by N. A. Alcorn
I shrug my shoulders in neutrality. “Sorry, but any time someone describes you as cocky or egotistical, I’m going to get a good laugh out of it.”
“And come on, Jameson. Enough with the working-class bullshit. You can’t tell me you guys aren’t pulling in a decent amount of dough, and your work schedules are hell of a lot better than mine. Shit, if I’m not at the office, I’m on call. If I’m not on call, I’m in the OR. Be thankful you didn’t go into med school. My life has revolved around the hospital for over eight years. I’m just now finding the time to actually have a life outside of my job.” James takes a swig of his beer before resting the bottle on his knee.
“Damn, it’s easy to get Williams riled up these days. Aren’t you taking care of him, sweetheart?” Jack cajoles from across the campfire.
I huff out a laugh. “Uh no, I’m not ‘taking care of him,’ sweetheart. James and I are just friends.” I use air quotes to emphasize the egotistical comment that was “taking care of him.”
“What? You two are just friends? Let me try to wrap my fucking head around this entire situation,” Alan announces with a puzzled look on his face.
James grins at me out of the corner of his eye. “Yeah, being friends is the only thing this bossy lady will agree too.”
“How old are you, Amy?” Mark asks.
“Twenty-nine. Why?” I slightly tilt my head to the side, questioning Mark’s motives.
“Twenty-nine? Holy shit! And here I thought James was robbing the cradle! I could have sworn you looked twenty-three!” Mark laughs loudly, slapping his knee with each chuckle.
“There is definitely no cradle robbing. Idiot and I are just friends,” I correct them with a deadpan expression.
James wraps his arm around me, tucking me closer to his side. “See what I mean? She’s tough and feisty, and I’m pretty sure if I say any more she’ll kick my ass.” I feel the vibrations of James’s laughter against my shoulder.
“So, Amy, if you’re not with James, then who exactly are you with?” Mark raises his eyebrow at me. I notice James looking intently at my face for my response, his grip on my shoulder getting infinitesimally tighter.
I glance at him for a second, gauging his expression and what it means. “I’m with no one. I’m not really the dating type.”
“But you’re the friends-with-James type?” Mark waggles his eyebrows cheekily.
“Well this guy practically begged me to be friends with him.” I elbow James in the side, quietly goading him.
“She’s right, actually. It took a lot of convincing for this girl to give me the time of day. She used to call me Dr. Limp Dick, but I somehow managed to get that changed to Dr. Idiot now.”
All four of his buddies are laughing about the Dr. Limp Dick comment and asking how on Earth I managed to come up with that. I just shake my head and give James a stern look. He’s finding this conversation sidesplitting.
Mark clears his throat loudly. “James, whatever happened to that hot piece of ass you were seeing? The chick I met in Charlotte. What was her name?” He snaps his fingers and excitedly adds, “Kendall! That was her name!”
I can see James shaking his head in my periphery.
Fucking Kendall.
“Who’s Kendall?” Tom asks with curiosity.
“Well…” Mark continues eagerly. “When I helped James move into his apartment in Charlotte, some hot blonde stopped by his new place in a raincoat and nothing else.” Mark says with a knowing tone. “Are you still seeing her?”
I peer up at James’s face and notice that he looks a little hesitant to respond.
What the fuck? Anger starts to course through my veins and I have the urge to slap him clear across the face. I guess the whole showing up at his door step in heels and a trench coat isn’t something new for that bitch. How many times has this little late-night rendezvous occurred? I’m left wondering if she’s manage to make an appearance at his apartment since the night we had dinner with Trent and Ellen.
“She just showed up to your apartment in a raincoat?” Alan urges with a sly smile on his face.
“And heels,” Mark adds.
That stupid woman is a god damn cliché. Heels and trench coat. Could she be anymore pathetic?
“She was just some woman I met when I first made the trip to Charlotte for my residency at Eden Medical Center. Seriously, that was a long-ass time ago,” James finally answers.
