Healing Touch

by Brenda Rothert

  She nodded slowly. “Okay. Thanks.”

  “Good luck,” I said, meaning it. “I have to go. I have patients.”

  With a small wave, I left the cafeteria. I wanted to find Carson and sneak into a stairwell for a kiss and hug. Seeing Amanda had reminded me just how fortunate I was.

  I looked down at the screen of my phone and snort-laughed when I read Hattie’s text.

  Hattie: He’s in the bathroom. He told me when we kissed that I taste yummy. WTF, hot guy? No one wants to fuck a guy who says the word yummy.

  Picking up my phone from the desk, I wrote her back.

  Me: That’s weird. Does he have kids?

  Hattie: idk. And I don’t want to. I just want to get banged into next week. Is that so much to ask?

  Me: I’m sure he wouldn’t think so. So ask him to do it.

  Hattie: What if he says other stuff that kills the mood?

  Me: Tell him silence is your kink.

  Hattie: gtg, here he comes.

  I always liked it when she chronicled going out on a night off. Bars and clubs had never been my thing, but it was fun to live vicariously through her.

  It was quiet on the OB floor tonight. At 1:30 a.m., our patients were all asleep, other than one woman in early labor. Her contractions were still mild enough that she could rest between them, so I was trying to stay out of the room unless she asked for me.

  “Dr. Drake?”

  I looked up and saw a nurse named Mike had stopped in front of the OB desk.

  “Yeah?”

  “I just wanted to say . . . I think it’s great about you and Carson. He seems like a good guy.”

  I smiled at him. “Thanks, Mike.”

  “You deserve the best.”

  Mike was a lighthearted, funny guy who rarely showed his serious side. I was touched by his words.

  “How’s your wife doing?” I asked him.

  “Good. The twins are sleeping through the night now, so she’s feeling more like herself again.”

  I nodded. Mike had talked to me after the delivery of his baby daughters a few months ago. He was concerned his wife had postpartum depression. When he brought it up with her, she’d cried and thrown a loaf of french bread at him.

  “Are you still worried about her?”

  “Not as much. I still think she could use an antianxiety med, but she seems better since her sister started staying with the girls Friday afternoons so she can have a little time for herself.”

  I nodded. “Good. You know I’m always here if she wants to talk. Anytime. We third shifters don’t sleep.”

  Mike grinned, his bright white teeth a striking contrast to his dark black skin. “Don’t I know it.”

  I stood and stretched my arms toward the ceiling. “I’m taking a lunch break. Call me if you need anything.”

  He nodded. “I’ll hold the fort down. I’ve got charts to update.”

  I walked to the hospital cafeteria, hoping to run into Carson there. It was nearly empty, though, and there was no sign of him. I bought a sweet tea and texted him.

  Me: Are you busy?

  Carson: I’m on the roof. Come on up.

  I lowered my brows with concern. The roof? Maybe he was getting some air.

  After an elevator ride to the top floor of the hospital, I took the stairs to the door that opened onto the roof. It was balmy outside, and I welcomed the light breeze that blew across my skin.

  I found Carson kneeling next to a massive air-conditioning unit, parts spread out on the ground next to him.

  “Hey,” he said, looking up at me.

  “Hey.”

  “How’s your night going?”

  I shrugged. “Amanda told me Dean’s being a dick to her. Other than that, it’s been boring. I kind of wish things would pick up.”

  “The whole hospital’s quiet tonight. Even the ER.”

  “It’s messed up to wish for patients, isn’t it? Better that people are at home sleeping soundly than at the hospital.”

  “You just want to deliver some babies,” he said with a slight smile. “Nothing wrong with that.”

  “Is it broken?” I leaned closer to the air conditioner to get a better look at it.

  He nodded. “The bearings are shot, so I’m replacing the motor.”

  “That’s a lot of parts,” I said, scanning the collection on the ground. “Do you ever worry you won’t remember where something goes?”

