by Liz Crowe
Two Weeks Later
"Well?" Suzanne asked as they drove over to visit Sara and the baby.
Craig glanced at her and then smiled. "Well what?" He said, concentrating on the road.
"Well, what do you think about the state of the Chinese-American relations?" She smacked his leg.
"I think we should eat more Chinese food, especially that egg drop soup. Yum."
"Ass." She muttered crossing her arms and pretending to pout.
He pulled into the driveway of Sara's small house and turned off the car. After taking a long breath, he turned to her, once again blown away by the perky loveliness of her face, the deep hue of her eyes. He grinned. "I also think we should go out tonight and celebrate."
"What for? Sales of egg drop soup up?"
"That. And these," he reached into the console then held up two letters, one with the University of Michigan emblem and the other Vanderbilt University. Both began with the lines: Congratulations on being accepted to the medical school class of…She gasped and grabbed them, then looked up.
"You should go to Vandy."
He startled. It wasn't exactly the response he'd hoped for from her. "Oh?" he opened the door and climbed out so she wouldn't see the disappointment in his face.
"Vandy is an excellent school Craig."
"U of M isn't exactly an online college."
"No," she grabbed the cookies she'd made and they headed for the front door. "I'm sorry. I meant to say congrats. Well done." She stopped him, went up on tiptoe and kissed him. He tried very hard not to grab her and shove her into the car, drive her home and show her what she'd be missing if he left for Nashville in a few weeks.
He settled for putting his palm against her face. "Thanks."
The door opened, revealing newborn baby and first-time mother chaos. Craig took over, held infant Katie as Suzanne sat and watched. He loved the warmth of the baby against him, the bright look in her eyes.
After a while, Rob and Blake showed up with food, and Blake took over baby duty. Sara drifted off to sleep, and Rob carried her to bed. Craig crooked a finger to Suzanne and she sat next to him. It was weird. No, it was surreal being there with the woman he'd obsessed over, if not briefly loved, asleep in the next room and the baby that could possibly be his across the hall. He pulled Suzanne closer and watched as Blake and Rob argued in the kitchen. Blake, the young man who'd been with the woman snuggled into his side for a brief period of time. Craig had gotten snippets of that story from Sara but he still didn't know all of it. Yeah, an utterly bizarre moment, all things considered. Suzanne sighed, put her hand on his thigh and started to speak when the doorbell rang.
The circle of strange was complete when Jack walked in. Craig waved at the tall man, still dressed in his suit. His eyes darted around, obviously seeking Sara. But Blake was on a mission it seemed and, as the adults argued all around him about nannies versus daycares versus whatever, he started to drift. Suzanne poked his leg and he opened his eyes, grabbed her hand and threaded his fingers through hers.
"We have an announcement." He said, accepting the glass of wine from Rob. Suzanne raised an eyebrow at him but stayed silent. "I'm going to medical school. In Nashville."
Chapter Sixteen
"When?" Craig dashed off the text to Suzanne as he ran from his bike to the lab. He'd been at Vanderbilt for eighteen months. They'd been trying to arrange a visit for quite a while, and he was just this shy of giving up, but something in him wouldn't. Something told him she was worth the effort. Like the work he was doing to achieve his goal of becoming an ER doctor, becoming the man Suzanne Baxter loved and trusted was just as challenging but hopefully just as worth it.
"What about next weekend?"
He rushed in and sat, noting his entire group was in place already. But he smiled at the phone screen another half second before typing out a single word: "Perfect."
He conducted his lab, leading the group as usual, then dragged ass back to his bike, reminding himself he hadn't had a good swim in nearly a week. The long slog of med school was proving way harder than he'd thought. Plus, the building where he rented a studio apartment was full of a mix of medical and law students who partied at the drop of a hat. He'd availed himself more than once of their hospitality. Probably more often than he should have. He'd slipped back into some bad habits at first, feeling on top of his game and surrounded by driven, smart people who worked and partied as hard as he did. But as much temptation as there was of the female persuasion, he never strayed, even though he sometimes wondered if "straying" was the right word.
