The Bottom Line (16 page)

“Tell me what you want, baby.”

“I want you to fuck my brains out.”

He smiled down at her. “Such dirty talk.”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

Obeying her was his pleasure. He let his tongue explore her mouth, rubbing over hers before he nipped at her bottom lip. Ben slipped his hand between her thighs to be sure she was ready for him. The wet welcome took away what remained of his control.

He settled between her slender thighs, rubbing his cock against her until he plunged forward. She fit him perfectly, even better without the condom between them, and the feel of her would never grow old.

Her hands covered his backside, pulling him deeper as she lifted her knees. “Damn, I love it when you fuck me, Ben.”

Unable to find a voice to answer, he eased back and then thrust forward. Soon he found a fast, rough rhythm that drew gasps and moans from Mallory. Then she sucked in a breath and held it, a signal that she was close to release.

Ben increased the speed of his movements, and when her eyes widened and her body clenched around him, he gave up his own battle, surrendering to his orgasm.

Ben paced the length of the surgical waiting room yet again. Twenty-two steps up, twenty-two steps back, then a glance to the hallway to see the closed doors to the surgical area.

It was maddening. Waiting had always been difficult for him at best, but this was nothing short of torture. He wished their roles were reversed, that he was facing the surgery rather than Mallory.

She’s fine.

He kept reminding himself this was a routine kind of surgery, nothing nearly as bad as what she’d already faced with the mastectomy.

Even thinking about what that had been like made him squirm. The poor woman must have lived through hell. All the Internet sites he pulled up doing research on breast cancer and mastectomies made a point of discussing the pain that the patient went through. And that wasn’t the worst of it. The waiting, the days, months, and years of worrying—those could be unbearable.

At least this surgery would only keep Mallory in the hospital one night, and as soon as she was back in her room, he’d stick close to her side. He’d sleep in the chair if he had to, like he’d done when Amber was born.

The delivery had been easy on Theresa, so much so even the nurses commented on how different the experience was when compared to other first babies. How funny was it that a woman who was such a bad mother could so easily squeeze out a baby? She’d delivered around noon and hadn’t even wanted to spend the night, but the doctor and nurses convinced her it was better for Amber to be watched for the first twenty-four hours. Theresa suggested she go and Amber and Ben stay. The nurses thought she was joking. Ben knew better.

After checking the clock—
three more minutes gone
—he started counting the tiles on the floor. Anything to keep his mind calm.

Who was he trying to kid? He was a fucking mess. A million horrible things were flying through his thoughts.

Mallory going into cardiac arrest.

Mallory stroking out on the table.

And the one that refused to abate and turned his blood to ice water—the surgeon finding more cancer when he opened her up again.

How did she live with the fear?

Duh.
The same way she handled everything else. With grace, elegance, and the strongest love of life he’d ever known. Mallory embraced each day with open arms.

Perhaps her unflinching approach to the world was because she’d looked Death in the eye and that bastard had blinked first. Since Ben didn’t know her before the cancer, he could only imagine whether she’d changed with the diagnosis. But he loved her the way she was now, so it really didn’t matter what she’d been before the day they’d met.

Now, she was his.

Four more minutes gone.

Ben plucked his cell phone from his belt and almost called Amber. The only thing stopping him was that she’d still be on the flight to Dallas. Probably for the best. He had no business foisting his anxiety off on his daughter. She was anxious enough having to spend the holidays with her mother and grandparents. He’d considered telling Theresa that Amber couldn’t go, but a call from his ex-mother-in-law changed his mind. Begging that she get to see her only grandchild, Doris had promised to make things great for Amber and to be sure that Theresa behaved while under their roof. So for the first time since her birth, Ben was missing Christmas with his daughter.

That turned his mood sour, which wasn’t a good thing because only another two minutes had clicked by. The tumultuous emotions were almost more than he could take.

A nurse in pink scrubs marched into the waiting room. Ben hurried over. She had to be there for him because no one else was there.

“Ben Carpenter?”

“Yes. Yes.” Fighting the urge to grab her hands, he shoved his own in his front pockets. “How’s Mallory?”

The woman smiled, her blue eyes full of sympathy. “She’s in recovery. She did great. We should be taking her up to her room in about an hour.”

