Chapter 18 #2
Mia wants to laugh and ask her how the hell she's supposed to clear her head when Erin's hands are on her body, but she says nothing—she just lies still, eyes open, staring at the ceiling.
Erin's fingers move slowly against the spot that aches, and the singer feels some relief, though not enough, because she is completely rigid.
"Relax your shoulders, Wilder."
Erin tries to help by touching her left shoulder, pressing gently to coax it loose—but she gets the exact opposite result. Mia flinches as if Erin's fingers sent a jolt through her and grips the sheets with both hands like that might help her stay still.
"Would you rather sit up?" the doctor asks, starting to feel unsettled herself.
"Yeah, that's better," the singer answers.
Erin stands and returns to the chair while Mia pushes back up to her original position.
She can't help looking at her: bare legs covered only by cotton athletic shorts that barely reach mid-thigh, and a thin-strapped tank top with nothing underneath.
Mia had dressed this way planning to lie down and sleep through the ride, but the discomfort had started not long after she'd gotten into bed and never let up.
She wouldn't have received Erin like this if she'd had a choice—but here they are, and the doctor is having a very hard time keeping her eyes off Mia's top, where the outline of her nipples is impossible to miss.
"Okay." Erin clears her throat. For a moment she considers standing up, handing her a pill, and walking out—but her principles won't let her. If she can fix the problem without putting a chemical in Mia's body, she'd rather do that.
"How do you know this isn't something else?" Mia asks, hoping that conversation will distract her from the terrible pull of arousal that Erin's fingers on her skin are stirring up.
"Because it's happened to me. When I let stress pile up, I get that same knot at the base of my skull that you're describing."
"And it goes away with a massage?" Mia looks up slightly—but they're so close, with Erin sitting right in front of her, that instead of working her fingers to give her relief, the doctor goes still, pressing lightly while she holds her breath and fights the overwhelming urge to lean in and kiss Mia's soft pink lips.
"I don't have anyone to give me a massage," she says, and keeps going. "But pressing on it myself helps a lot."
"Erin."
The world stops for the doctor when she hears her name. Her hands go still and drop—without her realizing it—to the back of Mia's neck.
"What?" she asks, her heart hammering and a warm flutter spreading low through her stomach.
Mia's lower lip trembles slightly as she figures out what she's going to say, because her mind went blank the moment Erin ran her tongue over her lips.
"You should probably just give me the pill, because if you keep doing that I'm going to do something that's going to make you really angry, and—"
Mia's voice is swallowed by Erin's mouth as the doctor leans in a little further and captures her lips. The surprise freezes her for a beat, but the moment Erin's tongue touches her teeth, Mia grabs her shirt by the shoulders and pulls her in, making sure Erin doesn't pull back.
The doctor wants to stop—but her whole body is buzzing, and she feels like she has no control over herself as she cups Mia's face and draws her upward.
They both rise without breaking apart, and Erin presses forward with her body until Mia's back meets the closet wall—and then, as if they're perfectly in sync, Mia locks her arms around her neck, lifts her legs, and wraps them around her waist while Erin takes hold of her thighs.
Erin rolls her hips, searching for the friction she needs, because she is so suddenly, desperately turned on she can barely breathe.
She finds the right angle and moves with it—a steady, perfect rhythm—and when Mia responds with one breathless sound after another, Erin breaks the kiss because she needs air.
"Don't stop, please," Mia whispers, pressing herself tight against her as Erin keeps moving, her face buried in the singer's neck so she can't look at her—because part of her already regrets what she's doing, and the other part can't stop, and the war between them is making her lose her mind.
Then Mia's fingers dig hard into her back and the singer's soft gasps turn into moans as her body tightens.
Erin doesn't need to quiet her—Mia buries her teeth in her shoulder and exhales sharply against it as she comes, and Erin feels her own orgasm coiling low and tight in her stomach.
But just as she's about to let herself go, someone knocks at the door.
It catches Mia mid-wave, but the sound snaps them both back, and Erin releases her at the same instant Mia's feet drop to the floor.
The doctor takes two steps back, so disoriented she doesn't know what to do with herself. Her whole body is trembling—her hands most of all—and she still feels that unresolved ache between her legs, her own pulse throbbing there.
"Who is it?" Mia asks, still pressed against the wall, watching Erin, who has bent forward with her hands on her knees.
"It's Noah—can I come in?" comes the voice from the other side.
Mia doesn't know how to answer. If she says yes, Noah will put it together instantly—mostly because Erin can't seem to straighten up. She feels trapped in a loop of guilt and want and frustration, and she can't think straight or figure out what to do.
"Erin…" Mia whispers.
The doctor hears her as if from underwater.
"Dooley," the singer says, louder, and Erin slowly stands up straight.
Mia doesn't even get a chance to ask—what do we do?
Do we let Noah in or tell him to come back and figure out an excuse later?
—because Noah, worried by the silence, pushes the door open and steps in.
He stops when he sees Erin near the window and Mia by the closet.
At first it takes him a second to read the room, because the doctor looks dazed rather than like a woman who was half a breath away from coming, and Mia looks frozen, unable to pull her eyes off Erin.
"I'll come back," Noah says.
"No, stay." Erin looks up, but her expression is completely blank, like she can't connect what she's saying to what she's seeing. "I'm going to find you something for that discomfort—the flight attendant will bring it with some juice and something to eat."
Mia says nothing, just nods, even though Erin isn't looking at her.
The doctor walks out, and Noah isn't sure whether to stay or go after her, because he knows his best friend and he knows Mia won't be able to talk until her head settles.
"What's the pill for?" the assistant asks, worried and confused in equal measure.
"My head hurts a little," the singer answers, still standing by the closet.
"Do you want me to stay? Feel like talking about anything?"
Mia touches her lips with her fingers. They feel like they're burning, and if she focuses, she can still feel the weight of Erin's against them.
"No. Not right now."
"Okay. Just let me know when you're ready—I'll be right outside."
Noah walks out, and Mia realizes she never found out why he'd come in the first place. She can't deal with that right now. The tightness in her head had seemed to dissolve while she was pressed against Erin's mouth, and now it's back all at once, as sharp as before.
She lies down and pulls everything she can find over herself, holding the image of Erin from a few minutes ago—barely able to focus, looking more lost than ever.
Mia would like to tell her that she can be her map—that she wants to—that Mia can be something she anchors herself to whenever she needs it, that she won't pull away or leave her alone, ever.
But she can't make promises to a woman who refuses to admit what she feels.