Tell Me It's Real(46)

By then, Vince was to the third button, but his grimace had returned and that spark in his dark eyes had faded slowly. He was still the sexiest thing I’d ever seen, but he was tired, so very tired. Before I could stop myself, I moved until I was in front of him and batted his hands away carefully. He briefly looked surprised, but then just grateful, only a little bit of the former smugness returning.

My hands shook as the surreal act of unbuttoning my own shirt on another man washed over me. We didn’t speak, and I tried to focus on my fingers, trying to be as quick as I could be without acting like I was ready to pounce on him and put my balls on his chin.

I was hyperaware of how he breathed, these low, shallow breaths through his nose that I could feel on my forehead when he exhaled. He smelled medicinal, as if the hospital had leached its way into him. But underneath, there was the scent of sweat and soap, nothing flashy, but still noticeable. His chest rose and fell underneath my hands as I undid the next to the last button. I almost stopped on the last one but I wanted to see the bar through his nipple again (and I really wanted to touch it).

The last button came undone and the shirt opened completely, the bar through his nipple only hinted at through the fabric of my shirt. We both were breathing heavier than we should have been, and the close proximity was doing nothing to help me. I wanted to turn my face up and press my mouth against his. I wanted to slide his shirt off the rest of the way and run my fingers through the hairs on his chest. I wanted to wrap my lips around that piercing and tug on it until he gasped and grabbed my head.

But it was too much. It was too fast. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.

I blushed brightly and stepped away. I thought I heard him sigh, and he turned and put the pajamas on.

God, that fucking ass.



3) Vince Is A Big Baby When It Comes To Pain And Whines Incessantly



Oh Lord, does he.

And he gets grumpy too. Quickly. I couldn’t help but think it had a little bit to do with me nixing his attempt at whatever he was trying to do. But an hour later, he was in full-on bitchy mode, especially when he started to nod off and I kept having to wake him up.

“You can’t go to sleep yet,” I said as I reached out to give him a little shake. We were both sitting on the couch, but at opposite ends, me trying to put as much distance as I possibly could between us without making it extraordinarily awkward. I didn’t want him to sleep because I’d changed my mind and was sure he would die from the concussion the second he nodded off. “Still a few more hours.”

He scowled at me as his eyes snapped open. “I’m not trying to sleep,” he said with a growl. “I’m just making sure my eyes still close okay. You know, as a sign of brain damage. From when you hit me with your car.”

I tried to keep from getting angry. “You ran into my car door,” I said evenly. “From an insurance perspective, I’m pretty sure I can argue that you’re at fault for this.”

“You didn’t maintain a proper lookout when exiting your vehicle,” he retorted. “Everyone knows that I had the right of way.”

“Maybe if you hadn’t been riding so close to the cars, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Maybe if you had looked before you opened your door, I wouldn’t be almost dying.”

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. “What happened to this being totally worth it?” I mocked, trying to mimic his deep voice. Instead, it came out sounding like I was an asshole.

“It was,” he grumbled. “I would do it again if I had to.”

What the fuck? “You’d run into my car door again? Why?”

He looked down at his hands. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

And, of course, I started to sputter. “What… you can’t say that… that’s just… I… you… so damn cute… why… just why….”

So, after that, at least for a moment, I was a bit more lenient. I let him nod off for a few minutes before I woke him up, just to make sure his pupils weren’t dilated and he could remember my name and answer a simple question. I asked him who the vice president was and he looked at me like I was out of my goddamned mind. “How the hell am I supposed to know that?” he grumped at me. “I didn’t vote.” So, instead, I asked him to count to five. When he started counting out of order and slurring his words, I got freaked out. Then he grinned and winked at me and said, “Just kidding.” At that moment, I gave very serious consideration to making his concussion much, much worse, but then he whined a little bit in the back of his throat and sounded so much like Wheels when he was hungry that I crumbled completely.