But Rod apparently did, and soonLast Dancewas playing. “You can leave your robes on that sofa.”
They did as they were asked and then stood stark naked in front of about fifteen people, Megs’ hair flying into Mitch’s face, the two of them fighting not to laugh when everyone’s gaze went straight to Mitch’s dick.
Myrna wasn’t even coy about it. “You are one lucky woman.”
“Don’t I know it?” Megs said, then whispered, “That’s ten bucks.”
Rod put them through a series of poses, clearly not satisfied.
Then Megs had a suggestion. “Can we try this?”
She turned to Mitch and told him to stand behind her and reach around to hold her breasts while she used her hands to cover her pubic area.
Well, Mitch would never turn down a chance to hold her breasts.
Rod stared at them for a moment, then looked through his lens and started clicking. “Beautiful! Beautiful! I love it! Intimate. Strong. Provocative.”
All Mitch could think about was Megs and how good it felt to be the man who went home with her. Being naked with her in front of an audience made his blood run hot, and he had to fight not to get an erection.
Afterward, they put on their robes and walked back to the dressing room.
The moment the door closed, they were on each other, tearing off one another’s robes. There was no need for foreplay or finesse. Mitch backed Megs up against the wall, lifted her off the floor, and slowly buried himself inside her, thrusting deep. The two of them came hard and fast—and in complete silence.
Afterward, a driver took them back to their hotel, where they started from scratch, taking time now for tenderness, indulging themselves, prolonging one another’s pleasure.
Mitch drew Megs against him, kissed her. “I love you.”
She snuggled into his chest. “I love you, too, but you still owe me ten bucks.”
Megs lookedup to find Mitch looking angry, distraught. “What’s wrong?”
He tapped a message into his tablet. “What if I can’t?”
“What if you can’t?” It took her a moment. “What if you can’t have sex?”
His gaze met hers, despair in those brown eyes.
Megs hadn’t imagined her heart could break more for him, but it did.
She set the journal aside, sat on the bed beside him, took his hand. “I won’t love you any less, if that’s why you’re worried. You’ve been through a terrible ordeal. You’re on a lot of medications, and those narcotics and anti-seizure meds can make it hard to get an erection. None of the medical staff have suggested this will impact you sexually in the long run. Give yourself time to heal.”
He tapped another message into the tablet. “I want to try it.”
“You want to try to have sex—now?”
He answered without the tablet this time. “Yeah.”
She supposed some people would find it scandalous—having sex in a rehab hospital. Though why shouldn’t they? Mitch was injured. He wasn’t dead.
Still, she hesitated. “I don’t want to hurt you. You’ve just been through a second major surgery, and you’ve got a broken neck and a clavicle that hasn’t healed.”
Megs thought about it. “I suppose I could go down on you.”
He tapped in another message. “Yes, please.”
“Change the accent back to Australian, and ask me again.” She was just teasing him now, but he did what she asked.
“Yes, please.”
