“Andrew?”
“Yes?”
“Kiss me again.” She loved the feel of his lips on hers.
He moved closer to her, and took her mouth with a raw, needy kiss. A rough, guttural groan escaped him as he pulled away, his darkened eyes letting her know he wanted her again. And she wanted him too.
Chapter 12
ABBY understood why Andrew loved Lake Tahoe the next day. He had told her she couldn’t miss the single best reason to be on his porch in the late evening. She had spent the day in his library, and stopped in the afternoon to help him replenish the firewood in the living room. He surprised her by cooking dinner, but they left it warming inside while they put on light jackets and went out.
Now, they sat on the back porch. It was time to watch the sunset. They were early. Andrew wanted her to see it all; long before the sun hit the horizon. He had said it was a worthwhile show, put on by Mother Nature for free on every clear day. They sat together in the wrought iron porch swing that faced the lake. At first, they chatted and made casual conversation, but as the sky turned, Andrew fell into a hushed admiration.
He held her hand and she leaned on his shoulder, watching as splashes of red and orange painted sections of the sky. The sun hit the horizon, and Abby thought she could watch forever. It was magnificent, captivating. When twilight fell, eye-catching shades of pink and purple graced her vision. She was blessed to bear witness to another of nature’s exquisite expressions.
They had dinner afterward, and spent the rest of the evening relaxing in front of the fireplace, sipping wine, cuddling, and talking about their childhoods.
ANDREW groaned, but could not laugh. Abby stood at the fireplace in only an oversized dress shirt she had found in his closet. She had undone all the buttons. She wiggled her ass at him, looking over her shoulder, blonde hair draped like a curtain across her back and down her chest. Abby winked and stuck out her tongue. She was trying so hard to get him to laugh.
The game was Abby’s idea, but it was Andrew’s idea to play for real money. She agreed. They had each placed a twenty dollar bet on the end table beside where she stood. She had another five minutes to break him, or he would win. He had already gotten her to crack in seven minutes flat. She had to get him to laugh faster than that. It was a fool’s bet. Andrew was not quick to laugh at the best of times, and was well-known for his poker face back in his frat house days.
He moved from the chair on the other side of the fireplace, and stalked toward her. As he neared, the sweet floral scent got him going. His nostrils flared. His eyes nearly rolled back into his skull. He was beyond laughing. He needed her, wanted her. His body craved the feeling of being held deep inside her warmth. He groaned again. The sound ripped from his throat against his will.
Her skin glowed, freshly washed, still pink where her washcloth had rubbed all the skin cells away. Under the overwhelming smell of her shower gel or shampoo, there clung to her flesh the mild scent of her arousal. He stretched out his hand, with the intention of caressing her. Instead, his hand fell inches from his goal.
His gaze was locked on her lips. Her lush, tasty pink beacons of all his pleasant dreams. She had gotten to him completely. Inside his soul. He waited with a held breath for them to be connected again. He was already beginning to dread the time they would spend apart.
Her tongue peeked from between her lips, licked the plumpness of her lower lip, and then drew back within. She pulled her lip into her mouth and bit down on it, her eyes boring into his. She was teasing him in the best and worst way all at the same time. Subtly and overtly seductive at the drop of a hat. And she abounded with flirtatiousness. She really had no idea what she did to him—or maybe she did.
“Andrew…” His name fell silent on her breath, no more than a sigh. A plea.
He loosened the tie of his flannel pants. Eyes still connected to hers, he released the fabric to slide down his strong thighs and muscular legs. He stepped from the pool of flannel, and took the last few steps from where he was to where she waited.
The unbelievable softness of her skin amazed him. How a woman could be so strong and yet so soft and tender; it was purely miraculous. His fingertips danced over her flesh. He pressed into the yielding skin of her ass cheeks, watching as her skin paled and then flared back to pink. She shifted from leg to leg as he touched. He walked around and looked at the opening of her shirt. He swore he could see her heartbeat in the valley between the swells of her breasts.
Slipping his hands around to her rounded, perky ass, he stroked his forefingers where it met the back of her thighs, and squeezed it in his needy hands. She moaned, and pushed back slightly into his touch. Stroking further in, he reached her folds from behind. She was wet. He touched her there, and eased his finger just barely between her hot, plump lips. Her body seized around his finger, pushing down so it would go deeper.
Again she begged. “Andrew…”
The bet was forgotten. She stepped back and lowered herself to the thick throw rug closest to the fireplace. She collapsed back onto her elbows. Her knees spread and her thighs opened for him. Andrew’s eyes wandered over her pussy. He memorized her—never wanting to lose her; the fear of such a thing already haunting him. He dropped to his knees between her legs. Her eyes pierced into him, inviting him in.
He slid his hands up from her calves, over her thighs and hips, up to the sides of her breasts, and then down again. He moved up her inner thighs this time, stopping short of her mound. She let out an eager breath when he parted her legs even farther apart. He dipped his head low and blew over her clit. She sucked in her breath, hissing instead of exhaling.
