by Stacy Borel
He pondered my words. Taking his last bite, he set his fork down and sat back in his chair. Blue eyes were staring me down and I swallowed my food almost whole. He had the ability to make me feel so comfortable one minute, and completely unglued the next. And could his shoulders be any wider?
“Chew your food a little better, Annabelle. I may know the Heimlich but that doesn’t mean I want to perform it.”
“Excuse me?”
“I see you.” His voice got deeper.
“You see me?”
“Yes. I see everything.”
Enough already. Shake it off, Annabelle. He was taking control and I needed it back. “Interesting.” I broke eye contact and poked at my food. “So not only are you a comedian, we can add psycho stalker to your list of qualities. Noted.”
He barked out a laugh. “And there you go again.”
“What did I do?”
“I may see things about you, but one thing I can never figure out is what is going to come out of your mouth next. It keeps me on my toes.”
“Glad I keep you entertained.” I took his advice and chewed a little more thoughtfully.
He tilted his head to the side regarding me. I expected him to shoot back, but he didn’t. Instead he stood, and picked up his plate and glass. “Finish up. I’m going to start the dishes and then we can sit and relax.”
Relax. Riiight. Whatever that was with a man like him sitting next to me. Such a contradiction. I was able to feel at ease next to him, but also edgy. I only had a couple more bites to finish and I was stuffed. Like, certain my stomach was hanging over my pants and I’d be much more comfortable in yoga pants, stuffed. I’ll give him credit, the man could cook. Certainly a quality his mom instilled. Mimicking what he’d done, I took my dishes over to him. I expected him to step out of the way so I could rinse mine off and put them in the dishwasher, but he took them from my hand instead.
“Thank you.”
He eyed me curiously. “You’re welcome. Go make yourself comfortable on the couch. I’ll be over in a minute.”
I did as he asked. Even though my heart was wanting to take a little galloping stroll in my chest, I took a couple deep breaths and reminded myself that I didn’t have to do anything that I didn’t want to. I could, in fact, control the situation. Lies. That was a bald faced lie I would continue to tell myself up until Turner came and sat down next to me. Good God, the man smelled divine. It was a subtle soap scent mixed with a light cologne. How bad would it look if I closed my eyes and inhaled?
“All right, I’ve fed you, given you drinks, and now it’s time to talk.”
I raised my brow. “About?”
“Annabelle.” He said my name in warning.
“Turner.” I dished back.
He sighed exasperated. “The baby. Tell me about the baby. It’s obvious he means something to you.”
Kind of hoped I could dodge this one tonight, but clearly he wasn’t going to let me. Now to decide how much to tell him. Would it really hurt if he knew? Turner hasn’t shown me any ill will or done anything to make me believe he doesn’t want the best for me. He’s shown that he just wants to make me happy. Maybe letting him know and actually talking to someone about it would make me feel better and understand a little more myself about these emotions I had.
“Well, you already know about his traumatic birth experience. His mother completely abandoned him not long after she had him, and I just . . . I don’t know. I felt bad for him.”
“Okay, but you go and see him every time you’re on your shift.”
I nodded in agreeance. “Yes, sometimes more.” I looked down at my pants and picked the lines in the fiber. “It started off as me just wanting to check in on him and making sure the kid was being given a fighting chance. But then, next thing I knew I found myself wandering back in and asking the nurses how he was doing. I felt awful for him that there was no family for him to be held by. The only human contact was what the nurses were capable of giving, and even then, their time has to be split amongst other infants that demanded the same, if not more, of their attention. It just didn’t seem fair to me. The way my parents were taken from me so young, I know what it’s like to be alone.”
He was listening so intently. “Okay, I get that much. So you wanted him to feel love. But do you love him as well?”
I could only answer honestly. “Yes, I suppose I do.”
“He’s a fragile little person. What you’re doing is so beyond selfless, it’s admirable. Do you understand how big of a heart you have? We are taught throughout our residency not to get too attached to our patients. It’s okay to be empathetic toward them, but getting close was frowned upon. Most of us shut it off. We go in, get the job done, and walk out. I’m sure you’ve seen that with several doctors that come in to catch the baby, and leave the rest up to you nurses. But this is so much more than that.” He put his hand on the hand that was fidgeting. “Annabelle, look at me.”
I couldn’t fight him asking. I gave him my eyes. “It’s commendable.”
A lump was forming in my throat and I swallowed. “Is it? Or is it stupid?”
“Why would it be stupid?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because he isn’t mine. I mean I did get attached. I really am. He has machines helping him breathe, he has tubes pumping food into his stomach so he doesn’t have to work so hard to digest anything, and none of it seems fair. I don’t know why I chose to spend time with him like I have. It just sort of happened.”
He leaned forward and placed a kiss on my forehead. It was sweet. “If it’s what feels right, then keep doing it. Besides studies show, that the kind of contact you’re giving him helps the healing process.”
“I know.”
“Then don’t question it.”
I paused and thought for a second if I should tell him the rest. “I’ve named him.”
“What?”
