Chapter Thirty Vanya
I hated the sound of my voice when I begged Jeremy to take the test results seriously. That entire meeting is a reminder that he will choose his career over his own well-being. In which case, why even go through the tests?
Because you insisted on them, Vanya.
It finally makes sense why Kyle hadn’t ordered them until I forced him to. As involved as he is with his clients, my boss prioritizes hockey over everything. The measure of success for both of them is Jeremy’s ability to stay on the ice. Every other part of his life is second to goaltending.
Am I the only one who sees Jeremy as a patient who needs specialized care due to his condition? Is he always going to be the invincible Mavericks star goaltender to other people, before an actual person with vulnerabilities and needs?
I’m not asking him to quit permanently, but we need a plan that lessens his time on the ice and that implements more aggressive rehabilitation of muscles around the tears.
What I wanted to suggest—before he basically cut me off—is a process that injects a patient’s own platelet-rich plasma to accelerate healing in damaged tissues, including microtears in the labrum. Not that he asked for details. He was too busy brushing me off.
Why is he so goddamn stubborn?
There’s no answering that infuriating question during this busy workday, so I let it go. Other patients will prioritize their well-being, even if he won’t.
Jeremy’s name pops into my text notifications. Throughout the day, I choose to ignore him. As shown by my public begging and indignant outburst, my reactions to Jeremy are borderline desperate. No one else has to see how hard it is to control my emotions when it comes to him.
In my office at the end of my last appointment, I brace myself for his texts.
Jeremy: I know the meeting didn’t go the way you planned, Vanya, but we should talk. I’m off tonight. Can I make you dinner? Something better than old olives, I promise.
An hour later…
Jeremy: My doctor is working so hard. Is she too busy to text me back? Good thing I’m cooking for her or she’d starve to death.
A few minutes later…
Jeremy: I’m making you Paches. It’s a Guatemalan version of tamales. Even if you’re mad at me, you’re still hungry, right?
Later in the afternoon…
Jeremy: C’mon beautiful, come over at seven or I’ll have to bring this extra food to my teammates and they’re already spoiled rotten by my mom’s cooking.
A few minutes ago…
Jeremy: [picture of him in front of a stove with a Santa hat and suspenders on a bare chest]
Jeremy: Sit on my lap and let me feed you. That’s Santa’s only wish.
Gah, he is infuriatingly adorable with his mischievous eyes and sculpted chest and playful expression. I can’t wipe the smile from my face or settle the fluttering in my stomach.
How do these texts make me so inexplicably happy?
Why does Jeremy thinking about me and caring about my day feel so incredible?
How can something so new and unexpected feel this right?
What is a warm-blooded woman supposed to do with that thirst trap of a picture?
I’m still upset about how dismissive he was this morning, but something else expands in my chest. A reassuring warmth that he’s at home, waiting for me. A reminder that he’s stronger—mentally and physically—than anyone I know. The test results didn’t change who Jeremy Lopez is, here and now.
There is also the inconvenient fact that I miss him so much. It’s only been three days since we made love, but it feels like a year.
The thought of skipping the opportunity be with him tonight makes me sick. It doesn’t matter that our meeting today was a disaster, I still can’t stay away. My body tingles with anticipation of an amazing man waiting for me. Just like that, thoughts of a failed medical intervention are pushed away by anticipation for Guatemalan tamales and excitement at seeing my lover.
You mean your patient, Vanya.
Yes, but… he’s both. When we’re together, things aren’t black and white. My world transforms into a vibrant kaleidoscope of color. Being with Jeremy is the red of passion and the yellow of happiness and the aqua of a calm ocean that is as vast as it is deep.
Excuse me, but when did I turn into a cheesy Hallmark card?
Maybe I’m not thinking straight, but for once in my life I want to lose myself in the now. I text him back: See you at seven.
With uncharacteristic enthusiasm, I rush to leave work. If I hurry, I can get changed and maybe put on something nicer than scrubs. Entering my house like a whirlwind, I shower and shave and primp like I’m in a nineties movie as the nerdy girl asked to the dance by the prom king.
I see the bit of red tucked at the back of my underwear drawer. The lingerie hasn’t been used since the boudoir photoshoot. Is it too overdone for dinner at home? Perhaps. But this is no prom date in a PG-13 movie.
The lacy, low plunge bra flatters my breasts. The matching thong is inlaid with silk, making me feel pampered and sexy. Slipping into my favorite sweater dress—forest green and with pockets, of course—I’m overtaken with giddiness. I don’t remember ever being this excited for dinner. Quelling my thumping heart and grabbing a bottle of red wine so I don’t show up empty-handed, I make my way across the street.