  He shook his head. “Nah. If there’s anything left when I’m done, I just throw it out.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “No.” There was a smile in his tone, though I couldn’t see his face since he was looking into the air-conditioning motor. “I know where everything goes.”

  “You shouldn’t tease a girl with PMS,” I said, taking a sip of my tea. “This is the week before my period, so mark that down in your mental schedule.”

  “PMS?”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “You know, I’ve heard sex is good for getting rid of cramps.”

  I laughed lightly. “Have you?”

  “Yeah. Is that true, Dr. Drake?”

  “I think so.”

  “Well, I’m at your service.”

  “Good to know.”

  A few seconds of silence elapsed as Carson worked on the air conditioner and I stared out at the city lights. I sighed softly as my mind wandered to Amanda, pregnant and possibly soon to be on her own.

  “You okay?” Carson asked, standing up.

  I never got tired of taking in his tall, muscled frame. Tonight he wore the dark navy pants of his uniform, but he’d shed the short-sleeve button-up top with his name embroidered on it, and he just had on a white T-shirt.

  I bent to set my bottle of tea on the ground and walked over to him. He opened his arms and then wrapped them around my back as I nestled myself against his chest. I liked the feel of his sweat-dampened shirt and hard muscles. Liked it a lot, in fact. Anything involving Carson’s sweat and muscles made me think of how amazing he was in bed.

  “You feeling bad for Amanda?” he asked, his breath warm on my ear.

  “Yeah,” I admitted. “I know I shouldn’t, but . . . no woman deserves to be ditched when she’s pregnant.”

  Carson rubbed a hand over my back. “She’ll be okay.”

  I pulled his T-shirt free from the waistband of his pants and put my palm on the small of his back, taking in the feel of his warm skin. He groaned lightly and tightened his hold on me.

  “Will anyone else come up here?” I asked, lifting my head from his chest to look up at him.

  He shook his head and tugged lightly on the end of my ponytail. “You think we should be proactive about those cramps? Maybe if we have sex before they hit, you’ll never get ’em.”

  “I like how you think.” My voice was a whisper, and my heart was pounding with excitement.

  Taking my hand, he led me to the back of the brick-walled enclosure that housed the door for the stairs to the roof. Tall stacks blocked the view of us from the other side of the roof. Between that and the darkness, I was willing to risk sex in a public place. It was unlike me, but then, I’d never been with a man I wanted as much as Carson.

  As his mouth met mine in a deep kiss, he grabbed my ass and hiked me up into his arms. The feel of his erection pressing against me made me moan and grind my hips against him.

  Faster than he’d picked me up, he set me back down and tugged down on the waistband of my scrubs. I reached for the waistband to untie it but froze, biting my lower lip and holding my breath.

  Could I really do this? What if the Life Flight crew showed up to land the helicopter and a bunch of lights came on? News of staffers getting it on up on the roof would get around fast.

  But most of the people who knew me would doubt that I had the guts to screw my boyfriend out in the open. And that was exactly why I wanted to do it. Well, that and the sexy man whose erection was prominently outlined against his pants in front of me.

  “You only live once,
right?” I said, laughing softly.

  I untied my pants and slid them down my hips. Carson reached for a lock of the blonde hair that had come loose from my ponytail and ran it through his fingers.

  “That’s true,” he said softly, “but I kind of feel like I came alive again when I met you.”

  Warm summer air hit the bare skin of my legs as my pants dropped to the ground. I worked off my shoes and slid out of my panties as Carson unfastened his pants.

  His eyes stayed locked on mine, full of intensity as he hiked me back up against him.

  “You’re beautiful, Joss,” he said, kissing me softly.

  I expected him to back me against the brick wall and ravage me, but instead he put his own back against the wall and lowered me onto his erection. The moan I let out as he sank all the way into me was long and soft.

  “You’re so goddamn wet,” he said, his voice strained.

  Our bodies moved in perfect sync, his fingers digging into my ass cheeks as he worked me up and down his hard shaft, now slick with my wetness.

  I kissed him and tugged his lower lip between my teeth, his groan feeding my growing frenzy. Our lips were so close, I felt his breath on mine.

