***
I was emotionally and physically drained. After I said my goodbyes to Hank, I spoke with Legal about his prognosis. The firm was not happy with the terms we agreed upon. They were going to draw together something more official tomorrow. They didn’t believe it was possible for a human being to be so altruistic. Hell, I wasn’t so sure I believed it either.
According to them, Hank was going to come off his drugs and realize how much I was worth and attempt to clean house. The accident occurred on my property, falling under the company’s liability insurance. Technically Hank could take me for a pretty penny if he wanted to. And I’d pay for the sole purpose of repaying him for the gift of my life.
Hank. The man was infuriating. If he would have just taken a settlement we’d all feel better. He could go back home a rich man and I could go back to … back to what? Models? Actors? More pretty faces than I could stomach? Everyone wrapped in plastic.
Don’t get me wrong. I loved my job. Building my empire was a dream and I’d accomplished it. I was at the top of my game, with more money than I’d ever need in my lifetime.
Then there was Hank. He had a ranch in Texas, a white Ford pickup truck, and a small construction firm that scored my project by bidding tens of thousands under what my team would have paid. A man that seemed perfectly comfortable in his own skin. Oh, and what scrumptious looking skin it was.
Seeing all that bare male flesh got my blood thrumming and my knees weak. It had been ages since I’d had such a virile man around. The men I’d dated were always high society. Ivy League, big in business and lousy in bed. My pleasure was of little concern as long as they got off. Hank looked like a man who knew how to please a woman.
I slumped down into the comfort of my puffy couch. The penthouse was quiet; all the staff besides my chef Gustav had left for the evening.
Again my thoughts were brought back to Hank. He wanted to date me. It reeked of a bad afterschool special on Lifetime television. The story as old as time. It hadn’t changed much since Shakespeare wrote his version in Romeo and Juliet. Doomed from the start.
It wasn’t possible that we had much in common. I could see our first date now. He’d be in jeans, work boots, and a white T-shirt that stretched across that broad chest, outlining every thick ripple of muscle.
My hand slowly traveled down my abdomen, past my shirt, and over my slacks as I fantasized. Hank’s ass would fill his jeans like a second skin. My hand reached its target between my legs, cupping and pressing down against the needy flesh. A gasp escaped as I leaned back on the couch and imagined it was Hank’s hand touching me, twirling his large fingers around my clit. He’d whisper in my ear, tell me how much he wanted to fuck me.
I undid the button and zipper of my pants and slipped my hand under the lace panties. Cool fingers slid against the slick folds. I was surprisingly wet. Hank would remove my pants and dip his face down toward my center, licking and kissing my thighs, growling as he shredded my panties between his large hands.
My fingers pressed and swirled around the hard bundle of nerves at the apex of my pleasure as I imagined it. Dream Hank would spread me wide open. He’d hold my ass just where he wanted and lick me with one long swipe of his tongue, dipping into my sex over and over until I was screaming out in ecstasy.
The pressure built at my core, throbbed and tingled as I lifted my hips up and pressed deep inside with two fingers mimicking what I thought Hank would do. Several deep strokes, hips reaching high, I ended the torture with a few furious circles around my swollen clit.
“Hank!” I cried into the empty room, my orgasm ripping through me fast and furious.
I rubbed out the vestiges of my pleasure as Dream Hank fizzled and disappeared. Jesus, I hadn’t come that hard in a long time. Too long. So long that I was using a man who was all wrong for me as fodder for my masturbatory fantasies. Pathetic.
In the kitchen, I washed my hands, still dazed from my orgasm, my mind still focused on Dream Hank.
The door to my penthouse slammed and a jangling ruckus could be heard from the entryway. I made it back into the living room when I heard Oliver yelling.
“Sit! Damn you mangy mutt, don’t you know basic commands!” Oliver’s shrill voice pierced and echoed through the walls of my home.
A blur of yellow barreled through the living room, knocking over a small table. Nails clicked and clacked against the hardwood floors, then a giant dog jumped, pushing me onto the couch. I shrieked, covering my face and chest as it hopped from couch to my lap to the floor and back. A long pink tongue hung out of its mouth then slurped at my face, leaving a wet trail of saliva along the surface. I tilted my head against my shoulder, wiping the disgusting slime off.
