CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Sarah
After a long weekend filled with crazy hours and, in some cases, equally crazy patients and their family members, I have plans to go home and enjoy some one-on-one time with myself.
In case you’re wondering, yes, I got a new vibrator and new batteries. I’m not about to worry about round two of what felt like electricity zapping my clitoris. Nuh-uh. No siree.
I need some stress relief, and since I’m off for the next four days, what better way to set the tone than masturbation? Not only does it relieve stress but, according to some medical studies, it can also help to boost the immune system—post-orgasm, of course. So, ultimately, I’m doing a great service to my body in more ways than one. Considering I work in a high-stress environment and am constantly around sick people, this is a brilliant life choice.
Okay, so I’m probably laying it on a bit thick, but you have to admit I’m bringing up some valid points right now.
My game plan is to head home, read some hot romance novel, and break my new vibrator in. Oh, and I’m going to order some takeout—pad thai from the place two blocks away. I know, I know. I sound like some perverted frat boy, don’t I? I can’t help it.
I settle on my bed, propped up slightly on my pillows, and then start my vibrator. Thumbing the keys on my phone, I pull up the Kindle app, so I can get back to the hot scene in the latest book I’d been reading.
Except something goes terribly awry and, as I adjust the vibrator’s placement against my clit, I glance over to start reading and don’t see a page of the book.
I see Jack’s face staring back at me.
“Oh shit!” I’m trying to cover the screen but lose my grip and my phone lands right over my freaking vagina.
My vagina is officially FaceTiming Jack.
That slut.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” Oh my God. I’m never showing my face again. I’m taking a nursing job in Nairobi next.
Grabbing the phone and tugging it from where it’s nestled between my thighs, I rush to shut off the obvious sound of my vibrator. With a wince, I bring the phone up to my face.
“Hello, Sunshine.” Without opening my eyes, I can hear the humor in his tone. “I certainly hope that’s not how you greet everyone on FaceTime. Not that I’m complaining, of course.”
I open my eyes to squint at him. “A gentleman wouldn’t mention that to a lady.”
A smile stretches his handsome face. “Never claimed to be a gentleman, now, did I?”
“Jack.” I draw out his name, my tone one of warning.
“Sunshine,” he counters playfully. “So I guess I know what your plans are for the night, huh?”
He’s enjoying this far too much.
“And I must say, I’m quite impressed with your recent wax job.”
Seriously?
“Maybe I can come over and check it out in person.”
“Jack Westbrook.” I stare at him grinning back at me. “Do you really expect that to work with me?”
He offers me a sheepish grin. “Not really.” His smile dims slightly, and his voice drops, sounding huskier. “You should know by now that I love teasing you.”
I release a tiny sigh. “Since I’m clearly not going to molest myself right now, do you maybe want to come over for some pad thai and to watch a movie?”
His eyes narrow playfully. “Depends. Are we watching your favorite movie The Princess Bride?”
I roll my eyes with a smile. “As you wish.”
“I’ll be over in a few.” He winks at me. “Put some clothes on, Buttercup.”
* * *
“As many times as I watch this movie—and I never tire of it—I still think she should have been nicer to him and admitted her feelings.”
“Women are sometimes slow to realize a guy likes them.” Jack’s pointed gaze is telling.
“Ah.” I nudge him with my shoulder. “Touché, Westbrook.” Rising from the couch, I head into my small kitchen to put my container of pad thai in the refrigerator. They always give such large portions, so I’ll be eating on that for a day or so.
“I think I’m going to head home.”
Jack’s subdued tone makes me turn to find him leaning against the wall in my kitchen, watching me. Something unreadable flickers in his eyes, and I can’t deny a part of me wants to ask him to stay. But another part of me is afraid. Because every single time we get together in a sexual way, it’s trouble. Mayhem ensues. And I’d really like to end our evening on a good note and not tempt the universe to throw us another major curveball.
“I’ll walk you out,” I say softly.
As we head over to my door, I wait for him to put his shoes on and pull on the hooded sweatshirt to ward off the slight chill in the night air. He steps closer, his eyes warm, a soft smile playing at his lips, and he slips a hand to the small of my back.
Dipping his head, he dusts a gentle kiss on my lips. “Thanks for having me over, Sunshine.”
“You’re welcome,” I whisper back.
He releases me, backing away to pull open the door, and bids me good night. When he steps over the threshold, I stop him before he can pull the door closed behind him.
“Wait.” I detect the urgency in my tone and catch his worried look when he turns back. Reaching my hands out to hook in the pockets of his hooded sweatshirt, I tug him toward me, lifting to my toes and pressing my lips to his.
As if he had been anticipating my move, one of his hands cups the back of my head, slanting his mouth to deepen our kiss. His other hand lands on my hip, tugging me closer. I’m not certain how long we kiss until a door down the hall sounds, the light slam startling us.
Breaking the kiss, he looks down at me tenderly before pressing his lips to mine one final time. “Good night, Sunshine.”
“Night, Jack.”