Changing For You: A New Adult Contemporary Romance (Anything For You Book 1)

by Hopkins, Faleena

  “I can’t say no to that. But it’s so hard not to press my whole body against you when you do that.”

  “Well, try.” He kisses me, his fingers working. I rise up a bit and pull his gown up, I take him in my hand and guide myself to hover over.

  “You’re not wearing your boxer briefs.”

  “They were gone when I woke up.”

  “Maria…” I make a tsk tsk tsk noise. He tries not to laugh.

  “It was probably a hot doctor,” he argues.

  “A male hot doctor,” I counter with a wink as I slowly stroke him.

  “That feels good,” he says hoarsely, his voice deepening. “Finally something feels good.”

  “So does what you’re doing, Brendan.” I look down at his chest, covered and secret. “Can I see it?”

  A nervous flicker passes his eyes, but he nods, and releases me, his hands resting on my thighs as I very slowly pull the cotton of his gown up. The taught abs on his stomach are bent in with his posture and the beginning of a large white bandage comes into view. The skin around it is pink, raw, and hurt. I stare at the space.

  His body tenses as I reach out to trace his skin, ever so slowly circling the outside of the gauze like I can heal the redness with my gentle touch. It relaxes him and he watches me with his lungs seeming to rise easier. I trace the center of his chest over his heart. I place my palm on his skin and look into his eyes. “There. All better now.”

  He’s staring at me, thinking things I will never know. His left hand touches my hip and his eyes tell me what he wants. I rise a little and push my panties to the side, adjust so I’m above him in just the right way. We smile at each other as he glances to the tubes hanging out of both of us. “We’re so sexy right now,” I grin.

  “I think we’re very sexy.”

  “You’re probably heavily medicated though.”

  “I so am. I wouldn’t be surprised if none of this is really happening.” He looks down and watches as I slide onto him.

  “Oh, it’s happening,” I tease. He closes his eyes and lays his head back on the pillow. I slide up and very, very slowly down. To see his face, the lines of it tracing and burning into my memory, is a miracle to me. I love the man he’s grown into. He looks so wise and comfortable in his own skin, even wounded like this. He’s the perfect alpha male and being with him, looking at his face and bending to kiss his lips, makes me feel like the woman I always wanted to be. It’s like we’re two sides of the same coin and don’t exist without the other. Slow down, Annie. You could get very hurt.

  He opens his eyes and shakes his head a little bit, disbelieving what we’re doing and smiles into my face. I lean in and kiss him and he holds onto my hips, his right arm out more than the other. He looks down to see us joined together, a small, kissable space appearing between his lips. A slow groan of pleasure escapes him and he has to force himself not to move with me. “It’s torture,” he whispers hoarsely.

  I press my lips to his and say without thinking, “I thought this would never happen again.” My heart speeds up; what if that was too much?

  But he looks into my eyes, without missing a beat and says, “I didn’t even have your phone number.”

  Pleasure ripples through my body. “Oh my God.”

  “You feel so good, Annie.” He’s looking at me like he’s mine. And I don’t care what he said earlier – he is mine. I’ve always known that and being with him makes it even clearer. He has to see it. And if he doesn’t, I’ll wait around until he does.

  “What is going on here?” a female voice says by the door.

  We look over and there’s Rebecca standing in the door with two coffees in her hands, sickened.

  “Oh, shit,” Brendan, says. “Turn around, Rebecca. I’m sorry, Annie.” He pulls up on my legs and I quickly dismount, moving my panties back into position as I get off the bed as quickly as I can without bouncing it and hurting him. But the surprise and the tubes and the panties all collide in an unavoidable disaster and I fall flat onto the floor, taking the IV pole with me. Rebecca flips back around to look at me in horror. Brendan’s covered himself and reaches to try and stop my fall, but doing so hurts him and he cries out in pain as I scream from the needle yanking out of my skin.

  Maria rushes in past Rebecca and helps me up, turning to Brendan who’s holding his ribs with a horrible look on his face.

  “I saw her walking in, and hurried over as fast as I could,” she mumbles, running to check his sutures. I stand up to watch, smoothing down my gown and darting my eyes to the left to see Rebecca staring at him, too. She loves him. It hits me square in the eyes.

