by Emerson Rose
When everything has been cleared off the bed, he pats the mattress beside him inviting me to sit with him. Is he nuts? I never voluntarily go that close to a man unless he is my patient, ever.
He is my patient but, technically, not right now. I’m torn as to how to proceed. I would love nothing more than to slip under the blanket with Marcus and explore the hidden parts of his body more thoroughly.
I shouldn’t let it go any further until he is not a patient on my floor anymore, or a patient at all. I’m a professional nurse. I can’t hop into bed with a patient and let him kiss me and touch me and make me want things I’ve never wanted from a man before.
“What? You want me to sit on the bed?” I ask. My voice crescendos and cracks on the word bed.
“Yes. I do,” he says, the timbre of his voice is filled with authority and, like earlier, I actually want to obey him.
But it’s not a good idea with his leg in a cast, not to mention I could lose my job for fraternizing with my patient.
“I think I’m good right where I am. Y-you know, your broken leg and all.” I’m stuttering, oh my God, I’ve never stuttered in my life. I am completely embarrassed by my lack of composure.
“Sit. Here. Now.” he repeats, with a poignant pause after each word. He is so not used to being told no.
“No.” What the hell is wrong with me?
“Oh, Imani, when I get out of this cast you will regret saying no to me. And also for making me repeat myself.”
“Oh, really? Well, you’d better get used to it if you want me to stick around. I don’t take kindly to bossiness.” I fidget and wait to see how he reacts to my defiance.
I’m turned on by his bossiness, and I’d actually be quite happy to crawl into that bed with him and touch every single muscle on his hard, sexy body. But I don’t dare admit that. His head is big enough as it is.
I wonder if he remembers me touching him when he was unconscious? The fact that I’m even thinking about it floors me. Marcus is the first man I’ve touched intimately since I was attacked. I had boyfriends in high school, but I never slept with them. The only thing I’ve ever associated with sex is violence, pain, and suffering until now.
Marcus’s words sounded a lot like a threat. But somehow I know he wouldn’t hurt me, ever.
Unfolding my arms and crossing my legs in the opposite direction, I wait to see what’s going to happen next. Maybe a change in the subject would help.
“So, I hear they may transfer you to another floor since you’re doing so well,” I say, smiling sweetly.
Well, that did the trick. No more smoldering or patting the bed seductively. He must not have been told this bit of information.
After a few moments of stewing, his face brightens.
“I have a proposition for you.” Oh no, shit. I thought I had successfully steered us away from the come-ons.
“I want you to come home with me and be my private nurse. I will pay you triple of whatever you are earning here, and you can have your own wing of my estate.”
Wing of the estate? I knew he was wealthy but a wing of the estate, really?
I can’t quit my job. I am not quitting my job. I’ve worked here since I graduated from nursing school ten years ago. It’s the only place I’ve ever been employed as a nurse. My friends are here. No, no, no.
“That’s a very generous offer, but I couldn’t leave my job here; I love it. It’s all I’ve ever known, and your leg won’t be broken forever. What would happen to me then?”
“I will have my lawyers draw up a contract with the hospital so you can come back when my leg is healed. Kind of like a leave of absence,” he says, like it’s no big deal.
Maybe other people can just take another job and come back when they see fit, but not in my world. I don’t adjust well to change, and that’s one hell of a change.
“You can’t do that. The administration will never go for it.”
“You must have a hearing problem, Miss Jefferson, no one tells me no. They will do it. I’ll make all of the arrangements, and you will go home with me when I am discharged. I’ll send someone to collect your things from your place and move you into my house.”
He is fucking incorrigible. He’s rearranging my life in his mind, drawing up a contract and making mental plans for me to go home with him. He thinks he’s going to move my stuff into his house. I can’t believe this is happening.
I can’t just uproot my life for a stranger, even a dark, brooding, mysterious, gorgeous stranger.
I can just hear Lana now, “Why the hell not? He’s hot, rich, and obviously he has a major thing for you. What’s the problem?”
It’s just so much, and he acts as if it’s nothing, no big deal.
“Really, Marcus, I can’t. I love my job and my apartment. I’ve been on my own for a long time. I have a life, friends, and family, and I’m not going to leave all of that. I don’t even know you.”
He clenches his jaw and shoves his hand through his hair, wincing when he skims the cut on his head.
I can see how much he wants this, or perhaps it’s how much he hates being refused. He ponders his problem silently for awhile, and I’m actually starting to feel a little guilty.
Who is going to take care of him at home? Ah, hell, he’s loaded, he can hire any nurse to come and help him. That brings my thoughts to a screeching halt.
Any nurse.
No way, I don’t want anyone else helping him. I need to come up with something else fast.
“Come home with me and work until I go to bed every night and then come back in the morning.”
“Hmmm, I’m impressed; you are capable of compromise,” I say, with much more confidence than I’m actually feeling.
My mind is scrambling, trying to make a decision. My overwhelming feeling of possessiveness is going to win this war, no contest.
“So, it is settled; you are coming home with me,” he says.
Basically, he’s reiterating his original statement, and he knows he’s just won.
Big time.
