by Force, Marie
I wince and rest my hand on his shoulder. Whatever that is sounds horrible.
“Wh-what the hell is that?”
“We inject a dye solution into the glans so we can check to see if there are tears.”
“I think I’m going to be sick,” Emmett says.
The doctor quickly hands him a pink plastic bowl thing that’s shaped like a lima bean. “We numb you up first so it’s one quick pinch and then you shouldn’t feel a thing. Trust me, you want us to be thorough here so you don’t lose any functionality.”
I nod in agreement. After learning the want runs both ways between us, loss of functionality at this critical juncture in our relationship would be tragic indeed. Does that make me a selfish cow? Call me what you will. If you’d seen that huge, beautiful penis fully erect because of you, you’d want to do all you could to protect its health, too.
But poor Emmett is a mess.
“You should definitely be thorough,” I say to the doctor.
That earns me another filthy look from the object of my desire.
“What?” I ask him. “Do you want permanent damage?”
“I’ll have the nurse come back to prep you. We’ll get you in and out, and if everything looks good, we’ll send you home with antibiotics just to be safe.”
“What if…” The words die on his lips. He swallows and breaks into a sweat. “What if it doesn’t look good?”
“We’ll perform surgery to sew up any tears.”
The word “tears” leaches all remaining color from his face. Even his lips are white.
“Based on my initial examination, I don’t think surgery will be necessary in this case, but this is one of those better-safe-than-sorry situations. Try not to worry.” He pats Emmett’s arm. “I’ll see you in the radiology suite.”
“I think I might be having a heart attack,” he says when we’re alone, his hand flat against his chest.
“You’re not having a heart attack.”
“You heard what he said! They’re going to put needles, multiple needles, in my dick!”
“He said it’ll be a quick pinch and then you won’t feel anything.”
“It’s a needle. In my dick.”
It takes everything I have not to laugh at this unhinged version of Emmett, who is normally the picture of cool composure. But because he’s truly freaked out, and with good reason, I don’t laugh. Rather, I put my arms around him to the best of my ability with the bed in the way. “Breathe,” I tell him. “Just breathe.”
I’m startled when he leans into me and takes a deep breath, seeming to relax somewhat. Being the shameless opportunist that I am, I take full advantage, running my fingers through his hair in an attempt to soothe him. I’ve wanted to touch his hair since the day I met him, and as the silky strands slide through my fingers, I decide it was well worth the wait.
As he leans against me—the closest I’ve ever been to him—I discover to my surprise that I’m not thinking about licking or nine-inch penises or anything other than calming him and offering comfort. In those charged minutes, the obsession I’ve nursed for him morphs into something far more significant.
I don’t just want to fuck him. I actually care about him.
Huh. When did that happen?
“You don’t have to stick around,” he mutters some time later.
I’m so busy stroking his hair that I nearly don’t hear his softly spoken words. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“I’m sorry if I was a jerk to you earlier. It wasn’t your fault. Exactly.”
“That sounds like a backhanded apology to me,” I say, amused.
“The tongue thing was one hundred percent your fault. My reaction to it and Connor’s foot weren’t your fault.”
“Always the attorney.”
“You can break my penis, but you can’t take away my law degree.”
The humor is reassuring. Seeing him unglued was unsettling. I realize that I count on him to be rational while I’m losing my mind over him. “I like you, Emmett.”
“I’ve noticed that, Leah.”
“Is there any chance you might, you know, like me, too?”
“I believe the fact that we’re currently in the emergency room with my possibly broken penis is proof that there’s a chance I might like you, too,” he says with a deep sigh.
“Why do you not sound happy about it?”
“Other than you being ten years younger than me and a coworker?”
“Yeah, other than that.”
Before he can reply, a nurse comes bustling in with a tray of tools that have him shrinking into himself. I have no choice but to release him, but I really don’t want to.
The next two hours are like something out of a horror movie, beginning with the nurse who comes to collect the required urine specimen, otherwise known as peeing through razor blades. She says the pain is due to swelling—and not the good kind. I nearly faint from the effort it takes to stand and give her enough pee to test for blood. I take it as a good sign that I don’t see anything sinister in the output, but she says we won’t know for sure until the lab analyzes it.
She’s a buzzkill.
Turns out, peeing was the fun part of an evening that went downhill fast when I was taken to a freezing-cold room full of equipment, put on a table and told to spread my legs while they went to work on my poor dick.
The “pinch” to numb it up will go down in my personal history as the worst thirty seconds of my life. I’m not even ashamed that I scream and cry like a baby, which is saying something because I never scream or cry like a baby. But then again, I’ve never had a needle in the dick before, which is fucking hell on earth.
As I wait for the promised numbness to set in, I begin to bargain with God, who I haven’t spoken with in a while. I tell him if he gets me and my cock through this with no permanent damage, I’ll be forever thankful. I’ll even be nice to Leah, who has been exceptionally nice to me during this ordeal.
