14. Casey
14
Casey
I got off work at five, so I went home to wait until it was time to head over to Peter’s for dinner. I figured I could tidy up a little, catch up on some laundry, maybe watch an episode of something mindless. When I tried to put that plan into action, though, I kind of fell apart.
Tidying up started with wiping down the kitchen counter. Easy enough, right? But I spaced out, brain overworking, and it wasn’t until I startled when I heard my upstairs neighbor drop something on the floor that I realized I was still wiping the same spot—and had been for several minutes.
Cursing, I hung the cloth over the faucet to dry and shook my head to focus. “Laundry,” I told myself firmly. “Yeah, go do that.”
Except when I walked into my bedroom to grab the laundry hamper, I caught sight of the bed, and that sent my brain cartwheeling all over again. Because yeah, things had been seriously hot at the clinic today. When Peter said dinner, did he actually mean dinner? Or like… dessert ?
It was far too easy to imagine what Peter would look like spread out on my bed, how his flushed skin would contrast against the light bedding. Not that I could invite him over just yet. I lived on the third floor of an apartment building with no elevator, and no matter the progress he’d made, I didn’t think he was quite ready to tackle that many stairs. Soon, though, I told myself. He would be ready soon.
There was no doubt that he’d been working hard these last weeks. Nobody could deny the progress he’d made. I thought back to that first day I met him in the hospital and how small he’d looked in that bed. Not just physically, but his entire presence had been muted.
Since he’d begun to regain his confidence, though, I’d watched him absolutely come alive . What had started as respect for a man who’d sacrificed so much to save someone, had shifted into determination to see him get better, and then somewhere down the line, my feelings toward Peter had turned into something… more.
And then, I’d had to start dealing with a whole new complication that had never been an issue for me at the clinic; the closer we became, the more I’d started to notice his body. He’d always been handsome, of course, but now that he’d started to fill out a little, to put on muscle, I had to admit, I was having a bit of trouble keeping my hands to myself. His shirt growing more transparent with sweat the longer he worked out, then watching him bend over to stretch, the fabric clinging.
Whose idea was it to go slow again? Fuck, what was I thinking?
I probably would’ve stood there staring down at my bed until it was time to go if my phone hadn’t rung. Relieved for the distraction, I pulled my phone out and checked the caller ID. Grinning, I hit accept and headed back to the kitchen to make some tea.
“Hey, Mom,” I said, filling the kettle. Our evening talks were often long and rambling, so this was perfect timing to fill the gap. “What’s up?”
“Oh, nothing much. I was just calling to see if you would be my date to the charity dinner for A New Day. Last year the omega shelter raised of a hundred thousand dollars, and I know they’re hoping to make even more this year.”
“That sounds like fun, Mom, but…” I held my breath, hoping I wasn’t making a huge mistake. Once I said these words, there was no going back. “I was actually thinking of bringing my own date.” I jerked the phone away from my ear in time to avoid the shrillness of her excited shriek. When I brought it back, she was mid-gush.
“…just knew you would find someone special. I want to hear all about them. When do I get to meet them?”
I brought my tea to the couch and put my feet up, settling in for a long chat. “Soon, Mom. You can meet him real soon.”
The inside door was open when I jogged up the steps onto Peter’s porch, letting in the warm breeze through the screen door. It was a beautiful summer night, the sky just beginning to turn color, slightly bruised. It was that time of day when the details began to blur, lending the earthly world a dreamlike haze. “Hello, it’s me,” I called into the house as I pulled open the screen door and stepped inside.
It smelled amazing in here, and my stomach gave a hungry gurgle. I hadn’t eaten anything because I didn’t want to spoil my appetite, but I was quickly reaching eat-my-own-arm-off stage. “I’m in here,” he called, and I followed the sound of a timer beeping to the kitchen.
“Wow! I was going to ask where you’d ordered dinner from. I didn’t know you were planning to cook.” Peter was standing at the stove, and I quickly scanned him for signs of pain from being on his feet too long. He was always stiff after a PT session, and I didn’t want him to hurt himself for my sake, but beyond favoring his right leg, he seemed to be doing okay. “You didn’t have to. I would’ve been happy with a greasy burger from GG’s. Heck, give me a PB-and-J sandwich and I’m a happy man.”
“I know,” he said, glancing at me with a shy smile before leaning down to open the oven and pull out a pan, filling the small kitchen with an aromatic gust of warmth. “But I wanted to.” He said it quietly, as if imparting some great secret. It was hard for him to be open about his feelings, but I knew he was working on it, and I appreciated the effort. He set the pan on the stovetop, setting the oven mitts aside.