“As long as you can assure me I still have a position here, the exact same position, then I will agree to this.”
“Consider it done.”
“Just like that? You don’t know if the hospital will go for this, they could say no.”
“They won’t, I have the best legal representation money can buy, strings, and favors owed; you will have whatever you want.”
No reassurance is needed. I have no doubt he can do it.
Eleven
He seems satisfied with our deal, or more like his deal. I’m not complaining, though. I’m secretly excited to work for him, but I’ll never let on.
He pulls his laptop out again. “Well, if you refuse to come up here with me, I will just have to go back to my work.” He says, pouting as he begins to tap the keys and shuffle papers around again.
I relax and uncross my arms to dig through my purse for my phone. Out of the corner of my eye, I peek at him and catch him doing the same. That zing of electricity passes between us, and I try to ignore it but it’s useless. Marcus Castillo is not someone to be ignored.
I do some shoe shopping online. I love to buy shoes. I tap my fingernail on my front tooth while I scroll through the dozens of shoe websites, purchasing a few pairs along the way and checking my text messages at the same time.
My sister is messaging, asking me to visit the kids, and mom is asking where I’ve been hiding lately. Typical. If I don’t call every day, I’m hiding. I shoot them both a text telling them that I’m fine and I’ve been working a lot lately.
There are seven more messages from Lana demanding details about my mystery patient. I ignore those for now.
Marcus works silently for an hour or so before looking up.
“I need water,” he says, matter-of-factly, as if it should appear out of thin air for His Highness.
“Hmmm, you do, do you? Maybe you should get up and get it yourself.” My smart mouth is destined to get me in trouble
with this man. I can’t help it, though; he needs to learn some manners. You’d think a remote band of Indians in the mountains of Peru raised him.
“I’m keeping tabs on that mouth of yours, Miss Jefferson,” he chuckles rolling his eyes.
“Really, well, I’m keeping tabs on your lack of manners, Mr. Castillo.”
I wonder what he means to do about my smart mouth. I’m interested in finding out.
He lets out a long sigh, “Would you please get me some water, Imani?” he asks, pausing after each word dramatically and drawing out the ‘please’.
“I’d be happy to.” I hop up and walk down the hall to the galley and get him fresh ice water. Thankfully, I make it there and back without running into any of my co-workers.
It must be busy in the hospital today, the halls are uninhabited; everyone is busy with patients in their rooms.
I pour his water and pop a fresh straw in, leaving the tip of the wrapper on the end. He raises his eyebrow at me.
“It’s so you know it’s clean. I haven’t touched where your mouth will be.”
He smiles and shakes his head. Oh brother, I walked right into that one.
“Don’t say it.”
“Oh no, I wouldn’t dream of it. I won’t say one word about the places I want to put my mouth. Or the dirty things I want to do to your mouth. Or the fact that I don’t mind you touching anything that goes into my mouth.”
I groan when I feel dizzy and faint. Does everyone react this way when they get turned on?
Before the crimson blush makes it to my face, he’s asking me to help him adjust his pillows. I’m not sure I should be close to him after that last comment.
“Could you please adjust this pillow behind my back?” he asks, still making a production out of being polite. He has nothing to worry about, good manners are the last thing on my mind right now.
I lean over and adjust his pillow, breathing in the scent of spearmint and eucalyptus. He snakes his arms around my waist, and there is a microsecond where I know what’s coming. I want it, I need it, and he gives it to me, pulling me off balance against his chest.
“Oh!” His stealth attack catches me off guard, but, subconsciously, I expected nothing less than his hands on my body. His dark, piercing eyes seduce every inch of my face for a moment before his lips consume my mouth with urgency.
The world ceases to exist. I can’t hear anything but the rush of my blood in my ears and my heart beating like a drum in my chest.
I unintentionally stiffen in his arms when his mouth covers mine until he eases the intensity of the kiss, moving his lips softly over mine now. He gently encourages me to allow his tongue to sweep into my mouth. His hands wander over my hips to my waist where he squeezes hard, as if he is fighting to control his desire.
I’m trembling in his arms. He relaxes his grip, and his hands slide up to cup my breasts. The tips of his fingers tease my nipples through my soft sweater, and I whimper when he abandons them too soon.
His hands explore and glide over my chest, my arms, and my throat until he cradles my face, guiding me through wave after wave of electric currents.
My mouth has a direct connection to my core and everything inside of me liquefies as I melt against him. My arms move through no will of my own around his waist and along the muscles of his bare back. I thread my hands into his hair from the base of his neck until I’m gripping his thick, soft curls.
He groans and deepens the kiss. I allow it, encourage it, and demand it. I moan as our greedy mouths devour each other.
For the first time since my attack, hell, for the first time, I am enjoying the closeness of a man. It feels like every previously-severed transmitter of pleasant sexual feelings in my brain is suddenly growing again after all these years. They’re reaching out to twine around their old partners and build new healthy connections.
No man has had this effect on me until Marcus. But like I’ve said before, he’s not just any man. He is the man of my dreams, if I could have dreams instead of nightmares. Marcus is the man of every woman’s dreams.
