Chapter Four
When he woke up, his chest was damp. Looking down, he saw the damp towel from last night laying there, atop the sheet. It had been too cold to keep directly against his skin, but now the chill was gone. The water was warm and leaking out all over his abdomen.
Without thinking, Marc lifted himself up and attempted to climb off the bed, hissing in pain as he put pressure on his bad knee. Looking down, he saw the purplish-blue bruises covering the joint and winced. He attempted to place pressure on it again, more slowly this time, and found that he could stand, but not as well as he’d been able to the day before.
Limping through the bedroom, he stepped over the dog and into the attached bathroom, tossing the towel into the sink and making his way to the toilet to relieve himself. Once finished, he stood for a while at the mirror, looking over the stubble on his jaw. It had been a while since his last shave. He debated pulling one of Lauren’s extra razors out, and whatever sweet-smelling shaving cream she used, to clean up what he had now.
But then he remembered the way she had gasped his name when he rubbed his sandpaper cheeks against the softness of her belly, her breasts, and he decided that it could wait a few more days. Instead, he brushed his teeth and turned off the lights, limping back into the bedroom and doing his best to ignore the pain that vibrated up his leg.
Lauren was still sleeping, her bedside clock flashing 5:50 next to her. She’d said the day before that she had to wake up early for work, so he decided to let her sleep until her alarm went off. There was a frown on her face as he padded past the bed on his way to the kitchen, but he ignored it in favor of searching for coffee and filters.
He found both in a cabinet above the sink. He pulled them down and went through the motions. In his old place, he’d basically lived on the instant stuff and whatever was on sale at the local market. Usually nonperishable foods, in case he had to get on the road with the gang. And Veronica.
The thought of the younger woman sent a shiver down his spine. He’d never had many romantic feelings for the girl. She was barely legal and reckless—the way that young people should be—but she was a whole lotta fun. He knew how stupid it was to be lured in by her big emerald eyes and long red hair, but he was a man and she was a smoking hot woman, with wide hips and a great rack. He didn’t even care that the only reason she was ‘in love’ with him was to piss off her father and get out of an arranged marriage with a man with balls the size of a hamster’s.
As hot as she was, though, she didn’t hold a candle to the woman currently wrapped up in sheets in the next room. He wondered if Lauren Stanton knew how hot she was. If she was aware that she could have any man wrapped around her pinky finger in an instant. Because she could. He could see that now.
The next few days were going to be a whole lot of fun.
But, as hot as Lauren was, Marc found his mind going to the scars that lined her body. They’d been hard to see in the dark last night, but he could feel the slightly raised lines, like tattoos, all across her body. They were evenly spaced and ran the width of her torso, from hip to hip. There were no marks on her breasts, but there were about three scars along her collarbone. They were all faded and white, much lighter than her tan skin, changing color only when she flushed in embarrassment or intense pleasure.
He'd seen plenty of pink lines last night.
He’d had to suppress the urge to ask her how she got them. It was none of his business, whatsoever. Still, he wanted to know: had she done that to herself? Or had somebody else done that to her? Were they old scars from a tragic childhood?
Or was it something much worse?
He jumped at the sound of a loud beeping noise and held his chest with a deep sigh. That must have been Lauren’s alarm. He waited for her to reach out to turn it off and come out to join him. He searched the cupboards for cups as he awaited the silence and her soft murmur of ‘good morning.’ He hoped that she’d still be wearing the sheet when she entered the kitchen. He wanted nothing more than to take her on the dining room table.
Morning was one of life’s greatest pleasures, in his opinion.
But the alarm continued to go off, even as he located the mugs and poured them each some coffee.
Marc dropped the mugs off on the counter as he made his way back to the bedroom. She must have been in quite a deep sleep if she was ignoring her alarm like this. He smiled to himself, thinking that last night’s activities probably tired her out. She’d probably have trouble walking once she did finally get up.
Stopping in the doorway, he opened his mouth to call out to her, but when he saw the way Lauren was tossing and turning, and heard the way she was whimpering as she did so, he paused and frowned at her sleeping body. Her eyes were closed tighter than they had been just a few moments ago and her mouth was twisted up, almost in pain.
“Hey,” he called to her, his voice too low to penetrate her dreams. He stepped closer, knocking on the wood of her door, the sound echoing around the dark room. “Hey, are you awake?” She didn’t respond, her hands clutching the pillow next to where she slept; the pillow he had been using just ten minutes earlier. He watched as she seemed to attempt to rip the pillow apart, before tossing it at the wall.
It hit the corner with a soft thump, then fell atop the golden retriever’s head, startling her out of her slumber. The dog stood and shook herself a bit, before she seemed to realize that her master was in distress. She trotted to the end of the bed and began to bark, the sounds almost keeping beat with the alarm clock, the two blending together in a rhythm that was almost like music.