  It was frantic, euphoric, blissful sex, both of us already approaching the brink. I fisted my hands into his short hair, and when I pulled it, he drove himself even deeper inside me.

  Our heavy breathing was the only sound on the roof until one of the big air-conditioning units kicked on. An orgasm surged through me, and I forced myself not to cry out.

  After a few more thrusts, Carson buried his face in my neck and groaned hard against my skin. I shivered, delighting in having this effect on him.

  He lowered me back to the ground and kissed me softly. I reached for my panties, and he gave me a sheepish grin.

  “Hang on,” he said, picking up his work pants. He reached into a pocket and took out a pressed, folded white handkerchief. “If you want to . . . clean up. I just washed it and haven’t used it or anything.”

  I reached between my legs to wipe myself off, laughing nervously. “This is super sexy, huh?”

  He arched a brow. “Yeah, actually it is.”

  I put my pants back on and stuffed the handkerchief into my pocket. “I’ll . . . you know, give that back when it’s clean.”

  “Still want to get breakfast after work?” he asked, running a hand through his hair.

  “Sure.”

  “I’ll wait for you.”

  I nodded. “Guess I should get back.”

  “Yeah. Me too.” He wrapped a hand around the back of his neck. “So, that was . . . okay for you, right?”

  I furrowed my brow, confused. “You mean the sex?”

  “Yeah. You looked so nervous before that I wasn’t sure you’d get off.”

  “Uh . . . no, that wasn’t a problem. It was more than okay.”

  His eyes warmed with happiness. “Good.”

  I leaned my face up and stood on my tiptoes for one more kiss. “See you in a few hours.”

  “Looking forward to it,” he said softly.

  “Me too.”

  I smiled and fixed my ponytail, then headed back downstairs. Even though I wouldn’t see him until after sunrise, I liked knowing he’d be up here working in his quiet, methodical way.

  Chapter Eleven

  Joss

  No matter how many times I looked at myself in the mirror, my reflection stayed the same.

  Hair: Cute ponytail with a few pieces of hair deliberately allowed to escape to create a casual, I’m-not-obsessed-with-my-appearance kind of look.

  Makeup: Pretty. I should wear eye makeup more often.

  Ass: On point, if I do say so myself. These jeans are the best.

  My doorbell rang, and I snuck another look at myself before answering it. Why had I thought my ass was too big before? Carson was right; my ass was perfect.

  I was nervous about meeting his friend from the army tonight. It felt like a big thing. Hopefully, I would make a good impression.

  As I opened the door, I put on my most confident smile. It slid away when I saw it was not Carson standing on the other side, but Dean.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, an edge in my tone.

  I was nervous enough; I didn’t need my ex-husband showing up unannounced.

  “Hey,” he said, giving me a sheepish grin.

  I scrunched up my face with confusion. “Yeah . . . sorry, but I’m heading out shortly. Do you need something?”

  “Can I come in?”

  I groaned inwardly. This was my place and mine alone. Dean had never been inside, and I didn’t really want him there.

  “I just . . .” He ran a hand through his hair and grinned again. “I’ve been looking for that picture of me and Jack from med school graduation. He wants it for the slideshow at his engagement party.”

  “Oh.” I shook my head and stepped aside so he could come inside. “Sure. I think I have it in a photo album.”

  “Thanks.”

  He looked around, and I had to stop myself from asking him not to. I’d never have shown up on his and Amanda’s doorstep.

  “You and the maintenance guy,” he said, taking a framed photo from the shelf of a bookcase. “Must be serious.”

  “It’s Carson,” I said, opening the door of an armoire where my photo albums were stored.

  “And he, uh . . . does it for you?” Dean asked, sounding puzzled.

  I felt a flare of anger in my chest. “Yes, he does.”

  “Huh. Always thought you were into smart guys.”

  “Carson is very smart,” I said defensively. “Don’t let his amazing body fool you.”

  Dean smiled knowingly. “Ah, got it.”

