by Lee Piper
Where I was tall, Mum was short. Where I was athletic, she was delicate. Where I felt too much, she felt too little. Where I had a heart, she had none.
This is gonna be a long week.
Thus, Doctor Powell.
Not that Mum knew anything about me seeing a psychologist, of course. I mean, I only started seeing Doctor Powell after moving away from home, and there was no way I would ever bring up the reason behind my decision in her presence. Doing so would be like handing the woman a firearm with an endless supply of ammunition—bloodbath anyone?
I shook my head.
“Riley, I feel faint. I need something to eat.”
“You didn’t like the sandwich I made you earlier?”
Her arm carelessly gestured to the uneaten snack on the bedside table. “It’s stale.” I raised my eyebrows. “Matilda always covers my food with a cloche. You didn’t.”
I bit my lip to stop a scathing retort.
She’s such a bitch. Why am I even here? Oh, that’s right, because I’m waiting for a fucking miracle, for her to grow a heart.
“I need something restorative, like a broth.”
Have we suddenly been transported to Edwardian England? Who the hell eats broth anymore?
“A broth?”
Mum’s gaze snapped back to me. “Yes, Riley. A broth. How many times do I have to repeat myself?” But I think feeling annoyed took too much effort because she switched to melancholia instead and, staring out at the sky which had turned a dusky purple, bemoaned, “With your father off gallivanting around the globe and Matilda abandoning me, I’m all alone in this house.”
I took a step forward. “You’ll feel better in a few days, Mum. Besides, I’m here, aren’t I? You’re not alone.”
She stared at me, her eyes flat.
Silence.
Deep breaths, Riley. Deep breaths.
And so began the longest week of my life.
****
How I ever survived that week is a complete mystery. As the days passed, I grew more and more agitated. The long hours spent at the hospital and even longer ones spent with Mum afterward, contributed to my systematic emotional erosion. I had no time for myself, no time to breathe, and definitely no time to run. I thought about it though. Every. Single. Day.
You see, at work I had to put up with women screaming obscenities at me when their birth plans went to shit, while at “home” I endured Mum’s continued dissatisfaction and heavily laden silence. So I constantly found myself dreaming of chucking it all in, flipping everyone the bird and heading to the beach—but I never did. Needless to say, by the time Friday finally decided to show its sweet self, I was bordering on psychotic.
Tomorrow. I’m going home tomorrow. I don’t care if she dies in her sleep tonight, nothing is going to stop me from leaving this godforsaken place. Not a single. Fucking Thing.
Yeah, my headspace was not great.
In fact, that afternoon I found myself perched on the edge of my old bed with shaking hands, shallow breaths, and a heart that felt like it was about to free-fall out my chest. I swear, the butterflies in my stomach were raging an all-out war and the ants on my skin were enjoying the butchery because every nerve ending felt fried, raw.
Let’s just say, I was minutes away from a code blue.
Suddenly, my phone’s notification screen lit up. It took me a few tries to pick it up from where it lay on the bed beside me and a little while longer to discern the words typed, but eventually I read…
Bootycall: What’s ur address?
I could only hope my trembling fingers formulated a cohesive reply because I honestly had no idea which buttons I pushed.
Half an hour later, I found myself sitting in exactly the same spot, staring at exactly the same light switch, with exactly the same chaos running through my body. Well, until I heard the low rumble of a car engine outside.
I moved into the hallway, sleep-walked past Mum’s bedroom, down the staircase and out through the front door. As I blinked away the late afternoon glare, in front of me materialized the most beautiful car I had ever seen. It was a perfectly restored red and white 1959 Ford Thunderbird.
Wow.
And out of said car stepped the most gorgeous man I had ever seen.
Double wow.
“Dominic,” I whispered.
He shut the door and leaned back against the hood, arms crossed in front of his huge chest and biceps practically bursting. As his eyes roamed the two-story Spanish-style mansion behind me, he said, “So this is where you’ve been hiding.”
I didn’t say anything. I was too busy committing to memory every inch of him in case this was all some trick of the light and I was actually staring into empty space. Dominic’s grey t-shirt clung to his monstrous frame like a second skin and it was randomly tucked into one small section of his dark, ripped jeans. The black studded belt peeking through looked old and worn, similar to the scuffed combat boots on his feet. But I didn’t care. I didn’t care about the holes, the scratches, the carelessness, any of it. Oh, no, I only cared about his eyes. You see, as soon as our gazes locked, those piercing blue eyes of his sent a lightning bolt straight through my body and the oppressive, suffocating fog that had been shrouding me all week suddenly obliterated.
“Wanna get out of here?”
I nodded.
A slow sexy-as-sin smile appeared. “Get in, then.”
Once I settled myself in the passenger seat and took in the immaculate interior with an astonished shake of my head, Dominic leaned in close, whispering in my ear. “Where to, angel?”
I shivered as his warm breath tickled my skin. Turning to him—so close our noses almost touched—I replied, “Don’t care.”
My reflection shone in his gaze and it was as though a stranger stared back at me. Gone was the crippling tension, gone was the torment and the shadows. I was seizing this moment with two hands and running with it … and I wanted to run the fuck away.
