KYLE: A Mafia Romance (The Callahans Book 4)

by Glenna Sinclair

  She heard her doctor pad out and sensed Taylor following behind him. Carter mentioned he’d be right outside and told Layla to let him know when he could return. After shutting the door behind him, Layla sat beside Rose on her bed and placed her warm palm on Rose’s leg over the bedsheet.

  “I’m still in shock,” she said, her tone cracking. “It’s all surreal. It’s like I can’t believe this isn’t a dream.”

  Rose held her chin high, envisioning Layla’s face. “We don’t stop. We won’t let up. We have Madison’s extensive report, correct?”

  Layla took a moment to sober her quivering tone. “Yes, we do.”

  “Okay, let’s get Harold on this right away,” she instructed, referring to One World’s attorney. “I’m living evidence of the hazards of those chemicals, and no one can deny this accident happened at the pipeline. We can use Madison’s report in tandem with the Davey Construction permits on file with the various cities they’ve built Starlight pipelines in, and with those critical documents we can work towards shutting down all the pipelines they’ve built across the country.”

  “Certainly,” she said with determination.

  “If I can focus on this,” she went on, “I might have a prayer of holding myself together.”

  Feeling for the edge of the bed and shifting her legs, Rose slid her feet to the tiles, as Layla got to her feet and padded across the room.

  “If you could narrate what you’re doing,” she said. “It would help me.”

  “Of course,” said Layla, taking pause.

  “Is that silly?”

  After a moment of Rose picturing Layla gaping at her, her friend said, “Not at all. Okay, I’m getting a pair of jeans and a sweater off the chair in the corner of the room. These are mine, by the way. Your clothes become saturated in the chemical.”

  Rose reached behind her back and pulled the string on her hospital gown, helping it to fall to the floor, as Layla approached with the jeans, setting the sweater on the bed.

  “Here are your jeans, can you feel for them and get your leg through?”

  “I think so,” she said, surprised to find herself smiling. “In a weird way this reminds me of being a kid. When I was little I used to close my eyes and bumble around my parents’ house pretending to be blind.”

  “I feel like I used to do that, as well,” said Layla through a breathy laugh. “Messes with your balance a bit. Doesn’t it?”

  “Yeah, I’m wobbly.”

  Despite the challenge, Rose pulled her jeans on and made slow work of buttoning them before Layla handed her the sweater, helping her to pull it over her head. Once she got dressed and Layla assisted her into each sneaker, there came a knock on the door.

  “That’s Carter,” she said, guiding Rose’s hand to the edge of the bed before letting him in. “And Taylor with the wheelchair,” she added. “Guys, try to narrate what you’re doing. It helps her.”

  “I’ve got the wheelchair here,” said Taylor, rolling and angling it beside her.

  Rose felt for its armrest then eased into it, as Carter placed a pen in her hand and a clipboard in the other. “This is the paperwork,” he explained. “Put the pen right here.”

  Taking her hand, Carter pressed the pen tip against the paperwork.

  “Right here?” Carter said nothing, and she imagined him nodding. “Use your words, Carter, I can’t see a damn thing.”

  “Right, sorry. Yes, sign there.”

  She did and then he flipped the page. “And here.”

  After a few more signatures, he stepped away and Rose heard an administrator thank him and hurry out of the room.

  “Okay,” said Taylor. “We’re going to head down the corridor through the lobby and out to my SUV.”

  “You didn’t bring the limo?” she teased, then immediately stiffened in the wheelchair when she let it slip that she’d been inside his limousine before.

  “I rigged my SUV with a wheelchair lift to make life easier,” he said.

  “God, I’m a total invalid,” she complained with an edge of humor, as he rolled her through the hospital, Carter and Layla trailing behind by a few feet.

  “I’ve filled all of your prescriptions,” he went on. “If you feel any pain, let me know and we’ll knock it out.”

  All things considered, she didn’t feel in pain whatsoever, and yet had become aware that her left arm and shoulder were also wrapped in thick layers of gauze. Without her sight, it was hard to place precisely how foggy she was, but now that she was rolling along, she sensed she might, in fact, be far more out of it than she realized.

