by Raine Miller
I’d pushed her away once before and regretted it ever since. She had tried to offer comfort to me when my father died, and I didn’t handle myself well at the time. If I’d done things differently with her, we’d surely be married by now with a child or two, or at least working on it. But nope. I was just too fucked up in my own head to see that I was denying myself the one person who was exactly what I needed.
So, Reese found someone else and she moved on. I tried to move on as well, but I found I sucked at that too.
I buried myself in work and forged ahead with my campaign for Attorney General of South Carolina, which I easily won. The night the election results came in and we started celebrating, I’d learned what a hollow victory it was without Reese by my side sharing it with me.
And then four months ago a miracle happened.
Dr. Doolittle went to Brazil and decided to stay there without her. Money won out over love in his case. I had a strong suspicion that Reese’s grandfather paid the professor to break off their engagement. I never knew any details about a deal, and went the extra step of telling Theodore Pinkarver up front, that I didn’t ever want to know. I kept myself at a distance until that fool was out of the picture. My involvement never extended any further than praying for some powerful juju to make Dr. Doolittle decide to take the fucking money and leave.
Tonight wasn’t the first time I’d asked Reese to marry me. I’d posed the question to her once before, but my timing was bad because she’d just had her heart broken. I’d also been an ass by presenting it as more of a business plan hatched by our families, than something I really wanted. And then we ended up having a night of mind-blowing sex after a lot of wine and…yeah—
This was where the confusion came into the picture for me. I knew I wanted Reese, but I wasn’t sure why I wanted Reese. Did I love her, or did I love the idea of merging our families into a magnificent political dynasty? I needed to get my shit together and figure that out so I could explain it to her. She deserved the truth most of all, and I wouldn’t lie to her by telling her I’d been in love with her for years. It hadn’t been like that for me. My feelings for Reese had surfaced with more of a slow burn than anything else. The one thing I was certain about was how much I wanted to make a life with her. There was no one else for me.
She’d had some time to think about it, but not nearly enough. We were just getting started figuring everything out so maybe it was best to have a meeting with her grandfather to clarify exactly what was at stake here.
It was only fair that she hear from him, what had been decided for the two of us a long time ago.
Our families wanted us together, and I wanted her, so…
The ambulance coming to an abrupt halt brought me out of my little trip down Memory Lane and back to the present—the emergency bay of GWU. The rear doors opened to the outside, and I was relieved to see there was a gurney waiting to take her right in. The EMTs did the transfer efficiently, reporting her medical stats for triage to evaluate where she should go next as I followed closely behind.
“Her name?” the intake nurse, Barb according to her ID badge, asked me as we rolled down the hallway toward what I hoped would be a private room.
“Reese Pinkarver.”
“Age?”
“Twenty-four. She’ll be twenty-five in two months.”
“And you are?”
“Grayson Lash,” I answered, bracing myself for the question that would come next.
Right on cue, Barb shot inquisitive eyes up from her clipboard. “Like the president?”
I nodded once and left it alone.
“Your relationship to the patient?”
Ahhh, a question I was more than happy to answer for Nurse Barb. I’d given the same reply to the EMTs when I’d demanded to ride along with Reese inside the ambulance.
“My fiancée.”
Chapter Four
REESE
Fiancée?
Gray and I needed to have a little talk about his false assumptions. Make that a big talk, rather than a little one. Too bad it would have to wait until I could actually talk and breathe at the same time. God. I’d been so stupid in not recognizing the signs of an impending asthma attack. I’d been given plenty of clues, like the headache from a lack of caff—
“You’ll need to change out of your—um…wedding dress—and put this on before getting into the bed.” The nurse who’d been interviewing Gray handed him a hospital johnny and added on, “Your fiancé can help you. Just let me close you guys in behind the curtain for some privacy—”
As I desperately tried to choke out a protest, she yanked the curtain shut and stepped out, but not before loudly announcing, “All the way down to your panties please.”
“I’ll make sure she follows your directions to the letter, Barb,” Gray called back to her through the curtain, while I shot poison daggers at the back of his head with my mind.
“I bet you will, Mr. Lash,” Barb replied on a giggle as the sound of her steps faded away.
He swung his head around toward me, and of course, that smug grin of his was right in place like always, but I could see there was also worry behind his gorgeous brown eyes. Gray was faking with the nurse just now about wanting to undress me. I hardly believed it, but I could see he was really worried about me.
I removed the oxygen cannula and set it on the bedside table.
“You need to keep that on, Reese,” he said tightly.
“I’ll put it back as soon as I’m changed into the hospital gown. I am breathing fine now.”
After about a minute of staring at each other, it was clear I was going to have to start the strip show because he wasn’t moving. Strangely empowered, I sat down in the chair reserved for visitors and began to undo the straps on my heels. I took my time lifting my skirt up higher than it needed to be for removing shoes, but this was my show. Gray could watch or go home. I wanted to find out if he was affected by me, the woman, at all. I peeked up at him as my fingers worked the tiny buckle open and was surprised again by his rigidly held stance, as if struggling to hold himself back from pouncing on me. He was fighting something, I just wasn’t one hundred percent sure if that something was an attraction to me.
