Closer to the Edge
Page 18
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The whole way over, I thought about my last encounter with Olivia, trying to figure out what I could do differently this time to calm her down and convince her to give me a chance to explain things. Seeing her for the first time after all those long, lonely nights, my good intentions had flown right out the damn window. I just wanted to drink in the sight of her, tell her how much I missed her and how fucking beautiful she was. After the way I abandoned her, I should have realized she’d be pissed and platitudes and bullshit excuses were the last things she’d want to hear. It’s going to take time to make her understand why I had to leave and I’m going to have to be patient. I can’t rush this.
Right now, my focus is on getting her to come back as my nurse. I need to convince her that she’s the only one who can do this job without her realizing I’m tricking her into spending more time with me. I feel slightly guilty about deceiving her, but I console myself with the knowledge that it’s for a good cause. This time, I’m playing for keeps. I will not hold anything back when it comes to my past. She’s going to see everything—the good, the bad and the really fucking ugly. Let’s just hope I have what it takes to pull a little reverse psychology on her.
Taking a few calming breaths, I put all my weight on my good leg and knock on the door. There’s no answer after a few minutes so I knock again, louder this time. I hear a muffled “The door’s open!” from inside. As I turn the handle and shove the door open wide enough to maneuver myself and the crutches through the doorway, I start to reprimand Olivia for leaving her door unlocked and for not checking to see who knocked. The words die on my lips when I see her rush down the hallway wearing nothing but a towel that barely covers her. As she busily dries her hair with a hand towel, I stare in wonder at the paths created by the droplets of water falling onto her shoulders and chest.
“Don’t kill me, Parker, I’m running late. I swear—”
She stops abruptly when she sees me, the hand towel falling to the floor.
“What the hell are you doing here?” she screeches, cinching the towel that was precariously close to falling off just a few seconds ago tighter around her body.
It takes a minute for my mangled brain to form a sentence. The only thing I see, the only thing I can think about is all the smooth skin under that towel. The upper swells of her soft, firm tits are peeking out of the top and she’s trying hard to cover them up, but every upward tug of the towel puts more bare thigh on display, so she hastily pulls at the bottom, as well. Up, down, up, down. She’s battling with the meager material to conceal her body, but it’s just making things worse.
All that damp, bare skin on display makes my hands itch to run themselves up those thighs and my mouth water at the thought of licking every inch of her tits. Nine months in the Dominican plus three months spent in and out of hospitals stateside equals one year since I’ve felt this woman beneath me. Twelve dark, lonely months spent alone with only my memories of Olivia to jerk-off to. Now she’s here, mere feet away from me, the smell of her skin billowing around me, the scent of coconut burning into my brain and acting like an accelerant for my dick. I’m so fucking hard that my dick hurts worse than my knee right now.
I shift my body as best I can on my crutches and try not to wince as my hard-on rubs up against the front of my jeans.
“You painted over the door.”
I inwardly cringe at the gruff words that come out of my mouth. Olivia is staring at me like she wants to play with my intestines and that’s the best I can come up with?
Giving up on the notion of modesty, she quits tugging at the towel and crosses her arms over her chest. “I decided yellow was an ugly color for a door.”
I watch her eyes soften the tiniest bit as some of the anger goes out of her face. I wonder if she’s remembering the day we painted the door. I’d come back early from my run on the beach because a bunch of teenagers were goofing around, lighting off fireworks. At the first sounds of the POP-POP-POP of the Cherry Bombs, my heart felt like it would explode in my chest and I dove to the sand, covering my head with my hands. It took me a few minutes to realize what the fuck was going on and, by the time I stood up and brushed the sand off of me, my adrenaline was pumping so hard I knew finishing my eight mile run wouldn’t be enough to calm my nerves. I needed Olivia. I needed her soft, reassuring voice and the heat from her body to bring me back down to earth.
“Sorry to just show up like this,” I tell her with a shrug, hopping on my good leg to try and find a more comfortable way to stand.
Her eyes widen and she takes a few steps towards me. “Shit, your knee! You’re not supposed to be standing on that thing, are you? For God’s sake, sit down on the couch or something.”
She reaches out to grab my arm, but I shoo her away with my hand. It’s bad enough standing here within touching distance of her when she’s practically naked. If she puts her hands on me, I will toss my crutches across the room and pull her into my arms, fucked up knee be damned.
“It’s fine. It looks like you’re in a hurry to go somewhere, so I won’t take up much of your time.”
A flash of guilt washes over her face and she breaks eye contact, staring down at her feet instead of me. For a minute I wonder if she’s going on a date. She obviously thought I was Parker when I knocked on the door, but what if she’s doubling with Parker and Garrett? Jealously consumes me and I clench my fists tightly on the handles of the crutches. Why in the fuck did I tell her to move on when I left? In hindsight, it clearly wasn’t the smartest move, but I honestly never thought I would make it back alive from that mission and I wanted more than anything for her to be happy. Standing here now, faced with the possibility that she took my words to heart and made good on my request, has my guts in knots and my fist itching to go through the nearest wall.