He nips along my mouth with his teeth, gently feathering his lips against mine before slowly pulling away. Oh, please God, don’t stop this. My eyes remain closed, basking in the experience of our first kiss, my first real kiss. He presses his forehead against mine, I feel his warm breath against my skin, feel his heart beating under my hand on his chest.
I open my eyes, and he slays me with the heat in his emerald greens. It’s at this moment I realize that I would do anything he asked of me. I am helplessly caught in his web, drawn to him by a mysterious power so strong I have no control over it.
“I… I better get up, someone might walk in. I work here, you know,” I say stumbling over the words in my post-kiss daze.
“Not anymore, you work for me now.” His smile is smug and smooth.
“Nothing’s written in stone yet. I could still lose my job. Wait, you did that on purpose, didn’t you?”
“If you mean, did I ask you to help me with my pillows to get you over here? Yes, I did. You are so innocent, Imani; I love that about you.
But if you’re implying that I lured you onto my bed and kissed you in hopes of someone walking in and firing you, no, I did not. Nor would I ever have to resort to such means. Don’t get me wrong, I play dirty when necessary. I always get what I want, and I want you.” He taps me on the tip of my nose with his finger.
I’m dizzy from all of this newness, the attention, the kiss, and his hands on me. I squirm and look away from his penetrating gaze and do what I do best when I’m nervous. I get sassy.
“Well, if you’re my employer I really shouldn’t be fraternizing in this bed with you. That could be considered sexual harassment,” I say, trying like hell to lessen the intense vibration happening between us.
“It isn’t harassment if both of us are willing.”
“I don’t know how I feel about being paid to kiss you, isn’t that considered prostitution?” I ask.
“I am not paying you to kiss me. I am paying you to be my nurse. Kissing is just one of the benefits.”
I wonder what other kinds of benefits come with this job?
“Well, until I sign the paperwork, I’m sitting over there,” I say, moving out of his reach. My legs are like jelly. It’s a good thing the chair is close, or my ass would be on the floor. That kiss shocked every nerve ending in my entire body and left an unfulfilled ache in my sex.
“So, what are we having for lunch?” he says, out of nowhere as if the past five minutes didn’t happen.
Who cares about lunch? I have a slide show of erotic scenes running through my mind, and one of them includes me riding Marcus in this very hospital bed. I’ve got to stop doing that. I follow his lead and throw cold water on those thoughts with lunch options.
“I don’t know, whatever your wife, Elijah, brings you, I suppose.”
He throws his head back and roars with laughter.
“My wife, huh? He would love that.” This is the first time I’ve heard him laugh, and it’s heartwarming to know that this very intense man has a sense of humor. I love the tiny crow’s feet that form at the corners of his eyes, the flex of the muscles in his neck, and the flash of his whiter-than-white teeth when he laughs.
“I think the only thing Elijah feels for you is fear,” I say with a snort.
“It is a fact that most people don’t enjoy my company. People are necessities in life. I use them to get a job done, and when I’m finished, I send them on their way.”
This isn’t the Marcus who was just here a moment ago. I sit up straight in my seat and prop my elbows on the arms of the chair and steeple my fingers in front of me.
“So, let me get this straight. I’m a necessity. I’m just here to get the job done and then you’ll throw me away when I’ve served my purpose?” I ask, genuinely wanting to know. I’m not about to let the first man to melt my panties in years use me up and toss me out like yesterday’s trash.
His express
ion changes, like a clown who passes his hand over his face up and down. The clown appears happy when his hand moves up and then, magically, in an instant, he’s sad when his hand passes over his mouth going down.
Marcus can go from sensual and pleasant to cold and calculating in a split second without notice.
“I don’t know what you are to me, Imani. I do intend to find out, though. For whatever reason, you summoned me from the brink of death with your hypnotizing voice. If you don’t like what you got, you only have yourself to blame.”
I sit back and hold my elbow with one hand and press the thumbnail on my other hand between my front teeth. Summoned from the brink of death? Really? I spoke to him. That’s all. I had no idea my voice was having that kind of effect on him. I mean, I'd hoped, but I never believed it was working.
“What do you mean I brought you from the brink of death?”
He busies himself closing his laptop and arranging the papers that are on the bed.
“Nothing, I need to call Elijah and have him bring us some decent food.”
Total shut down.
I wonder what all of this is about. I’m letting it go for now. We had a beautiful moment, and it’s going to make a steamy entry in my diary today. I don’t want to ruin it with an argument. When he’s ready, he’ll talk.
“What are you in the mood for?” he asks, handing me his things as if I’m his personal assistant.
“Surprise me. What do you want me to do with all of this?” I say, holding up his work.
“There is a bag over there, just put it all inside.” He points across the room while calling Elijah on his new phone. After he finishes a brief lunch order, he sets his phone aside and again pats the bed next to him for me to sit.
“Oh no, I know what happens when I get too close to you now. I’m not losing my job before any contracts are signed.” I hold up my hands to reinforce my words and scoot my chair further away.
“Move the chair closer to the bed,” he says, in a penetrating tone. He looks serious like he means business.