One girl in particular had caught his eye. She was young, smart and hot as hell so he allowed himself the odd flirt before drifting away from her. She was persistent and in two of his lab groups, so they were thrown together a lot. He shook off the various frustrations, made it to the pool, swam for only one of his usual two hours and sat on the side panting. His heart pounded at the thought of finally seeing Suzanne again. If she actually showed this time. He gritted his teeth at the thought of the many excuses she'd made for never visiting, then took a shower and headed home, the drudgery of hours of studying making his head ache. Had he done the right thing? He'd lost count of the times he'd doubted it, considered dropping out, going back to Ann Arbor and picking up the real estate thing with the benefit of being able to see Suzanne every day again.
Thankfully, his family kept boosting him, brothers and sisters-in-law visiting and bringing him homemade dishes and beer. He opened the fridge, found the latest Robinson-wife casserole and threw it in the microwave before pulling out his books and settling down for yet another long night of homework. Around midnight, while he was deep into his pathology book, his phone dinged with a text. He groaned, rolled his shoulders, and picked it up.
It was Suzanne. "Hey Sexy"
He smiled, and typed back: "Hardly. More like ass-dragging tired and near brain dead."
Suzanne: "Yeah, year 2 is a bitch."
Craig: "So are you really coming next weekend or just teasing me yet again?"
Suzanne: "I'll be there by 4 on Friday. Be ready."
Craig: "Yes ma'am. Hope you are prepared to stay in bed the entire weekend."
Suzanne: "I am."
Craig: "Good because I need a fucking nap."
Suzanne: "Very funny."
Craig: "No. I am serious."
Suzanne: "Fine, I'll plan some brewery visits so you can get your beauty sleep."
Craig: "No. You won't. I plan to greet you in such a way that you require a nap by Saturday."
Suzanne: "Ah. Well, then, if you put it that way."
Craig: "I am. Putting it that way."
Suzanne: "Well, I'm going to bed. Get my rest before Friday."
Craig: "Good plan."
There was a pause, and he noted that the little icon indicating "Suzanne is typing" had gone away. He put the phone down, stared at it a while. He was exhausted. He'd never in his entire life been this fucking tired. But his brain buzzed with energy at the thought of her and what he did indeed plan to do with her, finally. After all the months of pleasant friendship, then polite companionship that eased into something else but never quite consummated, he was ready. He seriously intended for her to be blown away by what he had to offer. He leaned back in his chair, absently put a hand on his hard cock and stroked as he contemplated the ceiling. The phone pinged again.
Suzanne: "I really miss you Craig. I didn't think I would, or rather, I tried to convince myself I wouldn't. But I do. And I can't wait to finally be with you."
Craig: "Yes, well, I'm told I am a bit like catnip…"
Suzanne: "I'll be the judge of that. And I'm like the Eastern Germany judge – I grade on a curve."
Craig laughed and stood, stretched and shut the books for the night. He brushed his teeth, shucked off his clothes and got between the crumpled sheets. Then grabbed his phone and sent her a final text for the night.
Craig: "I medaled in both oral and g-spot hunts already. I think I'll be ok."<
br />
He had his answer within seconds. "Ha. Well, I'll bring my score cards. Eat your Wheaties, young man."
He let thoughts of her fuel his fantasies, and after he came so hard he nearly sat up from the force of it, he fell into immediate sleep.
* * *
Friday began inauspiciously. Craig's phone battery died so the alarm didn't go off and he had to make a mad dash for his nine a.m. microbiology class. He took a huge exam in pathology then slogged through a two-hour lab, enduring the less and less subtle attentions of the flirty girl. He glared at her at one point. "Alicia, seriously you need to back off, okay?" She blushed and he felt bad for being a dick. He put his hand on her olive-skinned arm, noting idly that she was probably one of the hotter women he'd ever seen. If things were different, he would have been between her thighs plenty by then. "My girlfriend," he let the odd word roll around on his tongue. "My girlfriend from Michigan is coming down today for the weekend. Okay? I'm sorry if I sent the wrong message to you but…."
