Relief filled me. “Okay, then. Fine.” I gave a brief nod. “I’ll call up to ICU and get things moving.”
“And I’ll get in touch with the acupuncturist, just in case, and I’ll go up and speak to the doctor who’ll be overseeing your case up there.” Emma stood up.
“Thank you.” Donnie caught her hand. “Thank you . . . for being here for me.”
“All the way, Donnie. And that’s a promise.” She smiled, squeezed his hand before she released it, and left the room. I followed close behind her, caught her elbow, and glancing around to make sure the coast was clear, I pulled her into a small closet.
“Deacon, what the hell?” Emma gaped up at me.
I didn’t need to answer her with words. Cupping her face with my hands, I tilted her head up and kissed her hard, nudging her lips open with my insistent tongue.
Her arms lifted to circle my neck, pressing the length of her body against mine. I wanted to take her right here and now, without any finesse or tenderness. I wanted to be close to her, around her, within her, and I needed it to happen now.
“Is this because I agreed with you?” She arched her neck to give me better access to the slim white column of her throat. “Did that turn you on, Deacon?”
“No.” I trailed kisses down to her collarbone and eased back just enough to slip a hand between us and cup her breast. “It’s not that. I mean, I liked that you agreed with me, but not because I want you to think like me—but because you thought I was right. That’s not why I’m turned on, though.” I circled her nipple with my thumb, groaning a little when it hardened under my touch. “It was just listening to you talk to him. How comforting you were—but you told him the truth at the same time. You were smart and on top of it, and you allowed him to see what was possible. But it was how you did it. The confidence. The passion.” I pinched her nipple. “God, Emma, you make me so hot.”
She laughed breathlessly. “If I’d known that was going to be your preferred sexy talk, Deacon, I’d have murmured little naturopathic phrases into your ear months ago.” She hummed a little. “I want you so bad right now, baby. So fucking bad.”
I grunted. “I know. But we can’t. Not here. Not now, anyway. Believe me, I want nothing more than to turn you around, lift up your dress and fuck you against that shelf. But this closet door doesn’t lock, and I don’t really want to be interrupted.”
“And you know it would be Mira who found us out.” Emma ground herself against me. “Okay. We better get out of here.”
“You go first.” I released her and took a small step backward. “I need a minute.”
Emma’s eyes slid down to my cock, which was straining against the fly of my khakis. “If this door had a lock, I could take care of that situation right now.” Her tongue slid out of her mouth and traced her lips. “And you would be a very happy man.”
“You’re torturing me, babe.”
She winked at me over her shoulder as she opened the door a crack to peek out.
“Oh, Deacon, I haven’t even begun yet.”
* * *
“Is Mr. Crew settled upstairs?” Jenny, clearly on her way out for the night, paused at the nurses’ station, where both Emma and I were working.
“Yeah. I just came down from checking on him. They’ve started broad spectrum antibiotics, but with any luck, they’ll be able to narrow it down by tomorrow and change the meds accordingly. Emma chatted with the RT up there, too. I’m still hoping we caught it fast enough to avoid the ventilator, but if he has to go on it, we’ll have everything in place to minimize the effects.”
“Why aren’t we doing that for all of our ICU patients?” Jenny leaned her elbows on the counter and frowned at Emma. “If there’s something that can cut back on the sedation, it could definitely help with ICU delirium and all of the other trauma. I’ve seen too many patients decline after a week on the vent—patients who I thought had a decent chance of making it before they were vented.”
“That’s a very good question, Jen, and it’s one I plan to discuss with our RT department.” Emma smiled. “Sometimes, a door is opened for more than one person, you know? You think you’re doing something for one patient, but it turns out to change the system for so many more.”
“That’s deep, Em. Far out.” Jenny held up her hand, and Emma high-fived it. “I’m outie, kiddos. And it’s my weekend off, so see you on Monday.”
“Heading to Tampa this weekend?” Emma called after her.
“You know, babe. I’ll call you on Sunday while I’m driving home.”
“Behave yourself!”
Jenny cackled. “Never!”
“She’s incorrigible. And frankly, since Nico’s been back, I think she’s a tiny bit out of control.” Emma grinned, and I thought about how much I enjoyed watching her interact with Jenny. Their friendship was easy and warm, and it brought out a side of Emma that I hadn’t seen often before she and I had begun dating.
It was more than a little jarring to me, realizing this fact. We were dating. I was seeing one woman, exclusively, in what could probably be termed a relationship, or at least the early days of one. Even though I’d been the one to make the first move, to ask her out, part of me was still in shock that I was in this place. It had been a very long time.
But the second epiphany followed closely on the heels of the first. I was happy to be here . . . happy to look forward to spending more time with Emma, happy to be working with her, and damned happy to anticipate moving beyond the make-out sessions into a real bed—and soon.
