He gently shifted my underwear down my hips, and then pulled back for a look at his handiwork.
“Damn, that’s sexy.”
He reached for my hands, tugging them above my head, and lacing them through his fingers. Then
he kissed me again, this time long and deep. His desire was like an undercurrent humming through him
and transferring to me.
“Avery, I have this overwhelming need . . . to be inside of you.” I melted into the covers, my body
becoming liquid. “Will you let me?”
I knew what he was asking without him saying the exact words.
He wanted me to be his first. He was giving me his body.
I was desperate to feel him inside of me. I wanted him so badly it ached.
But part of me still worried whether I’d be able to be everything he needed me to be. Everything
good enough for him.
“God, Bennett.” My voice was shaky, my breathing shallow. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure, baby,” he whispered. “I want you. I want you to be mine.”
I yanked his head down in a frantic kiss, trying to convey everything I was feeling in that moment.
He was putting his faith in me, and I wanted to cherish it. Nurture it. Worship it. I leaned back as he unbuttoned his jeans and slipped out of them, along with his boxers. He was
naked before me and I couldn’t help but appreciate the view. His sturdy shoulders and his strapping
arms were contrasted by his delicate hipbones that led down to all that was divinely him.
He grabbed hold of my ankles and tugged them gently to the edge of the bed. Then he positioned
himself over me. I gasped as he flicked his tongue along the length of my torso and dipped below my
navel, careful not to touch my tattoo, which would still be tender for a few more days.
I tried reaching out my hand to touch his chest, but he backed away.
“No,” he said. “You.
All of you.
Your creamy skin, you perfect breasts, your taste, your smell. Your
heart
.”
Then his hands were on my knees, nudging them apart, and his gaze fastened on the area between
my legs. He swept kisses along the inside of my thighs and watched as my breaths grew desperate.
His tongue dipped down and tasted me, and I moaned and tensed beneath his mouth.
He softly parted me with his thumbs and swept his tongue over me, and then inside of me, as I
whimpered and squirmed, practically coming unglued.
My back arched off the bed as I reached for him, begging him with my eyes.
I wanted him inside of me right that very instant.
But it needed to be on his terms, not mine.
He looked at me with such need, such want, and such affection. I knew what this meant to him. He
had told me that he was waiting for love, and though he hadn’t uttered those precise words his eyes
conveyed everything.
I was bursting with emotion for him, and I hoped it was reflected in my eyes as well.
“Avery, I didn’t exactly plan this. Do you have a condom?”
I motioned to my bedside table, almost embarrassed that I was so prepared.
He removed the foil wrapper and then fumbled with the condom. I took it from his fingers, unrolled
it, and pulled it over his taut skin. He was so hard and ready, trembling with need. I slid my body up the bed to my pillows, reaching for his hand, asking him to join me.
His crawled up to me and then crushed his lips into mine. “I want you so damn bad,” he growled.
He positioned himself between my legs, and I was panting from anticipation.
His eyes pressed into mine with a silent question.
He was asking my permission—making sure I wanted this, too.
“Yes, please,” I moaned. “All of you.
Only you.
”
And then he urged his tip inside of me, and I shuddered against the feel of it. He kept his eyes
locked on mine as he pushed in deeper and deeper, filling me completely. His mouth fell open in heavy
breaths. “Jesus, Avery, you feel fucking incredible.”
I was overcome with the emotion of him being nestled inside me. It felt different than anything I’d
ever experienced, and my eyes became glassy and full from the pure wonder of it.
It may have been his first time. But in a way, it was
my
first time, too.
He rocked his hips gently against me, sliding almost all the way out and then driving himself back
in. “Fuck, baby, I’m so deep.”
The feeling was indescribable, and a familiar tension pulsed low in my belly.
I wrapped my legs around his waist and rocked against him in a slow and seductive rhythm. He
leaned down and claimed my mouth in a profound and meaningful kiss.
“You’re so warm, Avery. God,
so
warm.”
His thumb came up and found my sweet spot, and he drove me to my breaking point.
I came with a violent shudder all around him.
He became still, relishing the feel of me tightening and pulsing against him, complete and utter awe
in his eyes.
“Oh God, Avery.” He thrust himself back inside, the tempo controlled and deliberate. “You . . . I . . .
Jesus, this is unbelievable.”
Watching him get his release was a thing of pure beauty. His lips open, his eyes unfocused, his chest shuddering from pleasure.
He collapsed on top of me, raining warm kisses on my lips, my jaw, and my neck.
“You’re fucking beautiful,” he whispered against my ear.
I tightened my grasp around his neck.
“Don’t move. Not yet,” I mumbled. “I want to feel you just like this.”
We laid that way until our breaths slowed and our limbs were less fluid.
Before he fell asleep that night, Bennett mumbled my name over and over. I felt my heart unfurling, smoothing out, blossoming—into an unblemished kind of love.
Chapter Twenty-Four
I woke in Bennett’s arms the next morning, and it just felt right. Making love to him had been sensual,
emotional, and incredible.
When my alarm blared, we immediately jumped into hurry mode. We each had an early class and
work. Then Bennett had a night out with his coworkers.
He flew out the door with a kiss and the promise of texting me later. I thought of nothing else all
day long. Just the feel of his skin against mine, and how different my orgasm had felt than it had those
other times.
