Chapter 39
I push Lily’s stroller ahead, leaving him to find his own way home. I can’t walk beside him, watching him hobble along, pretending like he didn’t just make me consider actually pulling him behind a tree. And because I’m not a totally horrible person, I do take several breaks along the way, letting him almost catch up to us before getting ahead of him again. This way, I'm close enough if he has any trouble, but not too close.
Once we enter the apartment, I walk straight to my room and put Lily down for a nap. When I come back out, Oren is in the living room, leaning against his crutches with a cocky grin. He looks a little too pleased with himself, and I know exactly where this is headed.
"Alright," I say, trying to stay firm, “straight to bed for you.”
Oren raises an eyebrow, his grin widening. “That an invitation?”
“No!” I roll my eyes but can't help the small laugh that escapes. "You wish. I mean, you need to rest."
“I promise you, what I need is not a nap.” His voice is low, teasing, and my resolve hangs by a thread.
I shake my head, trying to stay strong. “Everyone needs a nap.”
He chuckles, leaning one crutch against the wall, reaching out for me. “So come nap with me then.”
“Alone, Oren!” I chew on my bottom lip, refusing to give in, despite how much I’m fighting myself right now.
“I’ll even share my pillow.” His grin is pure mischief now.
“Walk away. Go rest,” I smirk, shaking my head. “Now. Or I’m calling Dr. Lyons and telling her you’re being difficult.”
“You wouldn’t.” Oren sighs dramatically as if defeated.
“Oh, I would,” I say, watching him disappear into the room.
With a sigh of relief, I grab my phone and dial Ziggy’s number. It rings a few times before she picks up.
“Hey, Rachel! What’s up?” Ziggy chirps, her voice as bright and cheerful as always.
I hesitate for a second, glancing back toward my room where I can only hope that Oren is going to sleep. “I think I’m going to sleep with Oren again.”
There’s a beat of silence on the other end of the line before Ziggy speaks again. “Okay. Why are you whispering?”
“Because he’s asleep in the other room,” I hiss quietly, pacing around. “I can’t have him hear me out here making a pro-con list over trying to get back into his pants.”
Ziggy snorts, then lowers her voice in solidarity. “Good point. So, what’s got you rethinking this?”
“Well, I might have, uh…given him a handjob in the bathtub the other night,” I say quickly, my cheeks heating up just from saying it out loud.
There’s another long pause, and then Ziggy laughs. “You might have given him a handjob?”
I groan, rolling my eyes even though she can’t see me. “Fine, I did. And it was…well, you know.”
“Oh, I know,” Ziggy teases. “So what’s the issue, then? Sounds like you’re already halfway there. Get that dick, girl!”
I bite my lip, glancing down the hall again. “It’s not that simple. He’s not even allowed to do physical therapy yet. The last thing I should be doing is jumping on his dick. Plus, this will really complicate things even more.”
Ziggy hums thoughtfully. “Okay, but here’s the thing—you clearly still want him, and it sounds like he’s more than on board. So, wait for the doctor’s stamp of approval and see if you still feel like taking the leap straight onto his dick.”
“I guess that’s true,” I say, almost to myself. “Holding back gives me more time to figure out if this is worth the complications.”
“Quit looking at this as just a complication,” Ziggy argues. “The situation is complicated no matter what. Why not enjoy each other while you can? The whole ‘life gives you lemons’ thing. The worst case scenario is that the third time is not the charm, and he ends up being terrible in bed.”
I laugh softly. “Trust me, that’s the last thing I’m worried about. I’m choosing to ignore all of the actual worst-case scenarios there could be.”
“See, that’s the spirit! What's the hold-up then?” Ziggy presses. “You can’t just wish the sexual tension away. You deserve to have fun, Rachel. Once he has been cleared by the doctor, sex Oren up.”
I sigh again, staring up at the ceiling. “You’re right.”
“I know!” Ziggy laughs, “You’re Rachel freaking Reese. You can handle Oren Samuels. And somebody wise once told me things have a way of working out when you least expect it. That somebody was you when I needed to hear it the most.”