“Are you going to help me or not?” I asked softly.
He dropped down to his knees instantly, as if my giving permission had flipped a kind of go-switch inside him. He took over with the other shoe, removed it, and then set the pair of oyster satin Manolos neatly under the bed. There was no pause from him before he slid both hands up one leg to the top of my thigh where my stockings ended. I felt his fingers searching for any clasps that might be hiding before he tugged it down. How very considerate. “You can just pull them off,” I murmured.
He buried his fingers underneath the elastic edge and yanked the sheer stocking down in a furious rush. Then he moved over to the other leg, his touch a bit more confident. But this time, before he searched for the stocking, he pushed my skirt all the way up to the top of my thighs so he could see what he was taking off me. A little more wandering of the fingers along the top edge of the stocking than with the first one, but I could tell he was frustrated by the situation. He wouldn’t look me in the eye either.
Gray got to his feet and then pulled me up to standing with him. He put his hands on my shoulders and abruptly turned me so that my back was to him. All of this was done without a word. I could feel his hot stare burning my back as he studied how the dress worked so he could get it off me without damaging it. If he was as careful with the dress as he had been with the stockings, then he would do fine.
“There’s a hidden zip in the left side,” I offered.
He found the tag to the zipper and took it down slowly, the sound harsh against the soft swish of silk and lace. The bodice fell away from my breasts, and since there was no separate bra underneath, I was bare the second the dress started responding to gravity. I put an arm across myself to cover my nipples, which were tight and aching thanks to Gray’s busy fingers on m
y body. But my nipples were the extent of what I could conceal with only my arm. My breasts are just not that small.
And I really didn’t know how much more of this little tête-à-tête I could endure. I was on fire just from the body heat of Gray so near to me. Probably because I was naked—apart from panties thanks to Nurse Barb’s orders—and Gray had been the one to get me naked, had something to do with the sexual tension between us right now. Thank goodness my panties were nothing too racy. Just a simple lace Agent Provocateur bikini in blushing pink. Awww, how appropriate for the “bride.”
He held my dress open at the floor so I could step out of it. Once my feet were completely free from the skirt, he rose up and came around to my front with the hospital johnny in his hands. I was going to have to take my arm away in order to put the damn thing on, and Gray would see me floatin’ freestyle when I did.
“Don’t look at my boobs, okay?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, of course I’m gonna look,” he snapped at me. “Tellin’ a man not to look at naked tits all up in his face is on par with tellin’ him not to drop the match that’s burnin’ his fingers, so don’t expect me not to look! It cannot be helped, okay?”
Gray’s slight Southern drawl became much more pronounced in his speech when he was agitated or upset. Well, he was definitely agitated and upset, but also so funny, I had to bite down on my bottom lip to keep from laughing at his thoroughly adorable explanation of why a man averting his eyes to naked breasts was not only highly improbable but also outrageously unrealistic.
He wasn’t quite done explaining it to me, apparently.
“I’m standin’ here in front of my really fuckin’ sexy fiancée—who I’ve just undressed by the way—and you’re tellin’ me I’m not supposed to look!” Biting sarcasm rolled off his tongue. It would appear that Gray’s self-control had come to a complete and abrupt end as he gave the hospital johnny an angry little snap in front of me. “I am not made of stone.”
“And I…am not your fiancée,” I reminded him, secretly happy about the “really fuckin’ sexy” part.
“Well, the hospital staff thinks you are, so hurry up!” He jerked the johnny in my direction once more and jiggled it at me.
“Fine.” I dropped my arm from across my chest and freed the girls. I repeat, the girls have been freed and are on public display! Have a gander if you will!
A soft groan came out of him in the seconds it took to put my arms through the sleeves, so I knew he’d looked just as he’d assured me he would. The weird thing was I didn’t care about Gray seeing me naked. It wasn’t even the first time. Honestly, I was relieved we were finally doing this sexual dance around each other out in the open, rather than while under the influence. Things had been brewing between us for a good while now. We’d already crossed the sex line anyway, even though I don’t remember much from our night nearly two months ago. I’m not even sure how much Gray remembers because we were both drunk when it happened. He was still sleeping it off when my walk-of-shame out of his suite at The Jefferson was happening.
Not our shining moment, but if anything, I did trust Gray to have my best interests in mind. We were connected through family and an elite inner-circle that basically required we protect one another. An encounter was bound to happen at some point, especially since we were both single now. The part where he kept talking about getting married was a bit more confusing. On both of the occasions when Gray had asked me to marry him, our night had ended badly, accompanied with so much drama and trouble I didn’t know what to think anymore. I needed some truthful answers for Gray’s motivation before I made any kind of decision on the matter. Money was involved from my grandparents on some level I was certain, but I wanted to hear it from him first.
I stood still, allowing him to tie my gown closed as I made some careful observations. Gray’s outward reaction toward me was not at all what I’d expected, especially based on the earlier boasts about giving me some more hot and dirty sex, whenever I said yes to marrying him. Gray wanted me. I knew he was aroused right now, because I could smell it on him.
