Riley
I blink my eyes open to bright sunshine streaming through the window. The blinds are up, and all I can see is a square of blue sky.
An attempt to roll over earns a tug at the IV in my arm, and I stare at it for a second, wondering where the hell I am. It's not my bedroom, and it's not Gabriel's.
Oh, right. The hospital. My kidney. Ugh.
There's no one in the room, and my stomach sinks. Gabriel's gone.
Of course he is. He can't stay with me 24/7. He has to work, and there's the added complication of last night's shooting. I stare at the IV poking into my arm, feeling guilty. Things could be so much worse. Those poor families who received calls about their loved ones dying.
Imagine if that had been Gabriel...
No, I can't go down that path. Not now, not here. This situation's going to require all of my strength.
But I would like to call him. And call my editor.
Wait, did Gabriel say he called my editor, or am I dreaming that?
I look around for my phone. Where is it? Dammit, it's across the room, plugged in and sitting on a counter. A fuzzy memory of watching Gabriel plug it in surfaces in my brain. Why hadn't he unplugged it and set it near me when he left?
Another, worse memory comes to mind: the fact that we can't have sex for a while.
This morning — at least I think it's the morning, who really knows — I'm more mentally sharp. My brain doesn't feel like it's filled with cotton, and my thoughts aren't stalled. What a weird sensation, that morphine. Maybe I'll tell the doctor that I don't need any more of it. Honestly, today I feel a lot better, so I don't know why I can't leave.
I jab at the nurse call button. It's time I get some answers.
A few minutes later, the door swings open. The nurse is a man, and he's with Gabriel. They're both laughing.
"Good morning, babe," Gabriel says.
"How is Miss Riley Murphy today?" the nurse chimes in.
Gabriel's carrying a cup branded with my favorite coffee shop logo, a paper bag, and a single red rose.
"Your boyfriend begged me to allow you some outside food. I was gonna say no, but who could resist that face? Am I right?" The nurse is scrawling something on the whiteboard near the door.
"I got it all cleared with the doc," Gabriel says, flashing a model-quality smile while handing me the cup. "I couldn't get your absolute favorite because the doctor said no caffeine, so I got you the herbal tea you like. And..."
He pulls the table on wheels over to the bed while the nurse fusses with my remote, maneuvering the electric bed into a sitting position. I'm slightly mystified, watching all this sudden activity around me.
"Before Gabriel feeds you a delicious French pastry—"
"Hey, how did you know I went to the French pastry store?" Gabriel teases.
"I saw the bag. Oh, let me get you a vase. We keep them in here." The nurse opens a cabinet.
"Had I known you were here, I'd have gotten you something from the bakery."
This is fascinating, watching Gabriel be chatty with a stranger. He can really pour on the charm when he wants. And I'm appreciative that he's secure enough in his masculinity to banter with another guy.
The nurse takes the rose from Gabriel and puts it in a bud vase. The fact that a hospital has a bud vase seems highly unusual to me.
"Anyway. Before you eat, I wanted to let you know some details about today. I'm John, and I'll be your private nurse for the next twelve hours. If you need anything, call me. But I'll be coming around to give you more fluids, and meds, and to check your vitals."
"Thanks, I appreciate it."
John rests his hand on my shoulder. "And please let me know if you want anything special. I've got books, magazines, and an iPad you can use. We can also order anything you'd like, as long as the doctor says it's okay."
I shoot him a genuine smile, sensing his sweet, caretaking nature. "You're amazing. Thanks."
John leaves the room and Gabriel continues arranging pastries on the table. "We have a cinnamon roll, a spinach and cheese croissant, and what's this? Oh, a chocolate-blueberry muffin."
I'm briefly speechless that he's arranged all of this. "You left the hospital to buy me breakfast?"
"I didn't want to, but you were sound asleep around five, so I went home, showered, changed, then stopped at that French bakery you like near the house. The hospital here can give you anything you want, but I know how you love your pastries."
"What time is it? I feel like I've been here for days."
"It's only seven."
I shake my head, wondering why time has suddenly melted like a Salvador Dali clock.
"How are you feeling?" he cups my face in his palm.
"Much, much better. The pain is gone. That's why I'm hoping I can leave today."
"Absolutely not. You're really sick, Riley. The doctor said this could've damaged your kidneys enough to need dialysis. We're not messing around with this infection."
I reach for the tea and take a hesitant sip. It has notes of apple and cinnamon, and is instantly comforting. "Okay. But I need to know a few things. And thank you for the breakfast, by the way."
"I figured you'd ask questions as soon as you could. Here. Try this." He tears off a piece of the croissant and hands it to me.
"Does John work for the hospital? Isn't it weird to have a private nurse? Is the doctor here? I don't get any of this. Why do they keep vases here?" I pop the pastry in my mouth and chew.