In a blissful state of penile numbness, I stare up at the ceiling and try very hard to not pay any attention to what’s happening below. Our conversation from before runs through my mind.
Why do you not sound happy about it?
Other than you being ten years younger than me and a coworker?
Yeah, other than that.
I didn’t get the chance to answer the question before the nurse showed up demanding pee, but if I had gotten the chance, what would I have said? I don’t know. Am I happy about the fact that I want her? No, not at all. Would I not want her if I had my druthers? Absolutely. She’s trouble with a capital T in more ways than one. It’s not just the fact that we work together or that I’m older than her. There’s a recklessness about her that flies in the face of everything I believe in as a professional, an attorney and an adult. I don’t do reckless.
I’m all about control, especially in my dealings with women.
I can’t for the life of me imagine Leah allowing me or any man to control her. It’s just not how’s she wired. From what I’ve observed in the months since she came to work for us, she’s a free spirit who writes her own rules as she goes along, which makes her my polar opposite.
If we weren’t work colleagues, I might consider a one-night stand to scratch the itch. I’d even entertain a vanilla encounter for the first time in years, just to swat at the fly of attraction buzzing around us. But even one night with her has complicated written all over it, not the least of which is because of who she is to Natalie, Flynn and Marlowe. I value my relationships with each of them too much to risk fucking them up by fucking her.
So, I shall keep my numb, battered cock in my pants when Leah is nearby, even as the fly continues to buzz around my head with its incessant made-up legal questions, perky tits and big blue eyes that look at me like I’m the last man on earth after the apocalypse. I experience a moment of amusement when I think of the litany of legal issues she has presented to me. She’s nothing if not persistent.
Which presents a secondary p
roblem. What if she doesn’t get the hint to back off and continues to make a spectacle of herself—and me by extension—around our colleagues, who are also my closest friends? I release a deep sigh when it becomes clear to me that I made a huge mistake earlier by admitting I’m attracted to her. Blame it on the vulnerability that comes with staring down needles in the cock. That’s the only possible excuse for dropping my game face when it comes to her.
But I did like the way her fingers felt in my hair and the cushion of her breasts under my head…
“You’re all set, Mr. Burke,” the chipper urologist says. Of course he’s chipper. No one is sticking needles in his dick.
“Is it broken?”
“We’ll have to wait for the radiologist to read the films before we know for sure if surgery is required. We should know more within the hour.”
The medical personnel help me up off the table, get me into a wheelchair and roll me back to the cubicle where Leah is waiting for me. She jumps up when she sees me coming and rushes to help get me settled back on the bed, pulling a blanket over me without letting it drop on my injured groin.
I’m drained from the ordeal, but damned if my cock doesn’t give a happy—and painful lurch—at the sight of her sweet, concerned face.
I’m fucked in more ways than one.
Chapter 4
The news is good. No fracture, no blood in the urine. Emmett is given antibiotics to ward off any potential infection and strict orders to take it easy for a couple of days. No lifting or straining and no sexual activity until the pain subsides. That will put him back in business by Napa, which is excellent news for my game plan. I send a quick text to the others, who’ve been awaiting word, and am overwhelmed with responses expressing relief.
No one is more relieved than Emmett, who seems completely exhausted as we walk slowly out of the ER.
“Do you want me to get the car?” I point to where it’s parked.
“I can walk.”
His walk is more like a hobble.
I hold the passenger door for him until he’s settled and then go around to the driver’s side. Emmett doesn’t live far from me in Santa Monica, and don’t ask how I know that. I’ll never admit to having snooped in places I have no business snooping to find out where he lives. It’s the only time I’ve ever crossed the line at work in pursuit of my crush, and I live in mortal fear of someone finding out I did it.
“Where to?” I ask him in a breezy how-would-I-know-where-you-live tone.
He recites the address, and even though I know exactly where it is, I ask him to direct me anyway.
“It’s not far from your place.”
“Oh really?” God, I’m good. Maybe I should talk to Hayden about a role in one of Quantum’s upcoming films. I could play an industrious assistant to one of the top stars in Hollywood or something like that. I’m uniquely qualified to play that part.
“You say that like you don’t know exactly where I live.”
Drop the mic. Maybe I’m not as great of an actress as I think I am. “How would I know that?”
“The same way you know everything else about me. Have you got my social security number memorized?”
“No, because that would be creepy. I’m obsessed, not creepy.”
“What’s my birthday?”
“I don’t know.”
“Liar. You already admitted you want in my pants. Why start lying now?”
“I’m not lying.” Much. July eighteenth. “And P.S., I don’t want in your pants when your junk is busted.”
“My junk is down but not out. He’ll be back to fighting form in a few days.”
“Why would you be telling me that when I’m the last woman in the world you’d ever let your precious junk play with?”
“Not the last woman…”
“Okay, then second to last.”
“It’s complicated, Leah,” he says with another of those deep sighs I seem to draw from him on a regular basis. “I take my work and my friendships seriously. The Quantum partners don’t pay me to expose them to liability. They pay me to protect them from it.”
