"Now can I touch your cheek?"
"Oh, is there something special about my cheek?"
"Not just your cheek."
"My ass, then? I've been told-"
"Shut up, Prescott, you're ruining it for me."
The mirth disappears from him and strips me of my defenses. My heart flutters wildly, because he can't possibly do what I think he might.
But he does. His head inches closer and so do his lips, the ones I've always dreamed of for years, the ones I've fantasized about until I climaxed. When they touch mine, they are as light as butterflies dancing across my flesh. I imagine it's because he doesn't want to hurt my already misshapen lips. I open my mouth to sigh and his tongue pushes through. I fist his shirt with my hand and pull him to me, but he holds firm, keeps it gentle. It's all I can do not to crush myself against him.
When he breaks the kiss, my body aches for more and I moan.
"Vivi, I don't want to hurt you. Your face and arm need to heal." Is this the same man who, at one time, could only talk about fucking me?
"Who are you and what have you done to Prescott Beckham?"
"I think maybe Vivienne Renard is turning him into a better man."
Prescott isn't a very easy man to read, unless he's angry, but this time I look into golden eyes that are open, honest, and caring.
Chapter 21
Prescott
Talk about baring one's soul. The greatest thing of all, though, is the vulnerability didn't come as I thought it would. Why is that? Maybe it was the kiss that accompanied it-and the fact that she wanted it to go on and I had to stop makes me feel like a fucking king sitting on top of the world.
If she wasn't in such bad shape, I would've let it continue-but her face wasn't exactly in ready-for-kissing condition. One thing stopping did, though, was gain her respect. Or I think it did. She gazed at me warmly as I tucked her into bed last night anyway.
We spend a quiet, lazy Sunday morning together, before discussing hiring someone to stay with her while I'm at work. Eric comes to visit in the afternoon and at one point makes such a fuss, I have to steer him aside and tell him to pull his shit together.
"She's been through it, man. Don't let her see you react like this. She needs your strength, not some pussy shit. Got it? If you can't handle it, you gotta leave."
He runs his hands through his hair over and over. "Lucas said it was bad, really bad. But I, shit, yeah, okay. You're right. All I want to do is hug her."
"Hug her, but do it like a man. And don't squeeze her. She's broken, Eric. She needs you. She needs us all."
"Okay, got it."
I have to hand it to him. He squares his shoulders and heads straight for Vivi with no hesitation in his steps.
"Vivi, tell me what you need from me. I can do whatever. Sit with you, help you when I don't have to work, just say the word. I've got your back."
"Thanks, Eric. Do you know anyone who does hair? I need this mop washed."
I perk up at that. I want to be the one who washes that mane of hers. "Uh, Vivi, I can help you with that."
"You wouldn't mind?"
My sour look conveys my answer and I instantly regret it as she shrivels. I soften my tone, saying, "Of course not. I'd love to help."
That's the honest truth. The idea of sinking my hands into her lustrous hair, of feeling my fingers running through the thick, wet strands makes my dick perk up. I'd better stop thinking about this.
"See, Prescott will help you." Eric smiles warmly and pats her good arm. "Oh, I almost forgot. I'm such a loser." He reaches for the bag he carried inside and pulls out several items, one being a paperback, some gossip magazines, a book of crossword puzzles, and a box of chocolates.
"This is so sweet. Thank you, Eric."
"I thought you'd need something to occupy your mind, other than the TV. That book is supposed to be really good. The girl at the bookstore said it was the latest in hot romance."
Vivi likes hot romances?
"Just what I need," she says. Vivi eyes me shyly, and it's pretty damn cute. I wonder if she's blushing. It's impossible to tell because of the bruising on her face. "The crossword puzzles are sure to keep me busy for days."
Eric makes a comment about how smart she is and that she'll have them all completed within a week, but I'm still thinking about the romance novel and her little remark. After a few more minutes, I excuse myself and leave the two of them alone to chat-most likely about me. The last thing I want to do is crowd her. Giving her space and allowing her to feel at ease will hopefully allow her to relax here faster.
Heading to my home office, I call Grand to check in. She was concerned about Vivi and I want to find out if she may know of someone who could possibly come in and sit with her while I'm at work.
"How's your friend, Prescott?"
"She's settled in here, for the time being." And I bring her up to speed on things.
"Let me make a call and I'll get back to you."
I thank her and try to get a little work done while I wait. When I turn on my computer, there's an email waiting from the law firm with a list of recommendations for Vivi. It includes the names of ten psychiatrists who deal in PTSD. I print the list. Starting with the first name, I begin my research and take notes. After the tenth one, I'm satisfied with all of them. Vivi can decide who she wants to see.
Moving on to my calendar for tomorrow, I get things lined up. I have a busy day since I haven't been in the office since Wednesday. When I check the week, I've forgotten that I'm supposed to go to Atlanta Wednesday night and meet with Weston and Special. We're signing the final contracts for the franchising of A Special Place on Thursday. That means I'll need to have someone here with Vivi, or Eric will have to stay here. I also make a note to schedule an interview with him and our interior design team. The rest of my week looks pretty set. When I check the clock, I realize how much time has passed. Just as I'm about to leave my office, my phone rings.
"Hi, Grand."
"I may have the perfect person for you. She lives in Brooklyn and is looking for part-time work."
"That's great. Did you tell her this would only be only for a few weeks at the most?"
"Yes, and she was fine with that. Here's her number."
After thanking Grand, I call her. Her name is Regina and she sounds great. She is ready to come in tomorrow at seven-thirty and will bring a list of references with her. She gives me a detailed report of how many people she's worked for and the reason she's not working is her current employer is recovering from a fall and is in restorative care. She'll be out for another four to six weeks. This is ideal-not for her employer, of course, but for Vivi. I finish up in here and head back into the living room.
Eric and Vivi are laughing. Her laugh reminds me of champagne bubbles as they float to the top of a glass. And it makes me happy to hear that sound.
When she sees me, she says, "Prescott, Eric was telling me about the restaurant. This woman came in a few weeks ago and was a real jerk to me. The manager sided with her and it pretty much pissed me off. Apparently, she came back yesterday and he had to wait on her. Even he got her order wrong and got so flustered he had to have another waiter step in and handle things."
"Served him right, too, for the way he treated you, Viv," Eric says.
"She must've been a bitch," I say.
Eric laughs. "Or worse. Personally, I think she needed to get laid. But then again, don't we all."
A hush settles over the room and Vivi clears her throat.
Eric doesn't let it go. "Oh, I didn't mean … what I meant was-"
"We get it, Eric." I save the poor guy from him cramming his entire leg down his throat. "I came in here to ask if you'd like to join us for dinner. I was going to order something in."
"Yasss. Come on, Eric."
When Vivi says that, it's hard to say no. Eric ends up eating with us as I order in Italian from a great little restaurant around the corner from here. During dinner, I let Vivi know about Regina's interview tomorrow morning.
"I can't let you do that. You've done too much already."
"You can't stay alone. Besides, it's done already."
"It costs too much," she insists.
Eric blinks and stares, like he's watching a tennis match. Normally, I'd want this to be private, but he's as concerned about Vivi as I am.
"Vivi, be serious. Do you honestly think I can't afford it?"
She squirms. "It's not that. Of course you can afford it. I can't and I'd want to pay you back."
"I wouldn't think of it." I stand firm.
"Prescott, I'm racking up all kinds of debt with you."
"Um, in my book, the definition of debt is something that is owed. You don't owe me a thing, hence no debt."
Her arms fold over her body and she doesn't exactly appear thrilled. This isn't what I want. It's not about the money and she needs to understand that. Before I can explain that, Eric comes to the rescue.