"Everyone involved in your care was hired by me. There's nothing to understand, other than that you need to get well. This floor is equipped for a multitude of people. Probably the vases are for women who give birth, that kind of thing." He shrugs.
My mouth opens, and I manage to say, "Ooookay."
The rich truly do live different lives than the rest of us.
"And your editor called. He wanted to know how you were doing."
"Is he angry that I'm not working today?"
"He'd better not be." Gabriel takes a bite of the croissant.
"What's the latest with the shooting? I feel really out of touch with the world."
His eyes dart around the room, as if checking to see if anyone's listening. "Do you want the official update, or the unofficial?"
"Both, please." My heart's speeding up. It's so surreal that we're sitting in a hospital eating expensive pastries while talking about mass murder and mafia business.
"The police are still working on leads and haven't released any new information since last night. All of the people who were injured are still alive, and it looks like they're all going to pull through."
"Thank God for that," I say.
"Unofficially..." Gabriel trails off as he munches. He swallows. "We've identified three places where the shooter could be hiding."
My chewing slows and I almost choke down the lump of dough. "And when you find him? What will you do?"
"What do you think?" Gabriel says this as he's cutting the muffin into four equal pieces.
You'll kill him, I almost say. But don't.
"Anyway. This brings me to what I wanted to tell you. The doc says you'll be here probably three days, but you'll need to rest at home for a week. I was thinking that you could stay at my house during that time."
I realize that many women, at this point, would run. Would run fast and far from Gabriel. Because of this conversation and a million other things.
But I am not those women. "Okay."
"Good. I'm glad you didn't fight me on this. Because I would insist, and not just because of the health situation."
"What do you mean?" I frown.
"You need to stay with me for your own safety," he says brusquely.
"Hunh?"
"It wouldn't be difficult for the Russians to find out that we're dating. Hell, they probably already know."
I set my cup down. "You mean, I'm in danger? What, is there a bodyguard outside the door?"
"In fact, there is."
"When were you going to tell me all this?"
Gabriel stares at me, with an expression of confusion. "Well, today, of course. Riley, I'm not trying to keep things from you. Everything's happened so fast."
"I know." I tap my head against the pillow three times, telling myself that now isn't the time to dwell on anything negative. Once I get out of here, I can have a more substantial conversation with Gabriel — and with myself.
"Did the doctor tell you anything else?"
"You're incredibly healthy, other than your poor kidney."
"Hmm."
"And you need to drink more water. You were severely dehydrated when you were admitted."
"I didn't really have time to drink anything while covering the mass shooting," I snark. "And when I got home all I wanted was wine."
His expression is one of displeasure. "I'm not going to be the old guy lecturing you about your health, but..."
"But you're going to tell me to hydrate and eat vegetables."
"And work out."
"Yes, Daddy," I say sarcastically, while rolling my eyes.
"Brat." He chuckles. "Of all the things we've done in bed, you've never called me Daddy."
I wrinkle my nose. "It's not really my thing, but if it turns you on..."
Oh, crap. We can't have sex for a while. "Sorry."
"What for?" He tilts his head and stares at me. "I don't want to be called Daddy, by the way. Master might not be bad."
He taps his chin thoughtfully, and normally I'd laugh or flirt. But not about this, not now.
"It's going to be a while before we can, you know."
"Have relations in the biblical sense?" He smirks.
"Yeah. That." The realization that we can't fuck like we have been — like rabbits — sends a jolt of fear through me. That's what I was worried about as I fell asleep last night.
"The doctor said to wait two weeks, and then has some recommendations about after that. We need to be more careful."
"Careful, how?"
"Umm," he rubs his lips together and stares toward the wall. "We're going to have a renewed focus on quality, not quantity."
"Excuse me? What we were doing wasn't quality?" I'm not sure if he's joking.
He shakes his head and laughs. "It was of the highest quality and quantity, tesoro."
"That's more like it." I feign a pout.
He flashes me a wicked smile then leans in and brushes his lips against my earlobe. "And it will be so fun to tease you without. Even. Touching. You. I might even be able to make you cum that way. We'll see."
I inhale sharply. Even his whispered, wanton words make parts of me tingle here in the hospital. Parts that should not tingle, given my health situation.
"Pervert," I whisper.
He kisses the spot under my earlobe and a pleasurable shiver goes through me.
"I'm not sure I'm going to like being teased," I grumble. Deep down, I love that Gabriel isn't distancing himself from me because of my health situation.
Gabriel pulls back and licks his lips, making me think of all the times he used that tongue on my pussy. "I'm not sure who will enjoy it more. You or me."
His obvious desire makes me grin. "Something tells me we're going to find out."