“Not that long ago,” I interject. “I mean, she made an appearance the night we had dinner with Trent and Ellen,” I add, and James grimaces in response.
All four of his buddies give each other interesting looks across the camp fire.
James peers down at me and gently squeezes my shoulder. “Like I told you then, I had no idea she was going to show up like that. And whatever Kendall and I had, it was a long fucking time ago. I haven’t seen or spoken with her since that night.”
I should probably be relieved with his response, but I’m not. I’m irritated and annoyed that that bitch was touching him, fucking him, showing up at his god damn door step in a raincoat and heels. I fucking hate her.
Hello, jealousy.
I hate my subconscious, too.
“James, I’ve been meaning to ask you, what’s with the one-sock look you’ve got going on tonight?” Tom asks and manages to shift the subject to less irritating topics of conversation. Topics that don’t make me want to start a catfight with a woman I barely know.
James smiles wide, showcasing that one perfect dimple I love as he looks down at me with delight. “Well…”
I cut James off before he can say any more. “I was about to shit myself in James’s car on the way here. He forgot toilet paper and offered up his sock for ass-wiping duties. He’s such a sweetheart that way.” I pinch his cheek, the one with the perfect dimple, and I immediately hear his buddies burst out into laughter again.
“That is fucking hilarious! Now I can see why you like this girl so much,” Mark adds with a mirthful expression.
“You should have seen the panicked expression on her face. Wide-eyed, bouncing around on her feet… I had to do something to help her out.”
I smack James’s chest before nuzzling back into his side. “You, my friend, are an asshole.”
The countless number of beers I’ve consumed is definitely starting to take effect. My head is light and fuzzy and my lips feel completely numb. I make the decision to get my ass to bed before I start spouting off embarrassing bullshit in front of these guys.
“All right, assholes, I think you’ve had enough laughter at my expense for the night. I’m taking my ass to bed. See y’all in the morning.” I get up from the bench and start to head towards the tent James set up for us. I get several goodnights before James says that he’ll come to bed shortly. Let’s hope I can manage to get myself to sleep before James and his undeniable sexiness make their appearance inside of my tent.
I’m drunk and seem to be getting drunker as I lie awake in my sleeping bag, staring up at the tent. Every time I shut my eyes, the world seems to spin a little too fast for my liking. I’m more than thankful that I decided to lie down before I secured myself a night of puking. James is now lying next to me. The heat of his big warm body radiates off of him, and I’m finding myself jealous of his sleeping bag.
“Hold me, idiot,” I slur out as I get out of my sleeping bag and nudge James to make room for me.
He turns over and looks intently at my face, assessing my current state of mind. “You’re drunk.”
“I know.” I give him a lazy smirk.
James unzips his sleeping bag and pats the spot next to him, motioning for me to climb in. I eagerly slip inside before he wraps his muscular, strong arms around me. “I shouldn’t allow this, but I’m too much of a bastard to not take advantage of the opportunity to have my favorite girl in my arms.”
I’m relishing in the feel of him and the words that just came from his lips. My heart seems to have gotten three sizes bigger at the sound of him s
aying ‘my favorite girl.’ I want to be his favorite girl. I want to be his only girl. I want to be his everything. Maybe I should also want to be sober, considering I’m letting my mind wander to thoughts I’ve refused to think about it. But hearing that little conversation about Kendall has my mind still reeling on the fact that James could have any woman he wants. What would I do if he started dating someone?
My whole body hurts from that thought.
James is undeniably warm and strong, and the smell of his spicy cologne is doing unmentionable things to my head and libido. I turn my face slightly so I can nuzzle into his chest and take a long, deep sniff of him.
God, he smells good. So, so good.
“Did you just sniff me?” he whispers to me. His chin rests on top of my head.
“Nope,” I answer quietly as I ponder my current urge to lick him.