“Touch me, Andrew. Please…”
Her voice trailed off when his tongue made contact with her clit. He used his thumbs to gently push apart her soft folds, and circled the exposed nub slowly with the tip of his tongue. He circled it, fondled it, loved it. He took notice of all her body’s reactions. Without words, she told him how to love her.
She bucked under him, moaning. Her sweet juices trickled, telling him not to hold back any longer. To be sure he was delivering the utmost pleasure—his woman had to be satisfied every time, no exceptions—he licked a trail up to her breasts and laved at each nipple. Her hips bucked some more, and she pleaded for him to come inside. He wouldn’t make her wait.
Grabbing her hips with his hands, he held her still and moved back into position. He leaned closer and, holding his cock at the ready, eased his length between her folds. She groaned and called his name. Andrew filled her slowly, taking his time to commit to memory not only the sight of his body joining hers, but the pure sensation of the act.
She was both tight and welcoming. The warmth of her inner walls held him close, kept him so snug inside her as he began to move back and forth. She thrust her hips up in rhythm with his pace. He dropped his hands from her hips and pressed her legs to open her wide. Without giving her warning, he pulled out completely and dipped his head back down to lick, and suck, and gently nip at her clit. She let out a yelp and her body shook. He blew on her soaking wet clit again, and shifted up to enter her again. This time she screamed, bucking her hips wildly. He quickened his pace to keep up.
He repeated the moves twice until she screamed again. They were going to come. Now. Together. Harder and faster, they both pressed their bodies against each other, joining and separating. The slap of his balls echoed her tiny shrieks as she came. Her body convulsed under him when her climax seemed to send her outside her mind to another world . The sloppy sounds of making love to her filled his ears, until with a final sharp jolt, he released his warmth into her. Spent, he collapsed beside her, wrapping his arms around her tightly.
“I think you won the bet,” she whispered.
“That’s perfect,” he replied. And, truly, he meant it. She was perfect for him, if only he could keep it together.
Abby looked up at the ceiling. It was the middle of the night. She wasn’t sure what had awoken her, but now, she couldn’t go back
to sleep. Her body was relaxed, but her mind was restless. She thought of getting up. Andrew looked so restful beside her. She decided to stay put. She didn’t want to rouse him.
Her mind drifted to her placement. It would start on Monday. Her schedule would be tight for the next two semesters. Two twelve-hour day shifts at her university’s Medical center would take her well-paced week to one that would be hectic and inflexible. She didn’t mind it at all. In fact, she looked forward to it. It meant she was that much closer to graduating, getting into the full time workforce, and able to do one of the two things she loved—face to face oncology patient care. She couldn’t wait.
Having Andrew in her life didn’t change any of it—not the way she saw it. The only unknown was where she would settle as they got more serious, and where she would have a more permanent work arrangement. She could continue direct patient care, or work at one of the oncology research hospitals. Before Andrew, she had been looking primarily at San Francisco hospitals, and at the only hospital in Reno where the work would be challenging enough. Now, there were more unknowns, but that also meant more possibilities.
Abby felt Andrew stir beside her and turned toward him. Worry crept up her face. He was asleep, but beads of sweat covered his face. His fists were in tight balls beside him, stuffed full with the bedsheets. His head turned from side to side as though looking for something in his dream. But this couldn’t just be a dream. It had to be a nightmare. His face was distraught. She thought to wake him, but while she debated whether to let it pass or not, he let out a wail, and called out a name.
“Emma!” he shouted a second time. Yes. It was definitely Emma she had heard the first time. She touched his shoulder and he sprang upright.
“Andrew? Are you okay?”
His breathing was fast. The expression on his face as he looked around transitioned from fear, to disorientation, to what she could only describe as sheer horror.
“It’s me, Andrew. It’s Abby. You were dreaming.”
She sat up and handed him one of the bottled waters on her night table. He took it, still looking terrified. She went to the bathroom and brought a towel back to bed.
“Was that a nightmare?” She asked, handing the towel to him.
He nodded.
“Are you okay now?”
He nodded again. He looked at her shyly, not quite meeting her eyes. “Did I talk while I was dreaming?”
“Not really. You were mostly groaning, and then you shouted.”
“What did I say?”
“Just a name.”
“What name?”
“Emma.”
He stiffened up and practically jumped out of bed. “I’m sorry. Excuse me,” he said, rushing into the bathroom. He spent a long time in there before he came out. He walked to his closet and found a robe to wear.
“Do you have nightmares a lot?” she asked, looking over at him. He seemed so…fragile.
“Not often these days.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“Probably another time.” He tightened the robe around his waist. “I’ll be right back, okay?”
“Want some company?”
“I just need a minute.”
“Okay.” Just as she guessed, he didn’t come back to bed for the rest of the night.
Chapter 13
ANDREW could watch her for hours. After their run, which Abby was beginning to enjoy with him, they did some stretches in the weight room. Well, Abby did stretches. He just lifted his arms above his head and enjoyed the view. Watching her was becoming a hobby of his. She was so free spirited. It was liberating to see her in action.
