“In this instance, the winner humbly accepts their win and tidies up after themselves,” Mrs. Stalinski slurs.
Her head lolls to one side. A wrenching keen comes from my left, and I realize it’s Stone, the moan leaking through his tightly closed lips. His eyes are a sheen of blue. His pulse beats so hard, I can see it fluttering like a dying butterfly in his neck.
“Go,” I whisper, squeezing his arm. It’s warm, firm, and with a familiar, downy softness. “I’ll make sure she’s sleeping peacefully.”
Stone’s jaw works. He won’t tear his gaze from his mother.
“Thank you,” he grits out, and then he’s gone.
With the image of Stone’s agony battling with my nurse’s to-do list, I help Mrs. Stalinski take off her clothes and have her use the bedpan before putting on her pajamas, since she’s in no condition to walk. She slurs her thanks and at some points smacks at my arms feebly, demanding that she can do this all herself until the pain killers take over and she falls asleep.
Mrs. Stalinski is snoring softly by the time I ensure the baby monitor I brought with me is working on her side table so she can call for me at night if she needs.
Even though it would take a zombie Apocalypse to wake her, I tiptoe down the stairs and follow the sounds of clattering dishes and a running faucet at full power.
“Need any help?” I ask, entering the kitchen.
Stone’s so busy slamming dishes into the sink and spraying the hell out of them, he doesn’t hear.
“Hey. Stone,” I try again.
The muscles under his T-shirt flit under his skin like rapidly blinking eyes.
I walk up behind him, laying a hand on his shoulder.
He whirls with such speed that I yelp, and I’m met with fire.
Heated cheeks, rippling skin, molten eyes.
“Hey.” I cup both his arms. “Take a breath. It’s okay.”
“It’snotfucking okay!” he roars. Spit flies into my face. His voice shatters my soul, but I don’t flinch.
I get a glimpse of the old Stone. My William. I’m thankful he still exists, but hate the situation that’s brought it out of him.
“You’re right. That’s a stupid thing people say when they can’t think of anything else to make you feel better,” I say.
I surprise him with those words. His arms go slack in my hands. I still haven’t let him go. I don’t think I could if I tried.
Stone’s softening should’ve come as a warning, but I’m just as keyed up as he is, just as heartbroken. It’s why I’m not prepared when he cups my face and yanks me to his lips with a desperate, blazing desperation.
It’s such a familiar pain that I submit to his lips without thinking about fighting. His full mouth sucks on mine, his tongue as silky and skilled as I remember, tasting like a home-cooked meal. My hands slide around his neck. My body softens against the hard lines of his chest, and with arms that could crush my bones as seamlessly as he shattered my heart, he lifts me until my legs wrap around his waist and we topple against the fridge, kissing each other like we’re both dying.
His hands travel to my ass, squeezing through the thin material of my scrubs and dipping into my crease, prodding and spreading my wetness into my clothes.
The cooling slickness of my need is enough to wake me out of this pointless dream. Pulling my mouth from his, I fight to get down, pushing against his chest and saying, “No, we need to stop. We can’t do this.”
Stone complies, likely as taken aback by our actions as I am, dropping my legs and retreating while wiping his palm against his mouth.
He smells me on his hands. Stone’s pupils dilate the moment his pointer finger slides under his nostrils. I internally command myself not to react. Not to fall to my knees, pull out his dick, and smell him, too. And lick him, taste him,havehim like I used to.
“I apologize.” Stone’s tone is hoarse. “That was totally unacceptable.”
I cross my arms and press my back into the stove. “You’re dealing with unimaginable pain. It’s only been twenty-four hours.”
“You’re too compassionate.” Stone laughs tonelessly. “My grief is no excuse to fuck you on my mother’s kitchen counter.”
The words send another gush of need between my legs. Having rough sex with Stone would be a healing ointment that I’d love to rub all over me until it stops working. And something like that always requires repeat uses. Stone is the most addictive drug I’ve ever come across.