Should I lick his neck? I really want to lick his neck. Will he notice if I lick his neck? I bet he tastes like marshmallows or hot fudge sundaes. Or maybe just sweat and beer? All options work for me. I’m just going to take a little lick. The teensiest, tiniest lick from his neck and I bet he won’t even notice…
“Did you just lick me?”
“Nope,” I say before lightly licking his neck again.
James barks out a laugh and pulls away slightly to look down at me. “Yeah, you did, and you just licked me again.”
I just shrug my shoulders as I peer up at him, his eyes locked with mine. In the darkness, I can make out his strong jaw and that perfect dimple as his lips smile down at me. His green emeralds are glowing brightly. Without even thinking, I lean up and press my lips to his.
Gently.
Tenderly.
Our lips stay sealed for what seems like forever. I can’t find the strength to pull away. He smells like perfection and tastes like the most perfect, delectable man treat ever made. Someone should make Popsicles and candy that smell and taste like James, because seriously, he’s absolute perfection.
He takes a breath, causing his lips to part, and I use that opportunity to slip my tongue inside. The kiss is still soft and sweet. James’s hands slide down my back and clutch me tightly to his chest. My body is just one giant ball of intense need pleading to burst at the seams, nearly begging him to take me right here, right now.
He is kissing me back, his tongue lightly brushing against mine, causing a slight moan to escape my lips as I firmly grasp his shoulders. James gently removes his lips from mine but still keeps me snug to his chest. His lips press into my hair as he takes a deep, inhaling breath. It’s like he’s breathing me in, savoring the smell of me.
The air crackles around us, and I’m content for the first time in as long as I can remember. I am content in James’s strong arms. Content and happy. My heart is doing little flip-flops inside my chest. My drunken brain is telling me to not let this go. Don’t let James go because I want him. I want more than just friendship.
I want every part of him.
The cocky guy with the smug grin. The bright emerald eyes that dance with amusement when we’re laughing together. The beautiful smile with that one perfect dimple that seems to be there for me and only me. The tender James, the man whose heart is full of kindness.
I want James.
I want all of him.
I want everything.
I want every single perfect part that makes him the man I am undeniably attracted to and enjoy spending every single second with. I want the man who has managed to become one of my best friends. The man who I might actually be falling in love with…
Dear god, I’m drunk.
I’m in deeper than I would even dare admitting when I’m sober. I’m scared at what this realization will bring tomorrow when I’m stone-cold sober and able to put up my normal defensive, avoiding walls.
I feel James’s breathing soften above me and I decide that tonight I’m not going to think about this. I’m just going to enjoy being in his arms. And that’s what I do. I fall asleep wrapped up tightly in everything that is James, and I’m pretty sure it is the best sleep I’ve had in a lifetime.
Chapter Twenty-One
“Progress is progress, even if it’s a fucking snail’s pace
and quite possibly driving you towards insanity.” - James
I am convinced that I am either the world’s biggest pussy or a motherfucking saint. Sleeping in a tent for three nights with Amy’s tight body pressed against me was the most excruciatingly wonderful experience of my life. In the privacy of our tent, she opened herself up to me in ways I didn’t think were possible without having sex.
We had one perfect night. A night that included a lot of kissing and took every inch of my willpower to not to let things go any further. For once in her life, she was vulnerable. Amy was tender and gentle, and kissing her felt intimate. It felt right—perfect, even. Her soft lips, her mouth-watering curves… Everything about her seems to bring me to my knees these days.
I’ve found myself questioning if she’s really worth the wait.
Is Amy worth sitting around and praying that she’ll eventually let me in?
I mean, really let me in. I’m getting impatient and frustrated, both mentally and physically. I’m dying to be with her. She’s made me revert back to my adolescent days when wet dreams and jerking off were the only relief. Yeah, I’m horny as a motherfucker, and my cock needs some action that doesn’t include my right hand.
