Eye Contact Read online

  Climbing up the three steps from the sidewalk to her porch was challenging and a bit awkward since I had only been out of my hard cast for less than a day, but I managed it successfully. It wasn’t graceful by any means, and I was silently grateful that no one was watching me. With my hand closed into a fist and raised to knock, I paused, steeling myself to prepare for seeing her.

  Before I could bring my hand to the wood, it opened away from me and Andie’s face came into view, surprised that I was there. She gasped and brought her hand to her chest in shock.

  “You scared me!”

  “I’m sorry,” I offered, loving the pink blush that filled her cheeks. “I was just about to knock.”

  “No, it’s okay,” she said reassuringly, catching her breath. “I just didn’t expect you to be here yet. I was going to grab something out of my car.” She opened the door wider and waved me in, stepping back. “Please, come in. Wait, your cast—it’s gone! Where are your crutches?”

  “It came off today. I’m a free man,” I cheerfully announced while stepping into the foyer.

  “You drove yourself here?” she asked, surprised. “I assumed you would Uber over.”

  “Nope, I drove. First time I’ve been behind the wheel in…well, more than six weeks.”

  “Was it like riding a bike?” she joked with a smirk.

  “Something like that, except without emergency lifesaving surgery required.”

  My eyes scanned the room, immediately resting on the bouquet of flowers sitting in the center of the bar separating the kitchen from the living room. I turned my head to look at her, and her lips curled up on one side.

  “I got your flowers,” she whispered. “They’re beautiful.”

  I set down the bag I was toting that held the two wine bottles and rotated my body to fully face her.

  “I missed you too,” she admitted, slowly coming closer to me. That was all the card attached to the bouquet had said: I miss you. – V.B. Apparently, that was all it needed to say.

  Her lips parted, unspoken words sitting right there on the surface, and I waited for her to finish.

  “No one has ever sent me flowers before.”

  I couldn’t believe this stunning woman standing before me had never received flowers. Fools. Anyone before me—everyone before me—complete and utter fools. My fingers itched to touch her but something told me to wait. Her body trembled with nerves and hesitation, and I needed to be patient and allow her the time to say what she wanted to say.

  She didn’t speak.

  She stepped cautiously toward me, baby steps of forward movement into my space, close enough that we were breathing the same air, feeling the heat of each other’s bodies. Her right hand rose and she rested it gently over the area of my chest right over my heart. Then her left hand came up to rest right next to it. Her eyes scanned mine, darting around as if she were photographing me. As her face inched even closer and tilted just a hair to her right, her eyes landing on my lips, I helped by tilting my own slightly to my right, anticipating her.

  The air around us was buzzing, and the moment her lips finally touched mine, a fire of need exploded inside me. I could wait no longer. My hands pulled her body to mine, one on the small of her back and the other around the back of her slender neck. I tried to let her lead, to direct the kiss, but my need for her was too fevered. We were soon kissing each other in a frenzy, the heat of our mouths on one another igniting and intense. I couldn’t hold back, my hunger for her too strong to fight.

  At some point, we pulled away, just enough to try to catch our breaths, but only for a few seconds. I was soon descending upon her again, nipping at her bottom lip with a nibble of my teeth, kissing over her jaw and the underside along her neck, the softest skin I had ever felt. Her flesh prickled at my touch. The soft moans escaping from her only urged me on further, and when my mouth engulfed her earlobe, her body bucked into mine.

  Her hands dove into my hair, nails raking my scalp and pulling my face closer into her.

  “Vaughn,” she pleaded breathlessly.

  I didn’t answer with words, but with my hands wrapped around her, skimming the bottom of her shirt and reaching underneath it to feel the skin of her back. I kneaded her flesh and held her tightly against me, my arousal pressing against her abdomen.

  She wiggled her hand down, bringing it between our bodies and palming me in her hand. I nearly came undone and had to pull away, the passion boiling over.

  “Wait.”

