The natural sway of her lush, round breasts drew my attention immediately and held me captive, as she entered and sat on her side of the sofa. The outline of her pebbled nipples created little circular tents in the fabric of her shirt. Hints of jasmine and vanilla tugged at my senses, beckoning me closer. Determined to stay right where I was, I turned my attention on the still paused television, trying not to notice the way her wet, dark blonde hair framed her makeup-free face, highlighting her big blue eyes and plump full lips.
Everything about her drew me in, but I wanted Mercy whole, unhurt, and thinking clearly. I didn’t want to be some mistake she regretted. I had thirty-eight days to spend with her, and I couldn’t afford to screw this up so she spent them avoiding me.
“How are you feeling?” I asked. My voice was deeper than normal, but I couldn’t help it.
“Good. Better.”
I expected her to pick up the remote and start the movie, but she didn’t.
My watch dinged. Grateful for the distraction, I jumped to my feet. “It’s time for more ibuprofen. Where do you keep it?”
“I can get it.” She started to get up, but I knew that watching one more sway of those perfect tits would do me in.
“No!” I said a little more forcefully than necessary. “I’m supposed to be taking care of you. Let me do something.”
She watched me from beneath her lashes. “Bathroom. In the medicine cabinet.”
The bathroom was still warm and steamy from her shower, and the air smelled strongly of Mercy. Breathing it in felt like both punishment and a reward, bringing back the hard-on I’d done my best to get rid of. I rifled through the contents of her cabinet, absently cataloging the contents: peroxide, bandages, acetaminophen, condoms…
My hand hovered over the open box. I had no right to be curious, yet I was. I glanced over my shoulder to make sure Mercy hadn’t followed before picking up the box and peering inside. It looked mostly full. Knowing condoms had a shelf life of three to five years, I checked the expiration date. They expired in two years, which meant it had probably been a while since she’d had sex. I’d expected as much, but seeing the proof in black and white drove home another reason why I couldn’t fuck her.
Not yet.
Finding the ibuprofen bottle, I shook 800 milligrams into my hand, then took it to Mercy. Watching me, she picked up her water bottle from the coffee table and swallowed them back.
“Thank you.”
I nodded. “No problem. You hungry yet? Want me to warm you up some food?”
She chewed on her lip and set the water bottle down, her gaze following me as I leaned against the wall, putting as much space between us as her small living room would allow.
“Are you just going to avoid me now?”
“I’m not avoiding you,” I lied.
“You are. You were practically sucking my face off before the food came, and now you’re dancing around me. It’s amusing to watch, but I’m wondering why. What’s going on in that pretty little brain of yours?”
“Pretty, huh?”
She grinned. “Stunning, really. You should be a brain model or something.”
Chuckling, I shook my head and replied, “I owe you an apology, Mercy. I shouldn’t have kissed you.”
Her brow furrowed. “Why not?”
“Because you have a concussion.”
“Is it contagious? Are you afraid of catching it?”
She knew damn well it wasn’t contagious. “No, but I like you. A lot. And I don’t want to fuck up this thing between us.”
“So, don’t.”
“Which is why we’re waiting. Maybe we’ll see how you feel about it in the morning.”
She cocked her head to the side in an are-you-shitting-me look. “You said I should limit television time. I’ve already showered and we’re in for the night, so what else are we going to do?”
I chuckled, shaking my head. “You want to have sex because you’re bored?”
