Chapter 31
Colby
No boners, no boners, no boners.
Lydia looks curvy and strong and healthy and smooth standing on the pool ledge in her swim suit. She’s mentioned she does yoga in her bedroom every morning and crunches and push-ups every night, and I can plainly see the results of her efforts. She’s tight where I like a woman to be tight and soft where I like ’em soft. Hot damn. The woman is much hotter than I fantasized she’d be—and that’s saying a lot. In short, she’s a goddess.
“Hey,” I say, trying to sound casual as I make my way toward her with my walker. I take a deep breath and focus all my energy on not popping a boner underneath my swim trunks.
Lydia’s caramel eyes overtly scan the full length of my body and linger noticeably on my tattooed chest. When she jerks her gaze back to my face, she’s blushing. “You look great,” she chirps, but her eyes tell me her sunny tone doesn’t match her inner dialogue. She motions to the stairs of the pool. “Make sure you grab firmly onto the railing as you descend the steps.”
With Lydia’s help, I transition from my walker to the railing, telling myself over and over again not to pitch a tent until I’m waist-deep in the water.
“Don’t put full weight on your left leg as you descend,” Lydia warns as I go. “Lean on the railing, Colby.”
When I’m about halfway down the steps, Lydia enters the pool and turns around to wait for me. She’s waist-deep in the water beckoning me like a siren, her glorious breasts and abs and hips on full display as I slowly walk toward her.
“Good,” Lydia says. “Take your time.”
Before I’ve even hit the last step, I feel my dick hardening. Quickly, I shift my gaze to a physical therapist-patient duo behind Lydia in the pool—a male PT and a white-haired old lady—and, thankfully, my dick quiets down just long enough for me to get into the water.
Lydia grabs my hands and guides me into the pool. She says something, but I don’t catch it because I’m too distracted by my thickening dick.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “What?”
“I was saying that with strength training, we’re going to do whatever you can tolerate from a pain standpoint. If you feel pain, we stop whatever we’re doing. The key is gradually incorporating more challenging activities each week. It’s got to be a slow, gradual process or you might hurt your muscles.”
Okay, I can’t process any of that. All I know is I’m mere inches away from her and that we’re in our bathing suits and our hands are joined. All I know is I want this woman more than I’ve ever wanted anyone in my life. That I want to fuck her. Kiss her. Lick her. Suck her. I want to touch every inch of her glorious body. To feel myself inside her and hear the sounds of her pleasure. “Great,” I reply, but only because it seems like she’s waiting for a reply and that one seems like a safe bet.
“How do you feel?” she asks, leading me to walk slowly around the pool like a toddler learning to swim.
“Amazing, actually. The lack of full gravity on my limbs makes me feel almost like my old self.”
Lydia peels her eyes off my chest. “I’m sorry. What?”
I smirk. Plainly, I’m not the only one feeling a wee bit distracted right now. “I said I feel almost like my old self in the water.”
“Yeah, the gravitational pull on your muscles and joints is much less when you’re submerged in water. That’s why I’m such a huge fan of aqua-therapy. Okay, let’s head over to the ledge now. We’ll do some leg lifts.” She guides me slowly toward the ledge by my hands.
As we move together, my hard-on is bulging between us. I can’t imagine she’s missed it. It’s mere inches from her crotch and straining toward her like a sunflower leaning toward the sun.
I look down at her breasts. Her nipples are rock hard behind the spandex of her suit. Her skin is truly stunning. Smooth and sexy and a beautiful hue.
We arrive at the pool ledge and she backs me gently against it. She’s so close now, I feel her body heat wafting over my wet skin across the surface of the water.
Her hands still clasped with mine, she whispers, “What’s the story behind that tattoo on your chest?” She juts her chin at the phrase inked across my pecs: Here Today, Gone Tomorrow. “Did you get that after the fire?”
There’s a splashing noise in the water behind Lydia’s back. The PT-patient duo in the pool is walking behind us through the water, heading for the steps.
I wait, praying they’re leaving.
Neither of us speaks.
Please, God, make them leave.
The male physical therapist helps his white-haired patient ascend the steps. He brings her a towel and walker. They chat and slowly walk toward the exit of the pool area. They walk through the door, still talking. And then they’re gone.