  “What am I on right now?” she asked, tilting her head back towards him.

  “Oxy, Vicodin, the works,” he said. “You were burned badly, so we got you on a strong cocktail that was mainlining right to your vein.”

  “Jesus.”

  “Popping a pill will take longer to alleviate the sting, so as soon as you feel even slightly uncomfortable, you’ve got to take the medication.”

  Rose grumbled. Her mental clarity was of the utmost importance, and she rarely took medicine of any kind, even over-the-counter painkillers.

  As soon as she felt the warm summer sun on her face and smelled a florally breeze in the air, which told her she was now outside, she asked, “How bad will it be if I don’t take anything?”

  “Rose,” said Carter, “you don’t want to do that to yourself.”

  She didn’t argue, but in the back of her mind she knew she could handle it. Pain was sobering. It had the power to focus her, and she’d rather be sharply focused and suffering than in a haze of confusion.

  She heard Taylor pop the passenger’s side door open, as he said, “Just getting the ramp down.”

  “Was this necessary?” she asked. “I mean, I can walk.”

  “Technically, you can,” he said, “but you’re pretty drugged up, so until you’re on the other side of taking these meds it’s best if you stay in the wheelchair.”

  As Taylor rolled her up the ramp then got her wheelchair strapped inside the SUV, Carter and Layla set her belongings in the backseat and shut the door.

  “We’ll be right behind you,” said Carter.

  “Actually,” said Rose, “I might need an hour or so. I’d like to get settled and maybe nap. Could you come by after, and we’ll go over the reports before we e-mail them to Harold?”

  “Sure,” said Layla. “Whatever you want. You can give us a call?”

  “I’ll do that,” she said before giving Layla’s hand a squeeze as soon as she felt her friend reach for her. “See you later,” she added, then reconsidered. “I mean...oh God, what do I mean?”

  “We’ll see you later, Rose,” said Layla through a smile before shutting the door.

  As soon as Taylor climbed behind the wheel, he started the engine, but she didn’t feel the SUV lurch forward.

  In a whisper, he said, “I’m just watching them walk to their Jeep in the parking lot because I want to kiss you before we head out, and I’d rather they not catch us.” After a moment he added, “That is, if you don’t mind me kissing you.”

  Smirking, she said in a low tone, “I don’t mind.”

  Sensing him nearing her, it felt as though every cell in her body was poised in anticipation of feeling his lips meet hers, and when he did, his smooth mouth pressing firmly, warm and passionate, she melted, breathing in deeply his scent and drifting into his kiss that seemed to convey a world of care.

  Soon his hands held her face, though gently, helping her tilt her head to deepen the kiss, as his tongue delicately probed the velvety curves of her mouth. When he slipped back, she sensed him studying her.

  “I can’t tell you how sorry I am this happened to you,” he said in a tone so quiet it was barely audible. “I’m going to do everything within my power to make this right.”

  “Will it ever be right?” she asked, not to challenge him, but to gain a sense of his highest belief. If he truly believed he could make this right, then she would trust
him, but who could be so optimistic when tragedy had struck so severely?

  “I’ll find a way,” he said.

  Finally, Taylor put the SUV in gear and pulled away from the curb, starting off on the long drive from Bellevue Mercy to the Escala in downtown Seattle.

  The hum of tires over asphalt and the gentle rocking of the highway lulled Rose into a sleepy state.

  “Mmm, I’m nodding off,” she murmured.

  “That’s okay,” he said softly. “I’ll wake you when we get there.”

  And he did.

  It was the pop of the passenger’s side door opening that lifted her from a deep sleep.

  “We’re home,” he said, pressing the button for the electronic ramp to edge out. “We’ll get you inside, and then you might want to sleep for a bit before you call your people over.”

  Rose braced the armrests of her wheelchair as Taylor rolled her down the ramp. His hand rested on her shoulder as he ascended the ramp into the SUV and tossed his keys to the valet, who quickly climbed in and drove off.