  The word came out weak and harsh. I wanted to ravage her, everything in me screaming for us to go full-speed ahead. She licked her lips and shifted her weight, a split second of uncertainty flashing across her face, but she didn’t wait. She took a deep breath and came closer again, her hands coming up to take hold of my collar.

  Looking deeply into my eyes, she began undoing the buttons of my shirt, one by one, so slowly that it was maddening. I stood as still as I could, trying to allow her the room to explore. Once half of my shirt was unbuttoned, she spread the fabric apart and lightly grazed her fingertips over the spray of hair on my chest. A shiver of desire spread through me and I swallowed hard. This girl was going to be the death of me, my resolve hanging on by a mere thread.

  She undid the final buttons and traced her fingers over the thick scar that ran in a straight vertical line from the center of my chest all the way down below my belt line, the scar she had created. She had sliced into my skin and saved my life, and she was now admiring her work. When her hand reached the bottom of my hardened scar, dipping just below my waist, I grabbed her fingers with mine, halting her advance.

  “Are you sure, Andie?”

  She craned her face up and kissed me softly and confidently, her tongue delving into my mouth to tangle with mine.

  “I’m sure.”

  Her hand reached for mine and she pulled away from me, turning to walk away, taking me with her toward the stairs. I struggled to keep up with her and grabbed the bannister tightly to support some of my weight as she climbed the steps before me.

  “Andie! Wait. I can’t… Slow down,” I begged.

  Her feet halted and her body turned completely around to face me. Even though she was walking backward up the stairs, she did it smoothly, smiling sweetly at me in between steps. She walked up a step, swinging her hips flirtatiously, and bent her face down to kiss mine, enticing me to follow for more. I took each stair one by one, getting a taste of her with every stride. When she was almost at the very top, she released my hand and galloped ahead, leaving me two or three steps behind. I looked up to see her draw her shirt over her head and toss it to the floor. She rotated to face me, grinned teasingly, and reached behind her back to unclasp her bra. The sight of her bare breasts, her pink nipples taut and begging to be kissed made my feet move a little faster to complete the climb. I followed after her around the corner into her bedroom and was met with the most beautiful sight I had ever laid my eyes on.

  I was already falling for Andie Fine, but it was right then, at that very moment, that I completely fell.

  As we stripped ourselves naked, we bared not only our skin but all our emotions. Our bodies collided and the rush was akin to someone pushing you off of a high dive. You look down at the glassy surface of the water, terrified of hitting it wrong, scared of the pain of landing, but you crave the high. The surge of adrenaline fuels the forward movement of your feet to the very edge, your toes curling over, unable to let go of their grip. Out of nowhere, forceful hands shove you beyond the precipice of doubt and you’re falling, surging toward the unknown. The wind curls around your form in a soothing embrace, your hair flowing around your face, each and every follicle whipping in the breeze, enjoying the ride. You smile, breathe, laugh, riding the wave of pure bliss until the very millisecond your eyes catch a glimpse of the water’s surface and the fear re-emerges. The breath catches in your throat but before you even have time to think about it, you’re submerged, soaring through the water like a missile, bathed in the warm welcome o
f the deep end.

  I wanted to drown in the pool that was being in love with Andie Fine.

  Chapter 34

  Andie

  “Do you have a cat?”

  His question came out of nowhere as we both lay on our backs, staring up at the ceiling fan above my bed, trying to catch our breaths.

  I turned toward him, a puzzled expression on my face. “Is that supposed to be a euphemism? A sexual innuendo of some sort?”

  He chuckled, the thick tenor of his voice vibrating through my room and making me want to kiss his throat.

  “No. An actual pet cat.”

  “I don’t have any pets. I’ve tried in the past but I’m incapable of keeping them alive.”

  “You killed a cat?” he shrieked, picking his head up from the pillow in shock.

  “God, no. That’s awful,” I replied quickly. “Just a fish. I tried to have one not too long ago but wasn’t home enough to remember to feed it. Came home to the poor guy belly up one day.”

  Vaughn turned onto his side to face me, the top sheet barely draped over his lower half. The sight of him made me tingly and hungry. He was all man, with hard planes of taut muscle underneath smooth olive skin, and I itched to touch him.