“You didn’t tell me what I could bring, so I brought dessert,” I said, lifting the cardboard box I’d picked up from Grounded, a bakery downtown.
Peter’s eyes didn’t go to the pie I was carrying, though. Instead, his eyes roved down my body, as if clothes were no obstacle to his view. “I love dessert,” he said, his voice deepening.
My throat was tight as I swallowed, and my pants were following suit. “That’s good,” I answered, slightly breathless.
Moving the chicken from the pan to a serving dish, Peter nodded toward the dining room. “Why don’t you have a seat, and I’ll be right there.”
I wanted to ask what I could do to help, it was something I would offer anyone, but I knew how important it was to him to do this alone. He wasn’t just telling me about the progress he’d made, he was showing me. When I thought of the heat that had flared between us today during his session, the line we’d been so close to crossing, I had a pretty good guess what the message was that he was trying to get across.
The time to go slow was quickly approaching an end. Thank gods, because if I had to endure another session like that, I would combust!
The dining room was transformed from the last time I’d been in here. Gone was the dusty unused mausoleum vibe. Now, the curtains were drawn back, letting evening sunlight spill into the room and showcasing his newly tidied backyard. The wood table looked like it had been oiled, and it was set with placemats, fine white china, polished silverware, and in the center, two tall lit candles.
It took everything in me to sit there and not rush to help as Peter carried in the dishes one at a time, leaning heavily on his cane. I gripped my thighs under the table, telling myself that he had this. He was stronger than he knew, and I was so damn proud of the way he was pushing himself.
At last, Peter slid into his chair across from me, and he couldn’t hide the sigh of relief as he let himself relax. He closed his eyes in a long blink, and I had to fight the urge to go over there and give him a long massage, working out the knots one by one. Sighing, he met my gaze across the table. “Sorry, I would offer you wine, but… I haven’t been keeping alcohol in the house.” He winced, and although he might’ve been embarrassed to admit that fact, I couldn’t have been prouder. It was the easiest way to resist temptation in the first place.
“Don’t apologize. I’m fine with water, but…” I shook my head. “I’m sorry, but this just won’t do.”
Peter frowned, no doubt wondering what he’d done wrong. He looked around the table for what was missing. “What can I—”
I pushed back my chair, and grabbing the placemat by the edge, I slid my place setting around the table until it was beside him. “There, much better.” I pulled out the chair and sat down, allowing myself the indulgence of reaching over to squeeze his thigh lightly. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
His cocky grin said it all. “Much.”
Peter had made herbed chicken and roasted vegetables, with a nutty rice on the side. Maybe it was just because I was starving, but it was the most incredible thing I’d ever put in my mouth. “I had no idea you were such a good cook,” I said, demolishing my meal with shocking speed. “What other hidden talents do you have?”
He offered me a filthy smirk. “Well, I would tell you, but it would be highly unprofessional of me to talk to my physical therapist about the things I can do with my tongue.”
Heat warmed my cheeks, and Peter’s gaze followed the blush with his eyes to where it disappeared into the collar of my shirt. It certainly didn’t stop there, though. Heat and tingling need spread much, much lower, and I wiggled in my seat as I felt the telltale seep of slick, making my ass cheeks glide against each other.
I gazed fixedly at his mouth, panting when he licked his lips. “Maybe I should check to make sure those muscles are in working order. It would be such a pity if I wasn’t giving your entire body the attention it needed. As your physical therapist, of course.” My fingers were already creeping over to close the gap between us to run up his thigh, and I found his cock, ready and waiting.
He groaned as I palmed his hard length through his pants and gave him a firm squeeze, feeling him flex in response. “What about dessert?” he asked, teasing, while also reaching for me.
“I’m sure I have something sweet for you.” It was cheesy as hell, but as he grabbed me by the back of the neck to draw me closer, our laughs quickly turned to groans as our mouths met for a hard kiss, full of weeks’ worth of pent-up sexual frustration.
It was clear this was a bad angle for him. I could’ve easily crawled into his lap from here, but as soon as I felt him flinch in pain, I decided it was past time to move this somewhere more comfortable. I’d let him do all the work to make dinner, to show me how far he’d come. Now it was my turn.
“Let me take care of you now,” I whispered against his lips before I stood up and took his hand, drawing him up to standing.
He was already nodding, just as desperate as I was for a little relief. “Please.”