Vampires and Sexy Romance (84 page)

“Argh,”  he groaned.  “God, you’re so tight.”

I watched him as he got out of bed and padded barefoot to my bathroom, pulling off the condom and tossing it into the trash.  I stared at the ceiling as Dean peed.

What was I going to do if he said it again?  And I knew now, the way he was looking at me as he returned to the bed, that he had indeed said the L word.  Would I say it back to him?  Would I be lying if I said it back to him?

But as he pulled me to him and spooned me, I found myself lucking out.  He didn’t say it again, and we fell asleep without ever saying another word.

*****

Playing possum.  That’s when you pretend you’re dead -- or in my case, asleep -- when a predator is around ... or the man who said he loves you, and you haven’t the slightest idea of what to say back.

Dean had kissed my shoulder, had rubbed his cock against my sex and had even tweaked a nipple.  And I lay there like a statue, not even groaning (though I really was groaning inside.  If it hadn’t been for the L word I would’ve sprung on to his lap like a cocker spaniel and ridden him like a thoroughbred going for the Triple Crown.

Finally Dean had relented, slipping out of bed and into his clothes, and then kissing me ever so lightly on the lips before he left.  The man always had good breath ... I wondered if he was secretly brushing his teeth during the night?  Or maybe he was addicted to breath strips?

Once my front door clicked shut I sprang up in bed and grabbed the phone.  Bess answered on the third ring.

“He said he loves me.”  I shook my head and groaned.  “Dean said he loves me!”

“Well congratulations,”  Bess said.  “He’s a real catch.”

“But I didn’t say it back.”

“You didn’t say it back ...”  There was a pregnant pause.  “Were you blowing him at the time?”

“No!”  I pulled the receiver from my ear and looked at it as if the damned thing would have Bess’ facial expression on it.  Putting it back to my ear I said, “But he had just come ... we’d just had particularly good sex.”

“Then you don’t have a problem.  Men say that all the time when they get off.  It’s genetic ... a way of keeping the sex coming.  A little neuro-short-circuit to further the species.  Doesn’t mean a thing.”

“Yeah?  But you should’ve seen the look on his face later ... hell he’s had this puppy dog look on his face all week.”

“Then I take it back,”  Bess chimed.  “If he’s been mooning over you all week, and then told you he loves you, then he was probably pretty serious.”

I groaned and pulled the sheets up to my chin.

“So why the hell didn’t you say it back?”

Good question.  “I don’t think I’m in love with him.”

“What’s not to love?  He’s gorgeous, great in bed, educated and, oh yes, he’s a freaking doctor!”

“I know,”  I moaned into my Egyptian cotton sheets.  “I’m crazy.”

“I’d have to agree with you there, cupcake.”

I sighed the sigh of the damned.  “So what do I do?”

“Nothing.  Just act like nothing’s changed.”

“What if he says it again?”

“Oh, he’ll definitely say it again.  He’s the marrying kind.”

This made all the saliva in my mouth dry up.

“Hey,”  Bess said, “Don’t go all crazy/scared on me.  Just wait until he says it again and simply say it back.”

“That’s not simple, Bess.  It’s a lie and I can’t just lie.”

“Of course you can.  You lie to me once every year when you tell me you’ve filed your taxes on time.  Every year you say you did, but I know for a fact you file an extension every year.”

“How ...?”  I sat up with my mouth open, the sheets pulled up in my hand.

“I was fucking an IRS agent last year.  He looked you up for me.”

“Unbelievable.”

“No, he wasn’t unbelievable, but he was pretty good.”

I shook my head again.  “So you really think I should just say it back?”

“Certainly.  It’ll keep him happy ... and around for greater and steamier sex ... and it’ll give you time to --”

“Figure out what I really feel for him?” I cut across her.  “Fall in love?”

“No,”  Bess chuckled.  “Time to figure out that he’s worth faking it for.” 

“Oh ...”

“Well, cupcake, I have a buyer waiting on me, so I’ve got to run.”  And she was gone.

*****

Was Bess right?  Was I just being crazy about Dean’s use of the L word?  How many women over the millenniums had fudged the veracity of their declarations of love?

Bess made a discomforting amount of sense when she said to just say it back to him.  It would solve my problem right then and there, and would give me time to figure out what I really felt about him.  Maybe I could fall in love with him?  Maybe I’d fall in love with him like a minute after I said it to him, or maybe next week?

I showered, all the while my heart pounding.  I didn’t want to hurt Dean, and I didn’t want him to leave.  My body put in its two cents as my flesh turned hot and my breasts and my now burning sex throbbed with lust for him.

I turned the water to cold and stood there waiting for it to subside.  It took so long to cool down that when I emerged from the shower I was running late.

I threw on my scrubs and my new Nikes and bolted for the door.  I raked my fingers through my hair on the elevator and tied it back in a ponytail with a hair band I found in the bottom of my book bag.

I bypassed grabbing coffee, or perusing the magazine racks, and headed at a brisk jog for the hospital.  I arrived five minutes late, but luckily no one even noticed.   The football player was there.  They had surrounded him and were listening to him recount the blitz attack that had originally injured his thumb. 

The men were all transfixed on him.  Made me wonder exactly how straight “straight” men were?

Then I saw Gus sitting out in the waiting room, he smiled as our eyes met and I waved him in.  Getting out of the chair still looked painful, but once he took a couple steps I could see improvement in his gait.

I showed him back to a table, got him on it and had him start the abdominal exercises I‘d taught him. Then I returned to the reception desk and retrieved the ball player. This was a perfect time to introduce them and see if there was a spark.

One of the guys grabbed my arm and asked, “You’re not going to do them both at the same time?”

“Girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.”