  As he rolled her over the red carpet and into the air-conditioned lobby of the Escala, Rose noticed that because she’d been stripped of the ability to see, her other senses were kicking into high gear. The specific scent of the lobby, the chilled marble floors slick with lemon-fresh cleaner, struck her first, then the particular tinge of AC mingling with the distinct scent of lilacs filled her nose. The shape of Taylor’s hand, which remained on her shoulder as he rolled her to the elevator banks, held new meaning. She now understood his precise dimensions—the length of his fingers, the width of his palm. And when the elevator arrived with a ding, the sound was sharp and hit her ears in a way she’d never noticed for all her years of having perfect eyesight.

  After he rolled her inside, turned her around, and the doors whooshed closed, the way in which the air pressure changed from that one simple action was so apparent that it made her feel strangely alive, as did rising swiftly to the fiftieth floor.

  It occurred to her as he rolled her down the long carpeted corridor towards his suite that she would finally set foot in his bedroom, maybe even lie down on his four-poster bed, but without sight, what would the experience hold?

  “I didn’t realize you had a guest room,” she remarked, though it was only a guess.

  “There are many rooms in my suite,” he offered, “but I thought you’d be most comfortable in my room.”

  “You installed a hospital bed in your room?”

  “I did,” he said, keying into the suite then pushing her through. “But you have the option. Unless your vitals dip for the worst, I see no reason why you can’t sleep in my bed. That is, if you like.”

  “That might be nice,” she said through a smirk.

  “I’m glad you’re smiling.”

  As soon as he slowed her wheelchair and Rose felt the afternoon sun on her face, reminding her where the bay windows were, she stood and took a few cautious steps towards it. Taylor neared her and took her right hand as her left fingertips pressed against the warm glass.

  “Tell me about the view,” she said, already imagining the Seattle bay, the skyline of buildings before it, and Bellevue in the far distance.

  “The sun is bouncing off the buildings, off the windows and steel. The Space Needle is to the left, piercing the azure blue sky. And there are a number of popcorn clouds floating slowly by. The bay is calm. The water looks like glass, but there are a few sailboats cutting north around the bend.”

  Suddenly, Rose felt overcome with emotion. “Will I ever see it again?”

  She sensed him tensing beside her, and it was enough of an answer that she didn’t press him.

  “One day at a time,” he reminded her. Then Taylor leaned in until she could feel his warm lips brush her hair, her ear beneath. “Keeping you relaxed and happy is the key to a speedy recovery.”

  “Is that right?” she asked coyly.

  “As a medical professional, I can tell you for a fact that it is.”

  She caught an edge of flirtation in his tone that sent a flutter of arousal through her, though she couldn’t be sure the sensation wasn’t heightened thanks to the many opiates surging through her veins. She was starting to feel loopy.

  “How about that nap?” he whispered.

  “Why do I get the feeling I won’t be doing much sleeping?”

  “I’ll be good,” he said in a cooler tone. “I’ll let you rest, if that’s what you need.”

  “As my doctor, what do you think I need?” she asked in a smoky voice that surprised her. Who would’ve thought the major upheaval that was befalling her could be so easily overlooked when in the presence of a man who never failed to turn her on?

  “Well, no one can argue with rest,” he said, brushing his warm hand through her hair to expose the right side of her neck that went unmarred throughout the ordeal. “But I think a gentle massage could help you sleep better.”

  “Really?”

  “I can keep my touch very light and relaxing. Stimulating your circulation is very important, and until you’re well enough to exercise, we’ll have to be creative about how we get your heart rate up, get you breathing heavily, get the blood flowing. Come here.”

  He guided her to the bed where he angled her to face him and grazed his fingertips up her arms until he settled a tender hold around the nape of her neck. When his lips met hers, she reached for his waist, gripping the firm wall of his abdomen and kissing him deeply.

  “I know one way to get your blood circulating, but I might need to remove your clothing,” he whispered.

