Twisted Love (Blinded Love Series Book 3) Page 18

  Sex. Fucking. I loved all ways with Chris, but this was different from anything I ever experienced before. It was the first time I slept with someone I truly loved, wanting to give them everything.

  After hours of experimenting and tantalizing, the desire finally engulfed us. Loudly.

  The headboard cracked paint chips off the wall.

  This time the neighbors did call the cops.

  The bed moved, and my lids fluttered open, the room still dark, telling me I’d hadn’t slept for long. Chris strode to the bathroom, the moonlight painting thin silver rays across the flexing muscles of his bare ass. He closed the door, leaving it just a splinter open. The light from the bathroom cut a sharp line across the bed.

  I sat up, watching his reflection in the mirror. Anguish sliced across his features as he ran his hands through his hair.

  After Chris politely dealt with the police at the door, telling them we’d “keep the noise down,” as if we were having party instead of sex, we instantly broke his word and went at it again on the stairs and again in bed until we both passed out.

  But it was just a band-aid. Nothing could lessen the seriousness or the mortality Chris was facing. I had glanced over the notes the nurse highlighted, the risks of surgery. Seeing things like “stroke, seizure, blood clots, coma, infection, death” did nothing to ease the anxiety. Yet the dread choking me had to pale in comparison to what Chris was feeling.

  He leaned against the sink, his back rippling as he took deep breaths. Abruptly he stood, grabbing scissors from the drawer.

  I flung the sheets off, climbing out of bed, grabbing my tank off the floor and pulling it on. I reached the door, pushing it open.

  His gaze caught mine in the mirror, completely naked, but all I saw was the fear in his eyes.

  “They’re gonna shave half of it tomorrow anyway. Like I want to die with a bad hack-job haircut.”

  I stood another full thirty seconds watching him, trying to control the battle of emotions inside. Without a word, I stepped up to him, holding out my palm. He set the scissors in them. This was his last bit of control. Something he had a say in.

  “Sit.” I flicked my chin at the toilet. He sat down while I grabbed a towel, laying it across his lap, to catch some of the hair.

  His attention greedily moved over my body, my tank barely covering my thighs or even my breasts. I ran my fingers through his hair, pulling it straight. With a snip, strands floated down, catching on the towel or the ground. In thick pieces, his long brown locks tumbled around him like autumn leaves. We were silent, but the air hummed with tension, his fingers trailing over my exposed skin as I moved around him. He touched me just enough that it hovered between chaste and erotic as hell.

  Cutting a man’s hair mostly naked had never been on my list, but now it felt like the sexiest thing I had ever experienced.

  The last chunk dropped to the floor, and I held his chin, straddling his legs to keep him from looking in the mirror.

  “Not done yet.” My voice was husky. My skin prickled with desire again, my thighs clenching as I stood over him. I reached over his shoulder, the side of my breast brushing his cheek. He groaned, his mouth grazing it as I pulled back, my legs quivering.

  I breathed in, trying to regain my concentration and muscle strength. It was crazy how a touch from him unglued me.

  “Head forward.” I ordered, picking up his electric razor. His gaze burned into me before he tipped his head down. The hum of the razor filled the bathroom, the blades slicing off the uneven hair, shaping his head into a smooth buzz cut.

  As I worked, his hands drew up my legs, roaming over my ass before moving to the front.

  “I’m almost done.” I chomped down on my lip, batting his hand away.

  “Hurry,” he rumbled. “Not touching you is becoming impossible.”

  The razor ran through the last strip, and I flicked the button off. His head lifted, his brown eyes locking on mine.

  “Wow,” I whispered, my mouth dropping.

  “What?” His eyes widened.

  “You look so fucking sexy.” The close cut made his eyes and cheekbones pop. Rugged with a touch of intimidation, which got my blood boiling. He was always gorgeous, but now he was drop-dead sexy.

  He folded the towel and stood up, facing the mirror. I stood slightly behind him, watching him in the mirror.

