I lay on the bed, my arm behind my head, and enjoyed the spectacle of Drake dressing. He looked so good naked, his muscular back and buttocks tensing as he dressed. His trousers fit so nicely. I really had to spend more time touching him. Once he felt better and I was finished with my period, I decided I wanted to run my hands all over him.
"What is going on in that mind of yours, Ms. Bennet? You're being far too quiet."
I smiled. "I was thinking how nice your ass is and how I intend to touch it and run my hands all over your body when you're feeling up to sex."
He pulled his shirt on, fastening the cuffs before buttoning the shirt. He left the top couple of buttons undone. No tie today.
He came to the bed and leaned over me, his eyes intense.
"I'm sorry we've been so chaste the last few days. I'll make it up to you."
"You don't have to make anything up," I said, pushing a hank of wet hair behind his ear. "I understand. Besides, I'm under the weather, too."
"I didn't let you get away with that excuse, so technically, you shouldn't have let me, but I tell you what," he said stroked my cheek. "When I feel better, you can give me a nice massage and pretend you're my favorite harem girl."
"Sounds perfect. Except, maybe your only harem girl, because you've given up all the others, sending them away because they can't satisfy you any longer. Only me."
He smiled, his eyes intense and even more blue because of his shirt. He kissed me.
"Only you."
Then he stood up and finished dressing.
"How long will the procedure take?"
"About six hours, depending on how fast they can process my blood. I should be home later in the afternoon."
"You're wonderful for doing this."
"He's my son," Drake said, shaking his head. "How could I say no?"
I nodded, emotion for Drake filling me that he'd never know his son until the boy had grown and chose to know him.
He came back and leaned over me once more. "I love you," he said, his eyes on mine.
"I love you," I whispered, cupping his cheek. "You sure you don't want me to come with you? I'd be more than happy to if you want company."
He shook his head. "No," he said. "I'll have lots of company. There are nurses who stay with you the whole time. Besides, it's really early and you need to sleep some more. I know this is your heavy day. You stay in bed and take some Advil. Don't even bother to go into the studio. Later, we'll have a nice dinner delivered here and drink some wine for your cramps."
"Will you be OK driving?"
"I'll take a taxi there and back."
He bent down one last time and kissed me. Then, he left me on the bed with a promise to return as soon as the procedure was over.
Despite Drake's suggestion that I forego a trip to the studio, I was eager to get there and work on my painting. I walked the distance, needing exercise and air, and spent the morning on the canvas. I worked through lunch and when two o'clock rolled around, I put my work aside and said goodbye to Nathaniel, then went back to the apartment.
Drake didn't arrive home until mid-afternoon. I heard his key in the lock and went to meet him in the entry. He looked beat, his face pale, dark circles under his eyes.
"How are you feeling? You look tired," I said as I took his coat and hung it up while he removed his boots.
"I feel like total and complete crap. I need to lie down for a while. Can you bring me some tea?"
After I hung up his coat, I took his jacket and hung it up, following him into the bedroom to watch while he undressed. He seemed eager to get out of his clothes and into his sweats and t-shirt.
"Sure. Do you need some food?"
"I ate after the donation, but I feel pretty weak so I'm done for the day."
He went to the living room and crashed on the couch, pulling the soft wool blanket over him, his head on the pillow.
I went to him and bent down, kissing him, stroking hair from his face. "What kind of tea?"
"Whatever you want. And some of those scones, too, now that you mention it."
I smiled and went to the kitchen, glad to be able to look after him. I made the tea, boiling the water and pouring it over the leaves in the teapot. I heated up two scones in the microwave briefly and fixed a tray with strawberry jam and butter, the two cups and spoons for sugar and milk.
When I entered the living room, Drake had the television on, tuned to the news network and was watching some report on political unrest in the Middle East. I set the tray down on the coffee table and sat on the couch beside Drake. He moved his hip out of the way so I had room. I fixed him a scone and poured the sugar in his tea the way he liked and then I handed him the plate with the scone on it. He sat up a little and bit into it hungrily.