The car growled to life once more and we sped off down the road. When we hit the highway, Dominic turned right and headed north along the coast. I wound down the window and rested my head on my arms as cool gusts of wind blew my hair back and the sun kissed my skin. I gazed out at the Pacific Ocean and for the first time in over one hundred and twenty hours, and smiled.
An hour later, Dominic pulled into an empty parking space at a coastal lookout. I didn’t even wait for him to kill the engine before hopping out of the car and striding toward a lone wooden seat perched high on a rocky outcrop. The bench overlooked the ocean and as I took in the view, gazing both left and right, I saw endless miles of open space. In all honesty, there was nothing as far as the eye could see except water, sand, rock, and sky.
Heaven.
Sitting down, I let the crash of waves, the flurry of the wind, and the cries of gulls overhead buffet through me, soothe me. When I leaned back, resting heavily against the weathered wood, the tension that had been coiled inside finally began to seep out my body.
And that’s when the tears started.
Bloody hell.
I guess my angst had to filter its way out somehow, it just so happened to always leak out my eyeballs osmosis-style. Unbidden tears streamed unchecked down my cheeks and a small part of me warned I should really try to stop them because I was not an attractive crier. Like, at all. My eyes turned bloodshot, my nose grew red, and I sniffed constantly. Trust me, it wasn’t pretty. However, in that moment, need overpowered want, so I didn’t give a shit. I was too exhausted. Which was also why, when two strong arms encircled me, I didn’t push them away either. Instead, I turned and buried my head in the broad chest, grasping the soft t-shirt as if it were the only thing keeping me from falling apart.
After quite possibly a bucketful of tears later, my sobs abated and my sniffs ceased. From deep within that massive chest, a deep voice rumbled, “Tough week, huh?”
“You could say that.”
“What happened?”
I shook my head. “It’ll
just make me cry again. I’ve wet your shirt, sorry.”
Dominic held me tighter, his chin resting on the top of my head. “Forget about it.”
We stayed like that for a long time and despite no words being said, I felt more reassured than I had in my whole life. His steady heartbeat quieted my fitful thoughts, his firm body strengthened my tired limbs, and his acceptance of my present fragility fortified me immeasurably. Well, until a different type of tension showed its lustful head.
Turned out, the longer we remained enfolded in each other’s arms, the more I noticed my skin tingle like crazy from his hands clasping my shoulder and hip—not good. His earthy scent made my vision swim and the feel of his muscular chest against my forehead did something different entirely. Let’s just say parts of me—the dormant parts—suddenly ached for him. Yes, ached.
Crap.
Dominic must have felt it too because as the air between us thickened, his fingers began sensually tracing soft circles on the exposed skin between my tank top and shorts. Goose bumps appeared on my flesh and I had to bite back a moan. Literally. Like, I actually bit down on the fabric of his t-shirt. His breath caught.
Operation Dominic Detox sucks balls.
And yet, I didn’t move away. In fact, I moved closer—if it was at all possible. Dominic’s heartbeat spiked, it pounded out the same rhythmic torture as mine and the heat between us intensified tenfold. He shifted in his seat.
Desperately trying to find a way to break the mood that was going to have me attacking his neck with my teeth if I wasn’t careful, I removed his t-shirt from my mouth and asked, “How was your week?”
Nice save, Riley.
He moved back slightly, allowing a sliver of space between us.
Phew.
“It was all right.” He swallowed. “Finally finished my baby, that was a fuckin’ long time coming.”
I glanced over his shoulder at the lovingly restored classic vehicle, it was all shiny paint and polished chrome. “She’s beautiful.”
“Sure is.”
Something in Dominic’s voice made my eyes dart back to his. He wasn’t looking at the car. He knew it, and I knew it. In fact, one of his fingers deliberately slid under the elastic band of my shorts, making me suck in a sharp breath. I blushed. Furiously.
Focus Riley. C’mon, you can do this. You have to do this.
“You’ve done an amazing job, you must be really proud of yourself.”
Meh. Could have been worse.
The heat in his eyes cooled, before a satirical half-smile appeared. “Not really, I’m just glad I don’t have to ride in Levi’s piece of shit anymore.”
My hand still grasping his t-shirt instinctively clutched it tighter. “Don’t sell yourself short.” I gestured with my free arm. “Look at what you’ve done, Dominic, look at what you’ve created. You did that, no one else, and it’s something to be proud of, truly.”
He stared at me for a minute, his expression unreadable. Then, shaking his head, he murmured, “I’m good with my hands, that’s all.”
“Don’t I know it.”
His smile was sex, pure and simple. And the way it made me crave those hands all over my body, doing sweet, dirty things for hours on end had me all hot and flustered. Big time.
“I meant, you know … with the car and … guitar … not…” I ducked my head. “Fuck.”
Dominic threw back his head and laughed. The sound warmed my insides, but that didn’t stop me from smacking him with my open palm.
“Ouch.” Stupid muscular pecs. They were ridiculous—far too chisled for their own good. Sadly, my pathetic attempt at physical intimidation only made him laugh harder.
