I move the chair a little closer to my queen-sized bed, in one of the rooms I keep above my offices and stroke his hair, trying to calm his restless behavior. He’s having a very active dream.
When Ghost called me with the news of Boxer and Lincoln, my heart nearly stopped. I was so afraid I would never see the man I have loved from afar alive and well again.
Boxer has shown himself as a man of integrity. I’ve watched him work toward settling down and becoming something more to Whisper, someone solid in her life she could rely on. He has made a family for himself, while I’ve looked in from the outside.
Every excuse I had before for not being romantically linked to him dissolved into thin air. It’s not until you nearly lose somebody that you realize how lonely and sad your own life has become.
All these hidden feelings I have locked away resurfaced, and now I haven’t been able to leave his side. He’s been in and out of consciousness, nothing sensible to be made out of anything he’s said over these past few days. Even now, he’s making noises and calling my name, muttering things I can’t quite make out.
He keeps repeating “Ev,” the shortened version he hasn’t used in a long time. The one he reserved for flirting with me, until I knocked him back so many times I became plain old “Doc.”
I wanted to accept his flirting and agree to his advances, but I simply couldn’t. It wasn’t the right time, and when the right time could have been the right time, it appeared he was past there being anything between us. I wasn’t brave enough to put my feelings out there or test the waters to see if there was still a thread of interest from Boxer.
As far as I could tell, Boxer hadn’t gotten himself a girlfriend. He seemed too caught up in his work to have one of those, and I didn’t want to be a booty call.
My brow furrows with concern. He’s getting so restless now that I get up out of my chair and hover over him, trying to listen to what he is saying. I bend down a little closer to try and hear more of his jibberish, when I let out a surprised squeak.
What the hell is he doing?
Before I can stop him, I’m splayed across his body, his hands weaving their way into my hair, tugging on the strands, and it feels so sensual.
Oh, lawd. Now he’s nuzzling my neck, his lips locking onto me, and wow, they feel so good sucking and kissing me there.
Oh myyy.
My eyes roll into the back of their sockets, my fingers finding purchase on his hard chest as I feel my body beginning to respond to his touch, and I can’t even care he’s unconscious.
I should care.
I should pull away.
I should be professional.
Boxer’s my patient, and he’s caught up in what I can only assume is an erotic dream, the way he’s behaving, with me as his co-star.
I need to stop this, the evidence in my panties a warning sign I’m getting in way over my head. And then his lips rise from my neck and I hear him say ever so clearly, “I’ve got all the time in the world, Evelyn Castille.” His husky words purr to me, and then he’s marking me again, his lips insistent as they move against my skin, pulling and sucking, his tongue expertly working my neck while my head rolls about, wanting him to never stop.
I try to think coherently and be conscious of my body weight and his broken foot. I want to help out by spreading my legs on either side of his hips so I don’t knock it, and bear some weight on my knees, but I’m having trouble concentrating on what I should be doing and what is happening. My natural reaction is to want to grind myself against him, my body wanting some relief from its arousal.
“Boxer.” I can only pant his name in a pathetic attempt at waking him up, because he’s stolen my breath. I need to pull my neck away from his mouth, but I can’t seem to find it in me to do so. Just when my conscience is getting the better of me, I feel his hands glide down my spine and over my ass, cupping my butt, and I find I very much like his hands there.
“Ev,” he breathes against my neck on a moan. I want to tell him I’m here, but I’m afraid he’ll come out of the dream he’s having and come to his senses and stop.
The little wanton devil sitting on my shoulder doesn’t want him to stop, but it would be nice if we were on the same page and he was conscious and fully aware, instead of me taking advantage of this situation.
“Need you closer, Ev.” And then I’m being pulled up higher until I’m gently rocked over his very hard erection, the bed coverings and my clothing not much of a barrier.
I think my eyes just rolled back into my head again, because I can’t see anything. I can’t mute the soft little noises escaping me as the pressure builds inside me the more he rubs me against himself, and my hips have a mind of their own, because they want in as they start to groove to his beat.
What am I doing?
I let the angel on my other shoulder speak to me, Ev, pull yourself together. I start to pull away, to do the right thing, my mind at war with what my body wants, what is ethical, but I can’t seem to find the rulebook. I close my eyes, trying to block out how wrong my behavior is, when his hands tighten on me and he starts to grind harder, trying to find my core.
I groan loudly.
Who am I?
I will pay for my sins later. My mouth lunges for Boxer’s, connecting, and I’m kissing him with the intent to have the rulebook thrown at me. I’m all sex-starved female, deprived of intimate contact for far too many years. I thought I was a dried-up raisin, but it appears my raisin is still fresh, because I am so close to liftoff.