Finally, Lauren’s eyes popped open and she sat straight up in bed, breathing heavily as her hand pressed against her chest. For a second she hunched over, attempting to catch her breath. Then, as if realizing her state of dress for the first time, she looked up, her eyes locking on Marc’s tatted and bruised form. The look on her face turned to one of utter and complete terror. Her mouth opened wide and he knew that she was going to scream before the sound was even out of her mouth.
“Whoa!” he said, putting up his hands. “Don’t!” He couldn’t stand screaming. “It’s just me, okay? It’s Marc. Do you remember who I am?”
Lauren’s mouth closed, her lips pressed in a thin line as she took a moment to think. Finally, she nodded, her shoulders relaxing with her realization.
“Good,” Marc said, sighing. “That’s good. Are you okay?” She nodded again. “Okay, that’s good, too. Um, do you wanna maybe turn that off?” He pointed to the alarm clock, which continued to beep away, giving him a headache. Lauren reached for it, hitting the ‘off’ button.
They were shrouded in silence and he breathed a sigh of relief.
“Thanks,” he said. He didn’t know what else to say. He wanted to ask her what was wrong, but he knew she would not answer his question. He’d rather just offer to help her forget, at least for now. He could think of several ways to do that.
But then, he saw the tears in her eyes and realized that wasn’t going to happen. Not now, anyway.
“Um,” he said, looking over his shoulder, into the main room, “I made coffee. It’s on the counter.” Then he turned and walked out, forcing his limp to a minimum. He hesitated for a second, but closed the door behind him, giving her a little space to compose herself.
Marc located a loaf of sliced bread easily enough, in the fridge, and popped a couple of pieces into the toaster, leaning against the counter as he sipped his coffee, black.
Lauren emerged from the bedroom in a pair of scrubs, her hair up in a ponytail and her face devoid of makeup, yet somehow still as desirable as she’d been the day before.
“Good morning,” she murmured as she grabbed her own cup from the counter and reached into the fridge for the cream. Marc’s eyes were drawn to her ass, which was somehow perfectly outlined by the scrub bottoms. He let out a playful whistle and Lauren jumped slightly. “What?” she asked, without removing her head from the fridge.
“Nothing,” he murmured in response. “Just enjoying the view.”
When she straightened up, she gave him a look, her eyebrow raised. He gave her a charming smile in return and watched as her cheeks reddened, even as she rolled her eyes.
“Why are you still naked?” she teased. “Shouldn’t your clothes be dry by now?”
“I prefer to spend my mornings in the buff,” Marc retorted. “You got a problem with that, Doc? Kinda prudish, if you ask me.”
“I think you know that I’m not a prude, Mr. Kelly.” There was fire in her eyes and Marc found himself placing his mug down on the counter, stepping toward her with a reflected heat in his own.
“Do I?” he asked, reaching out to grasp her hips. “Maybe I need a refresher, huh?”
“I don’t have time for that,” Lauren said, dancing away from him. “I have to open the clinic this morning.”
“Let somebody else do it,” he growled, finally hooking his arms around her waist, pulling her up against his body, so that she could feel his hardness against her. He knew that it would be more enticing than just seeing it.
“I wish I could,” Lauren murmured, pressing her lips to his scruff—he gave himself a mental pat on the back for not shaving. “But, sadly, I am an adult.” She pulled out of his embrace, more easily than she should have been able to. “And I have a job to do and patients to see.”
She glanced down and he felt himself get harder. She looked as if she could be persuaded to change her mind. He took a step toward her, but she placed her hand against his chest, stopping him with a look on her face.
“Your knee looks better,” she said. “So do your ribs. You probably don’t have to come in for an X-ray if that’s the case, but you should still stay off your feet.” She turned and made her way back into her bedroom. He heard her rummaging, before she appeared again with a leash and her purse. “I’ll take Emma with me so you don’t have to worry about giving her an afternoon walk. You shouldn’t use stairs today.”
“I’m fine.” His voice was gruff, insistent.
Lauren smiled, knowingly. “Okay,” she said, but it was sarcastic. “Still, you should stay off your feet. I’ve got a comfortable couch, cable, and books. There are some takeout menus in that drawer and all you have to do is put on pants because they usually send a kid for deliveries and I’d rather not explain why a naked man was answering my door at twelve in the afternoon.”
“You’re no fun,” Marc teased.
“Hmm, then I suppose you wouldn’t want my boring ass to be anywhere near you when my shift ends at two, huh?”
“Don’t play with me, Doc,” Marc growled, reaching for her. “Afternoon sex is almost as good as morning sex.”
“You’ll have to prove it,” Lauren husked, nipping at his bottom lip.
Marc growled, tightening his hold on her. “Oh, I will,” he said, before joining his lips with hers in a fiery kiss. When he let her go, she looked dazed, her lips swollen and pink and delicious. Breathlessly, she pushed a flyaway strand of hair behind her ear and cleared her throat.
“I’ll see you later,” she said, obviously trying her best to sound normal. “Put on pants.”
Then she was gone, leaving Marc gazing after her swinging hips and planning what he would do to her when she returned.
*****