The door is opened before I even get to his porch. The sheen of amusement in Jeremy’s brown eyes and the width of his smile stun me speechless.
“Hi, beautiful,” he says in greeting.
The scent of freshly steamed tamales surrounds me the second I step inside, a rich blend of corn, herbs, and something faintly spicy. Jeremy closes the door and gives me a thorough once-over from head to toe. The fireplace crackles nearby, sending a gentle glow through the room. Instead of a Christmas tree, he has a decorated pine garland over the mantle.
“You look incredible. If I knew you’d show up like that, I would’ve worn the good sweatpants.” I glance at the pair of gray sweatpants slung low on his hips.
“It’s just a sweater dress.” I roll my eyes to the ceiling to hide the fact that I’m checking out his dick print.
“Come in.” Jeremy takes my hand and walks deeper into his home. I allow myself to be tugged behind him, enjoying the very flattering sweatpants that mold to his bubble butt.
Jeremy gestures to the table where two white plates are set, edged by garlands of holly. Candles flicker next to wine glasses. He takes the wine bottle to place on the table. His eyes dart between my lips and the stretch of fabric over my chest.
“Thank you for cooking,” I say appreciatively. “You didn’t have to get this fancy just to feed me.”
He steps closer and wraps an arm around my waist before kissing me on each cheek, which is inexplicably chaste and sexy at the same time. “You didn’t have to look this fancy just to come over, but here you are, looking like a dream.”
“Thank you, I think. Although maybe I should ask what kind of dream,” I joke.
“If you’re in it, Vanya? It’s the best kind.”
We stare at each other for a beat. It’s impossible to miss the longing in his eyes. Jeremy looks away and clears his throat. “We should eat, before it gets cold.”
“It smells amazing.”
“Paches tamales.” He lifts the cover off a plate. “Sit down. I bet you were too busy to eat today, so you’re probably starving.”
We settle across from each other. He opens the wine while I serve the tossed salad. When I take the first bite of his cooking, I close my eyes to savor the paches. It tastes even better than it smells. Savory and spicy, it warms me down to my toes. Jeremy leans over the table, watching my reaction.
“So?” he asks, eyebrows raised.
“Amazing. I could eat this every night,” I answer honestly.
He laughs, lifting his wine glass. “If that’s all it takes to keep you coming back, I’ll stock up. Cheers.”
We clink our glasses and resume dinner. He entertains me with hilarious stories of locker room pranks through the years.
“For every new player from the minors, we mess with them at practice.”
“Hazing?”
“Nah. Stupid stuff like putting shaving cream in their skates or leaving their water bottle slightly open so it splashes on their face.”
“So, middle school pranks.”
“Basically. How about you? Any bonding stories from medical school?”
“I don’t usually socialize with people from work.”
He tilts his head in a pose of curiosity. “But you’re friends with Sabrina.”
“That’s unusual, to be honest. Though being in a private practice instead of a hospital lends itself to more… interactions.”
Jeremy’s eyes glisten with amusement. “‘Interactions’ is such a Dr. Kapur description of the workday.”
I blush. “Are you saying I’m unfriendly?”
“Not at all.” He leans over to hold my hand across the table. “You’re great at your job. Everyone respects and admires you as you are. It’s just an observation that you keep most people at a certain distance.”
“I haven’t managed much of a distance with you.”
“Aha, that’s because I’m special.”
“And so very humble.”
He lifts my hand to kiss my knuckles. “You’re not too far from the truth, Vanya. You choosing to spend time with me is humbling and great for my ego. The fact that we have, ahem, interactions that you don’t have with anyone else is a major turn on.”
I look down at my half-eaten meal and realize my hunger is no longer for food. Our eyes meet. It’s obvious Jeremy is thinking the same thing.
“I thought you were going to put me on your lap to feed me,” I venture.
His eyes blaze with interest. “What a bad host I’ve been. Come over here so I can make things right.”
He pushes his chair back to make room for me. My bottom slips comfortably over his strong body. Our arms keep each other in place as I wiggle to nestle against the hardness pushing past the thin fabric of his pants.
“Fuck, I needed this,” he groans before kissing me.
The wine we’re drinking is sweetened by Jeremy’s natural flavor. We explore each other’s depths, tongues tangled in a dizzying dance. I’m so focused on the feel of his shoulders and his playful nibbling of my lower lip that I don’t realize his hand has crept under the hem of my dress. When a finger grazes my clit, we both inhale sharply.