I am going to hell for this.
And that’s when my lips are no longer quite connected to Boxer’s, and I hear a deep, satisfactory sigh breathed across our parted lips. It’s the same moment my brain has caught up with the memo it has been trying to deliver and I realize exactly what I have been doing and how unprofessional it is. My eyes swing up, and my face feels like it needs a bucket of ice thrown on it.
Shoot!
I hadn’t even noticed Boxer’s eyes were open, and they are a mixture of hungry and amused as they watch me.
He’s awake?
I bite Boxer’s bottom lip in embarrassment, because it’s the only thing I can think to do, hoping he will release me so I can regain some sense of pride instead of acting like a randy forty-plus-year-old.
He doesn’t help the matter by broadening his amused look into a full-on grin, white teeth everywhere, blinding me.
I’m abusing my patient/doctor relationship, and I try to untangle myself from Boxer’s arms. “Hey”, he whispers to me, with a now toned down silly grin on his face. I’m not sure if he even knows what’s been going on. I pray he’s still dreaming. Some people dream with their eyes open. Don’t they?
Shoot! What have I done?
“Evelyn, I thought I was having a hot dream until I woke up a few minutes ago.”
Yup, he’s still grinning. A few minutes ago?
“I think we just became an item.” That damn sexy British accent. He gives me a sure-of-himself wink and then his eyes wander over my shoulder.
I face-plant on Boxer’s chest as another voice I so do not want to hear starts talking. This just keeps getting better and better.
“Oh hey, Doc, sorry.” Ghost’s deep voice doesn’t even sound the least bit sorry.
Lawd, save me from this embarrassment, for I shall not live this down.
“My bad... should’ve knocked. I see you’re busy.” He coughs a little like he’s trying to smother a laugh. “I heard noises and was checkin’ in to see if everything was all right. You look like you have things under control here.”
I can now hear the laughter he isn’t even trying to disguise. Thank God I am fully clothed.
“I’ll just be going, seeing you’re in safe hands.” I turn my head and give him the stink eye, which only has him shaking his head and laughing out loud. “Good to see you are fightin’ fit, Boxer.”
“Hey, Ghost.” Boxer looks around me and gives his good friend a small wave. I make a mortified noise and look back at Boxer, who seems to really be enjoying himself.
“Good to see you’re awake and makin’ up for lost time. That cocktail the doc’s got you on seems to be workin’ wonders. I’ll catch up with you later on.” And then Ghost is gone, and I’m left with a man with an erection digging into me, and I don’t even know where to begin with what just happened.
Awkward much.
I prioritize my thoughts. The first thing I should do is get off Boxer. I try to roll away, but he’s not having any of it, as my hips are gripped firmly and held in place. “Let me go, Boxer. You were dreaming and you pulled me down onto you, and that is all that happened,” I lie, because I can’t face the truth.
“From where I’m lying, it was a pretty good dream, Ev. Not one to be dismissed so readily.” He raises a fingertip to my neck, gently rubbing the spot I know will be red. “Looks like it played out in 3D. You seem to have been marked, and I seem to remember, in this dream of mine, putting it there and you liking it.” He pulls my face up to look at him, and I am hit with a shot of heat like I’m a crème brulee getting prepared to be eaten.
I need to fan myself.
“I know it,” he begins, and I try to commando roll off him, but I’m tugged back into place. “And you know it.”
I can’t make eye contact, because he’s right, and I don’t know what this truly means for us from here on out.
“Ev, look at me.” He waits until I raise my eyes, and… what beautiful eyes he has. He’s such a handsome man. He’s lost weight from his ordeal, but he’ll be back to his strong self in no time. “Are you with me, Ev?” If it’s possible to blush anymore, I think I just did. “No more pussy-footing about. It’s you and me, love.”
I nod while he puts a very smug smile on his face, and then he kisses me again, and all I want is out of my clothes.
My body responds, seeking out the hardness of his crotch, and I rub myself against him as he moves the best he can to help me out, but then he stops kissing me. I want to whimper at the loss of his lips.
“Ev, I’ve always only had eyes for you, love. You must know that by now?” I want to sigh the way he says ‘love’ with that British accent of his. “A man doesn’t keep coming back if he’s not interested.”
He does keep coming back.
My only response is to grab either side of his head and start kissing him again. Whatever this is right now, it is worth trying. I nearly lost the man I have loved from afar, too afraid to step up to the plate. Now, I’m taking the run at the bases.