  “Why do you ask?”

  “I was just curious. The florist asked me earlier about lilies. They’re poisonous to cats and I didn’t know if you had a cat or not so I said no to them.”

  “You made a good call. I don’t care for the smell of lilies,” I confessed. “Everyone always gets them for patients at the hospital. They stink up the rooms and remind me of death.”

  “You think they stink?”

  “Well, no, I guess not, but they have a distinct smell and I can’t help but associate it with people dying.”

  “Interesting.” It was all he said, the word hanging in the air.

  “That doesn’t happen to you?”

  “What?”

  “You don’t associate scents with things in your life? Certain times or experiences, they have a smell.” He gazed at my face, intrigued. “Everything in life has a scent. When a familiar aroma enters your space, it’s like you’re instantly reminded and transported back to a place or memory when it hits you.”

  His right hand left its spot on the bed and came up to touch the side of my face, tucking an errant tendril of hair behind my ear. “I like the way you smell.”

  I couldn’t help my lips curling into a grin. “How do I smell?”

  “I don’t know, like…you,” he declared. “Like clean laundry, crisp but feminine, with a hint of flowers.”

  He leaned forward to claim my lips with his, a gentle kiss I wished would grow to not be so gentle.

  Pulling back a fraction of space, he whispered, “I didn’t like not knowing whether or not you had a cat. I want to know everything about you.”

  I kissed him quickly, encouraging him not to leave my mouth again, but he did.

  “Everything, Andie.” I nudged his nose with the tip of mine. “Absolutely everything.”

  I wanted him to know and I wanted to know everything about him too. Receiving his flowers stirred something in me and there was no turning back. I wanted him, holding off on a physical relationship be damned. I cried because I was emotionally overwhelmed, quite loving the feeling.

  “All you have to do is ask,” I challenged.

  He suddenly rolled on top of me, peppering playful kisses along my jaw and neck. The pressure of him over me was like a weighted blanket of warmth, and my legs instinctively wrapped around the base of his.

  “What’s your favorite smell?” he asked between kisses and nips of his teeth on my skin.

  “Besides you?” I teased. “Gasoline.”

  He pulled his face up in surprise and smiled at me. “Seriously? I knew it!”

  We both laughed, and I confirmed that I was sincere.

  “I also like old library books.”

  “Of course you do.” His head lowered again and he moved his assault of kisses down to my chest. I felt my pulse increase and the blood rushing to my face. His warm breath grazed over my skin, causing my nipples to bud, begging to have his mouth upon them.

  “What’s your least favorite smell?”

  “Cantaloupe,” I replied on an exhalation.

  He chuckled heartily. “Why’s that?”

  “They smell like the bottom of a hot dumpster.”

  His face lifted again, looking at me in amusement, and I reached up to grab the sides of his jaw, bringing it back down to me, kissing his mouth aggressively.

  “You’re funny, Dr. Fine.”

  I didn’t want to be funny. I wanted to show him just how badly I wanted him again. Lifting my hips and adjusting the angle of my pelvis just slightly so I could feel his hardness in the right spot, I tried to encourage another round, but despite my efforts, with every nudge I gave, he retreated farther away, fully in control of driving me to the brink of insanity.

  “I love how soft your skin is,” he said, breathing over me, feathering my breasts with his soft lips. Kissing, licking, nibbling, all over my chest, down to my abdomen, lower and lower…and lower. I painfully needed him to taste me, and as if I had spoken the request aloud, he did.

  ***

  Having no idea what time it was, my eyes detected sunlight peeking through my blinds and I carefully opened them to see that it was obviously morning. I immediately felt the soreness present from the previous night and smiled in satisfaction. My entire body felt like Jell-O, tingly, pliant, euphoric, and so…sated, but glancing to the side, I was met with an empty spot in my bed. Had he left without saying goodbye?

  Once I sat up, I smelled bacon and exhaled a breath of relief. He was there, making me breakfast. Could this get any better?