“I haven’t told anybody that, but when I talked to him and I sang to him, I decided he deserved a name instead of just ‘Baby March’ that is on all his charts. I named him Noah. Seemed fitting.”
Aqua blue eyes beamed down at me. “That’s a good, strong name.”
Totally not the reaction I was expecting from that little confession. Most men would hear about babies, and baby names and get the hell out of dodge. Turner was surprising the hell out of me by not doing what I figured he would when any of this came out. I didn’t know whether to hug him for being so understanding, or to question his own sanity for not thinking I was crazy.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For having enough gumption to ask. It’s not like it’s an easy subject for a typical man.”
He put his hand on his chest. “Ouch. I’m typical?”
This time I reached out to him. No clue where the bravery came from, but it seemed appropriate. My palm cupped his cheek. “You are anything but typical.”
Time stood still. I was lost to him, and how he was making me feel. But then he asked his next question.
“What happened with your parents?”
My arm dropped. Another tough subject. Hadn’t we had enough heavy for one night?
“What do you want to know?”
“The night it all happened. Were you there?”
“No. But I was supposed to be.”
He frowned. “You were supposed to be?”
“In the car, I mean. My parents had gone to the mountains for their annual ‘it’s going to be too cold to sleep outside’ camping trip. They’d done it since I was a baby. It was the one vacation that all three of us looked forward to every year. I wasn’t one of those teens that avoided their parents. I loved being around them. That particular year, I had come down with some crazy flu that my body didn’t want to shake. My mom was going to cancel but I told her I’d be fine. The neighbors were near, and I was old enough to drive by then anyway if I needed something. I’ll never forget how reluctant she was. My dad said we could hold off for another weekend, but re
ally it was already getting too late in the year and I didn’t want to be the reason they missed it for the first time since they started the tradition. I promised I’d have my phone nearby, and if anything happened they would know.
They were on their way back from the three day trip. I was finally starting to feel better and was expecting them home later that evening. But there was a knock on my door.” I closed my eyes and did everything I could to hold back the tears. I hadn’t spoken about this or even allowed myself to think of it for years. The memory was too painful and not the way I wanted to remember them. “I vaguely remember the officer telling me what had happened. They weren’t very far from home. Maybe an hour. Someone had been coming off of their long shift and fell asleep at the wheel and they crossed the median.
The whole vehicle was totaled. The backseat where I would have been sitting was mangled. Both died on impact. The officer had asked me if there was someone that he could call for me, but there was no one. My grandparents were already gone, and both were only children. They’re laid to rest near here but I haven’t been back to visit their grave sites since they were buried.”
He sat for a moment and let what I’d said sink in. “You were sixteen?”
“Yes.”
“Did the courts want to place you in the system?”
“No. Technically I was ahead of the rest of my class in school, and I was old enough to emancipate myself. My parents left their insurance policies in my name, and the house. I’ve been on my own since.”
“Seriously, Annabelle, that’s awful.”
I shrugged, not sure what else to say.
“I’m sorry for asking you to tell me. But thank you for trusting me enough to tell me all of this.”
I glanced up at him. “Welcome. Hey, where’s your bathroom?”
He appeared a little put off by my quick change in subject. Pointing to a door off the living room, he said, “Through there and to the left.”
“Thank you.”
I stood and went where he directed me. The door he told me to go through was his bedroom. I didn’t think about where I was walking, I just wanted to get away and calm down. Being in here wasn’t going to help the process. Instead of lingering, I went straight into the bathroom and shut the door, locking it behind me. It was a much larger space than you’d expect from a one bedroom apartment. There was a stand up shower, with a separate Jacuzzi tub in one corner. And in the other, was a door that led to the toilet. I didn’t actually need to go, so I walked to the sink. Turner kept this room very neutral. The walls were white and beige towels hung on the racks. It reminded me of a JCPenny’s catalog. Not at all what I’d expect after seeing the rest of the modern space. Guess everyone needed a little bit of dullness in their life.
Turning on the sink, I splashed some water on my face. It was cool and it soothed my frazzled nerves. I’d overshared. I didn’t regret telling him, but it was too much for a night like tonight. I had a long day at work, he’d seen me with the baby, and all I really wanted from tonight was a relaxing dinner, wine, and to see if anything else progressed between us. It was already a long time coming. Well, in terms of how quickly I knew he moved. It was a good pace for me though. The conversation had likely put a damper on the evening.
Shutting off the water, I dabbed my face on the bland towel, and walked out the door. What I didn’t expect to find was Turner, standing in the doorway, his chest rising and falling a little too fast.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
No answer. Instead he came at me like a freight train. Turner picked me up under my arms, leaving me no choice but to wrap my legs around his waist. He didn’t stop his forward momentum until he had me pushed up against the wall by the bathroom.
“No, I’m not okay.” He breathed in my face. “I need you.”
No other conversation was needed. Thoughts of what we discussed only ten minutes ago were out the window. Right now was sheer animal instinct, and I had no intention of stopping him. His mouth came crushing down on mine in a forceful manner that would leave my lips swollen and bruised. Open mouths, tongues battling, and pure desire were swirling in the air, and I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I wasn’t going to stop him if he took this as far as it could go tonight. I needed him just like he said he needed me. I wanted him inside of me. I wanted to know how he moved and thrusted. No more imagining the “what if’s.” I’d take what I wanted from him, and I’d dare him to tell me no.
