I loosen the hold of my arm; so she can leave. So she can get as far and fast away from me as possible.
She sighs in her sleep and snuggles closer to my chest, inhaling me and mumbling one word sleepily, with all the affection you can ever hear in a woman’s voice. In your woman’s voice. Like the word means something to her. She murmurs, Racer.
Lana
I wake up to feel him watching me. I stir awake and start when I realize where we are, sitting upright in the bed.
Racer’s quiet as he looks at me. I’m startled to see the nurses come and go.
I stand and whisper, “I should go to the bathroom,” and when he gives me the barest smile and opens the bed sheet for me to slide out, I smile nervously and hurry inside, despaired when I realize I look a mess. I try to fix my hair, use some of the toothpaste on the sink to wash my teeth with my finger, rub it all over my mouth and tongue, then I wash it off and wash my face. I pull my hair back—trying to look as least shitty as possible.
I exit the bathroom and Racer is standing by the window—a glimpse of his gorgeous ass peeking at me through the parting of his robe.
I see the RT tattoo on his butt and shiver inside as he turns—eyeing me quietly again.
I want to run into his arms and beg him to tell me it’s going to be okay. Because if Racer says it, I will believe it. Because he’s my hero and I admire him, trust him, aside from the fact that I also want and have fallen head-over-heels bat-shit crazy in love with him.
“You okay,” he asks me as I stand there, trembling.
I bite down on my lip and nod. “Yes.” The fact that he asks if I’m okay nearly wrecks me.
“I want you to eat something,” he gruffs out.
“I’ll grab something from outside,” I assure.
I step out of the room and tell his dad I’m going to get something to eat. He’s out there in the waiting room and simply nods and heads over to visit with him while I do.
When I come back, Racer is pacing the room.
“… she never comes back I’m going to rip this fucking roof off …”
He stops growling at his dad when he looks at me, his eyes widening.
His dad smiles as he drinks him in. “I’ll go to the hotel, take a shower. Be back to check on you later,” he says, smiling as he slaps Racer’s back.
I meet Racer’s blue, blue gaze, noticing his hair is standing up more crazily than before, as if he was raking his fingers through it. “What’s up. Did you think I’d leave?” I ask, confused.
He curls his fingers into his hands and the muscle in his jaw starts working again.
“I’m spending the night here tonight,” I say, then I flush when I realize how much I’m invading his space and already did last night. “But I want you to be comfortable. I’ll take the chair,” I explain as I head to the chair.
I cross the room, feeling his blue eyes watching me.
“Lana.”
My stomach twists as the rough word reaches me and sort of wraps itself around my stomach and my heart, and I turn as I lift my head. His voice is raspy and textured.
“Come back here.” He motions to the bed.
“I want you to be comfortable.”
He grits his teeth in frustration, then pulls off his IV, and my eyes widen as he starts jamming his fingers into the beeping machine, trying to quiet it with a frown.
Finally the machine quiets, and he walks over and I’m on my feet, wide-eyed.
“What are you doing.”
“You can come, or I can carry you,” he says plainly.
He tugs me forward, and I can’t breathe because I don’t understand why this gesture undoes me so much. I don’t understand why I want to cry but, afraid he’s not going to lie here with me as he leads me with his warm, firm grip on my hand to the bed, I tug him down with me.
Racer doesn’t seem to have been intent on leaving. He lifts the cover and slides his long, toned, muscular legs inside.
He slides his arm around me and I’m so desperate to touch him, to know that he is real, that I did not imagine a guy that has wanted me more than anything, that has taught me how to care for a guy again, that I press closer.
Suddenly Racer slides his hand under the covers and says, in my ear, “Take these off. I just want to feel you.” His eyes are brilliant in the darkened room, and I don’t need to be asked twice. I reach beneath the covers and flip open my jean button, and before I can take them off, Racer moves the sheet back and pulls them off me. He pulls them off me and then discards them, our bare legs touching under the covers.
I exhale a shuddering breath when he runs his hands along my skin.
“That shirt long enough to cover you when someone comes in?” His deep voice makes my skin pebble as he whispers the possessive question into my ear.
I’m melting and aching all over. “Yes.”
He looks at me with those blue eyes and I buzz inside as he slides his hands over me, just looking at me in the dark with something fierce and intense in his eyes.
He sets his hand on my stomach and leans his head and smells me. I stroke his hair when he wraps his arm around me and just sets his face between my breasts, growling softly before he settles down. He shuts his eyes, kissing my stomach.
“Oh, goodness, that bed isn’t made for two.” I start at the voice of a middle-aged nurse.
“I think we need to give the patient his space,” the nurse tells me chidingly.
I’m instantly making to move out of the bed when he grabs my wrist to halt me.
“I need her here.”
The nurse was busy changing the med packets, but she pauses at that and looks at Racer after the raspy whisper.