Chapter eighteen
Connor’s Apartment, The Level
Samantha
This man is everything. He offers a future I never believed I could have—one filled with love and hope. After everything that’s happened, he’s willing to give me a chance to figure out what I truly want. Sitting on his lap, I lay my head on his shoulder as he plays with a strand of my hair.
“How long until we need to leave to collect, Russell?” I ask him, and he smiles.
“Not long enough for what you’re thinking.” His lips touch mine momentarily. “It’s been a week since you were in my bed; I want to savor every touch. We aren’t rushing it.”
“But…” I protest, and his teeth nip my ear.
“No,” he says, firmly. “Do you understand? No.”
“Yes, sir.” His cock pulsates beneath my ass, and I shuffle to create a little friction. He groans, but strong hands lift me to my feet.
“No,” he repeats as his hard dick strains against the material of his jeans. He stands, then takes my face in his hands to kiss me again. “Every part of me wants to fuck you right now, but we have places to be. And you need to eat.”
“Eat?” I question, cocking my head to the side as I glimpse up at him.
“Yes, eat.” His hands move to my waist, and he flexes his fingers. “You’ve lost weight this past week. It’s not good. Before we go to the hospital, I’ll make you something.”
“I already had breakfast,” I tell him, waving away his concerns.
“Maybe today.” His fingers grab my chin, tilting my head back so I look up at him. “But you’ve not been eating every day, have you? Otherwise,” the hand on my waist pinches my skin, “you wouldn’t have lost any weight.”
“I haven’t been hungry,” I whisper, sullen at being scolded.
“It’s been stressful.” He takes my hand, then leads me to the kitchen island before lifting me onto the counter.
I open my knees, and he stands between my legs.
Memories of our past encounters here flit through my mind, and my mouth dries in anticipation of what could happen next.
I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him to me.
“Not today,” he warns, stepping back and encouraging my legs to release him.
“You need real food.” I watch as he moves around the kitchen and starts to pull items from the shelves.
Three eggs, a bottle of milk, baking soda, and flour are laid out on the counter one by one.
He ducks out of sight, then appears once more with a bowl and a whisk. “Pancakes?”
“Sure, whatever is easiest. Can I help?” He signals to a cupboard behind me, and I jump down from the counter. “What do you need?”
“The scale, please,” he says, and I open the door, my eyes searching for the requested equipment.
I spot it on the lowest shelf and have to bend to collect the machine.
“Nice ass.” I giggle at the unexpected compliment, but when I straighten, I pretend to scowl in annoyance.
“It’s true,” he says, “you have a lovely ass.”
“Thanks,” I mutter before walking over and placing the scale on the counter beside him.
He hands me the bag of flour. Before I lose my bravado, and while spirits seem high, there’s something else I need to come clean about.
I had considered contacting him to tell him about the conversation I’d overheard, but I hadn’t had the nerve with everything going on.
“Connor,” I say, and he meets my eye. “I need to tell you something. The other night when I was at the hospital, there was an incident.”
“I know,” he says. “Russ told me.” Taken aback, I gawk at him.
“You honestly didn’t think he wouldn’t. Your safety is a priority for both of us. We can all discuss what happened later, and you can both fill me in on the details. One hundred grams of flour,” he orders, gesturing to the bag in my hand.
“Stop thinking about it right now; let’s just enjoy being you and me.”
He flashes me an encouraging smile. “Criminals and dubious situations will always be there. They can wait until we enjoy our pancakes.”
“How many pancakes are you making?” I ask, relieved by his reaction to my withholding yet more information from him. He glances at me.
“I don’t know, but it’s the only recipe I have. Normally I get ten or something.”
“I won’t eat ten pancakes!”
He laughs, then bumps my hip with his. “It’s the only recipe I have,” he repeats. “Don’t worry, I’ll eat some.”
“You did go to school?” He turns to face me, then places both hands on his hips, leaning forward so our noses touch. “You know how to divide by two? That way, you would make fewer.”
Without a word, he pinches some flour from the bag I’m holding then flicks it upwards.
The powder floats into the air, landing over us.
When I look down, my top is covered. My eyes snap up to his.
I take the bag in my hands and shake the open end at him.
Flour flies everywhere, covering him from head to toe.
“Oh, you’re in trouble,” he says menacingly and steps toward me.
I dash around to the other side of the island.
We stare at one another across the counter.
“Do you think this.” He taps the obstruction with one hand.
“Will stop me taking what’s mine?” I bite my lip to hide my smile, reveling in the fact he called me his.
“You’ll have to catch me first,” I tell him, then make a run for the bedroom.
As I burst through the door, I quickly attempt to slam it shut, but strong hands stop its progress barely inches from closing.
I stand on the other side, both hands pressed up against the wood.
Connor pushes on the other side, and it cracks open a fraction more.
The pressure relents for a moment before being applied more forcefully.
I step back as the door gives way. “Am I getting closer to catching you?”
he says, chuckling. At a standoff, we both lean against the barrier between us.
I know if he wanted to, he could push his way in here, but he doesn’t. He enjoys this game as much as I do.
“No.” I release the door, kick off my shoes, and run for the bed, jumping onto the center as he stumbles through.
He looks up at me, bouncing up and down on the middle of his huge bed, freshly made with navy silk sheets.
The flour scattered over my hair floats down, coating the material.
With each jump, bits of it are thrown into the air.
He stands shaking his head, clearly amused, before climbing up to join me.