“You’re fuckin’ hilarious, you know that?”
I crossed my arms in front of my chest, grumbling, “You did that thing with your mouth. I can’t concentrate when you do, it’s unfair.”
His eyes darkened and I squirmed. Heat pooled directly between my thighs. “Angel, I can do more things with my mouth than you’ve ever dreamed. Just say the word and it’s yours.” He leaned forward, I was hit with a waft of mint as his fingers delved deeper into my shorts and his nose skimmed along my jaw. “All yours.”
I couldn’t breathe.
“Riley?”
Nothing.
“You okay?” He moved back to look at me and the genuine concern written all over his gorgeous face would have been laughable if I wasn’t in the middle of a life and death situation.
Dazed, I half-nodded, half-shook my head.
No, I’m not okay. I want your mouth, I want it all over me. I want your tongue licking the salt off my skin and your teeth biting my sensitive flesh. I want to feel you so deep inside me the pleasure becomes unbearable and I climax around you, obliterating us both.
But that can never happen, can it? Afterward, you’d move on, you’d find someone else to taste, to bite and we would never share perfect moments like this ever again.
So. Friends it is.
I looked down, murmuring, “We should be heading back. It’s getting late.”
After a pause, Dominic sighed, disentangled himself and slowly stood. He still held out his hand for me though, and I still took it.
A dark part of me knew I always would.
Chapter Seven
I don’t know why,
Too much confusion,
Just tell me why,
To break illusion.
—MONDEZ, “Distance”
The evening spent with Robin was … really good, actually. Hours after Dominic dropped me back at my parents’ place, Robin and I were seated outside Cacao, talking easily and enjoying the unseasonably balmy weather. On raised metal stools, our small round table sat adjacent the main promenade overlooking the ocean. The occasional couple walked past, interrupting our otherwise unobscured view of the inky black water, but other than that, the night was perfect.
Go figure.
“Have I told you how stunning you look tonight, Riley?”
I blushed because Robin had, several times. He told me how good I looked when I opened the front door, when I slipped into his sleek silver Mercedes and when we ordered our shared plate of dessert. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t complaining. In fact, I kinda liked the way it rolled off his tongue so easily.
I glanced down at my black heels, fitted blue jeans and shimmery halter top. The ensemble—combined with my smoky eye makeup and straightened hair—left me feeling confident for the first time in ages, which probably accounted for my teasing reply. “You haven’t said anything about it for thirty-five minutes. Your chivalry is slipping.”
Robin smiled wide and once again that cute dimple appeared. Dressed in camel colored pants and a loose white shirt with sleeves rolled mid-way up his forearms, he looked almost as good as the chocolate self-saucing pudding we were sharing.
Hmm, tasty.
Sadly, Robin must have read my deviant thoughts because he raised a playful eyebrow, causing pretty much all of the blood in my body to rush to my cheeks. Thank God it was too dark to notice, I hoped. In order to escape that disconcerting thought, I took another mouthful of gooey sweetness, shut my eyes and moaned. “Unbelievable.”
“You really like chocolate, don’t you?”
I stared at him. “Robin, nothing on this earth is better than chocolate. Nothing.” As soon as I saw his expression change from amused to downright illicit, however, I quickly steered the subject in a different direction. “I didn’t see you at work much this week, is everything okay?”
“Yeah, I was across the road for most of it,” he replied, referring to his private practice opposite the hospital. “We were booked out with consults and scans, so it was lucky I bumped into you when I did. Not sure how I would have gotten your number otherwise.” Robin looked at me, his gaze shrewd. “You seemed a bit distracted though.”
I tried to laugh it off. “Well, being surrounded by birthing mothers will do that to you.” There was no way I was going to rehash my week from hell, it was almo
st over anyway and for that I was eternally thankful. I was going to spend one more night at my parents’ house and then head home for the weekend.
Thank. The. Lord.
There was a short pause. “I still can’t believe you run your own practice, and at such a young age.” Robin’s answering smile made me momentarily lose my train of thought—I shook my head. “Did you always want to be an obstetrician?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “Not really, my father is a doctor and so was my grandfather before him. Just followed in their footsteps, I suppose.”
For some reason his reply disappointed me.
“I always wanted to branch out on my own, though. Have something to put my name to.”
I nodded. “I’d love to run my own business.” But I stopped short because I’d never voiced that secret longing out loud before.
However, before I could retract my last statement, Robin reached out and covered my hand with his. “Why don’t you?” I looked at him, unconvinced. “Riley, you’re a smart, hardworking woman, you could study outside of work hours and make it happen. What’s stopping you from starting a private practice of your own?” His fingers were smooth as they flitted over my skin. “I’d be happy to help, all you have to do is ask.”
My gaze dropped to his hand caressing mine. “Thanks.” Sadly, I wasn’t comforted. In fact, I was a little disheartened because I was actually referring to a business enterprise completely unrelated to the medical industry. You see, for years I’d wanted to…
Never mind.
Robin removed his hand and took a spoonful of dessert. “You’re right,” he mumbled around a mouthful of chocolate pudding. “This does taste good.”