  “Thank you.” His eyes in the mirror seared into mine. His sentiment went deeper than the words or the haircut.

  “Don’t have to thank me. Think this was more for me.” I hummed, my hand gliding over his ass.

  His shoulders shifted up, his irises turning almost black. Like a feral animal, he growled, twisted around, and grabbed me, shoving me into the counter, his hands flattening mine against the mirror. Heat and yearning burned up my spine as he parted my legs, his hands kneading my ass before he lowered himself.

  Words were traveling up my throat, when his tongue found my core, licking, twisting a cry from me. He pressed my hips harder into the counter, and my legs wobbled under his palms.

  The energy between us was nowhere near gentle or slow, his mouth brutal and unrelenting, bending me even farther, his hands parting my ass. Nipping. Licking. Sucking.

  “Oh god.” I gasped. I was experimental and enjoyed lots of different kinks and toys with both sexes. But with Chris I didn’t need anything but him to completely lose it. His fingers and tongue filled me up everywhere, taking me to the highest peak.

  Mercilessly he worked my body and I demanded more. Sweat clung to my brow, skating down the back of my neck, feeling myself reaching the top.

  “Chris…” I called out, trying to warn him, but his name only spurred him on more until I nearly unraveled. My bones seemed to melt.

  I heard a guttural cry, but it felt as though it were someone else. Nothing felt real or tangible. Chris didn’t back off, creating another orgasm to quake through me, leaving pieces of me all over the room.

  I collapsed onto the counter, sucking in deep gulps of air. My eyes were saucers as I watched him stand back up behind me, licking his fingers.

  “Holy shit,” I whispered.

  “This time you won’t even be able to say that.”

  What? I blinked. This time? The counter was the only reason I was still up.

  “You think I’m done with you?” He seized my waist flipping me around, tossing me up on the counter. “I’m not even close.”

  Nothing remained of the easygoing Aussie I first met. Maybe he hadn’t been that person in a long time, but the severe haircut only drew out a dangerous and sexy-as-hell quality about him. He no longer seemed like a boy, but a man who knew what he wanted, and not only would he go after it, he wouldn’t be gentle about it.

  If this was what he needed to deal with his fear and grief? All I could say was…

  “Bring it on, Tarzan.”

  Chapter Twenty

  My sandals clicked against the floor, the constant snapping noise agitating my nerves, but my legs could not stop moving. Bouncing, pacing. I wanted to crawl out of my skin as it was over an hour after I should have received an update, even though I knew something as serious as brain surgery could take longer than planned.

  Waiting, and especially doing so alone in stressful situations, was not something I did well. Worry and helplessness compressed my muscles and forced me to walk in circles. Chris told me I should go to a movie or go home, but as if a force field was put around the waiting room, I couldn’t even get myself to go to the cafeteria. Wandering the few hallways like a ghost attached to an item, I would cease to be if I ventured past that.

  The idea of going against Chris’s wishes and calling Hunter and Jayme crossed my mind several times an hour. So far I had texted and deleted seven messages to her. They should know. They’d want to be here for him…for me. In the end it was what stopped me. Letting them know was to make me feel better, not Chris. Who knew I could be selfless?

  I still didn’t like keeping them in the dark. This felt too s
erious and critical. What if he dies? Guess who will have to deal with their anger and betrayal? Me! He’d be free and clear. Probably why the asshole did it. Now I’d have to deal with them. The strange monologue went through my head as I pounded my fists into my sides like the argument was real.

  “Ugh. Tarzan,” I growled under my exhale.

  This morning after the hours Chris used my body to absorb his fears we didn’t talk much. Every moment I tried to fight my instincts to run, to get far away from here. I was not strong enough to deal with any of this. When did our casual, shallow involvement turn to this? This was beyond a “in case of emergency” contact, which would freak me out in itself.

  “Relax, Gyps.” Chris had gripped my hand, the nurses about to wheel him off, the IV rolling next to him. He grinned, trying to hide the terror in his eyes. “It’s not like it’s brain surgery…”

  Groaning, I palmed my face and shook my head.