He could have kissed her purple Crocs.

She glanced at the collection of empty cups of coffee he’d bought from the vending machine. “Why don’t you go grab a bite to eat?”

“I don’t know… Shouldn’t I stay close?”

“She’s fine. Go eat. We’ve got a great cafeteria.”

Since his hands were shaking, Ben figured he should probably have a decent meal to offset all the caffeine. Unless his hands trembled because he worried about Mallory.

The nurse put her hand on his arm. “Go on. Get a bite to eat. Then you can see your girl.”

* * *

Although her eyes were open, Mallory didn’t seem to understand too much of what was happening.

The orderlies had wheeled her into her room—thankfully a private one—and two nurses had taken over, pushing Ben to the background as they got her settled. She had tubes popping out of her everywhere.

By the time the fuss was over, only one nurse remained—a thin, ponytailed blonde wearing a scrub shirt decorated with penguins wearing Santa hats. She finished taking Mallory’s vitals and then clipped a call button on the blanket next to Mallory’s hand. “Push that if you need us for anything, hon.”

Ben moved closer to the bed, worrying that Mallory looked so fragile in her green hospital gown. The left shoulder of the garment was held together with only one snap, probably to give the nurses quick access to the bandages. Her arms appeared so slender, and the gown seemed to swallow her whole. Her hair was a riot of waves and curls that she’d probably be trying to tame if she could see herself. She wore no makeup, but her face had so much natural beauty, she didn’t need any—although a touch of color might have been nice on her pale skin.

“Hey, baby. How you feelin’?” he asked, his voice throaty with emotion. Seeing her so helpless tore at his heart.

“Fine,” she murmured. “Sleepy.
Really
sleepy.”

“That’s the anesthesia.” The nurse fiddled with Mallory’s IV. “It’ll keep wearing off tonight, but you’ll have times you still get a little groggy.”

“Anything I can do to help her?” Ben asked.

“She’s doing great.”

Mallory tried to push herself higher up on the bed before hissing out a long breath as her brow gathered and a frown formed on her lips.

“Easy, honey,” the nurse said. “I know they explained the PCA in recovery, but…” She grabbed a line from the IV, stretched it out, and put a controller with a red button in Mallory’s hand. “When you need something for the pain, push this. You’ll get morphine released right into the IV.”

“Seriously?” Ben asked. “But what if she pushes it too many times? Won’t she overdose?”

The smile the nurse gave him appeared genuine rather than patronizing. “The machine will lock her out until it’s time for another dose. She can push all she wants, but it won’t release the meds until the right time.”

Such an odd concept—the patient controlling her own painkillers. Both he and Amber were seldom sick, so he knew little about medicine let alone surgery.

Mallory pushed the button, and a few seconds later, her whole body relaxed. She even had a lopsided smile on her face.

Ben let loose a laugh. “Good stuff, there, Mal?”

She hummed her answer before closing her eyes.

“She’ll be sleeping a lot,” the nurse said as she finished adjusting a few more things. “I’ll be back soon to check on her. If you want to watch TV, the controls are”—she picked up what he’d assumed was the controller for raising and lowering the bed—“on this.”

“Thanks. I’ll turn it on if I get too bored.”

With a nod, the nurse left, pulling the door closed behind her.

Ben grabbed a chair and scooted it closer to the bed, choosing her right side in case the nurses needed access to her incision. He picked up her hand and cradled it in his. Her skin was soft and warm as he stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. That hand was so tiny, all but lost in his enormous mitt.

With a murmur of something he couldn’t understand, she wiggled her nose and then sighed. After her zap of morphine, she’d be out for a good, long while.

The woman sure couldn’t hold her painkillers.

He lifted her hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles. “Sleep, baby. Best thing for you. I’ll take you home as soon as they let me, but just sleep for now.”

No surprise that she didn’t reply.

Since she clearly couldn’t hear him, he smiled and said the words he’d been holding in his heart. “I love you, Mallory.”

Once he got her home, he’d find the courage to tell her when she could actually hear him.

* * *

Something was squeezing her right upper arm so tight she grumbled.

“Taking your blood pressure,” a far too chipper feminine voice said. “Be done in a sec.”