It was desire I detected in the spicy scent radiating from him in waves.
And that monster snake he had going on in his pants was seriously impressive. I regretted that my naked party with Gray was a lost dream of which I had absolutely no memory. There were some flashes of what we had done, but I do not remember specifics about his body (penis) sans clothing. It was rather cruel to know I’d had him inside me, but no mental picture of what he looked like when he was there. Torturing myself with the conceptual images of us together was not helpful in any way whatsoever.
“Why are you mad at me?” I asked after he’d helped me to get settled in the bed, and my oxygen cannula back in place.
“I’m not mad at you.”
“Well, you sure aren’t acting very happy after you got to see me naked—so what’s the problem?” I knew I was pushing him, but I figured I was entitled to some information.
“My lovely, Pink, seein’ you naked is not my problem, I assure you. My cock is workin’ just fine where you’re concerned, beautiful.” He cupped himself over his slacks and thrust his hips up from the chair. “How do you think I got this, hmm?”
“I hoped it was because you had to undress me,” I answered truthfully, although I did find it strange to be so undisturbed by the topic of our open conversation—Gray’s hard-on from taking my dress off of me. Could this night get any weirder?
Probably yes, so I shouldn’t even ask.
His brown eyes pierced right into me before he spoke. “You’re a goddess. There are no other words to describe you better than that. Reese, I definitely want more naked time with you—so much more—but not if I’m gonna send you to the goddamn hospital unable to breathe!” He pulled at his hair with both hands for like the hundredth time tonight. “Fuck!” he barked.
“But you didn’t cause this, Gray.”
That big lanky body of his, so tightly posed in the chair beside my hospital bed, looked ready to snap in two; his sandy brown hair a tousled mess from so much nervous hand-dragging through it; the frown lines on his handsome face growing frownier by the second.
“I upset you to the point of sending you here in fuckin’ distress with a full-blown asthma attack! Baby, how is that not my motherfuckin’ fault?”
“Language, Mr. State Attorney General,” I scolded gently, sensing he was really beating himself up over this. “Stress can make the symptoms worse, but it won’t be the cause for an asthma attack. I wish you would listen to me.”
“I’m sorry, baby, so goddamn sorry for doing this to you. I was way out of line tonight and I really hope you’ll forgive me at some point—”
“I forgive you.” I shut down his rambling repentance with those three little words.
“You do?” His eyes widened in surprise.
I nodded. “Yes.” I held out my hand and waited for him to take it. He hesitated for a moment before accepting my gesture, but he did it in the sweetest way. He lifted my hand to his lips and kept them pressed to the back of my hand. “Gray, it’s a medical fact that an asthma attack is not brought on by stress. Other factors cause the airways to constrict, but stress is not one of those factors.”
“Your fiancée is right. You should listen to her,” said the guy in a white lab coat who strode confidently into my room to stop at my bedside. “Dr. Romero, Chief Consult, Emergency Medicine.” The good doctor extended his hand first to Gray, and then to me. “I heard we have some VIPs visiting us tonight. How can I help?”
“So what I’d like to do is get you in to see a pulmonologist in the next month or so,” Dr. Romero suggested. “How long has it been since you’ve been to one?”
“Not since high school, probably. My regular doctor writes the prescriptions for my rescue inhalers right now.”
“From what you’ve told me, the caffeine has done the job of self-medicating to control your asthma, but since you experienced a concerning episode tonight, I’d prefe
r to prescribe a daily medication that works pretty much like the caffeine in your coffee, but with regular consistency.”
“I knew that about the caffeine already, and I missed my usual shot this morning, because my corner coffee shop got shut down for a health code violation.”
“Seriously, Reese?” Gray scolded.
“How was I supposed to know? It’s not like Zeke’s is going to share with the public how they regularly violate the health code, Gray,” I mimicked back irritably.
“That’s not what I meant. I was referring to the fact that you knew about the caffeine and then missed taking any. That can’t happen again.”
“So, the new meds should solve that issue for you in the future,” Dr. Romero cut in, “and it’s likely that your rescue inhaler prescription may need an adjustment as well. Your pulmonologist can help you with that.”
“But my episodes have always been pretty intermittent. I wouldn’t classify my asthma at anything beyond mild.” I wanted Gray to hear it, because he seemed overly worried about me when I knew it wasn’t necessary.
“And you will likely continue to present with mild asthma in the same way,” Dr. Romero assured me, “but it’s important to remember as you age, you’ll experience changes in your symptoms that may require a new treatment plan to keep you status quo.”
“Got it,” I said. “I’ll find a pulmonologist then.” Gray squeezed my hand in support—the same hand he’d been holding since before Dr. Romero showed up.
“A pulmonology consult is also a good idea if you plan on starting a family. You’ll want to be seen by a specialist, preferably before you get pregnant, so you know all of the risks—”
“What are the risks?” Gray blurted, interrupting Dr. Romero.
I stared at Gray in surprise, waiting to hear why he was in need of such information.
