Bristol whimpers in protest. “Don’t stop. I’m … just need to catch my breath.”
Worry floods all of my senses, and I pull myself to lie beside her, my erection throbbing, but I ignore it, concern entirely on her. “What’s wrong?” I rest a hand over her heart, and the beating commences like a drum roll.
She’s still breathing heavily, and her skin is hot and sweaty. I pull the sheets away, hoping that might help if she’s overheating.
Each gasp is heavy and raw, like she’s trying to drink in air and drowning at the same time.
“What can I do for you?” I ask, my fingers gentle as they circle her chest. I lean down, pressing a kiss over her heart, feeling the rhythmic beat that feels much more steady and closer to what one might consider normal.
It had been a long day for her, for all of us. Perhaps the nightly festivities were a little more than she needed. I lie on my side, watching her, guilt burning through me.
Had I done this to her?
“I’m okay.” She pats my arm, the same one stroking a lazy, gentle pattern over her heart. Her fingers tangle in mine, and I bring her hand up to my lips, dropping a chaste kiss over her palm.
She untangles her fingers, her hand moving down my stomach.
I grab her wrist. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Her brow knits with confusion. “I … you didn’t finish.”
“Neither did you,” I say and raise an eyebrow, wanting her to tell me if I’m wrong and misunderstood what just happened.
She smiles sheepishly and shakes her head. “It’s okay, I don’t mind?—”
I cut her off. “I do.”
Worry is enough to lessen the intense throbbing, turning it into nothing more than a dull ache. It’ll cease soon enough. The arousal dissipated the moment I saw Bristol in distress.
“I’m sorry,” Bristol is quick to apologize, but I shake my head.
“No. You don’t get to do that.”
She shivers and reaches for the covers that I pulled down to help cool her off. Her skin is no longer slick and glistening. I drag the sheet back up around us, my arm draped across her waist as I lie on my side, watching her.
I can’t sleep.
I’m not the least bit tired.
Worry fuels all of my senses, making my heart flutter as I lie beside Bristol. I watch her as she settles into a soft pattern of shallow breaths. Her eyes flutter closed. Grateful that she’s able to get some sleep after today’s events, I’m wide awake, my mind reeling and replaying our little festivities in bed.
Had I been the cause, having her on top? Was it too much for her heart? My hand across her waist covers her breast, just over her heart, wanting to feel the rhythm, to reassure myself that she’s all right.
I don’t understand what’s wrong with Bristol. She spattered off a host of initials, like I knew what they meant. I should have asked. A better man would have wanted to know everything. I just wanted to know she was all right.
Thirteen
Harper
I don’t expect the phone call from Dante. There’s no warning, no text before my cell phone rings. He is saved in my phone, not by my own choice, and I feel the burden of responsibility weigh heavily as I answer the call.
“Hello,” I say, hoping he mis-dialed.
It’s not even Friday yet.
“Harper.” His voice sends a shiver down my spine. It’s definitely Dante Ricci. “I wanted to talk to you about a job I have for you.”
I press my lips together, inhaling sharply. “Sir, I have school and my son?—”