She stepped back, her dark eyes unhappy. "Sorry," She said, flipping her hair and turned to the guy on her left. He shrugged, looked up at the clock and realized Suzanne would likely be pulling into his street right about then. He stood, grabbed his stuff and jammed it all into his backpack.
"Later guys. Got a date." He grabbed his helmet and risked life, limb and speeding tickets in his haste to get over to his place. He'd managed to clean it up some the night before and hoped she wouldn't be too horrified at how small the apartment was. He sucked in a breath at a red light. Finally, they were going to be together. His body hummed with energy and he grinned like an idiot the rest of the way home.
He jumped off the bike, caught the damn thing before it fell over and had to take a minute to catch his breath, shaking his head at himself. Her BMW was crouched by the curb, like an omen. He pulled his backpack up on his shoulder and walked with a strange sort of trepidation clouding his excitement. He opened the door slowly, set his stuff down in the small entryway, and took a deep breath.
"Hey," he called, his voice croaky, which annoyed him. He had something to prove this weekend and meant to do it, but his damn knees shook, and he felt like the sixteen-year-old the chem teacher had seduced in high school. Silence met his ears. He frowned. "Suzanne?" He eased into the large space that served as living and bedroom, a miniscule kitchen and bath over to the left. He thought he heard something there, turned his head and shivered when she caught her scent – a soft, spicy note with a distinct tang of brewery. Something about it made his anxiety worse. His heart pounded as he reached out to flip on a light.
"Leave it off." She sighed as she slid into his arms. Her lips met his just as he remembered, but something was off, his head was not straight. He kept the kiss somewhat noncommittal and pulled away, running his hand through his hair. A pure thrill of fear shot through him. He had been with so many women, knew what it took to make all of them satisfied. But Suzanne was something different and he had no intention of turning this thing into a sex-only arrangement. Although his body was sending him distinctly different signals – the message that said, "Yes fuck her now" warred with his brain that urged caution.
"Sorry." He said, took a step back, and fell flat on his ass, stumbling over his own motorcycle helmet. "Shit," he said, the sense of unreality overwhelming him.
She smiled and held out her hand. "Craig. Relax." Her soft voice calmed him a little.
He got to his feet without her help. "Sorry, I'm…just distracted I guess. This med school thing is…."
She took his hand and led him to the small couch. "I know, believe me." He sat, leaned on his knees and tried to get his damn head straight. It kept spinning, and his body was like an exposed nerve, twitchy, horny and aggravated all at once.
She climbed around behind him, started rubbing his shoulders. "Like I said, relax. I get it. Me showing up with my score cards…." She leaned in and brushed her lips along his neck.
He shivered, moved away from her. She shifted with him keeping up her massage. She dug deep, making him moan and lean his head back, but he was still nervous or something, and it pissed him off. He stood, paced, then sat on the deep window seat, staring at her. She had on jeans and a soft pink t-shirt. Her red hair was loose, and haloed her face charmingly. He gulped. "You cut your hair. I like it." She grinned at him but he kept talking. "I don't want to fuck this up, Suzanne. And I…I'm afraid that we…." he couldn't even finish. He had no words. That was a first and did nothing to help his anxiety level.
She got to her feet, slowly made her way over to him, conveying more in the few steps it took to reach him than in any conversation they might have. Her hips swayed, her eyes were bright. She licked her lips. "Craig," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She put one hand to his face, slid it around to the back of his neck then ran her fingers through his hair. He closed his eyes.
"Look at me," she said, her voice firm again. The room narrowed. All he saw, all he smelled, and all he wanted, was her. "I need you," she said, reaching up to put her other arm around his neck. "And I'm not waiting anymore."
