apart. My hand however is still clamped around his dick. He refuses to release me there, although he no longer has his fingers threaded through my hair. He twists in the bed and glances over at the doctor, like it’s nothing having him walk in on us mid-kiss and with my hand wrapped around Asher’s dick.
“Miss Thornton?”
My chin dips and my hair falls over my face. Heat radiates off my cheeks. Talk about getting caught with your hand in the cookie jar. Or should I say pickle jar. Shit, Asher is packing. My fingers barely curl around his girth and I’m pretty sure I’ll be walking bowlegged for a week after he finally takes me. Sadly, that won’t be here. Or now.
“Yes, Dr. Allen?”
“I have your discharge papers.”
“Well.” Asher’s voice is raspy, low, utterly addictive, and sexy as hell. “It’s about damn time.”
He releases me and cups his hands over his lap. Not that Dr. Allen is an idiot. I’m wondering how many times he’s walked in on a patient with her hand on a man’s dick and his tongue shoved down her throat. I scoot back on the bed, trying to look like I didn’t have my hand exactly where it looked like I had it.
“That’s great,” I say.
Dr. Allen glances at Asher, but I give a little wave. “It’s okay, you can say what you need to in front of him.” I have little to hide, besides I came out of everything unscathed. Except for a few burns, I’m making a full recovery.
With me blocking Prescott from getting updates about my medical status, the hospital staff is hesitant about leaking anything they shouldn’t. I appreciate this more than they know, and feel intensely guilty about it.
Prescott isn’t my enemy. He only wants the best for me, but I’m incapable of accepting the help he offers, or the care, consideration, and yes, maybe even love he might feel for me.
I am, after all, the only thing left of his best friend. As for his son, I’m the daughter-in-law he almost had, until tragedy tore apart our world.
We’re connected through my father and his son. I don’t want to take that away, but he’s not my father. He can’t fill that void, and he can’t make the tragedy I endured go away.
Nobody can.
Fortunately, Dr. Allen doesn’t take much of my time. A few minutes later, the discharge coordinator comes in to give me last minute instructions.
“Where can we send your appointment reminders?” The nurse can’t keep her greedy eyes off Asher. She barely looks at me.
I rattle off my email address fully aware she’s barely listening to me. Her eyes are all over Asher and I want to dig her eyeballs out with my nails.
Go away bitch, he’s mine.
But is he?
I have no intention of sticking around.
My plans for hiking the John Muir trail are derailed, but fresh plastic is burning a hole in my wallet. All I need is to get outfitted with the best of the best and set off…which means leaving Asher behind.
So, why am I hesitating?
Because I want to wake up beside a man like Asher. I want to feel his arms wrapped around me. I don’t want to live lonely and alone, or waste any more days, or nights, running away from a past I can’t change.
I bite my lower lip because jealousy is not my thing. Except, I see green.
His lips were on me. His tongue was inside my mouth, thrusting like he wants to fuck me. His entire body jerked the moment I put my hand on his dick. The man is mine, and this bitch had better take ten steps back before I rip her head off.
I clear my throat and pull her attention back to me.
“You can send everything to my email, or text me on my phone. I don’t have an address—”
“You don’t?” She looks at me as if I’ve grown two heads.
“Just give your home address. It doesn’t have to be local.” Asher places a hand on my leg and his fingers stroke my inner thigh. He’s teasing me, seeing how close I’ll let him get before pulling away.
“But I don’t have a home address.” I’m not ready to discuss this.
“What do you mean?”
He knows I don’t live around here, but he doesn’t know the truth. He doesn’t know I walked away from my life.
“Um, okay,” the nurse says. “We can use an email if you prefer.” My discharge nurse does the bare minimum in getting me checked out.