I’m beginning to feel exasperated, but I know that what I want is truly worth the wait. I can admit that I’ve been tempted since the day Kendall showed up at my door step. Tempted to give her a call and find some relief from my constant state of blue balls. Kendall is a woman I met when I first moved to Charlotte as a surgical resident. She’s sexy and laid back, and she made a career out of showing up at my apartment to indulge in a good time. In the past, I enjoyed the time I spent with her. I’d have to be a fucking moron not to enjoy a woman showing up at my apartment in nothing but heels and a trench coat. That’s a pretty hot move. Yeah, kind of cliché, but with most guys, it’ll work every time.
When Kendall showed up at my apartment a few weeks ago, Amy was shooting daggers at her with her eyes. She looked pissed—jealous, even. Amy wasn’t happy, yet she did everything in her power to look unaffected. Sometimes I feel like I know her better than she knows herself, and this is why I continue to stay patient. I refuse to give in to urges such as indulging in a quick fuck with a woman like Kendall so I can relieve my sexual frustration. That is only fulfilling for a few fleeting moments and not worth the risk of losing a chance to be with the person I want most. I need to stay patient because I want more.
I want Amy.
And I’m the type of guy who will fight for what he wants until he gets it. I will take my time with Amy. I won’t rush her. I will continue to slowly slide myself into her life until she realizes that I belong there.
And then…I won’t let her go.
I won’t deny that Amy started out as a woman I wanted to fuck. There’s no disputing this. It’s a fact I think most men would understand. Amy is beautiful. She’s unbelievably sexy, and my cock seems to have an affinity for her.
Only holding her in my arms for three nights was the biggest challenge of my life. Harder than Basic Training and med school combined. It was a true test of willpower, and I’m shocked I survived the entire situation without getting her naked. I’m desperate to feel her beneath me, to be inside of her, to fuck the vulnerability right out of her. I’m desperate for a lot of things and all of them seem to revolve around Amy.
I’ve focused my efforts on dominating most of her time outside of work. Amy is a quick-trigger, and I’m doing everything in my power to keep her from going back to her old ways of one-night stands. Maybe this makes me a selfish bastard, but I don’t give a shit. I have zero desire to see the woman I care about get involved with assholes. She deserves better. She deserves someone like me. Someone who will love her and take care of her and let her know how fucking amazing she
truly is.
Despite the urge to announce to the world about our one perfect night that involved the endless amounts of kissing Amy and I took part in, I know that I need to keep quiet. My gut instincts tell me that Amy is afraid to dive into an actual relationship for fear of ruining what we already have. I need to let Amy see that we’re friends, first and foremost, and nothing will ever change that. She’s important to me, and when we do become more, her friendship will always be my top priority.
Acting like the kissing never happened proved to be daunting. I wanted nothing more than to wrap Amy up in my arms and kiss the daylights out of her in front of my buddies. I had the constant urge to touch her, feel her, and keep her close to me. I somehow managed to survive. I kept up the ‘just friends’ act outside of our tent. I made a point to keep her laughing and show her that nothing would change between us if we became something more. For one perfect night, I let her take the lead. I let her make the first move and I obliged her. In my eyes, she’s irresistible, and there was no way in hell I was passing up the opportunity to be close to her, to kiss her, to feel her pressed against me.
I want everything Amy is willing to give me. In my eyes, she’s perfection. Her laughter makes my fucking day. Her big, brown eyes, her sarcastic sense of humor, her bossy demeanor… Everything about her makes me happy.
Hell, even her bitchy attitude is something I enjoy.
I want to be the one who is always on the receiving end of that bitchy attitude.
I want to be the one on the receiving end of a lot of things from that woman.
I’m standing outside of my SUV, filling up my gas tank. My mind is hard at work, trying to process the three nights I spent holding Amy in my arms. My eyes roam to where she is currently sitting in the passenger’s seat. Her feet are propped up comfortably on the dashboard. My eyes follow her long, bare legs, taking in one of my favorite things about her. God, those legs would look fantastic wrapped around my waist. Or over my shoulders. Or spread out around my face. I can picture those legs in a lot of places, and all of them include me.