It’s quiet.
We’re alone.
In the water.
About eight inches apart.
In our swim suits.
Holding hands.
Lydia’s hazel eyes are locked onto my baby blues.
“Your tattoo?” she prompts.
Her chest is heaving. Her breasts look full and inviting at the water line. Her light brown skin is glistening with a sheen of water. She’s smooth, curvy perfection.
“I got it two years ago,” I say softly. “I’ve seen a lot of death in my job.”
As if in a trance, she nods, unclasps her right hand from mine, and then slowly, ever so slowly, as water drips off her slender hand, she brushes her fingertips across the letters of my tattoo.
And that’s it. At the touch of her fingers against my bare flesh, a white-hot rocket of desire shoots straight into my dick and shatters my resolve to keep the promise I made in my text four weeks ago. In a flash of uncontrollable desire, I grab Lydia’s face, pull her to me, and crush my mouth greedily against hers.
At the first contact of my lips on Lydia’s, she throws her arms around my neck and presses herself against my hard-on, and, just like that, every cell in my body explodes with the most intense desire I’ve ever experienced—a primal need to claim her, fuck her, lick her. Own her.
I open her lips with mine and slide my tongue into her mouth, eliciting a sexy, throaty moan from her that almost makes me come in my swim trunks. I slide my hand down her back, cup her ass cheek in my palm, and pull her flush against my hard-on.
She moans into my mouth and grinds herself wantonly into my dick, pushing my back into the pool ledge.
“Lydia,” I breathe. “I’ve wanted you from—”
“Well, well, well,” a female voice says, cutting me off, and we break apart like teenagers caught by a cop with a flashlight.
“Ramona!” Lydia gasps, leaping away from me and wiping her mouth. “This was the first time. This has never happened before.”
The woman bends over the pool ledge toward us, a steely smile on her lips, and practically hisses her words. “Save me the bullshit, Lydia. You’re going down.”
“Whoa,” I say, utterly shocked at this woman’s bile. “Let’s talk about this rationally for a second. It was just a kiss.”
But the bitch doesn’t acknowledge me. She’s only got eyes for Lydia. Piercing, death-stare eyes. “It was so clever of you to reserve a station in the clinic and then sneak him into the pool at the last minute. I guess you figured no one would catch you breaking the rules in here, huh?”
Holy shit. I suddenly recognize this woman. She’s that physical therapist who’s always at the next station when Lydia works on me. Lydia told me she has it out for her, and that she’s the one who showed her the policy in the handbook. What the fuck? I thought Lydia was just being paranoid when she worried about this woman gunning for her...
Lydia looks stricken. “Ramona, listen to me. This was literally the first time we’ve ever had any kind of sexual contact, ever, and it won’t happen again.”
Ramona. Wait. Why does that name sound familiar?
“I know what I saw. You were attacking him, Lydia.”
“She’s telling the truth,” I say, my mind searching its memory banks to figure out where I’ve heard the name Ramona before. “I kissed Lydia. She didn’t kiss me.”
Ramona shoots me an incredibly fake smile. “Unfortunately, what I saw was Lydia mauling you, Mr. Morgan. And there are clear rules against Lydia doing that—for important reasons, by the way.” She straightens up on the pool ledge, a vicious smile on her face. “I’m sorry to say, after what I just saw, there’s no doubt in my mind Lydia will lose her job at this hospital, and might not even be able to work anywhere in the state of Washington ever again. Sexual misconduct is a big no-no in our profession.”
Lydia lets out a squeal of anxiety.
I grab Lydia’s arm to calm her. “Ramona, there’s no need for you to go scorched earth about this. I’m a thirty-year-old man. This isn’t some form of sexual abuse of a vulnerable patient. I kissed Lydia and knew exactly what I was doing. I’m not some ninety-year-old guy with dementia. I knew exactly what I was doing and I kissed her.”
“There’s no such thing as fault in these situations. There’s two people kissing and one of them is a physical therapist and the other her patient. It’s as simple as that. Even if I wanted to look the other way, I couldn’t.”
“Ramona, please!” Lydia blurts, her voice steeped in panic. “I don’t know why you’ve had it out for me since I started working here, but I’m begging you to please—”
“I don’t have it out for you, Lydia,” Ramona says, a wicked smile curling on her lips. “I’m simply protecting your patient.”