  The very notion sent a hot wave rolling through her, and she smiled, but then an edge of apprehension caused her stomach to clench.

  “Don’t I look awful?” she asked, feeling her face, the bandage, and then her head where her hair had been cut by the burn unit to save her scalp.

  “Rose,” he whispered, pecking her in between each word. “You’re beautiful. I’m hard for you.” He took her hand and placed it over the bulge beneath his slacks, breathing his final statement, “I want to fuck you. Let me make you feel good. Let me help you forget all this shit you’re going through, at least for a little while.”

  “I can’t believe I still turn you on,” she said in disbelief.

  He took her hands and helped her to sit on the edge of the bed, as he settled so close beside her she could feel the heat rolling off of his strong chest, his thighs, his face so near hers that she tipped her chin up, expecting another kiss. “I don’t know exactly what you’re going through, but I was in the hospital for months after I tripped into a pool at my father’s charity event. I didn’t have anyone except assistants who were paid to give a shit. I’d lost eighty percent of my cognitive ability. I practically had the mind of a child. I was terrified and alone and I thought I’d never recover. I’d never abandon you. My interest in you hasn’t changed. If anything, I feel closer to you, because I was once in your position. I didn’t think it would be possible to come out of it and once again be myself, be as smart as I was, have my life back. But I got it back. And you will, too. That’s why I don’t want you to worry. I want to keep your spirits up. It’s only a matter of time. You have to believe me.”

  She pressed her mouth into a pained smile, believing him but also feeling so blown away by his care and attitude that she wasn’t sure how to trust it. But when his lips touched hers, first brushing then pressing into a deep kiss, she let go of her worry and confusion, the sadness and panic that had been gripping her heart, and let Taylor ease her down on the soft bed.

  Angling her legs along the bed and helping her head to reach the pillows, Taylor cradled her and began stroking her gently, his warm hand traveling downward between her breasts, along her stomach, and over her jeans until he cupped her between her legs, sending a wave of heat through her that relaxed her tense muscles.

  Kissing her cheek, he popped her jeans open then eased the fly down so that his hand could slide slowly beneath the fabric of her panties. With a fe
ather touch, he caressed her labia with his fingertip, sliding up and down and inspiring the warmest friction. She let out a breathy sigh and he kissed her cheek again, working his way to her mouth, to which he pressed a long, firm kiss, then whispered in her ear, “I want you so bad.”

  “Oh, you’re turning me on,” she breathed.

  “Good. I’m going to take off all of your clothes and lick every inch of you.”

  Hearing that, a fresh wave of heat surged through her.

  Naturally, her hips rose in response to Taylor pulling her jeans down, and in an arch she bent her knees for him to free her of the garment. The cool air on her skin was tantalizing, but not more so than his hot lips wrapping her crotch, though her panties still separated them.

  Feeling eager, she pulled her sweater up and over her head, her nipples hardening as soon as the crisp AC hit her skin. Not a second later, she felt Taylor’s hot tongue flick her left nipple then the right, as his fingers settled between her legs, stimulating her with a gentle massage that made her grow hot and wet for a deeper touch.

  He kissed her lips tenderly, then again flicked her nipple with his tongue and sucked the mound between her legs, his cool breath commingling with the heat of his tongue before turning his mouth to hers.

  “Oh,” she sighed, as he worked through the same arousing pattern, moving from her lips to her breast to her clit. All the while she spread her legs, aching for him to fill her with his thick, long erection. “Taylor,” she whispered, “I can’t wait. I need you.”

  He groaned in her ear and soon she felt the hard, wide head of his dick pressing against the thin cotton of her panties, fitting perfectly in the concave hollow of her natural shape.

  “I’ve wanted you so badly,” he groaned.

  “I need you inside me, now, please.”

  “Okay,” he said softly, pulling her cotton panties down then grazing his index finger along her slippery labia, exploring the outer and inner folds of her body.

  He must have shifted onto his knees to look down at her writhing hips, because she sensed he had eased off before he finally stripped her panties away, discarding them to the floor.