  I arose from bed and made my way to the bathroom to empty my bladder and freshen up. After taming my wild bedhead and brushing my teeth, I threw on a pair of yoga pants and a tank top then descended the stairs. Vaughn’s shirtless back was the first thing that came into view. He was turned away from me, wearing only his jeans that rode low on his waist. His hair was mussed, and watching the muscles of his upper back and shoulders flex as he turned the spatula made me bite my lower lip. He was humming at first, some low singing mixed in, and I stood quiet and still to try to recognize the tune of the song. I finally cleared my throat behind him and he abruptly stopped and faced me, a huge smile on his face.

  “Good morning.”

  “Morning. You’re cooking me breakfast?”

  “I hope that’s okay. I worked up quite an appetite last night,” he quipped, teasing me with a wink. “I found eggs and bacon in your fridge.”

  “It’s perfect. I’m starving.”

  “We’ve got to chat about this turkey bacon, though.”

  “What about it?” I challenged, entering the kitchen to pull down two coffee mugs. I hit the button on my coffee maker, prompting the pre-programmed machine to brew, and I couldn’t stifle the yawn that escaped me. I soon felt Vaughn’s presence behind me and goose bumps erupted when his fingers grazed the back of my neck, moving my hair to the side to expose my skin. His warm lips came down and kissed all along my hairline before he began his lecture on the sin of not eating regular bacon.

  “Turkey bacon is one of life’s great tragedies,” he insisted. “So wrong.”

  “It’s healthier for you,” I preached, turning to face him.

  He immediately captured my mouth with his and I wrapped my arms around him to deepen the kiss. When we came up for air, he just gazed at me, his eyes glued to mine in admiration.

  “You’re healthier for me.”

  “Well, yeah. I saved your life—twice, in fact. It’s kind of what I do.”

  We laughed together and it felt so natural. He was comfortable, safe, fun. I stood there thinking I could get used to this.

  The coffee was still brewing and he returned to the eggs to stir up the scramble. I made my way to the other side of the bar and bent down to smell my flower arrangement
. The mix of roses and peonies made for a heavenly aroma, and when I opened my eyes that had closed in the peaceful moment, Vaughn was staring at me reverently. He fixed us plates and poured us both coffee, setting everything in front of me on the counter and going back for the creamer I’d set out. He came to sit next to me, holding his mug up in the air to clank it with mine.

  “Cheers, to our first breakfast together,” he toasted.

  “The first of many more to come…I hope.” My voice broke and I felt nervous at my boldness.

  “I hope so too,” he said reassuringly.

  I stared at him, his messy bedhead rendering me stuck in a state of adoration. When he caught me staring, he broke the silence again.

  “Your home is beautiful. I didn’t really get a chance to appreciate it yesterday when I arrived.”

  Chuckling at the memory, I responded, “Thank you.”

  “How old is the house?”

  “It was originally built in 1903 after the preexisting structure was damaged from the famous Great Fire of 1901. I bought it from a flipper who’d completely gutted and remodeled it, right down to the framing in some spots,” I explained. Vaughn leaned in, genuinely interested. “The plumbing and electrical are all new, but the historical details of the house were maintained, which I loved at first sight. The dark hardwood flooring, rich with hearty wear—I couldn’t get rid of it. He refinished it, and I’m so happy I chose to keep it.”

  “Me too. I would’ve done the same thing. You can’t get character like this anywhere anymore.”

  We ate his delicious meal and conversation was easy. He asked more random getting-to-know-you questions and I reciprocated, wanting to know him as well. When he inquired about my recent shifts, he wanted specifics—what kind of traumas had come in, what injuries I’d treated, what surgeries I’d performed—and he honestly wanted to know, hanging on my every word. I relished the fact that he was genuinely interested in my work and asked appropriate questions. He was smart and so damn attractive. I struggled to maintain focus, easily distracted by his eyes, his perfect teeth, how his left eyebrow rose when he was listening to me speak. I was lost, staring at his morning stubble and thinking nothing but how badly I wanted to feel its roughness against my skin.