Page 29 of One Night Only

I hero-worshipped her more than I liked her. Being wanted by her had been a power trip, a sick sort of validation that I could belong to all those brilliant, beautiful people. That I could be part of my sister’s world, even if it was on the fringes.

In those first few months, I hated myself for using Rebecca like that. And I tried so hard to be some sparkling, witty unicorn because I was afraid I would lose her if I was myself.

Until I realized she was a controlling, uptight bitch who wanted to keep me a dirty little secret for as long as possible. The low point had come when she pushed me away and laughed about “my silly little stalker-y crush” on her when Asha found us together in her room. Sad as it was, I realized I didn’t want to be someone’s fun side quest.

And because I’m a confused, needy, bi-disaster who needs others to validate my existence, I swung to the other extreme by attaching myself to Rahul.

Who, now I can see, is the exact opposite of Rebecca.

He’s soft, and really, a lost teddy bear of a man who made me feel better about myself, the lies I told, and the choices I made. Because his, in comparison, were worse.

And now, there’s Dr. Cross.

I know, without a doubt, that my life is going to be bifurcated by this night. The Annika I was before I followed Dr. Cross to this hotel suite and the Annika I am now. As scary as it sounds, he has changed already me, and I think for the better.

The bed shifts, and I feel him move, sheets sliding against bare skin. My breath hitches in my chest, waiting for him to say something. Instead, I hear the soft thud of his bare feet on the carpet.

Is he getting sick of my emo, angst-fest?

Not that I blame him.

It was mind-blowing for me, but very possible that one little orgasm didn’t change his entire outlook on life.

But then he returns. Without a word, he presses a warm washcloth between my thighs. Thorough but gentle, as if I’m to be handled with care.

Moments later, I hear the faint sound of something being unwrapped, the muted clink of glass. “Sit up, sweetheart.”

Because it’s easier to follow his command than think for myself, I do.

He’s holding a bowl of vanilla ice cream and a handful of strawberries from the room service tray. And two bottles of water.

I grab one and eagerly chug it down, spilling some against my neck and chest. My overheated skin thanks me for it.

Dr. Cross settles back onto the bed and passes me a berry, the red gleaming in the dim light.

I take a slow bite, the burst of tartness on my tongue tugging me back to this plane. He scoops a bite of ice cream onto a spoonand offers it. I let him press it to my lips, and the cold hits me, sharp and bright against the lingering heat of my body.

We continue like this for what feels like an eternity. He doesn’t ask me why I cried or tell me it’s okay. Instead, he sits there with me in companionable silence, feeding me until my belly is full.

And my heart, the foolish, greedy organ, wants more.

More of his kisses, more of his fingers touching new spots and teaching me about them, more of his grunts as he comes, more of his teasing and laughter and him.

I want all his nights.

I want him…forever. And why not?

I’ve been thrust into this new, alien world where the laws of physics are different. Up is down, laughter and kisses are in free supply, and this gorgeous, thoughtful man wants me.

“Do you need anything else?”

I shake my head, choking down on the silly, sentimental words that grow like weeds in my throat.

No, Ani, don’t open the door. Don’t wonder what it would be like to share your life with him.

No.

“Can we turn off the lights?” I say without looking at him. “The day’s finally catching up with me.”

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