Chapter 11
GINNY
Ifollow Dylan into the bedroom, my pulse racing. The air feels colder back here, away from the fireplace.
Goosebumps rise on my arms—though I can't tell if it's from the chill or from anticipation.
I sit on the edge of the bed, the mattress sinking under my weight.
"I agree,” I say, my breath catching with anticipation.
“Just one kiss."
I wanted to say it in a matter of fat kind of tone.
Like an exasperated nurse would tell her patient.
But it doesn’t come out that way.
It comes out as more of a whisper as I draw my lips near.
God, he's gorgeous. An actual rock star, right here in my bed while the storm howls outside, rattling the windows.
I lean closer, inhaling deeply. His skin smells like Irish Spring soap I used mixed with something else—something raw and masculine that makes the area between my legs grow moist.
No fancy cologne, just him. I press my lips against that perfect spot where his neck meets his shoulder.
His skin is warm and soft. Maybe it’s the influence of the full moon, my raging hormones, but I have to fight the urge to use my teeth.
I want to taste him, to mark him.
Heat floods between my legs, and I have to remind myself: "Don't sleep with the patient.”
But my body isn't listening anymore.
It takes every ounce of self-control I have to pull back. My lips tingle where they touched his skin.
"No nookie with the patient," I tell myself firmly, though my body disagrees completely.
I force myself to draw back, but can't look away from his face. His eyes have gone dark, pupils wide.
"What kind of goodnight kiss was that?" he asks, voice husky.
"A good night and sleep well kiss," I say, my own voice betraying me with its breathiness.
"Nurse Nancy," he says with a playful pout, making an exaggerated show of shivering under the thin blanket. "It's frigid here. I might not last until morning."
I touch his arm. It’s cold to my touch. The bedroom is definitely chillier than the living room with its crackling fire.
"You’re right! You’re freezing. You’ll be toasty warm by the fire. We can switch places," I offer, trying to sound professional. "If you don't mind sleeping on the sofa."
"I don't know," he says, stretching his long body on my bed, the movement pulling the blanket lower on his hips. “But I don't think I have the energy to move. Maybe if you come over and warm me up a little bit, I'll be okay."
I bite my lip, knowing I should refuse, but my feet are already carrying me toward him.
"Alright, just one cuddle."
Charlie's large paws thump against the hardwood as he trots into the room. He settles down beside the bed with that loopy doggy grin, as if he wants to watch the show.
”How's this for warmth?" I whisper, pressing my body against his. The heat between us feels electric, dangerous.
"Nice," Dylan murmurs, gathering my hair in his fist and pulling it gently away from my neck.
His lips find my collarbone, and I shiver as his warm breath tickles my skin. "Very nice."
His hand traces a path down my arm beneath my long-sleeve shirt, his fingers arousing all kinds of delicious feelings in me.
When his palm slides up to cup my breast, I can't help the small gasp that escapes me.
"Extremely nice," he says, his voice a low rumble against my ear.
He shifts our bodies until I'm on my back, his weight half-covering me as he leans on one arm. His eyes, dark with desire, lock onto mine.
"I want you, Nurse Nancy," he says. "I want you more than I've ever wanted another woman."
I laugh softly, even as my heart races. "Right. I believe that's true for tonight, maybe even this week."
"I'm serious, Ginny.” The way he says my name makes my stomach flutter. "I want to make love to you. Don't tell me you don't feel this too. I can see it in your eyes."
"I'm your nurse," I reply, trying to sound professional despite the heat building between my legs. "You're just delirious from the accident and the snowstorm."
"Perhaps," he whispers, pressing his finger against my lips. "But there's something between us. I know you feel it too."
I fall silent, unable to deny it. The attraction is real. I feel it humming between us like a live wire. Whatever this is, it's not something I experience every day.
"Haven't you heard of sexual healing?" Dylan asks with a playful smile, his fingers already working at the buttons of my robe.
I know he’s talking about himself.
But it’s exactly what I need.
He wraps the strands of my hair around his fingers, using the gentle tension to guide my mouth to his.
When our lips meet, a current runs through me—his taste more intoxicating than the whiskey we shared earlier.
I kiss him back hungrily, my tongue dancing with his as warmth spreads from my core outward.
"That's more like it," he murmurs against my mouth, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through my body. His hands find my breasts, cupping their weight, thumbs circling my nipples until they harden beneath his touch.
I arch into him, craving more pressure, more friction. With surprising strength, he shifts me until I'm straddling him, the thin fabric of my dad's old silk robe and his briefs the only barrier between us.
For a fleeting moment, I think about my father. Imagining how scandalized he'd be seeing his little girl acting like this.
But then I realize, if he's watching from somewhere beyond, he'd probably just want me to be happy.
To stop hiding from life. The kiss Dylan and I share feels like a step toward something real, something healing.
Dylan's hands slide down to grip my hips, fingers digging into flesh that's always felt too ample to me.
"You're perfect," he breathes against my neck, "absolutely perfect."
The heat between us builds until I can barely think. "Do you have protection?" I manage to ask.
"Yes," he says, his voice still husky with desire. "In my jeans pocket."
I give him a look, one eyebrow raised.
"What’s that supposed to mean?!" he teases. "I'm a famous rockstar. Precautions are part of the job."
"So I see," I say, unable to keep the laugh out of my voice.
I pad over to the sofa where I've neatly folded his jeans before his bath. The floor feels cold against my bare feet.
Sure enough, there's a condom in the pocket. I bring it to him, my mind racing. What would I have done if he didn't have it? Would I have had unprotected sex?
I'd like to think I wouldn't, but the way I'm feeling right now, my body practically humming with need, I'm not so sure.
Not sure at all.