Our lips came together as his fingers wove through my hair, tilting my head. The ferocity of his kiss bruised my lips as our tongues began to mingle. For the first time in over a week, I allowed myself to luxuriate in Van’s embrace, tasting his kiss, and enjoying the feel of his body against mine.
Without provocation, moans escaped my throat as my insides grew tight. I wasn’t the only one to have a physical reaction. Van’s blue jeans bulged as his erection pushed against the constraints of the denim.
When we pulled away, I grinned. “The doctor recommended…”
Van’s fingers splayed beneath my top. “She said sexual intercourse depended on my pain level and stamina.”
“I’m okay with taking it slow.” Scanning the beautiful suite, the woodwork, and the view beyond the windows, I appreciated the contrast to the hospital room. “It’s good to be here with you and no nurses coming in at all hours.”
“I agree.”
“I would love a bath, a glass of wine, and a fire—in the fireplace,” I added.
“In the fireplace.” Van’s expression sobered. “Are the paintings gone?”
“Yes. I didn’t look in the closet, but from what Albert said…yes.” I saw the dimming of Van’s golden flecks. “Does that make you sad?”
“No. The reason I saved them no longer exists, or maybe she does” —he feigned a smile— “and she isn’t a canvas, but a real person—Brooklyn, the best thing Madison ever created.” Van stood. His movements were deliberate yet getting quicker by the day. Offering me his hand, he said, “I’d love to join you in that bath.”
“The instructions said not to soak your incision.”
“Then I’ll call Michael for food and wine from downstairs and talk to him about them alternating staying on the premises.”
I nodded.
His thumb came to my cheek. “Then I’ll shower and afterward, watch you bathe.”
My grin grew. “Watch me?”
Van nodded, his gaze shimmering. “And after your bath…” He left the possibilities open, adding one clue to his thoughts. “Where is that vibrator you packed?”
Julia
“It’s not just Donovan,” Paula said, Friday morning. “Men are the worst patients.”
Holding my mug of coffee, I grinned. “He’s not that bad. They gave instructions and he’s following them—mostly.” My mind went to the first night we were back. The first time in over a week when we were finally alone—alone with bodyguards down the hall.
The bath.
The food.
The wine.
The vibrator.
Donovan may not be ready for sex, but that was only in the truest sense of the word. Intercourse was postponed. The last few nights and days were sensual and real. It was virgin territory for both of us—taking things as far as we could while supporting one another and lingering in the bliss of being together.
Van’s struggles were physical.
There was still pain in his abdomen when he moved certain ways. And while he needed more rest than before, his energy level was improving.
My struggles were more emotional.
Physically, I had virtually no residual effects from what Madison had done. The cough brought on by the smoke was nearly gone. It was emotionally and psychologically where I battled. I imagined being watched. I startled at everyday noises. I asked Jonathon to do something about the vent on the third floor. I kept every light in the suite on until we were in bed, and even then, I left the shower light on in the bathroom, not allowing our fortress to be fully covered in darkness.
Despite Van’s and my individual battles, our wants and desires focused on one another. Since our first meeting, our connection had been palpable. Since our return to the house, we’d proven that we could bring one another pleasure without intercourse. We could lead one another to heights and hold on as our bodies found release.
While this was different, I wouldn’t say that it was bad.