I wanted to ask him how his first time had been, but I didn’t want to embarrass him or make him
feel juvenile. All I could go on was the way his eyes had searched mine and the noises that had tumbled
out of his beautiful mouth.
Though I was certain how I felt about Bennett, I hadn’t said it that night.
And neither had he. But maybe I’d be brave enough to say it sometime soon.
Mrs. Jackson noticed the change in me right away, and I blushed the entire time she asked about
Bennett. “You be sure to cherish that boy, you hear me?”
Her vitals were erratic that day, and even as I encouraged her to eat more from her tray than just the
chicken broth, I squashed down the feeling that another stroke was imminent.
I was exhausted by bedtime and fell straight into my sheets. Just as I was drifting off, I received a
text from Bennett. I knew he was at a local bar with his coworkers, and my heart leapt at seeing his
message flash across the screen.
Bennett: How was the rest of your day?
Me: Exhausting. Already in bed.
Bennett: Mmm . . . sleep sounds good. Our night is just getting
started.
Me: You can text on your way home if you want. Have fun with your
friends.
Bennett: I’ll let you sleep and bother you tomorrow instead. Good
night, baby.
I stared at the screen and tried to read between the lines. All day long, I had gotten the distinct
impression that Bennett was holding himself back. All of his texts had fallen just short of mushy.
Like he didn’t want me to feel smothered just because he had given himself to me.
Like he didn’t want me to run away.
Little did he know, I wasn’t about to go anywhere.
And I planned on showing him that—tomorrow.
***
The following day at work, I stood at the nurses’ station, finishing my note on Mrs. Jackson—about how
she was flushed and restless all day; even her husband had commented on it just ten minutes ago—when
security buzzed me from the lobby.
“Ms. Michaels, there’s a package here for you,” Robert said. “It’s signed for and sitting on the
counter. Come down when you’re free.”
A package? Usually packages for the unit came filled with medical equipment, but this one
sounded personal. I headed down, curiosity getting the best of me. When I rounded the corner I saw it,
along with Robert’s giant grin. It was a large bouquet of flowers.
Robert handed them to me. “Someone must be smitten with you, Ms. Michaels.” My cheeks burned as I walked my package to a nearby table in the visitors’ section, unable to wait
any longer. The bouquet was a mixture of red, orange, and pink Gerbera daisies. The colors were
striking and lush, and they were easily one of my favorite flowers.
Right away I noticed that one of the flowers had lost nearly all of its petals—only one clung on for
dear life. There was a note attached to the stem.
I removed the note and carefully unfolded it, noticing Bennett’s initial at the bottom before
scanning back up to read it.
A.
Yes, I do. No question about it.
A smile burst from my lips. I knew without question that Bennett was referring to the ‘Forget Me
Not’ poem that I’d recited to him before he gave me my tattoo. “I have not yet ascertained whether
you.
love
me or
not
.”
He was telling me in his own way that he loved me. My heart leapt straight out of my chest,
performed a classic dive-bomb, and ran the half mile back home to find him.
Below his admission of love, he had written more.
I hope you feel the same.
He wanted to know if I loved him, too. And I did. Oh, I did.
Can I see you tonight?
B.
P.S. And as for the other night . . . there are no words, Avery. No words.
I couldn’t contain my grin.
When I realized I was still in the nearly empty lobby, I headed back to my unit to pack up, give my
report, and head home.
But before I did, I was going to march straight into Mrs. Jackson’s room to show her that I finally
got my flowers, and then tease her about showing up Mr. Jackson’s bouquet today. As soon as I stepped through the automatic double doors, I noticed that the front desk was empty.
And then I heard the low hum. The one that signified a code blue in the unit. It meant the code blue team
was gathered in the room of the resident who was experiencing distress.
I’d been through my share of code blues, but this time felt different. I couldn’t get my feet unstuck
from the floor. I gripped the flower vase so it wouldn’t slip through my fingers and crash into a million
little shards.
Like my heart was doing right now.
I knew with every fiber of my being who the resident having trouble was. And damn it, she’d
waited until I was out of the unit to leave without saying good-bye.
That thought alone drove me to action. No way was she going to die while I was off duty. I hastily
placed the flowers on the desk and headed toward her room. My footsteps were hollow and tinny against
the cold linoleum floor, echoing the beats of my plunging heart.
But as I neared her door, the code blue team of nurses and doctors were already headed out, heads
hanging low.
And I knew she was already gone.
My fingers splayed against the wall as I tried to keep all the pieces of myself together. I had never
cried for a resident before, outside of my first month, when I was new and green.
But this was no ordinary resident. She meant something more to me. Much more.
My feet were like lead as Lillian rounded the corner from Mrs. Jackson’s room. “I think this was
the big one. Took her immediately. They called time of death already.”
I shut my eyes against her words and then felt her cold fingers on my arm. “I’m sorry.”
I waited until the space had cleared before I gathered enough courage to step inside. There were
certain procedures that needed to be followed after a death, and a nurse was left in the room to carry
them out.
When I rounded the white curtain to her bed, it felt surreal to see her so lifeless. So spiritless. So still.
Her eyes were closed, her arms tucked beneath the sheets, already in prep mode. Her face was free
of worry and pain. Almost peaceful. Almost.
I noticed a person slumped in a chair, clutching a bouquet of tulips.
Mr. Jackson.
I’d forgotten he
was still here. He must have alerted them to the emergency.
I sat down beside him in the cream plastic chair, and he took a deep shuddering breath.
