“Very well, Sir.” He Looks at Issi. “I’m happy you’re okay, Ma’am.”
With that, we are through the door into the lobby.
“It can be fixed.” I squeeze Issi close to me as we get inside and head for the elevator.
“I can’t go to your room. I need to get home.”
“You need to get warm. Take a breath. Work can wait.”
“Work cannot wait,” she argues, giving me a hot glare, but for the first time her hair falls back from her face, and she does nothing to hide.
“Look.” I punch the button to the fourth floor. “You are freezing, and you don’t have a car. Trust me, I get the ‘work first’ thing. It’s my life, but I even found a way to get here for our parents’ little impromptu wedding. So you can take a few minutes to get warm, then if you still want to go, I’ll drive you.”
I throw the ‘if’ in that last sentence because not so deep down, I want her to stay. Not just to fuck her, because, God do I want to fuck her.
No, to just have her next to me. In the same room. I want to share space with her. Breathe the same air as her.
Crazy, I know. But right now, my ultimate dream would be to just have her sleep with me. Literally, just sleep. In my bed, in my t-shirt, pulled in next to me.
My mother used to say dreams come true. I didn’t believe it, and I never thought much about it, but right now, I’m going to do whatever I can to make this one happen.
Inside the elevator, I can hear my pulse racing and it’s so loud, I’m sure she can too. I’ve given up trying to calm my hard-on, and if she looks, she looks. Matter of fact, I sort of need her to know what she’s doing to me.
But I also need her to know this: no one has created that sort of reaction in me in decades.
The elevator dings and the doors slide open, and as they do, she coughs again. Then again.
Before we can get out, she’s choking on her coughs, looking up at me and waving her hand as if to say, ‘I’m okay.’
“You are not okay.” I reach down and scoop her up, pulling her against me and rushing down the hall.
Her eyes are bulging, and she can’t seem to get control of her breathing. She’s not even fighting me by the time I get to the door. I turn my ass to the sensor, my key card in my back pocket.
From staying in hotels with these key systems more than I like to admit, I have a system, so I don’t have to get my card out every damn time I get to my room. Get the key within range, and the green light blinks, I use my elbow to press the door handle down, and we are inside the room.
Issi is still coughing when I get her to the bed and lay her down.
She flails around until her purse is on her lap, but it’s clear she can’t breathe, and her eyes stretch wide, desperate.
It dawns on me.
“Are you an asthmatic? Do you have an inhaler?”
She nods, her lips already tinted blue, and I dump the contents of her purse on the bed.
“I don’t see it.” I rifle through everything, then return to the purse where on the inside I see a zippered pocket.
Her head is not back on the pillow, she’s not coughing anymore, and I know that’s a bad sign. Her eyes are slits when I unzip the pocket and pull out the small blue plastic inhaler.
I open her lips with one hand and push the opening between them, pressing down on the canister that releases the medication. I puff once. Give her a second. Puff again before setting it on the nightstand and reaching around to pull her into me, stuffing pillows behind her and laying her back, so she’s more upright.
“Issi.” I put my hands on her freezing cheeks. “More? Can you hear me? Should I give you another dose?”
Her right hand comes up just a few inches, motioning for more.
I repeat the process, giving her two more puffs until she holds her hand up telling me to pause.
I sit on the edge of the bed, one hand on her cheek, the other on her chest, feeling her heart racing. I’m ready to reach into my pocket and call 911 when I hear her take a breath.
Then another.
Eyes opening.
Her hand comes to rest on my wrist, where I’ve got my palm pressed to her chest through her soft silk blouse. The soft warmth of her fingers sends electricity up my arm, landing in a burst where my heart is on fire.
Eyes on me now.
My throat is tight, I can barely draw my own breath as I wait.