I station the ball player in a chair and I stretched and rubbed the offending digit.  Then I had him start the curling exercises I’d shown him on our last visit.  His thumb was healing nicely, and I was completely confident that he’d be ready for the big game next week.

I moved over and placed a large spongy ball between Gus’s knees and instructed him to squeeze the ball as he continued with the abdominal exercises.

“By the way, this is Gus,”  I said to the ball player, giving him a playful shot in the arm.

The ball player gave her a surprised and slightly pissy look.  Then she made a show of rolling her eye balls over in Gus’ direction.  Instantly the ball player got this look on his face.  He was definitely interested in Gus.  He might be around a decade older than the ball player, but I was right, he was smoking hot for any age.

The ball player got up and offered Gus his hand.  Gus took it and shook it, but didn’t seem to recognize the hand’s owner from Adam. 

I cut in. “Trey here is the quarter back for the Giants.”

Gus got this look of concentration on his face, his eyes studying the young sports star in front of him.  “You hurt your thumb ... right?”

Trey blushed; obviously this didn’t do much for his ego, being known by a hot guy as the one with a bum digit.

“Yep, that’s me,”  he said.  “Lucy here’s trying to get me mended enough for next week’s game.”

Gus shrugged then looked to me and smiled.  “I guess as long as you’re not a potted plant she’s your woman.”  Then he winked. 

He didn’t even check the young stud out, just told him cordially, “Good luck.”  And went back to squeezing the foam rubber ball between his knees and working out his abdominal muscles.

I followed Trey back to the table and we started in on his thumb again. 

“So,”  I asked, undeterred by Gus’ lack of enthusiasm.  “What do you think?”

Trey chuckled and gave me a look.  “Hot old guy ... but he’s obviously not into me.”

“Maybe he’s shy around sport’s figures?”

“Nah ... He’s no sports fan.  You can tell the ones that just don’t care about that sorta thing.  Too bad.  I haven’t seen a hotter guy in a long time.”

I had to agree there.  Gus was maybe hotter than Dean.  Thank god he was gay.  Or I’d be in loads of moral turpitude.

I finished up with the ball player then returned to Gus, who was now doing some slow and gentle hip thrusts. 

“How’s it feel?”  I asked.

“Like a pain in the ass.”  Sweat pooled in drops on his brow.

I had him try another exercise where he dropped one leg down flat, but not letting it rest on the table.  I could tell this was tough on him.  Not only was it strengthening his gut and helping to align his legs, but it was a great exercise for the lower back.

Finally it was time for heat and electrodes.  I applied the pads on strategic parts of his buttocks and then turned on the juice, raising it until he said it was high enough.  Then I applied the heat pad.

I left him there for ten minutes, catching up on some paper work I’d been laxed on.  Then I told the receptionist that Gus was ready for Tony to work on his back and buttocks. 

“Tony’s home sick,”  She said.

“Okay.  I’ll do it then.”

I walked back behind the pulled curtain and removed the heat pad and the electrodes. “Tony’s off today, so I’ll be doing the deep tissue massage.”  I gave him my best smile.  “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.”

Gus had a strange look on his face as I pulled down the back of his sweats and smoothed on some menthol massage gel. I started off soft, not wanting to push too deep until I was sure exactly which muscles were strained and which ones weren’t.  Working down from his lower back o his buttocks I felt the muscles tighten.  I pressed down harder when I found the tightest of his butt muscles.  Gus groaned in pain and squirmed on the table.  I backed off for a moment, massaging the outlining muscle groups, and then hit the sore ones again. 

“Ah, damn!”  Gus beat his fist against the padded table.

“Hang in there, Gus, it’ll just be a few minutes longer.”

I used one hand to move back up to his lower back, finding the still sore muscles there, I worked them over.  Finally I felt Gus relax, the pain finally lessened, or maybe just gotten used to.

With his soft flesh in my hands, the firm muscles putty in my hands now, I couldn’t resist enjoying it.  Seldom did I get to work on anyone so attractive.  And to not feel the least bit self-conscious. 

“Okay, buddy,”  I said as I wiped the excess massage jell from his rump.  “You’re done.”

Gus just lay there, not looking at me. 

“You can get up now, you’re a free man.”

“I need a minute.”  He didn’t look at me, just stayed there perfectly still.

I was suddenly worried I’d injured him and he was trying to be tough.

“You okay, Gus?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine in a couple minutes.”

And then it suddenly hit me.  He had a hard-on.  I shook my head in puzzlement.  Straight guys routinely got erections after a massage by a woman, but Gus was gay.

Then that voice in my head said, Gus is gay, right?

“Right.”  I said to Gus and myself.  “Take your time, no hurry.”

I ducked out of the curtained area and raced for the reception area.   This wasn’t good.  This was horrible.  Was Gus straight?  Maybe he was Bi-sexual?   Maybe he was just one of those aberrations that got hard because of physical pain.

Hell, maybe he didn’t even have an erection.  Maybe he just really only needed a few moments alone.

Suddenly I saw Nicole emerge from the curtained area.  She saw me and fanned herself in mock heat stroke.  “What did you do to that poor man?”

“What do you mean?”

Nicole smiled knowingly.  “I went back there for the electrode machine and he was getting up off the table.  And I gotta say I haven’t seen a stiffy like that in a while.”

I was horrified.  He
had
popped an erection.  What the hell did that mean?

I grabbed the next patient so I’d be busy when He emerged -- hopefully flaccid -- from the curtained area.  I heard him talking to the receptionist and making another appointment as I worked on strengthening a ninety-year old woman’s brand new hip.  I saw from her chart that Dean referred her.

I shook my head in guilt.  The thoughts that were swirling in my head made me blush for an hour straight.

*****