We bounce together, up and down, as if we are children enjoying the forbidden.
He leans down and grabs a pillow, then slaps me playfully with it on the backside.
I grab the other, and the next thing I know, we’re play fighting like teenage girls, smacking each other all over with the soft weapons.
My pillow gives way first, exploding messily across the room. Feathers join the floating flour.
Connor grins manically at me, and I return a similar gesture.
After the second pillow detonates, we both collapse onto the mattress, breathing heavily as if we’ve just completed three rounds of boxing.
We lie side by side amongst the mess we created, staring at the ceiling. He links his fingers through mine.
“Don’t you love it,” he says. “When life feels what I expect it feels like for normal people?”
“Normal people? Are you not human?”
He laughs but squeezes my fingers. “You know what I mean. Like if I was a school teacher and you were a nurse. If we were everyday people who worked the nine-to-five, saved to buy a house, and life was completed by a pension and a couple of kids.”
“You want kids?” I ask him.
He turns to face me, propping himself up on one elbow. Shrewd clear eyes run over my face, and he takes a breath before speaking. Uncertainty flits over his features for a second.
“With you, that would be my ultimate achievement.” My mouth drops open momentarily stunned by his honesty. His free hand comes to my cheek, wiping at a tear I didn’t know was falling. “The only future I see is with you. We may not have known each other long, but I have no doubt you’re mine.”
“I don’t want to disappoint you,” I whisper, choked with emotion.
“The only way you’ll do that is by not giving us a chance at being happy.”
He pushes himself from the bed, standing abruptly.
The moment which had started jovial turned serious.
“We better get tidied up and go,” he says.
“Russell will be waiting for us. I’ll make you a sandwich, it will be quicker than pancakes.”
He disappears in the direction of the kitchen, and I sit up only to be faced with my reflection in the mirror.
The woman looking back at me is far removed from the one of last year.
A new career, new hopes, and new relationships, all thanks to a random meeting with Violet in a clothes shop.
That life event had knocked the course of my life at a right angle.
Things are becoming ever more complicated between suspected criminal activities within the hospital and my complex love life.
Once Russell returns to The Level, changes will have to be made if we’re to fully investigate the possibility of being together and what our crazy feelings mean.
My focus moves to the open door, where I can hear Connor rummaging in the kitchen.
I do wonder if he regrets his suggestion, or if he’s as comfortable as he makes out he is.
The next few weeks will be life-changing once again, either in a good way or a detrimental one.
I can only hope that when the time comes, I make the right decision.
***
Connor takes my hand as we exit the elevator on the fourth floor of Varley Medical.
He guides me across the tiles and past Bryan sitting at his desk.
“Hi, Sam,” he calls to my retreating back; I glance over Connor’s shoulder and wave with my free hand.
There’s the click of heels coming toward us and as we round the corner, we’re met head-on by Dr. Rivera.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Chase,” she says, holding out her hand. He ignores the gesture and her eyes move to me. “And Samantha,” she adds, her face pinching in displeasure. “Russell will be able to be discharged in a few minutes. We are just waiting for his medication to be delivered from the pharmacy.”
“I called ahead,” Connor snaps, his tone sharper than I’ve ever heard it.
“Why is everything not ready as I requested?”
He narrows his eyes, and she recoils under his glower.
“We are busy people, doctor. I don’t appreciate incompetence.”
Her jaw drops, and I clear my throat to hide a laugh.
Connor tugs at my hand, and we walk past her toward Russell’s room.
Connor taps on the door and pushes it open without waiting to be invited.
Russell is sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed in a hooded top and shorts.
His cast leg sits awkwardly with his heel on the floor.
In each hand, he holds a crutch. He places the ends on the floor and pushes himself up to stand before his focus moves to us.
As his eyes lock with my gaze, my stomach flips.
Connor leads me toward him, then lets go of my hand before leaning down and collecting the already-packed sports bag that sits at his feet. “Have you got everything?” Connor asks him, ignoring the charged energy in the room.
“I have now,” his brother replies, his eyes still focused on me.
I wither slightly under his stare. “I can’t wait to get home and start exploring this.”
He moves toward me, placing a crutch on either side of my body.
He’s bigger than Connor; his huge frame blocks my view of his brother.
Russell leans down and kisses my cheek gently.
My body heats with the simple gesture, and my nipples harden instantly, poking through the material of my top.
His eyes drop to my chest and he smirks.
“Right answer, Trouble. I can see you’re as pleased to see me as I am you.”
Connor moves to our side, coming back into view. His expression is hard to read; I can’t tell if it’s his brother’s actions that have made him uncomfortable or my reaction. “Let’s go,” he says quietly before walking in the direction of the exit.
“After you,” Russell tells me, gesturing for me to follow.
I turn and trace Connor’s path. When we reach the reception area, Connor is at the desk talking to Bryan.
As I get closer, it becomes apparent he’s complaining about the fact Russell’s medication wasn’t ready when we arrived.
I walk over and place a soothing hand on his arm.
He glances at me, then goes back to sounding off at poor Bryan about incompetence.
“You have it now,” I point out, tapping the white bag in his hand.
“That’s not the point,” he mutters. Russell whistles loudly across the space, and we both turn to face him. He’s standing by the elevator, one crutch poised across the doors to stop them from closing.
“Come on,” he calls. “Let’s get out of this fucking place.” Connor sighs, then relents before taking my hand, leading me away from Bryan and toward the unknown we’re about to experience back at The Level.