Page 113 of Perfect Distraction
She shook her head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“You’re probably right.” He closed his eyes for a second. “I’m sorry. For what I said.”
She didn’t respond right away. She’d usually say something like, That’s okay, or Don’t worry about it. But she kind of thought he should be sorry. He needed to understand the gravity of what he’d asked, and of her response. She needed him to understand how deep her feelings ran, like a cavern in the ocean that had never been explored.
“I accept your apology, but I need you to understand something.” The question she was about to pose put a lot of faith in his feelings toward her, and she hoped she wasn’t overestimating them. “Think about how you’d feel if I asked you that question. What if I died? Today, on my drive home, I could die. What would that do to you?”
Andrew’s face paled, and he yanked his hand out of her grasp to grab her face between his palms. His touch was gentle, but his expression was fierce. His eyes searched her features, as if he was making sure she was really here in front of him, breathing and alive. “I can’t…” he rasped. “I can’t even think about that.” He crossed the threshold onto her side of the car and pressed his lips to hers so fast, she gasped into his mouth. “I can’t,” he repeated against her lips, brushing them over and over again with his own.
She should pull away. But he felt so good and tasted even better. She’d missed him so much, missed this. One of her hands went to the back of his head and the other grasped the front of his shirt, pulling him closer, her touch as desperate as his. She opened her mouth and his tongue entered with a groan that sounded ripped from his chest. She stroked his tongue with hers, leaning up and in to him as best she could, wanting to be closer. Closer. Beside him and inside of him, forever and always.
Even that might not be enough.
He pressed his forehead against hers. “What are we doing?”
“I have no idea,” she breathed.
“Please, come upstairs. I can’t do this anymore. We have to fix this. Figure it out.”
Could they figure it out? She was willing to try, if he was. She nodded. “Okay.”
The second they met near the hood of her car, he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her against him. Thighs, hips, and chests pressed together, not an inch of space between them. He sighed, deep and heavy, like the breath leaving his lungs was something he’d been holding onto for weeks. He hugged her, his arms a vise around her, as if he was afraid to let go.
Lauren buried her face in his chest, inhaling deeply, taking in his scent. Her heart and stomach clenched simultaneously, love and desire for this man competing within her, each trying to prove themselves the victor. She traced the hard ridges of muscle in his back with her fingers, loving the murmur of satisfaction he breathed into her hair.
“We going upstairs?” she asked.
“Mmm-hmm.” He didn’t budge, his chin resting on her head.
“Andrew?”
“Dammit woman, give me a minute.”
She smiled, turning her face to the side and resting her cheek against his heart. The strong rhythm was soothing, and she let herself relax further in his embrace, content to stay as long as he wanted.
They finally vacated the sidewalk when an older man walked in their direction pulled by two large dogs on a leash. Andrew held tightly to her hand as they climbed the stairs, and soon they sat on opposite ends of the couch. She’d tried to sit closer, but he pointed to the other end and said he couldn’t focus if she was that close.
“Fine.” She crossed her arms and then uncrossed them. It wouldn’t help to start this conversation on the defense.
“Where do we start?” he asked. “I can’t remember a single reason why we’ve been apart that makes any sense.”
Lauren could think of one. “You should know I got the job,” she said, though as she’d mentioned before, she’d have given it up for him if it had come down to it.
Andrew’s face lit up. “That’s incredible news. You should know that even if you didn’t, I wouldn’t have let you go back to work for your dad. No matter what, you deserve a job you love, not one you feel obligated to.”
He was right. She deserved to make her own way—forge her own path. “And I told Dr. Hawthorne about us.”
His smile faded. “You did?”
She nodded. “When he offered me the position, I told him there was something I wanted him to know before I officially accepted. For some reason they think I have integrity and that I’m not going around having one-night stands with all my male patients.” She winked at Andrew when he narrowed his eyes, apparently not finding that a bit humorous. “He seemed to understand it was serious and real, and agreed that sometimes these things are out of our control.”
“I’m really happy for you. Have you told your dad?”
She groaned. “Not yet.”
“That’s fine. We can do it together, when I’m done with chemo and you take me down to introduce me as the boyfriend.”
She raised an eyebrow.