“Holy Jesus. What the hell, Ollie! Get this dog off me!”
“Oh my, God. Shoo dog, shoo! Get down.” He pulled at the dog’s collar and slapped a hook onto it, restraining him by his side.
“I’m sorry, Pen. You said to move all of Hank’s stuff to your place. This … ” he pointed to the yellow lab, “is part of his stuff. According to the gentleman who gave me the dog, his name is Butch.”
“Butch.” The dog turned around in a circle when he heard his name. Tentatively, I reached out and petted the dog. He happily panted and pushed against my palm. I pulled my hand away and a wad of hair was left in its wake. Dogs. They were dirty, they shed, and they made messes as large as they were. This dog was enormous, just like its master.
What a nightmare.
“You have got to be kidding me.” I closed my eyes and tried to will the dog to disappear. I cracked open one eye. No such luck. He was still there. “Okay, fine. Hire a dog watcher or something. For now, bring him in the kitchen and give him some water. He’s probably thirsty. Have Chef Gustav make him a steak.” Oliver looked at me like I was a psycho. “Please, just deal with it. I’m going to take a long, hot bath. Tomorrow I’m going to stop by the hospital in the morning. Reschedule any conflicting appointments.”
“Okay, you rest. You’ve been through a lot the past couple days. And Pen … ”
I stopped at the head of the stairs, turning to look back at my most trusted friend. “Yes?”
“I’m so thankful you’re okay. I owe the cowboy a lot. You’re still here because of him.” His voice was weak and thick with emotion.
“I’m fine. Please, just take care of his dog.” I swung a wave behind me as I treaded to the haven that was a huge jetted tub nestled in the master bathroom. “Good night.”
***
A hot bath was exactly what the doctor ordered. Candles twinkled along the curved edge of the tub, filling the room with the scent of sugary vanilla. Water sloshed over the side as I settled into the steamy water.
Heaven.
Ten minutes passed when the door creaked open and Oliver walked in. He had a bottle of wine in one hand, two glasses in the other. He sat the bottle and glasses down on the tiled edge. He pulled the vanity chair over to the tub, removed his blazer and tie, then folded up each sleeve of his dress shirt. He slumped into the chair, picked up the wine and poured hefty glasses of the garnet liquid.
I knew what he was doing. For the past decade, it had always been us against the world. He needed me and couldn’t leave. Yesterday he was faced with the fear that he may have lost me.
It was the first real brush with death either of us had experienced. We’d dealt with jealous and jilted lovers before, and the occasional death threat from companies I’d taken over in the past, but nothing so acute or specifically life-threatening as this. Had Hank not jumped in front me, that metal pipe would have gone straight through my heart.
I traced the circular bruise just above my left breast. The purple and black area spread across my chest, covering about a three-to four-inch area. I was lucky the end of the pipe that pierced through Hank only left me with the bruise from a much smaller impact.
“Does it hurt?” He broke the silence first. His eyes scanned my entire body, probably making sure there weren’t any other marks marring me. If it was anyone else, I’d have covered up. Ollie had seen me naked more times than my mother had. I stopped caring about modesty with him back in college when he started to dress me, then completely when we lived together until he’d gotten with Dean.
“Yes. Not as much as it could have.” I took a healthy sip of wine, the berry and plum flavors rushed over my tongue and warmed my belly.
“God, Aspen. I could have lost you.” Tears filled his big brown doe eyes.
“But you didn’t. And you won’t.” I reached out a wet hand and clasped his. “We’re best friends. We’re in it for the long haul. It’s always been you and me, Ollie.” I smiled to reassure him.
“It won’t always be that way. One day you’re going to meet a man, fall in love and have babies, and I’ll be a long-forgotten friend.” He was having a pity party for one and there wasn’t a lot I could do about it.
“You’re right. One day I hope to find a man I can share my life and
bed
with.” My pointed look wasn’t lost on him.
Had he not been gay, I still wouldn’t have been attracted to him. I liked tall, large men who were sure of themselves. Ollie was more like a female than a male, though I’d never tell him that. There wasn’t another man I could hold a platonic conversation with while lying completely exposed in a bathtub. My body wasn’t perfect but I worked hard to stay in shape. I’d been told I had a beautiful body by several men in the past. I spent countless hours in my home gym to ensure a fit form. Overall, my self-image was not one of my insecurities.