  “Got what?” I asked, flipping through the pages of a photo album.

  “It’s just a sex thing. Nothing wrong with that.”

  I sighed with aggravation. “It’s not just a sex thing.”

  “Everybody needs a little rebound action sometimes, Joss. Nothing wrong with it.”

  I was about to argue his point again when another voice interrupted.

  “Nothing wrong with what?” Carson asked from the doorway.

  His expression was closed off, and I couldn’t tell if he was angry. But whether or not he was, I felt guilty for letting Dean in here.

  “Dean thinks he knows it all,” I said to Carson, pulling the photo I was looking for out of my album.

  I stood and handed the photo to my ex.

  “Thanks,” he said as he took it. “I’ll get it back to you.”

  “I don’t want it back.”

  There was an awkward pause before he responded. “Right.”

  Carson cleared his throat. “You need anything else?”

  “Uh, no.” Dean looked at me. “Thanks, Joss.”

  He left then, and I turned to Carson as soon as the door closed behind him.

  “He just showed up out of nowhere wanting that picture.”

  “I’m not surprised.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  Carson shrugged. “You’re with another man now, and he’s jealous.”

  The suggestion made me laugh out loud. “Dean? No. He lost all interest in me a long time ago.”

  His expression was doubtful. I wrapped my arms around him and looked up into his eyes.

  “You’re the best man I’ve ever been with. Have I told you that?”

  He smiled and kissed me softly. “No, but I already knew I was a hell of a lot better than that asshole.”

  “Let’s forget about him. I just want to think about you.”

  “Oh yeah? Dirty thoughts, I’m hoping.”

  “Very dirty.” I grinned at him. “And if we weren’t meeting your friend in a few minutes, I’d be doing more than just thinking.”

  Carson groaned and cupped my ass in his big palms, kissing me again. “There’s always later.”

  He took my hand and led the way to the door. Outside, the New Orleans afternoon was sun
ny and muggy. Though I’d been on the back of it once before, I still felt a ripple of nervousness when I saw Carson’s motorcycle parked in front of my apartment.

  Just like the first time we rode on his bike together, he put a helmet on my head and secured the strap. Then he put his own on and got on the bike. I slid onto the back and wrapped my arms around his waist, remembering what he told me about not squeezing the life out of him.

  My heart raced as he took off, but it settled within a couple of minutes. By the time he parked in front of a downtown restaurant ten minutes later, I was kind of sorry to see the ride end.

  As soon as we walked into the sports bar, a tall, fit-looking bald man stood up from a booth near the door.

  “Hey, man,” he said to Carson.

  “Swanson,” Carson said with a grin.

  After a short, back-clapping man hug, Carson gestured at me.

  “This is Joss.”

  “Danny Swanson.” He shook my hand and smiled warmly. “It’s great to meet you.”

  “You too.” I gave him a nervous smile. “Should I call you Danny or Swanson?”

  He grinned. “Swanson. That’s what my friends call me.”

  We sat down and ordered iced tea and sandwiches. Swanson was on leave from the army, and he caught us up on what things were like in the Middle East these days.

  Carson felt stiff next to me, his shoulders set tensely. I sensed it was hard for him to hear about the place he’d served, but he seemed interested at the same time.

  “Had to get shrapnel dug out of my leg a couple months ago,” Swanson said. “Fuckin’ IEDs.” He glanced at me and smiled. “Wouldn’t have been so bad if I’d had a doctor like you to work on me.”

  “She’s an obstetrician, dumbass,” Carson muttered. “She can only work on your pussy.”

  “Fuck off,” Swanson said, laughter in his voice.

  Carson leaned his head against mine as if he were confiding a secret. “He’s got a hairy one. I saw it once in the shower.”

  “Please,” Swanson said with a laugh. “My balls are bigger than yours, son.” He turned back to me. “So how’d this dipshit pull a woman like you? He paying you or something?”

  “He fixed the air-conditioning for me at work,” I said, squeezing Carson’s knee under the table. “I was pretty immediately smitten.”