Her lips covered his, her tongue probed, parting his lips, and he groaned as she wrapped what felt like her entire body around him, pressing him back into the window seat. Her need was like a live thing, barely restrained between them. He shuddered as she lifted his shirt up and off, ran her lips down his neck, sucking first one, then the other of his nipples between her lips. He reached out with shaking hands, ran his fingers through her hair. "Suzanne," he whispered sitting back, completely paralyzed by this incredible moment. He'd spent years learning at the hands of experienced women and had become the guy who led, the guy who did the undressing and the initiation. But he was a limp ragdoll under her hands. Except for his cock, which was so hard it made him wince in pain when she unzipped his jeans and yanked them down around his ankles.
He put his hands on her waist, loving the feel of her cool, soft skin under his palms. Something about that even made his brain shut down, so he let go, leaned back on the seat and let her make her way down his shivering torso, until her lips found his shaft where she started licking, sucking, and teasing him. She stroked the skin beneath his balls making him gasp and grip her hair, thrust into her mouth. She grabbed his ass with her other hand, encouraging him.
"Wait, I'm …God…" he kept moving and the orgasm nearly took him over the edge. At the last minute, he called on his big-boy reserves, stopping it in its tracks. He gripped her arms, bringing her to her feet. "My scores must be going down," he gasped as she lifted her shirt off, undid her own bra and stepped out of her jeans. "Damn woman, I'm …"
She put a finger to his lips. "You're perfect. Now, sit," she said patting the window seat. "I'm feeling a little needy."
He shifted back, and gripped her neck, pulling her in for a deep tongue-tangling kiss as she got on her knees, straddling him. "Now," she whispered, breaking from his lips and making him want to whimper as she fisted his cock, gripping the base and making her slow way up to the head. "This," she said, pushing him back a little farther, "really is a ten." She lifted herself up, pressing the heat of her sex against his. His hips moved of their own accord. He thrust, grabbed her hips and pulled her down hard trying not to groan too loudly at the hot, wet grip of her.
"God!" She cried out, digging her fingers into his shoulders. "Yes." Her voice died to a moan as she slid up and down his length, teasing him by releasing his flesh completely, then enveloping him again. He leaned back on his hands, keeping a very tenuous control over the urge to come.
She rolled her hips, found her rhythm, leaning down to kiss his lips, his neck, use her teeth and fingers to bring an exquisite bite of pain to his flesh. She kept whispering his name, rubbing her clit against his pubic bone and grasping the entire length of him with her pussy. Something hit him hard, right between the eyes, nearly blinding him. He sat up, changing his angle, and cupped her breasts tugging at her nipples, watching her face.
"Oh," she said, her vo
ice breathy again. "There he is…"
"Yeah," he ground out, planting his feet and meeting her thrusts as he captured her lips once more. He licked his way down her neck, loving the pure lust he smelled and tasted all over her. "Here I am," he grunted, as her entire body contracted and she threw her head back calling his name, making his cock jerk and release inside her. They rocked together, arms and lips entwined and connected. Craig knew then – he would never, could never, ever let the woman go.
Their breathing calmed, bodies stopped, but she stayed draped over him, her slight weight draped across his torso, pleasantly pressed into his body. He held her close, kissed her face and neck. He attempted not to say it – what he wanted to say, knowing it would only make her recoil from him. He had to take this for what it was, and work as hard as he knew how to drag her kicking and screaming into the reality of a deeper emotional connection. He groaned as she lifted off him and stood. She reached around behind the couch for something. He opened his eyes, not realizing he'd closed them, and saw the card with the number 10 emblazoned on it.
"Fucking the Eastern German judge does wonders for my overall score," he said, standing and pulling his jeans up from around his feet.
She smiled, almost shyly and what remained of his heart left his body and became hers. He pulled her close, kissed her, and then stepped away, determined to play it her way – keep it cool, for now. "Food?" he asked, honestly starving.
"Yeah," she said, heading into the tiny kitchen. "I brought some. Sit, relax, I'll feed you, never fear."