“Just because I want to have a man in my life doesn’t mean I’m going to get rid of the one I already have. You’re my best friend, my only true friend. You know everything about me and love me anyway. No one could take your place.” I tipped my head over to force him to look at me. “Besides, who’s going to pick out my clothes and do my hair?”
We both laughed and a bright smile broke across his face. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to save you.” Ah, so now we get to the real problem. He wanted to be my one and only savior.
“I’m not, because that would mean that I could have lost you. That, I wouldn’t have survived.” Tears welled up but I tried not to let them fall. It had been a really emotional couple days. “I love you and all your pieces.”
“Me too. All your pieces.” He stood up and clinked his glass with mine. Then he downed the wine in a couple gulps. I smiled. Waste not, want not. “I’m going to head home and cuddle up with Dean tonight. You okay?” He leaned down on one knee and brought his forehead to mine. He rubbed our foreheads together.
“I am. Now go, Dean already hates me. Go home to him.”
He nodded and headed to the door. “Oh, and Aspen?”
“Yes?” I sighed and leaned my head back, forcing myself to relax and enjoy the water slipping around tense muscles.
His gaze scanned my body from head to toe. “Your body has never looked better. Hank’s going to enjoy the hell out of it.”
My jaw dropped open, eyes wide.
He chuckled and called over his shoulder. “See you tomorrow, Princess!” And he was gone.
Oliver was always full of surprises. As I sunk further into the heated depths, my thoughts ran back to Hank. My daytime hero. He was incredibly attractive. His rugged looks and hard body had me aching to touch him. Even though I’d only seen him naked from the waist up, my eyes took in the hard lines of his thighs under that thin blanket.
Long legs had him well over six feet. Instead of a runners build like all the men I’d dated in the past, Hank was huge … everywhere. He had the power in his form to take me against a wall, and I’d gladly welcome it.
Of course, this was all fantasy. Hank and I would never have sex. No, we were too different — worlds apart, in fact. Our lifestyles could never commingle harmoniously and having sex would complicate things. I’d never understand why I’d chosen to move him into my home to heal. It would definitely be an interesting experience.
I left the bath to find Hank’s dog lying on the floor at the foot of my bed. I stared him down but he just smacked his chops and rested his head against his paws, eyes closing, readying for sleep. At least he was comfortable with the arrangement. I’d never had a dog, nor understood the need for one. Pulling the covers back, I fell into bed without bothering to put on pajamas or dry my hair. Mind, body, and soul were spent. Butch’s soft snoring lulled me to sleep.
Chapter 3
An annoying light flickered on and pulled me from the deep recess of an unmemorable dream. Even with my eyes closed something pierced through the inky blackness. One eyelid was forced up and the blinding light took out my vision like the flash of a camera lens. The offender proceeded to do the same to its twin.
“Good morning, Mr. Jensen,” a gravelly voice greeted.
My eyes adjusted to the room. A man in a white coat stood before me. Glasses perched on the tip of a bulbous nose. His bald head had wisps of hair protruding in different directions. His thick fingers poked and prodded at my wound, the bloody bandage lying on my stomach.
The sight of the dried blood and sticky goo coated my mouth with a sourness that could easily have me puking my guts up. He pressed on a particularly painful spot and I couldn’t hold back the cry that tore from my lungs. At that exact moment my angel appeared through the door and ran to my side. Her cool hands grasped mine tightly, the vanilla goodness of her perfume swirled in the air as her sweet face screwed into worry lines.
“Hank, I’m here, you’re alright.” The calm timbre of her voice held a twinge of irritation. I couldn’t focus on her as much as I’d like because the doctor before me dug into my wound like he was searching for gold. The pressure on the gaping hole resulted in bursts of stars fluttering through my vision.
“Doctor, what’s going on? Why is he in so much pain?” My angel was feisty today. Kicking ass. I liked it.
On autopilot, my hand reached to her side and settled on the swell of her tight ass. I gave it a little pat and her eyes flicked to mine; fire swirled in those smoky depths.