  “Rebecca, Annie. Annie, Rebecca,” Brendan says, as Maria pulls back his gauze, revealing metal sutures that are shiny red but still intact. He looks at it. We’re all looking at it.

  “They’re okay. But you have to be more careful.”

  Satisfied he’s not in danger, Rebecca’s focus lashes to me. “Why are you here?” I blink and she adds, “I mean, I don’t understand why you’re in a hospital gown. You were fine yesterday.”

  Maria crosses to me and looks sideways at Rebecca before she reaches for my arm, inspecting the needle that has dislodged itself and is hanging precariously by a thin shard of tape.

  “I was admitted last night because I fainted and was dehydrated from stress.”

  Rebecca turns on her heel and walks out.

  “Shit,” Brendan mutters again.

  Maria looks over to the door. “I take it she’s not your sister.” She looks back and forth between us. “We’ve got to get you back to your room now. I can get in trouble for this. And I need to get a new needle for this.”

  “Right. Okay.” I throw a glance to Brendan. “You okay? Do you want to call her and explain?”

  He shakes his head, irritated. “I don’t have my phone.”

  Remembering, I say, “Oh! I almost forgot I found your jacket at the bar.”

  He sits up straighter. “Do you have it with you?”

  Biting my lip, I shake my head. “I don’t. One of my employees might have it? I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

  He slouches against the bed. “Great.” Then to himself he adds more quietly, “Hopefully she’ll come back.”

  “We really have to go,” Maria says, holding the door open.

  “Okay,” I look over to him, a knot twisting in my stomach.

  His eyes close and he says nothing. If she’s not his girlfriend, and he’s reacting this way, who is she to him? Wait, is she like I am to him? Am I like her? I turn and avoid Maria’s eyes as I pass through the door.

  Maria looks down as the door shuts behind us. “We need to get you some socks.”

  Through the door, he yells, “Annie!”

  My heart leaps into my throat. Stepping back in, I ask, “Yes?”

  He’s frustrated. “I can’t even go chase you down if I want to. This is ridiculous.” There’s a war going on inside of him and it’s all playing out through his eyes. He’s struggling to say more, so I wait, holding the door open. “I just want to say, I’m glad you’re okay.

  It’s so plain that wasn’t what he was going to say. Will I ever know? “I’m glad you are, too.”

  He nods. He’s always got so much going on behind those eyes of his. I know that inside his mind are things he doesn’t share with anyone. Probably not even Mark. He has a loneliness that lives in his eyes, an underlying sadness. As we look at each other, I know he’s not going to say more now, so I tap the door and turn to leave.

  “Come back and see me when you can,” he calls out.

  I look over, surprised. “Okay.” He doesn’t smile, so I lay my head on the edge of the open door and look at him. “I’m sorry we were interrupted. I was having fun.”

  A smile tugs at one corner of his mouth. “Yeah, I was too.”

  “Sucks.”

  “It does,” he chuckles, brightening despite everything.

  I tap the door again and turn and leave with Maria and when we’ve walked
far enough away, she throws me a sideways glance. “He likes you.”

  I’m staring ahead, my steps cold on the floor and my arm aching. “God, I hope so.” We don’t say anything else because my mind is with a woman who got to him before I did, who loves him, too, and who might just be more of a problem than I think. Lord knows I don’t want to have to fight for him, but I fucking will if I have to.

  Chapter 47

  Rebecca

  Hands: twitching for a cigarette and I’ve never smoked a day in my life.

  From where I sit in my S.U.V., I watch the hospital. My eyes are locked on the third floor. Is she still in there with him? I leave for a few fucking minutes to get something to eat and boom, there’s that Annie girl on his lap, fucking him! I have always been afraid of the day when I heard he’d found the one, but she can’t be it. Not now. Not ever. I’m not leaving without a fight.

  * * *

  San Francisco. Balboa Park Baseball Diamond.

  One year ago.