I can’t help but smile at her words. “Thanks, Zig.”
“Anytime. Now you’ve gotta go before Oren catches you whispering about his dick like a teenage girl.”
It's a good thing that I hung up with Ziggy when I did because it isn’t long after that when Oren wakes up from his nap, groggy and quiet at first, flipping on a hockey game, trying to act casual. But I’ve come to know him well enough now to sense how it frustrates him. He misses being on the ice, and not knowing when he will be back on the ice scares him.
The rest of our day goes by without incident. Oren insists on helping where he can, which means he’s in charge of getting Lily to eat, rocking, and reading to her before bed. Watching him with her, someone so tough being so gentle, is a beautiful sight.
Once Lily is asleep, we flop onto the couch and put on a movie. Oren’s attention isn’t on the screen. His flirty mood never dissipated after his nap, starting in on his playful teasing any chance he could. The minute we’re alone, he pulls me onto his lap, and I let him. His hands move around my waist, down my thighs, under my shirt. His skin on mine gives me goosebumps. His calloused palms brush across my ribs, igniting a trail of heat all over me. The way he kisses me makes me desperate for more. The feeling of his tongue teasing me only escalates the want building in me, edging me closer to giving in. I can feel it in the way his grip presses into me, his body tensing beneath mine.
I respond to him like I’ve been starving for this, for him . Every inch of me is hyper-aware of him, every nerve ending sparking to life under his touch. His fingers flutter up my breast, slipping underneath my sports bra. Before I can even think, he’s pinching and pulling at my nipples. The sensation floods me with arousal, making me gasp against his mouth and grind down on him enthusiastically. My clit seeks the friction only Oren can provide, and I want it desperately.
He slips a hand out of my bra, with a whispering touch, he trails down my stomach until it slips beneath the waistband of my sweats. The warmth of his thumb presses over the fabric of my underwear, against my clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles. Each circle urging me to press into his touch.
“I’ve missed the way you taste,” he whispers, his voice rough against my mouth. “The way you move with me...the way you come for me and leave me always wanting more of you.”
I press my lips to his, kissing him roughly, and for a second, I almost let go, leaving my pact with myself to wait behind. He brushes the back of his finger over the dampening fabric, pushing the fabric between my slit. But his finger slipping beyond the fabric is like a wake up call. I pull back, disconnecting our touch, even though every part of me is screaming for more. I brush my lips softly against his but keep that distance between us.
"Not until you’re cleared for all activity,” I whisper, my breath shaky. I manage a frustrated smile, and his groan of frustration is almost enough to break my resolve, but I stay firm. We can’t risk it.
He groans, dropping his head back against the couch. “Fuck, Rachel.”
I take in the sight of him, sprawled out on the couch, his chest rising and falling heavily, his lips swollen from our kiss. “It’s not worth risking your recovery.”
He looks at me with a smirk full of mischief and determination. “That’s fine. I’ll have you calling out my name and dripping down my hand without doing anything to compromise my recovery.”
“I have other plans for you,” I counter, grinning as I slide off his lap and drop down to my knees between his legs, careful not to hurt his knee. I reach up for the band of his pajamas, wanting to free his hard cock.
“Oh, no. Not so fast,” he says, grabbing my wrists, holding them tight to keep me from slipping below his waistband. He pulls me up until I'm on my feet. He leans forward, circling his arms around my lower body, resting his chin on my stomach, looking up at me. “If you’re not getting any, neither am I.”
I arch an eyebrow, taken aback but also not surprised by his stubbornness. “Oh, really?”
“Seriously,” he says, his eyes locking with mine. “We’re in this together, right? So if I can’t give you an infinite number of orgasms, you’re not getting me off, either. Fair’s fair.”
I can’t help but laugh, but it really isn’t funny. It’s oddly sweet. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet, you can’t get enough of me.” He winks, pressing gentle kisses over my stomach, the moment much less heated. “For you, I’ll wait.”