“What’s your problem, Ramona?” I roar. “Are you fucking insane?”
Ramona’s smile vanishes. “Keep your temper in check, Mr. Morgan.” She looks at Lydia, her eyes burning. “Thanks to her outrageously inappropriate behavior, Lydia has now subjected this hospital to potential liability.”
“What?” Lydia shrieks. She looks absolutely panic-stricken.
“The rules are black and white,” Ramona says coldly. “No sex on the job.”
Boom. I just remembered where I’ve heard the name Ramona before. A diabolical smile spreads across my face. “Hey, Ramona,” I say calmly. “About that no-sex-on-the-job thing, does that also apply to a physical therapist paying for sex in a supply closet?”
Ramona’s eyes widen. She staggers like she’s been shot.
I slide my hand into Lydia’s, warmth spreading throughout my body. “Guess what Ramona here did back when I was an in-patient at the hospital, Lydia? She paid my little brother twenty bucks to fuck her in a supply closet. The supply closet across from the cafeteria.”
Lydia’s jaw is hanging open.
And so is Ramona’s.
I continue, smiling like an assassin at Ramona. “I can’t help wondering what this hospital and the state of Washington would think about a physical therapist paying a male prostitute for sex while on the job.”
“I didn’t...” Ramona chokes out. “You’re lying. It’s a fabrication. Never happened.”
“Oh, really?” I say. “Because Keane was pretty damned detailed about what happened in that supply closet. He said he felt totally insulted by the twenty measly bucks you paid him to screw you—which he did upon your solicitation, by the way. He felt, based on usual market rates for his services, giving you three O’s should have earned him at least a Benjamin.”
Ramona sputters. Gasps. Looks like her brain is physically melting.
“I gotta figure screwing a prostitute while on duty would be enough to get your ass fired. Add a solicitation of prostitution charge and I’m guessing you’d lose your PT licensing, too. Actually, Keane wanted to rat you out that very day, he was so pissed about what a cheapskate you are. But I told him, ‘No, no, little brother. Live and let live. I’m sure that’s how Ramona lives her life—live and let live.’” I smirk. “But I guess I was wrong about you.”
Lydia squeezes my hand and I squeeze back. For the first time since the fire, I feel completely like my old self again. And it feels amazing.
“I...” Ramona begins. She looks like she’s on the verge of tears. “Your brother’s lying. It’s his word against mine. Nobody would believe a male prostitute’s word over mine.”
“Actually, Keane doesn’t lie. But it doesn’t matter because he’s a total perv who took a video of you while he was pounding you from behind. He showed it to me and you can clearly see the side of your face.”
Ramona turns sheet-white. “We were both consenting adults. I paid him as a joke.”
“Oh, yeah? Well, if that’s how you want to explain screwing a guy named Peen Star in a supply closet to your boss here at the hospital—oh, and to the cops, too—then be my guest. But that’s not what Peen Star will say. He’ll say it was a business transaction.”
Ramona looks like she’s going to throw up. “You’re lying about the video.”
“I’m not. But, please, test me.” I hold her gaze firmly.
She looks like she’s on the cusp of hyperventilating. “I want to see it.”
“No. You’re not in any position to negotiate here, Ramona. All you need to know is it exists and all four Morgan boys have seen it and we’ll all support Keane’s version of the story.”
“Oh my God. Colby, please. Tell your brother to delete that video. I’ll do anything.”
“Damn straight, you will. You’re gonna do exactly as I say. You’re gonna turn around and march out of here and forget you ever saw Lydia and me today. You’re not gonna say a word about it to anyone and you’re gonna stay the fuck away from me and my girl ’til the end of time. Do you understand?”
“Send me that video.”
“You’re in no position to demand anything. That video is my insurance policy to make sure you keep your mouth shut.”
She exhales. “How do I know your brother will keep his mouth shut?”
“You have my word. Keane will keep your dirty little secret if I tell him to because Keane, unlike you, is a good-hearted person who doesn’t get pleasure from causing other people pain or misery. But I promise you this as a Morgan: if you ever fuck with my girl again, The Morgan Mafia will come down on your ass so hard, you’ll wish you never walked through that door today. Count on it.”