  With my fingers clutching the chain-link fence, I yell, “C’mon Brendan, you can hit better than that!” Our team yells with me and Brendan’s co-workers are competitive to a fault. Our matching Victory Times Three t-shirts are a visual testament. The other team members, all hailing from another agency, have their own clothes on, not even matching with colors. No commitment to winning. That’s why they always lose, Brendan had said that morning with a laugh as he threw the size small at my head. I teased him about having a shirt waiting for me, but he shot me down saying he’d gotten it from one of the other girls on the team. Likely story, I’d smiled to myself. He’s had to have gotten it last night if that were the case. And I strongly doubted it.

  From home plate, squinting beneath his baseball hat with his mouth tilted to the side, he jerks his head at me to say he’ll do better this time. He likes it when I’m hard on him. He thrives on goals – thinking of them, aiming for them, meeting them. That’s what I’ve discovered, among other more intimate things.

  “C’mon Brendan! Show ‘em what you’re working with!” I wiggle my hips, hands moving in punch-worthy fists.

  He chuckles and concentrates on the pitcher. His stance is as good as a pro’s and so is the way he holds the bat. His hips sway a bit as his arms ready themselves for the hit. His ass looks incredible and I have no problem taking my time looking at it.

  The pitcher spits, looks to his team, and nods affirmation that he understood and will use the play suggested by their facial ticks and hand gestures. He focuses hard on Brendan, pulls back his arm for the windup. From the way his leg comes up, like someone who’s not nearly as practiced, I know Brendan is going to take him to the cleaners. He releases the ball. It flies at Brendan. CRACK! Our team goes nuts. We’re all screaming and jumping. “Go Brendan!” “Take it all the way home!” “Go B-Man, Go!!!”

  Considering the games almost over and we’re ahead by ten, you’d think we’d be a little calmer.

  He makes it to third, watching the other team racing to catch his ball. He doesn’t slow down, though. Even as he sees he’ll easily make it all the way home, he still sprints, all focus. The other team looks terribly dejected. But hey, there are winners and there are losers. That’s life. I cup my hands in front of my face and whoop through the fence, egging him on with everyone else.

  “Rebecca! It’s your turn, gorgeous!” Tommy calls out. I meet his eyes and roll mine, not happy I have to follow that.

  Brendan’s bent over, catching his breath, hands on his knees, panting. He glances to Tommy.

  “Okay! Here I go.” I pick up the bat as my team claps and cheers.

  “C’mon Rebecca!” “Show them what you’re made of.” “Let’s end this slaughter and put them out of their misery.”

  Since all of them, save for Tommy, just met me today – they’re not cheering because they like me, or even for support of the new girl. They’re cheering because they want to win. That is their only goal. The pressure is hot and I can handle it. My last time up to bat was mediocre, but my spirit and pride has risen since then. I always operate far better when I’m under pressure.

  Walking onto home plate, I take my place in front of the catcher – a guy who’s had too many double-cheeseburgers for his own good. He glances up at me from his crouched squat, his mouth set firm. Someone doesn’t like to lose, apparently.

  “I’m going to save you some work. You won’t be catching this one.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  Weighing and swinging the bat to get the feel of it in my bones again, I focus on the pitcher. He measures me and cocks his chin to the side, sizing me up behind an evil smirk that promises, you’re going down this time.

  I get very still in my mind. I hear nothing else but my measured, focused heartbeat. The field disappears. My eyes are solely on him – his body, his hand, his eyes.

  His knee goes up. Arm falls back and throws. He releases the ball. It flies at me. I stare at it, twisting with both legs spread apart as I pull back and swing. CRACK! I drop the bat and take off for first base. The employees of Location Times Three go nuts. “Go Rebecca! Go! Run!” But Brendan yells the loudest, his deep voice traveling over all of them to force my feet to run faster. “Go baby! Yeah!! Run!”

  With sneakers and heart pounding, dirt flying up in dust clouds, I make it to second base before the ball comes whizzing by my head, caught. Our next player – Tommy – gets up. I’m panting and totally exhilarated. He picks up the bat and winks at me from home base. I smile, nod my chin at him, but my eyes cut over to Brendan, who saw the exchange like a jealous hawk. Good.