His tongue pushed against mine with a force that I’d never felt before. He licked and sucked on my lower lip. Nipping when he pulled away and came back for more. I repeated his motions, and I could feel what I was doing to him. The bulge beneath his jeans was enough to make me want to whimper. My hips moved forward and I pressed myself against him. I was wet and I needed relief from the pressure that was stirring in my sex. Setting me down, I stood on my tiptoes still trying to taste his lips.
“I want you on my bed, naked, Annabelle.” The way he said my name was so different than any other time.
I ripped my shirt off and unbuttoned my jeans. “More?” I taunted, not knowing where this daring girl had come from.
“All of it. Don’t make me ask again.”
I backed up until the bed hit the back of my knees. “I don’t see you doing the same.”
He took two steps in my direction. “You want the shirt gone?”
“Mhmm.”
Doing that ‘reach one-arm over the back of the head’ move that guys somehow master, he pulled it over his head and tossed it to the side. I stared at every chiseled curve of his abs and ribs. There wasn’t even a patch of hair leading below his jeans. The shape of what was threatening to break out from under the zipper was so enticing, my mouth watered.
“What now?”
“Pants, Turner.”
He shook his head no. “I believe I asked first.”
I twisted around giving him my back. Unzipping, I hooked my thumbs on the top of my jeans and pushed them down my legs. They reached my knees and dropped to the floor. I made a show of stepping out of them and looking over my shoulder. My hair was hanging down past the middle of my back, and I was wearing a pair of black cheeky underwear. Couldn’t have been more thankful in that moment that I was a firm believer that pretty underwear, even if nobody saw them, made you feel good during the day.
“You going to make me wait?” I asked, turning around to face him.
The corner of his mouth tipped up into a devilish smile. “Suppose not.”
I watched every little move he made as he removed his clothing, leaving him standing in only a pair of dark blue boxer briefs. My legs were weak and I was going to come out of my skin if he didn’t touch me soon.
“Come here.” He crooked his finger at me, beckoning me to join him.
I shook my head no. “I can’t.”
And I really couldn’t. I was frozen where I stood. Unless he lay me down on this bed behind me, my leaning up against it was the only thing keeping me from falling to my knees and begging him to give me what I wanted. And right now I’d take just about anything from him. It had been entirely too long since I’d been with a man. It should be considered a sin how long it had been.
He got the picture, closed the space between us and pressed his firm body against mine. His skin was warm, while mine felt overheated. His hands came up and grazed the upper part of my arm and slowly descended until he reached my elbow. He grasped me and leaned me back, letting me know he wanted me lying down. I obliged. My back hit a smooth pillowy surface, and my head rested on the comfort of down feathers. He hovered over top of me. Next to the bed was his night stand. He opened the drawer and pulled out a silver wrapper. He made no show of hiding he was grabbing a condom. This was really happening.
“My God, you’re beautiful.” His eyes roamed over my exposed skin.
The way he was looking down at me, I felt exactly that. Beautiful. Coming down to me, Turner placed his hands on either side of my head and stared at me. It was nearl
y dark in the room, the only illumination was the moon coming through the floor to ceiling windows and the light from the living room. The music was still playing but I couldn’t really hear it. If it was on in the bedroom, it was background noise to the buzzing in my own ears. My clit was throbbing and I needed him to touch me. My panties were drenched. I was regretting not taking them off. He did want me naked after all.
His mouth came down to mine in a reverent and tender manner. He was savoring my lips instead of devouring them. His teeth barely scraped the pouty flesh. I was already worked up. I loved that he was being so attentive, but my need was driving me crazy. My hands took on a life of their own. One smoothed across Turner’s cheek and dove into his soft hair, gripping a small handful and pulling him closer, while the other rubbed across his ribs and my nails dragged around to his back. He took the hint. His mouth left mine and traveled their way down my neck leaving a path of sizzling skin and cool wetness from his tongue. He made it to the cup of my bra, and he leaned over enough to use his hand to slide it down underneath my breast. My nipple was peaked and tight. He closed his warm mouth around it and lightly sucked. My body quaked. I felt every sensation of his tongue swirling over the bud, making it even more tender. He was trying to kill me.
“Turner, please, no more. I need you. Stop teasing me.”
He didn’t release me. Instead, he stayed latched on and showed me his vibrant blue eyes. His pupils dilated from the dark and lust. Never in my life had someone worked me up so much.
“You want more?” He let his hand trail down to the top of my underwear. My hips lifted on their own accord.
“Oh God, yes.”
“Are you wet?”
I wasn’t much for dirty talk, but if it got him to touch me, I’d become the next best porn star.
“Soaking wet.”
“Good girl.”
His fingers slipped beneath my underwear and teased the top of my pussy. They skirted my clit which felt so swollen with need, I knew the moment any pressure touched there an orgasm would follow. Turner released my nipple and blew his cool breath across it, causing me to shake.
