"What's wrong?" he whispered against my neck, causing an immediate swell of goosebumps down my back. He had an uncanny ability to read my inner thoughts, but he didn't have to be a mind reader to know I was jumpy.
I decided to reply with the thing that I was the least nervous about. "I don't like needles."
He chuckled and put his arm around me. "It'll be over fast."
When they called my name a moment later, Rick asked the young nurse if we could have our blood drawn together. "She's scared of needles."
"Sure, as long as you both agree," the nurse replied, shooting Rick an appraising look. It was plain to see that his piercing eyes and chiselled jawline didn't just affect me.
I sat on the tissue covered hospital bed and squeezed Rick's hand. My eyes got wide when the nurse took out the vial and needles. She left the room to get some labels. He whispered in my ear, "If you're a good girl, maybe I'll give you a lollipop after this." His teasing tone immediately put me at ease.
"What if I'm naughty?" I replied huskily.
"I'll have to spank you."
We didn't say anymore. The nurse came back and drew my blood. He let me squeeze his hand the whole time. I admit I was still squeezing it and leaning into his chest when she told me she was done. I'd pretended not to hear her the first time.
I walked across the room when it was Rick's turn. He took off his shirt-I hadn't had to since I was wearing short sleeves. Watching Rick unbutton his shirt was ridiculously sexy, like he was stripping for me. It was probably because he looked right at me the whole time. The muscles that revealed themselves with each dislodged button exponentially increased my breathing until it became embarrassingly heavy. Hot damn!
I had imagined his chest so many times, but nothing prepared me for the actual sight. His shoulders were broad, his arms were muscular and he had a perfect six-pack complimented by a v-shaped trail of light brown hair. He had a tattoo on his upper chest of a simple infinity sign. I wanted to trace it with my tongue. It shocked me that someone as conservative as Rick would have a tattoo. The man wore suits, for God's sakes, when he could have worn khakis every day. I didn't mind tattoos, but I didn't love them either. I loved this tattoo. It looked perfectly placed and did nothing to detract from his faultless form. Apparently, the nurse noticed too because she took an extra-long time caressing Rick's arm, explaining that she was trying to coax a vein. She hadn't caressed my arm like that.
"Are you going to hold my hand, Marley?" Rick asked and I almost wondered if he had sensed my jealousy with the way this woman was groping him.
I sat next to him and squeezed his hand. I wanted her to think we were a couple in every way. As in, ‘mine, step off'-universal girl code. I had never felt so territorial. "Are you scared of needles too?" I asked him jokingly.
"No." One simple word, but it completely aroused me, which was crazy since we were in this clinical, cold environment.
When it was over, I was a little disappointed when Rick pulled on his shirt and buttoned it. "When will we get the results?" he asked the nurse.
She looked over a clipboard and back at him. "I would estimate next Friday."
Rick and I stared at each other, both of our eyes were huge and our mouths hung open in shock. It would have been comical if it weren't for the crazy tension in the room.
"Can't you rush it or something?" Rick implored and the desperation in his voice was clear.
She smiled and shook her head. It didn't help that she put her hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry. We have to send it out to a lab. That's the earliest, but I think you're both being so responsible. So many people don't take this seriously." She spoke to him, completely ignoring me, but that was fine. I was having a hard time just standing in place.
We walked to the car dejectedly, as if someone had stolen all our Christmas presents. Rick turned to me once we were inside, forcing a consoling smile on his face. "So we'll wait, okay?"
I let out some sort of crying whine. An odd sound I can't ever recall making. Once I found my voice, it came out crisp and demanding, "I have some other C-words for you Rick-convenience store, contraception and condom. As in, we drive to a convenience store, get another form of contraception such as a condom."
He shook his head. "Sure we could do that, but I don't like to use condoms, Marley. When I'm inside of you, I want to feel all of you. I don't want anything separating us. We've waited this long and when we finally alleviate the tension between us … it's going to be … ecstasy." His words affected me, each one dripping with sex. There was no innuendo this time. It was all overtly laid out, in plain sight. "But, if you don't want to wait, then we can go with those C-words you just mentioned."
I took a deep breath, not wanting to sound as desperate as I felt. "I can wait."
"Good," he replied, pulling out of the parking space. We were almost back to work when he suddenly veered into a vacant lot.
"What are you doing?"
"I want to kiss you again. I don't want to wait on that." He barely had the car in park before he placed his hands on either side of my face and drew me close to him. His lips felt like velvety pillows. The kiss was softer, slower, but no less passionate than our first kiss. He coaxed his way into my mouth. He explored with a profound depth while he caressed my face and neck with his fingertips. He worked his way down my jawline to my neck, punctuating each progression with soft, wet kisses. He pulled away, but continued stroking my hair with his fingers, staring at me intently. The sounds of our rapid breathing permeated the air. "Don't masturbate." The words were the most shocking I'd ever heard.
My hand shot up and struck his face in a hasty reaction to the command. I slapped Rick. I didn't slap him for the kiss. I loved the kiss. I smacked him for telling me not to masturbate. Surely, he wasn't taking away my only form of relief.
He rubbed his check and I immediately felt guilty. "I can't believe you slapped me. Are you into some S&M shit I need to know about?"
"No … sorry, but are you fucking crazy? First you tell me we have to wait until the results, then you kiss me like that and now you're saying don't masturbate?"
He grinned impishly and pulled me towards him again. "I won't either. When I finally fuck you, it'll be worth it. It will make everything so much more … epic. Do you know what I mean?"
"No," I replied, pouting.
"Marley, I've been thinking about the German chocolate cake story, and this will be like that, but a million times better. Depriving ourselves will make the indulgence so much sweeter. Do you understand?"
I imagined he was right about that, but I suddenly wished I'd never told him that stupid story. "Fine."
He smiled widely. "I'm glad you agree. Trust me when I say it will be harder for me."
"I doubt it," I replied, shifting towards the window.
"It definitely will. We have to promise not to tempt each other at work and don't cheat, Marley. I'll know if you cheated."
I laughed, wondering if he could read my thoughts. I was contemplating cheating. "How will you know?"
"Trust me, baby, we'll both know if the other has cheated. It will be quite obvious."
I decided right then and there that I hated Fridays.
Chapter Seven
I thought of the following week as the ultimate test of willpower. It was my week of agony and expected ecstasy. It was the week of anguishing distress and indulgent excess. It was the week of suffering sorrow and promising passionate pleasure. It was the week of bitter and sweet. Okay … I was being overly dramatic, but I felt all of those things in every cell of my body during that week.
Monday
I hadn't known what Rick meant when he'd said we'd both know if the other had cheated, but by Monday morning, I had a clear idea. I slammed his coffee mug down, sloshing some of the hot liquid on his desk. I didn't even care.
"I don't have to bring you your coffee, you know. It's not my job," I grumbled.
"No one asked you to, Marley," he replied curtly, not looking at me. It made me smile that he was irritated too.
"Fine, I won't."
"Fine by me. What the hell is in your perfume? Pheromones?"
"What's going on with your face?" I asked, resisting the urge to take his chin in my hand. He had stubble, and it was turning me on something fierce.
"I didn't have time to shave this morning. I take it you don't like it?"
"I like it. That's the problem."
He arched his eyebrow. "I'll shave then."
I brought my face close to his, peering over him in the chair. "Listen up, buddy. You shave tonight and the rest of this week, but not Friday. Got it?"
"Yes, ma'am, but tell me, why do you like stubble?" His voice was playful, but his grin was enticingly wicked.