Given she had seen him during and after a nightmare, and didn’t run for the hills the next day, Andrew felt it was a good omen. She didn’t ask him about it that morning, either. And she didn’t ask him why he had not come back to bed. She just kissed him when he had returned to his room to get his phone, and suggested they go for a run.
“Hey,” she said, looking up from some kind of sexy downward dog yoga pose. “I was thinking, I’d like to go see John and Trina today.”
“Sure. When do you want to go?”
“Now?”
“Now like right now?”
“Yeah why not? We can have a nice, relaxing drive down there.”
“Um. Sure.” He felt his body tense up as he thought of an answer. “I’ll call my local driver and see if he can come on short notice.”
“Driver? Come on, you’ve got all those cars outside. Let’s take a drive, Andrew.”
Oh God. She was not asking to take a drive with me, was she? Think Andrew. Think.
“The thing is,” he stumbled over his words as he thought of a reasonable explanation, “I’ve got to take care of a few things with my staff this morning. Let me get those done first, and we can go afterward.”
“Okay. That could work. I’ll use the time to make some more headway on my independent study.”
“Perfect. And I might as well set it up with the driver, then.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. Think of it this way. We can both enjoy the drive there and back. It’s a beautiful scenic route.”
“Okay,” she answered, continuing with her stretches.
Andrew excused himself and went to his office. He made a phone call to request the local limo service driver who worked on standby for him and his dad. When finished, he stayed in his office and answered some emails on his desktop. That question from Abby came from left field. It was a close call. He looked down at his hands. They were shaking. And his body had practically frozen up back there. He couldn’t remember ever reacting this way to the thought of simply going for a drive. He suspected it had everything to do with the accident, and with Abby.
Had her friends not been in the Jeep when he had dropped them all off in Reno a few days ago, he may have reacted that way too. But even that was different. It wasn’t the same as him and Abby getting into a car, sitting side by side, alone in the car, with him driving. The image alone was disconcerting. No, it was not disconcerting—it was downright terrifying.
He could kick himself for not laying it on the line right there and then with Abby. It was the perfect opportunity to mention it. Maybe not perfect, but it beat springing his past on her out of the blue. When was there ever a right time to talk about something like this? He couldn’t imagine where he would start, and how his lips and brain would recall the bloodcurdling chain of events. He had to do it soon.
Yes. Soon. That fleeting, non-committal and abstract time in the future. Soon was convenient. It could be pushed forward ad infinitum. But that was also the problem with soon. Soon easily becomes too late. That was something his mother would tell him every time he procrastinated with chores in favor of games, homework, or playtime. He should have told Abby everything before he said those three words on the plane. She deserved to know—he just had no idea how to tell her. He took a breath and continued typing. He resolved to do his best to tell her this weekend, before she went back to San Francisco. But not today. He wasn’t ready to face that yet.
ABBY noticed Andrew stiffen up when she asked about going to see John and Trina. To be precise, he didn’t react to the visit itself—he reacted to driving. His nervous reaction was as clear as day. His hand instantly slid along his scar, he averted his eyes, and his body shifted from one leg to the other, until they agreed to go later.
Driving? What was it about driving that made him act so weird? She wondered if this reaction had anything to do with how he had sent the driver to pick her up each of the three times they had gone out in San Francisco. Yes, they had driven together in the limo more than a few times too, but there was something to it.
She thought back on the other times he had reacted this way since she met him. There was their conversation about why he left the practice. He had also gotten that way when they skirted the question of relationships and family. And he had a similar look during the impromptu procedure on John’s arm. Maybe he was in a car accident w
ith someone important to him—but who? And how bad was it?
She was onto something. It was a gut feeling, and she had nothing to go by—even less so as Andrew continued to be tight-lipped about his trauma—but she trusted her gut implicitly. She sighed, finishing up her stretches to head for the shower. She was not going to ask him just yet. It would be too easy for him to shut down. She would wait. He would tell her soon, she hoped. Having to guess and come up with her own theories was no fun though; not when he could simply tell her.
ABBY looked over at Andrew as they sat at the back of the limousine. He held her hand, and looked pensively out the window.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
“Yes,” he answered, looking over at her. “Sorry, I tend to get sucked into how beautiful around Lake Tahoe is. I’ve been down this route countless times; yet that view out there gets me every time.”
He ran a finger down her cheek, and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “How about you? Doing okay?”
“Yes,” she answered, leaning on his arm. “It’s gorgeous outside. I can see why you love it. It’s serene, and lovely on an immense scale. It makes problems seem so small, taking in that expansive view. I guess it puts life in perspective.”
“Wow.”
She looked up at him. “What,”
“You could have read my mind verbatim just now.”
“Yeah?” she said, turning to look at him more closely.
“It’s uncanny.”
“Just don’t get too used to it, big boy,” she teased.
“Used to what?”
“To me trying to read your mind.” She kissed his lips softly. “Talking works. Remember, you can tell me anything. I won’t judge you. I promise.”
“I will keep that in mind.”
“Promise?” She hoped she was getting her point across without pushing the issue.
“Yes. I promise.”
She undid her seatbelt and slid up to sit in his lap, and held him close.
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