  “Hey?” I turned to a nurse who had been flirting with him the moment she walked in to prep him. “Is it possible for him to get an entire brain transplant?”

  She chuckled, hooking up his IV.

  “There’s a catalog, right? Similar to picking a sperm donor? Smart, nice, and actually funny. Is there one of those available?” I asked dryly.

  The nurse laughed. “I don’t know, he seems pretty perfect to me.”

  Chris beamed up at me. “Plus, you don’t really want that, Gyps.”

  “What?”

  “Me…to be nice.” He winked, stirring my blood at memories of how “not nice” he had been the night before. “You’d be bored out of your mind. And you’d walk all over that poor guy.”

  True.

  Fuck.

  Biting down on my lip, I realized how well he understood me. I watched the nurses wheel him off on a gurney, his face emotionless, but his throat bobbing. His gaze stayed on mine until the last moment.

  Instead of feeling comforted that he got me, it only added more weight to my shoulders. To my soul.

  Staring up at the clock now, four hours into his surgery, the need to run only expanded. The tiny waiting room began to squeeze in around me. I couldn’t breathe. My legs itched to run.

  I was here again…

  People thought I had gotten over my father’s death, but I hadn’t. They had no idea of the truth. I wasn’t strong enough, I already knew that…and losing Chris would obliterate me.

  The buzz of my phone jolted me out of my trance, half hoping it was Whiskey. If she called, I knew I’d tell her. I couldn’t hide this anymore. I needed her. A rush of disappointment sank my chest when it wasn’t her.

  “Hey, Tristen,” I answered, trying to lift my voice up.

  “Giiirrrrl,” he bellowed. “I feel like it’s been years since we saw you. When are you getting in? Andy and I wanted to meet you at Penn Station and go for drinks.”

  “What?” The excitement and speed of his words clashed with the muddle inside my head. “What are you talking about?”

  “I have it in my calendar you’re coming home tonight? Please tell me I didn’t get the dates wrong. Seriously…you should have been back yesterday. I have so much to tell you.”

  I sat taller, my eyes widening. “What day is it?”

  Tristen laughed. “Really? Thought you’d be counting down the minutes until you returned. I know it feels like a different world down there, but I think we’re still on the same year and day.”

  Holy. Shit.

  My return flight was tonight. Only a few hours and I could be back in my town where things made sense, and I didn’t have to worry about anything but which bar we wanted to go to that night.

  “I-I don’t know…” I swallowed, staring around the hospital my two worlds colliding. “I don’t think I can make it—”

  “Girl, you are getting on that plane and getting back here. You don’t understand. It’s vital you come home. Like cru-cial!”

  “Tris!”

  “My boss wants to set up a meeting with you. Like ASAP!” he exclaimed. “I was gonna tell you tonight, but I need to know you are getting on the plane. He wants to see you tomorrow afternoon, which I already agreed to for you. He loooovvveess your work. Don’t hate me but I showed him work you did in our class together. Actually, you can’t hate me because he adores it. Thinks your designs would be perfect for the next cover for the band, The Devil Inside.”

  Time itself seemed to halt as terror, excitement, and utter shock battled in my head. “Wh-what?” I gaped. The Devil Inside was a newish group to the rock scene, with a series of chart-topping hits. They had received best album of the year, best songwriting, and best band at the last year’s Grammy’s. I adored their music. It had a feel of the Eagles and Creedence Clearwater Revival with a modern twist.

  “Holy. Shit. Are you serious?” My brain still stumbled around, stuck in this surreal moment.

  “Deadly.” Tristen’s voice dropped down. “Now you know why it is vital you come home. This is huge, Stevie.”

  It was…but…

  “Tris.” I blinked back the tears threatening to show themselves. “I want to…so bad. Meeting with that label means everything to me. But I—” I swallowed. “I can’t. Something’s come up here. A friend…”

  “Stevie. Did you hear me? The Devil Inside! Your design could be on their album cover. All over the world people would know your work. Do you get how epic this chance is?”