Mallory hated the foggy feeling that still enveloped her. Seemed that as soon as the anesthesia wore off, the morphine had taken charge. Hardly remembering anything except the button her nurse had handed her, she took a few deep breaths and tried to orient herself and banish the last of the drug’s effects.

No more pushing the morphine button for her.

A quick glance at the clock. 2:10 a.m. No wonder it was still dark.

The nurse who’d come in to check her had dragged Mallory back to the land of the living. Amazing how much the petite blonde could do with such a low level of light. Probably a night-shift nurse accustomed to moving around like a nocturnal creature. In short order, she’d checked all of Mallory’s vitals, taken a peek at her incision, and gotten her a glass of ice water.

“Buzz if you need me,” the nurse whispered. She smiled as she inclined her head at Ben. He lay sprawled in the easy chair as a soft snore slipped from his half-open mouth. “He’s been worried about you. Hasn’t left for a minute. Such a good husband.”

Mallory almost corrected the woman, but she breezed out of the room too quickly.

Such a good husband.

Maybe one day…

Things between them were going well. They were not only compatible, but they complemented each other in so many ways.

She hated cooking. Ben loved it.

He could be a bit of a slob, leaving tools all over the place or doffing a shirt and forgetting to grab it when he left. But Mallory actually enjoyed straightening things up.

And both had hearty sexual appetites. Sometimes it was hard to let him work on the house because she wanted to strip off his clothes and jump him. Once he’d convinced her that the scar didn’t matter, she’d released the last of the shackles holding her back. The way he responded every time he saw her naked ended the last of her worries. Ben let her know with his words, his touch, and his body that he liked everything he saw.

Would he love being able to see her body now that it was made whole? Well, at least it would be once the swelling subsided and she got the new nipple’s color tattooed.

The pain had eased enough she considered lifting the bandage to see her new boob. What stopped her was fear of moving in a way that tugged at the incision. The implant wasn’t going anywhere, and it would probably be best if she waited to look when all the swelling had eased.

That gave her pause. Ben might be accustomed to her scar, but could he handle the drainage tube that the surgeon told her would follow her home? Would the ugly side of what she’d been through turn him off?

Juliana had offered to help, and Mallory had taken her up on that offer. Ben was supposed to call Jules when Mallory got discharged since the doctor had said it could be one day, two, maybe even three depending on how well she handled the procedure. Once called, Jules would be home waiting for them. While Ben might be great at doing all the messy chores to help her recover, she’d be much more comfortable letting Jules deal with drains and bandages.

“Hey, Mal.”

Her gaze caught his. “You’re awake.”

His dark hair was messy in a rugged way. Add his heavily lidded eyelids, and he was far too sexy for his own good. It was the same way he looked after they made love, and she would never grow tired of her handsome boyfriend.

“You need something?”

“No, I’m fine. The nurse was just here.”

“She was?” He glanced over his shoulder at the closed door. “Didn’t hear her. What time is it?” An exaggerated yawn consumed his face.

“It’s only two. Go back to sleep, Ben.”

“You sure you don’t need anything?”

“Just some rest.”

Settling himself back in the chair, he closed his eyes. “Night, baby.” He was snoring again in only a few moments. The man could fall asleep faster than anyone she’d ever known.

Mallory closed her eyes, only to have them fly open again when Ben shifted in his chair and said, “Love you.”

“What did you say?”

No reply.

Surely she’d misheard. The man was asleep. He hadn’t said what she’d thought. No way. It was the morphine. Or the anesthesia. Or the ordeal of surgery.

She was wide awake now. “Ben? What did you say to me?”

Still no reply.

Shit.

There was no way she’d confront him when he finally woke up enough to answer her question. What if he’d only been talking in his sleep? What if he’d been dreaming that he was talking to Amber or some sexy nymph skipping through his mind?

Moving around to try to get a little more comfortable, all Mallory managed to do was send pain searing through her chest and arm. After only a few minutes of trying to cope, she realized she’d abandoned that little red button just a little too soon.

With a resigned sigh, she gave herself a dose of the soothing morphine. Right before sleep claimed her, she whispered, “I love you, too, Ben.”