I force myself to keep my eyes on the road when all I want to do is look at him. “You think I’d be a liability?”
He snorts with laughter that makes me want to punch him in his busted junk. Not that I’d ever do anything to further injure the magnificence of his junk. Now that I’ve seen it up close and personal and witnessed vulnerable, injured Emmett, I only want him more than I did before, which is rather frightening.
“You, my dear, are the reason the word liability was invented.”
“That’s rather insulting,” I say, even as I glow from being called his dear. I want to be his dear and everything else, and after tonight, I’m more determined than I’ve ever been to make something happen between us. Although, after seeing the magnificence of his junk, which is magnificent even when wounded, and realizing I actually care about him, one night won’t be enough. That’s a scary thought for someone who considers herself far too young to be entertaining any sort of significance with a man.
“Whatever,” he says with amused disdain. “What’s it going to take to convince you that this would never work?”
“A chance to prove otherwise.” I tighten my grip on the wheel, needing to hold on to something as I take a face-first plunge into the truth.
“Sweetheart, you’re a nice girl.”
“Woman. I’m actually a grown-ass woman.”
“You’re a sweet, sexy, adorable grown-ass woman.”
My heart! The compliments! My rabbit and I will live off them for weeks. “You’re not exactly talking me out of wanting you by being nice to me.”
“I’m not the right guy for you. Somewhere out there is a guy who will celebrate all the ways you’re amazing. I’m not that guy.”
“As a grown-ass woman, do I get any say in deciding what kind of man I want?”
“Of course you do, but—”
“Good. I want you.”
“You don’t even know me.”
“I know enough.”
“No, you don’t.” He directs me into a parking garage at the deluxe condo building where he lives and points to his spot.
I park the car and press the button to turn off the engine, but I don’t move to get out of the car and neither does he. “What else do I need to know?”
“A lot.”
“I might be younger than you, but I’m not a child or an inexperienced virgin or someone who needs to be protected. As previously mentioned, I’m a grown-ass woman fully capable of deciding for herself who she wants to be with.”
“Why me?”
I take a minute to form my reply because it’s quite possible that nothing I’ve ever said is more important than this. Still staring straight ahead at the drab concrete wall of the parking garage, I take a second to gather my thoughts. “From the first time I saw you at Flynn and Nat’s wedding, I was intrigued. After I talked to you my first day at Quantum, I wanted to know you. I wanted to know everything about you. I’ve never had that reaction to any man ever.” Mustering my courage, I venture a glance in his direction. “I look at you, and I want you. Have I tried to tell myself it’s not a good idea? Many times. Am I aware that I only seem to annoy you when I want to attract you? Absolutely.”
“I’m not always annoyed by you.”
How one sentence could generate such hope amazes and astounds me. “No?” My voice is squeaky and high, which is the last thing I want it to be when I’m trying to convince him I’m an actual adult.
“I believe I’ve proven otherwise on several occasions tonight.” Laughing softly, he shakes his head. “And by the way, I wish I were only ever annoyed by you.”
Now this is getting interesting. I turn in my seat to face him. “What else are you?”
“Attracted.”
“Are you on some sort of drugs that I didn’t see them give you? Is that where these confessions are coming from?”
He smiles, and it’s posit
ively lethal. “The things I’d like to do with that fresh mouth of yours…”
“Like what?” If he doesn’t tell me, I’ll die right here on the spot. I’m already afraid I’m going to leave a wet spot on his plush leather seat.
“Use your imagination.”
“Oh, believe me, I do. I have a very vivid imagination where you’re concerned.”
His gorgeous eyes shift to my mouth and heat with obvious desire. Then he winces. “I can’t do this right now. My dick is sprained.”
Which means his dick is participating in this conversation. More hope. I’m so filled with hope, I could burst from it. “Let’s get you settled.”
“I can take it from here.”
“Don’t send me away, Emmett. Let me take care of you.”
“I don’t know if I can handle your kind of caretaking right now.”
“I’ll be on my very best behavior. I promise.”
“Fine,” he says, sounding defeated and worn down.
That’s okay. I can work with defeated and worn down, but only if I’m allowed into his home to tend to him while I try to convince him to give us a chance. That’s all I want—a chance to show him that we could be incredible together—short term, of course. But first we have to get him healed up. If I can convince him to give me that chance, we’re going to need his battered equipment in full working order.
Just the thought of what I saw in that hospital room is enough to nearly make me come. I’ve never been with a guy that big before, and I can’t wait to find out if size truly matters. As he limps toward the elevator, I remind myself that promises have been made and best behavior is required. “What floor?” I ask, even though I know.
He rolls his eyes. I love that he’s so totally on to me. “Four.”
I press the button and then stick to my own side of the elevator car so there’s no chance I’ll trip or crash into him or do anything to make his situation worse. I only want to make it better. All better. I’d even be willing to kiss it better, if that would help. I’m nothing if not a giver that way. I swallow hard to keep the drool in my mouth from spilling over and running down my chin.