  “I do.” Fuck. I did. I wanted nothing more. “There’s no way I can bump the meeting a few days?”

  “It took everything I had to get you that time slot. Aiden is leaving on a business trip to LA the day after. I feel it’s now or never. I am sure your friend would understand.”

  My gaze went to the double doors to the surgery area.

  The problem was Chris would probably understand. Tell me to go. It was selfish, but I felt my future dangling in front of me. One answer from me could start it or end it before it even got off the ground. It was what I wanted. It wasn’t until now when I was given this opportunity but with the possibility it was going to be ripped from me, did I realize how much I wanted it.

  “I’m sorry…” I whispered, squeezing my lids together. “I can’t leave right now.”

  “The meeting is at three, if you change your mind…” He sighed deeply. “I still love you. But I can’t believe you are turning this down.” He paused, disappointment clouding his words like milk in black coffee. “Bye, girl.”

  My response didn’t even make it off my tongue as he ended the call. I bent forward, finding it difficult to breathe. My career and my dreams had slipped through my fingers in one reply.

  Face in my hands, I had no idea how much time passed, ideas going around and around, pinging between stuck and helpless.

  “Ms. Colvin?” I popped up at the sound of the nurse who had been flirting with Chris. She and Dr. Levine stood before me. The nurse’s irises were moist, her jaw locked down, trying to keep her expression impassive.

  I could no longer feel my legs beneath me. Dread blasted through my stomach with a force of a cannonball.

  “No,” I whispered, my head shaking. I knew that look. I had been here before.

  “The tumor was more difficult to remove than we gathered from the MRI,” Dr. Levine turned to me. The young nurse shifted on her feet, her lips pinching together. “There were some complications…”

  My chest heaved and my brain could not absorb anything. His words sounding like gibberish. My head spun, my lungs gulping for air, a thumping noise echoing in my ear.

  “Just. Tell. Me.” I gripped the wall, my body swaying under my feet. Here again. Here again. The chant circled by head, blurring objects around me.

  “The anesthesia left his system about an hour ago.” His lids fluttered with emotion. “He is not waking up.”

  My legs dipped, my mind only thinking one word. “Coma?”

  “I am so sorry. There is nothing to do but wait and see right now.” The doctor touched my arm, smiling sadly at me. �
��We’ll know more when the swelling goes down.”

  Here again. Coma. Here again.

  “Will. He. Wake. Up?” Each sound struggled in my throat.

  “We will know mor—”

  “No!” I screamed. “Tell me! Will he wake up?”

  “Ms. Colvin. We will—”

  I had heard this speech before. Even when they knew my father would never wake up again. The slight hope they gave us…only to smash it into dust.

  “Shut up,” I seethed. “I don’t want to hear the speech you memorized. I want the truth!” My voice cracked, my grip on the wall turning my knuckles white.

  Sorrow slashed over both their faces, their heads dipping.

  “We really don’t know. That is the truth. The brain is a complicated thing. But…” He swallowed, and his lips pursed together. His “but” felt as though someone pushed me over the cliff, like a cartoon character, and I had yet to realize it, defying gravity in my ignorance. “I will be honest. It doesn’t look good. There is a good chance he might not wake up.”

  Like a thief, my conscious nabbed my heart and mind pulling them away from my body to protect them. I no longer felt my limbs or understood the space around me, which seemed at once too big and too small. Here again.

  “Chris is young and strong. I want to believe he will defy the odds. Don’t give up on him. He needs all the positive thoughts we can give him.” The nurse squeezed my arm as the doctor stepped back. “I am so sorry, Ms. Colvin.”

  I hardly noticed when they left; the room could have been full of people or empty. I no longer noticed, my vision narrowing down to a single spot on the floor.

  Breathe! A warning shouted in me, and I opened my mouth, gulping in a shaky breath. My head spun. When did I stop breathing?

  I heard a guttural sob reverberate around the room and knew it was mine, my legs dipping underneath me. Another choked cry belted from me, and my knees hit the cold tile.