A long sigh of relief comes from Julia.
And I don’t have to ask if she wants me with her.
She squeezes my hand and we head to her mother’s room.
23
Julia
Eric isn’t just a miracle.
He’s vulnerable underneath, a man with kindness. He lashed out at me because he’s always had to prove himself to his parents.
I realize that as I’m sitting in his truck, watching him help an older woman, maybe in her seventies, take her wheelchair-bound husband to their car. He’s chatting with them, then helps him inside their car. She must ask for an autograph because she hands him a piece of paper from her car and he signs it.
I smile.
We’ve been at the hospital for hours, and he never left my side except to get food then stand guard as I forced it down.
My mom is resting. I sat by her bedside for the amount of time they let me, but now my body drags, and I need to take care of me so I can see her tomorrow.
“Back to your place?” Eric asks as he gets in the truck.
I need a change of scenery to take my mind off things.
“Can we go to your place?”
He looks over at me as he puts the car in reverse. “Alright.”
I nod, liking that he doesn’t ask questions on the why of it. I watch his strong hands as he steers us out of the parking lot. I take in the yellow and purple bruise around his eye, the cut on his forehead.
He’s done nothing but protect me, and not because he wanted something.
Emotions stir in my chest as I take his hand off the gearshift and put it on my leg. He considers this, rubbing my skin slightly.
“What are you doing?”
“I want you to touch me. I need touch.”
He finally gets the picture and his fingers skate up my leg then stroke back down.
It’s not sexual. His hands massage as if to soothe, and my eyes lower as tingles of pleasure course through my body.
We arrive at his house and pull in. When Sugar and Z dated, I was here a couple of times but avoided it as much as I could.
We walk inside. It’s messy with Chinese take-out boxes and beer cans. Hockey sticks and gear are piled up in the corner. It smells like sweat and men. I laugh. Just what I expected.
“Sorry. Um, the hockey guys had a little party last night. It was better than going back to Kappa.”
I take his hand and lead him toward the stairs. I have a mission. “Where’s your room?”
He points at a door.
I start to climb up the stairs then stop as I catch a pair of eyes watching from the top of the landing. “Oh, how cute!”
“Motherfucking ferret,” he groans as I scoop the creature into my arms.
“Hello, little guy. I didn’t know you had a pet! What’s his name?”
“Lucifer,” he mutters. “Don’t fraternize with the enemy.”
“You don’t like animals? What’s wrong with you?”
“Cats and dogs are cool. But the rat has a twisted fascination with me.”
I let the ferret go as he opens his door. It tries to follow me in, but Eric nudges it out with his leg, slamming the door in its face. “Beat it. I want her to myself.”
I like that.
I gaze around the room, taking in the navy sheets and comforter, the trophies on his dresser, the open door of his closet where clothes spill out. He’s a slob.
He stands by the window, his chest rising as his eyes smolder.
An ache starts in my body. One that demands.
“Do you want me to hold you again?”
My breath hitches. “More than that.”
Without saying a word, he walks over to his bed, beckoning me towards him. A jolt of electricity hits, searing me. My legs feel like jelly as I move closer to him.
Feigning confidence, I kick my Converse off, plop down on his bed, and stretch out.
He stretches out alongside me, and I laugh nervously.
He reaches out and traces a finger down my profile. “You’re in my room, Julia. Is that . . .”
“Yes,” I say as I roll into him.
“Fuck,” he says in a wondering tone, then leans in to kiss me. It’s not gentle like last night, but hungry and greedy.
I wrap my leg around him and run my hands down the corded muscles of his broad back, up under his shirt, feeling his sculpted chest. My pulse hammers.
With one hand threaded through my hair, he pulls his mouth away, eyes boring into mine. “Tell me you want this, too.”
“Please.”
“I want to see you,” he says as he tugs at my shirt, slowly easing it up until he can pull it off my shoulders. His fingers trace the line of my collarbone before he moves to my bra.
His fingers brush across my skin as desire rushes in like a wave. It’s been a while since I let myself be open enough to allow this to happen.