“Are you wearing sexy underwear?” The question comes out in a low, sultry tone.
I nod. As if that’s the signal he’d been waiting for, Jeremy lifts me abruptly and carries my not-light body to the couch. He sits me down and kneels on the floor between my thighs. On instinct, we reach for each other to continue the bruising kisses. Jeremy pulls me to the edge, lifting my hem completely so the red lace peeks out.
“Fuck, that’s hot,” he mumbles after breaking our kiss to stare down at my exposed body. In a swift motion, he’s removed my underwear and slung my legs over his shoulders. The graze of his lips teases my inner thighs before applying sensual pleasure over my soaked center.
“Oh, Jeremy, yes. Yes. Oh, god.” I am a mess of sounds and a bundle of stimulated nerves. He licks in measured strokes, enough to deliver pleasure but not satisfaction. Building me up and holding me back, Jeremy controls—owns—my body. It’s almost painful how much I need to come. “Oh, please. Just like that. Oh, ye—”
I stop abruptly when I realize how loud and lewd I sound. My voice echoes in the room and my legs are in the air. I’m so close…
“Like this?” he asks before delving deeper with his tongue.
My brain blanks but I manage a weak. “Muh-uh.”
“Or like this?” Jeremy shifts his attention to my clit. Grazing it lightly with his teeth before wrapping his mouth on it to apply soothing pressure.
“Please stop teasing me.”
“Then tell me how much you like it, Vanya. Don’t stop yourself. I love hearing you scream for me.”
So, I let go of self-consciousness. As he moves over my eager sex, tongue deep and lips in constant, sensual motion, I praise him and scream his name. I beg and groan. The words of a woman in ecstasy echo in the room. The more I offer him in words, the more he gives me till I’m there .
A tsunami of bliss washes over me from head to toe. Wave after wave of pleasure crashes into me. Jeremy feels it as he sucks my clit, insistently at first and then more gently. I look down to catch his hungry eyes while his head is between my thighs. The sight prolongs my orgasm, wringing me of all thought and will. I am putty in his hands.
Hands that are lifting me to my feet. Loose limbed and satisfied, I’m easy to maneuver down the hallway.
“Take it all off, beautiful,” he rasps when we enter his bedroom. I slip off my sweater dress. Jeremy pulls down his sweatpants but pauses when he sees my bra.
“That’s the same one from the boudoir picture.”
“It is.”
He gets rid of all his clothes then steps closer to cup each breast from the side. He plumps them higher and releases a primal growl. My nipples strain. Jeremy’s thumbs offer teasing circles over the lace. His ravenous stare never leaves my body.
“Whatever I did to deserve to see it this time, I promise I’ll do it a hundred times.”
Then, he dives into my cleavage to worship my breasts. Licking with his tongue, caressing with his hands, nuzzling his nose. My body has never received this much attention. He takes his time like he could spend the entire night kissing my breasts. But I’m impatient, so I tug his hand and gesture to the bed.
We continue kissing while stumbling on top of the bed. Our bodies meld together, his rounded muscles rippling under my fingertips. My center pulses with the need to be filled. Notched at my entrance, he looks down at me. His expression is a combination of tenderness and determination while he enters one glorious inch at a time, letting my body adjust to what is now a steel rod between us.
“You’re so hard,” I moan.
“All the time. Around you, I’m hard all the fucking time,” he says before plunging in.
We rock into each other. Jeremy fills me completely as he grinds our hips together. There’s a steady rhythm at first, leading us to the edge. We clamor for each other when the fall to ecstasy becomes inevitable.
“Yes!” I scream. “Jeremy, yes! I’m coming,” I gasp.
His cock gets impossibly harder just before he screams my name, too. We climax together in perfect synchrony.
It’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced and yet, somehow, what I always knew I wanted from a lover. A person who accepts me as I am, who eases the grip of self-consciousness, who I can trust when I’m at my most vulnerable.
“That was incredible,” I slur into his ear as he continues to nuzzle in my hair.
“ You’re incredible.” His answer is muffled and a bit slurred as well. It turns out, sexual satisfaction is intoxicating for both of us.
I hold him closer and take my fill of Jeremy Lopez for tonight. His affection, his strength, his passion feed my body’s desires and nourish my heart’s unspoken wishes. Although our arrangement is as risky as it is temporary, there’s no doubt in my mind I would do it again.