  He was furious when Tommy got hired at his agency, but he didn’t have a say and since then, Tommy’s been a thorn in his foot, always there wherever he walks. I don’t know what’s going on between them, but it isn’t good. The jealousy that’s sprung up since Tommy showed me more attention than he should has been very good for me, though. It shows he cares, and each time it happens, I get a little closer to Brendan.

  I look to the guy guarding me on second. “Hey.”

  He smiles. “Hi. You guys are kicking our ass.”

  I turn away. “Yeah. How does that feel?”

  He laughs, shakes his head and punches the groove of his mitt a couple times, eyes on Tommy. “Not good.”

  Tommy’s focus and stance is just as strong as Brendan’s. Only he’s intimidating the pitcher. He all but sneers, and a devilish smirk tugs hard at one side of his mouth. Oh man, this pitcher’s in trouble. I bounce in place preparing to run, and quickly steal two steps towards third.

  Our team is silent, waiting for what we know is coming. The pitcher aims, rears back, and lets the ball rip. Tommy hits it hard. I take off as fast as I can while our team goes insane yelling at us to keep running. I pass third and look quickly left to see what’s happening on the field. The other team is scrambling after Tommy’s ball. I race harder, flying until I clear home base.

  His legs are moving at an incredible pace and he speeds over third just as I make it behind the fence, everyone’s hands clapping against my shoulders in celebration even as all eyes are on him, including mine. The other team throws the ball, as he’s halfway home. It whips through the air. The guy on first grabs and throws it fast to the catcher. Tommy slides into home just before the catcher’s mitt wraps around the ball. SAFE!

  He grins, dancing around as we all go nuts. The other team shakes their heads. Meeting over the pitcher’s mound, both teams congratulate each other on a fun time, promising to play again soon. Smiling, I shake hands with everyone and wink to the catcher who just glares at me, wishing he had a French fry to gnaw on – or twenty.

  Tommy’s getting high-fives from everyone on our side he passes. He holds up a fist in my direction. “We did it, Bec!!”

  Brendan walks to me, his eyes on Tommy as he pulls me in for a kiss in front of everyone. “Good job.”

  “Thanks. This was fun.” I slide my arms around his neck. The distance I always see in his eyes still stares bac
k at me, but the public display of affection has me not caring as much. He pulls away and takes my hand, another first. Meeting his co-workers and now handholding? I cover my surprise with grace and speed. If he knows he’s letting his guard down, the wall might soar back up and that would break my heart. I’m already regretting having to fly home tonight. I miss him for days every time I leave.

  “Glad you came. We’re going out for beers and burgers. You want to come?”

  The illusion of casual, I shrug. “Sure. I guess I could do that. My flight isn’t until later.”

  Distracted, he nods, looking forward. “Great. Let’s go.”

  I throw Tommy a last glance and see him looking at us with an expression similar to Brendan’s. He locks eyes with me, his face grim.

  An attractive guy who can’t be taller than 5’6” calls over, “Hey Brendan, you joining us?”

  Holding up his arm, not bothering to look back, he says, “Yeah, Mario! We’ll see you there.”

  I’ve been back to visit Brendan only six times since we reconnected, including this trip. The night I met Tommy wasn’t on purpose. During my last visit to the city, I’d been sitting on the couch with Brendan, my legs relaxed over his. As usual, we spent the weekend alone. I never met his friends, except Mark of course, because they lived together. But even Mark stayed away most of the time. I didn’t mind at first, because being with Brendan was such a rare thing, that I wanted him all to myself. But then it began to feel odd, like I was a secret. And I was not okay with that at all.

  We’d spent most of the afternoon in bed so I was wearing only his white button-up shirt and my pale pink panties as we watched Highlander that night. I enjoyed introducing him to movies from my generation that I knew he’d love. Blade Runner. Ladyhawke. And now this.

  Mark was in his bedroom, but a loud, boisterous knock at the front door brought him out. Brendan didn’t move to get up. He was happily tracing the bare flesh on my thigh and staring at the screen.

  The two of them had an unspoken ease to their home. I don’t think there could have ever existed a better roommate situation anywhere. They cohabited without strife and often communicated without words. And I, ever the quiet observer, watched it with envious fascination.