Without releasing our lips, I start undoing my sensible blouse. I need out of it. Once it’s discarded, flung somewhere, I try to roll off him again. He misunderstands. My hips are gripped again, holding me in place. I tug my lips away from his. “Do you want me out of these pants or not?”
I’m literally thrown to the side of him, and then I wriggle out of my sensible slacks and kick them away. I look up to see the molten desire in his eyes, and I’m not sure what my next move should be.
He takes that decision away from me by sliding his hand down my belly to the top of my panty line, my hips moving to get closer to his hand, but then he slides that hand right back up my stomach, unclasping my bra with a flick of his fingers.
My breast spills into one hand as he cups it, thumbing my nipple, coaxing it to get harder before his tongue licks the little bud, making me exhale on a sigh. My hips start getting restless as I squirm, needing more, a fire in my belly demanding to be put out.
“Boxer.” I’m begging, I know. He adjusts himself so there are no longer any barriers between us, and tears the hospital gown over his head, leaving him gloriously naked, but still attached to the gown.
“Careful, you’ll rip your IV out.” I help him to thread the bag through the sleeve and untangle himself from the fabric.
“It would appear, Ms. Castille, you have more clothes on than me, now. Care to play fair?” I quickly relieve myself of my bra and go to shimmy out of my not-so-sensible matching panties, when he pulls me toward him so we are lying turned inward. “I can take it from here.” He can’t help looking satisfied with himself as his eyes roam my face. “Beautiful,” he murmurs.
I try not to smile back, when I feel his hand cupping my panties from the front and one brow arches. “Ready for me, Ms. Castille? His hand is inside the lace barrier, feeling my almost bare skin while my hips impatiently tip, trying to find his fingers. I need relief from this maddening arousal that has taken over me.
My foot slides up the bed, bending my knee to give him more access, letting my hip swivel out so I can spread myself for him.
“Ms. Castille....” I like the way he says that, it sounds dirty. “You sure about this?”
Surer than I’ve ever been.
“Yes. Let me show you how much. I don’t want to go another day without trying you and me.”
“We can take it slower, whatever you need, but this,” he points between us, “it’s going to happen, and I’m bleedin’ over the moon it is.”
And then he kisses me with his eyes wide open, our pulses accelerating as our hands move frantically, touching those intimate places, our lips colliding urgently as we taste each other, our climaxes fast and euphoric.
We finally pull apart, and I lay my head on his chest, listening to his heart beat, so strong and alive. This feels right. My heart laid its roots down a long time ago.
We stay like this for a few moments lost in the connection and then his body jolts as though he’s been shocked when he remembers where he is and why. “Ev, is Whisper safe?” I sit up and give him space as he processes everything he can remember.
I think I need to send in Miss Catherine and get Joel on speaker with Ghost. There’s a lot to explain, and he isn’t gonna like any of it. “Boxer, you need to rest, and then we can all talk with you.”
“No! I need to bloody well know what’s happened to her, Evelyn, because I can gather from your answer that she’s not safe.” His tone has changed to a pissed off man who needs his girl back. All sexual tension has been forgotten, and fear for Whisper is filling the bedroom.
“Okay, Boxer, I need to get dressed and then I’ll go get Ghost and Miss Catherine and they can fill you in.” I get up off the bed and quickly slide back into my clothes while I keep talking. He knows from my tone of voice he isn’t going to like what he hears. “But you need to promise me you’ll hear them out and stay calm, because I will stick you with a sedative quicker than you can blink if I think your health is in danger. You’ve only just regained consciousness. Waking up for sips of drinks and potty breaks don’t count. This is the first time you’ve been fully alert, and you need your rest, and we shouldn’t have just done what we did. Edge is doing his best to find another lead, and he isn’t stopping until he gets one.”
Boxer’s body has gone ramrod straight at the mention of Edge’s name. “Who the fuck is Edge, Evelyn, and why does he have anything to do with Whisper?”
“Ghoooost! I need you in here, stat,” I holler. I’m buttoning my blouse up just as Ghost comes charging into the room. Boxer is getting agitated and ready to move, and I don’t think he even realizes his leg is in a cast and he’s still naked. “Ghost!”
“Who the fuck is this Edge?” He’s looking to Ghost for answers.
Shoot! Boxer is on a warpath.
“You might want to sit back, buddy, and I’ll tuck you in for this little bedtime story.” Ghost tries to defuse the situation and get Boxer back into bed, but I know Boxer, and so does he, and the road is about to get very bumpy.
I don’t stick around, leaving to get a sedative, because Boxer is going to need one when Ghost gets to the punch line.