Right now, my focus is on getting her to come back as my nurse. I need to convince her that she’s the only one who can do this job without her realizing I’m tricking her into spending more time with me. I feel slightly guilty about deceiving her, but I console myself with the knowledge that it’s for a good cause. This time, I’m playing for keeps. I will not hold anything back when it comes to my past. She’s going to see everything—the good, the bad and the really fucking ugly. Let’s just hope I have what it takes to pull a little reverse psychology on her.
Taking a few calming breaths, I put all my weight on my good leg and knock on the door. There’s no answer after a few minutes so I knock again, louder this time. I hear a muffled “The door’s open!” from inside. As I turn the handle and shove the door open wide enough to maneuver myself and the crutches through the doorway, I start to reprimand Olivia for leaving her door unlocked and for not checking to see who knocked. The words die on my lips when I see her rush down the hallway wearing nothing but a towel that barely covers her. As she busily dries her hair with a hand towel, I stare in wonder at the paths created by the droplets of water falling onto her shoulders and chest.
“Don’t kill me, Parker, I’m running late. I swear—”
She stops abruptly when she sees me, the hand towel falling to the floor.
“What the hell are you doing here?” she screeches, cinching the towel that was precariously close to falling off just a few seconds ago tighter around her body.
It takes a minute for my mangled brain to form a sentence. The only thing I see, the only thing I can think about is all the smooth skin under that towel. The upper swells of her soft, firm tits are peeking out of the top and she’s trying hard to cover them up, but every upward tug of the towel puts more bare thigh on display, so she hastily pulls at the bottom, as well. Up, down, up, down. She’s battling with the meager material to conceal her body, but it’s just making things worse.
All that damp, bare skin on display makes my hands itch to run themselves up those thighs and my mouth water at the thought of licking every inch of her tits. Nine months in the Dominican plus three months spent in and out of hospitals stateside equals one year since I’ve felt this woman beneath me. Twelve dark, lonely months spent alone with only my memories of Olivia to jerk-off to. Now she’s here, mere feet away from me, the smell of her skin billowing around me, the scent of coconut burning into my brain and acting like an accelerant for my dick. I’m so fucking hard that my dick hurts worse than my knee right now.
I shift my body as best I can on my crutches and try not to wince as my hard-on rubs up against the front of my jeans.
“You painted over the door.”
I inwardly cringe at the gruff words that come out of my mouth. Olivia is staring at me like she wants to play with my intestines and that’s the best I can come up with?
Giving up on the notion of modesty, she quits tugging at the towel and crosses her arms over her chest. “I decided yellow was an ugly color for a door.”
I watch her eyes soften the tiniest bit as some of the anger goes out of her face. I wonder if she’s remembering the day we painted the door. I’d come back early from my run on the beach because a bunch of teenagers were goofing around, lighting off fireworks. At the first sounds of the POP-POP-POP of the Cherry Bombs, my heart felt like it would explode in my chest and I dove to the sand, covering my head with my hands. It took me a few minutes to realize what the fuck was going on and, by the time I stood up and brushed the sand off of me, my adrenaline was pumping so hard I knew finishing my eight mile run wouldn’t be enough to calm my nerves. I needed Olivia. I needed her soft, reassuring voice and the heat from her body to bring me back down to earth.
“Sorry to just show up like this,” I tell her with a shrug, hopping on my good leg to try and find a more comfortable way to stand.
Her eyes widen and she takes a few steps towards me. “Shit, your knee! You’re not supposed to be standing on that thing, are you? For God’s sake, sit down on the couch or something.”
She reaches out to grab my arm, but I shoo her away with my hand. It’s bad enough standing here within touching distance of her when she’s practically naked. If she puts her hands on me, I will toss my crutches across the room and pull her into my arms, fucked up knee be damned.
“It’s fine. It looks like you’re in a hurry to go somewhere, so I won’t take up much of your time.”
A flash of guilt washes over her face and she breaks eye contact, staring down at her feet instead of me. For a minute I wonder if she’s going on a date. She obviously thought I was Parker when I knocked on the door, but what if she’s doubling with Parker and Garrett? Jealously consumes me and I clench my fists tightly on the handles of the crutches. Why in the fuck did I tell her to move on when I left? In hindsight, it clearly wasn’t the smartest move, but I honestly never thought I would make it back alive from that mission and I wanted more than anything for her to be happy. Standing here now, faced with the possibility that she took my words to heart and made good on my request, has my guts in knots and my fist itching to go through the nearest wall.
