laughter or perhaps even both. But it took a lot of effort to walk out of her place.

  The point is, I’m starting to feel again. While it’s scary as fuck, I admit I like it.

  Admit I’ve missed it.

  Every moment I spend with Elena feels like I’m walking through a tunnel with her. There’s a light at the end. Every time we fuck, laugh, kiss, stare at each other… the light gets brighter and brighter. The moments with her lead me closer to it.

  After I had woken up this morning and gotten out of the shower, I checked my text and was pleasantly surprised to see one from her.

  I feel so refreshed after a good night of sleep last night. I am so ready for you in the WH tonight.

  There was no stopping the smile that came to my face. The joy that bubbled inside, knowing that in less than half a day, I would be in her presence again.

  Can’t wait, I typed back.

  I went to set my phone down so I could get dressed, but she immediately responded. It didn’t irritate me, nor did it feel like she was taking up my time. I snatched the phone back up, eager to see what she would say. Thought maybe we could invite another woman or two to join us tonight.

  A jolt went through my body at what she was suggesting, but I had to take a moment to think about it. Let’s face it… there’s not a man I know who would turn his nose up at such an offer.

  And yet, after a bit of thought, I texted back, Not interested.

  Not even a little, I realize.

  There have been a few occasions at The Wicked Horse where I’ve had two women at the same time. It was fun. I got my rocks off.

  But I’m not interested now. I only want Elena. I don’t know if it means forever because that would be a poor bet to make in my situation. But that’s the way it is now.