Page 5 of Hollywood Undercover
Dr. Orwell nodded, anticipating his protests. He waved his hands to stop Sebastian before he went too much further. “Call it a vacation, Mr. Sullivan. First thing tomorrow, you’ll need to schedule a visit with our day clinic orthopedic surgeon. I can prescribe some anti-inflammatories for you now. I hope you reported this to your employer before you left worktonight.”
“Yes,” Sebastian grumbled, thinking of all the paperwork he had to complete for worker’s compensation to be processed. At least he had great insurance. The fire department took excellent care of itsstaff.
Dr. Orwell excused himself to see another patient. Sebastian carefully hopped off the examination table and got dressed. He had already been fitted with a brace, and was administered a steroid shot. Thankfully, it made the stiffening joint pain more manageable, although now, his limp had become more pronounced. By the time he filled the prescription and drove home, it was aftermidnight.
He parked his Jeep outside the three-car garage at his house. It was times like this he wished he had installed a garage door opener. With this injury, manually lifting the heavy door was out of the question. He would park in the driveway for a while. He sat there for a minute, gazing up at the split-level, three-story home he had inherited from his late parents. It was a comfortable and attractive house; prime real estate in a cul-de-sac slightly out of his tax bracket. He didn’t quite fit the profile of his well-off, mostly middle-aged neighbors, but as he had lived there all his life, he got along with them wellenough.
For the three years since he had moved back in, he made sure the place kept its curb appeal. He landscaped the lawn, kept the shrubbery trimmed, and suspended colorful hanging plants along the porch every spring. He was no home designer, but got compliments on the great job his contractor had done during a renovation last year. He had even splurged and got them to install a large pair of bay windows that extended from the main floor up to the third level. It wasn’t the largest house on the street, but it held its own, and still felt like home toSebastian.
He suppressed a cry of discomfort as he climbed out of the Jeep. The effect of the steroid was wearing off. He hobbled along the dim sidewalk, lit only by the streetlight, until he was up the three steps that took him through the short, winding walkway to his front porch. This design was such a good idea at the time. In hindsight, he hadn’t thought of ease-of-access when the landscaper had recommendedit.
By now, Sebastian was in a foul mood. He was returning to an empty house. He would give almost anything to walk in and know someone would be there for him. Frustrated, he fumbled in his pocket for keys and opened the front door. He stepped in and let the door slam behind him, grumbling as he allowed himself an extra-long moment of self-pity.
Because of the pain tonight, he skipped his habit of doing a room-by-room inspection. It was his way of resetting his mind after the adrenalin rush of fighting a fire. He would normally walk through the place, checking every room for hazards. Twice. From the entry hall with its vaulted ceiling, he would skirt the staircase and step into the living room, through the archway to the family room, hitting every place in between until he got to the door of the kitchen to check the back porch. There were almost never any issues, but the practice would ratchet down his post-emergency, hyper-vigilantstate.
It was probably a touch of paranoia that had him placing his faith in these rituals. The truth was they got him through the tougher days. He was past wondering how weird it might seem to someone not in his line of work. De-stressing was crucial in a job like his, and so were routines. Tonight was just an unusual, but understandableexception.
He climbed the staircase to the second floor, where four bedrooms and two bathrooms sat empty and unused, waiting for the rare guest. Usually, it was his only brother Sam who would visit from Los Angeles. He took the second set of stairs to his renovated third-floor master bedroom—probably another error in judgment, now that he was injured. He walked directly to his bathroom, and filled the deep soaker tub with steaming hot water. It was time to rid his body of the smell of soot. He shed his clothes, and when the tub was full, climbed into thewater.
His plan was to stay in for however long it took for his restless pulse to steady. Somehow, he was more on edge than usual. It was a pretty stupid move to keep going after hurting himself in that hallway. He dismissed the idea as quickly as it surfaced. He would do it again in a heartbeat. The children had come close to not surviving. They had avoided tragedy, plain and simple. Now those kids were in a hospital, receiving treatment for smoke inhalation, and were likely to be released beforedawn.
Alone with his thoughts now, Aileen was on his mind again. She had really done a number on him. He wondered whether he had been taking bigger risks on the job lately because of his disappointment with how things went down with her, or more generally, how empty his life had become. For now, he blamed it all on Aileen. It was convenient. Grimacing, he stretched out his legs and thought about the coming months. The surgery, the injury, and the recovery weren’t on his mind as much as the number of hours he expected to be bored out of his skull during this extended time off. He was already sick of beingalone.
As Sebastian shifted around, the tepid water splashed over his firm abs. He leaned forward and let more hot water fill the tub, and felt around to lift the drain plug for a minute, letting out some of the water. He settled in more comfortably now. Grabbing the washcloth, he added some soap and scrubbed himself. He rubbed his body in slow, soothing circles, taking extra time with his sore muscles on his chest andarms.
Even in this tired physical condition, and uneasy state of mind, he felt himself quickly becoming aroused. He pictured his sweet and sexy fantasy girlfriend with him in the tub. She had been etched into his psyche since he was a teenager. She was the girl next door—literally. Alexandra Storme had never stopped invading his dreams. And that was where she wouldremain.
She was mega-star Lexxi Rock now. The girl who had already been unattainable back in high school had shot up to an elusive unicorn status—magical, mystical and completely unconquerable for all eternity. It was how most celebrity rock stars became after finding fame. But at least he had her, here in his most eroticthoughts.
He closed his eyes and pictured her blue, diamond-shaped eyes gazing lovingly into his. It was Alexandra sliding the washcloth along his abs. She kneeled between his legs, ready to pamper and please him. Her arm slid lower, getting dangerously close to his rock hard manhood. He stroked himself as her tiny hands now wrapped around his member. He pictured her lips; lips that could beat out any makeup commercial on TV. She would bite down on her perfectly lush lips, before leaning down to kiss his necksoftly.
Before long, he could see Alexandra resting her hands on his shoulders, and lifting herself to straddle him. Her hips would rock as she started grinding on his swollen bulge. She felt so real, so perfect. And when she slowly lowered her warm, wetness onto him, he could feel her clench around him. Water would splash outside the tub as he pictured her hips rising and falling to take him deeper inside eachtime.
Her head would tilt back before long, and she would take his hands and press them to her sensuous breasts. They were close enough for him to caress them with his tongue. She would moan that sultry sound, bucking her hips more intensely as she finally hit her peak. That image was enough to send him reeling over the edge. He let out a groan as he came, almost blinded by the explosiveclimax.
Weak from exhaustion, Sebastian relaxed his head on the back of the tub. After a few minutes, he sat up and rinsed the soap from his hands. He turned on the tap and splashed his face and head with warm water, leaving droplets on the tips of his dark brown, spiky hair. With a deep breath, he massaged the kinks out of hisneck.
The only reason he had a hard time shaking Aileen was she had him convinced. Unlike his fantasy of being with Lexxi, Aileen was the first woman he could see himself getting more serious with. Everyone before her—and there were many of them—had been just for fun. Too bad Aileen already had a future with the man she married and cheated on. When Sebastian had discovered she had a husband, he threw himself into his work, and had begun to date casually again. It killed the time, but wasn’t nearly enough anymore. Worst of all, he had gone back to his skepticism about settling down. To him, it was a natural after-effect of unknowingly dating a marriedwoman.
Tonight was one of those rare moments when he longed for conversation and companionship, two things not likely to be found in his contact list. He got the urge to call Aileen from time to time, just to see how she was doing. They had such a good thing going back when they were together. But in reality,shehad a good thing going, while she had her cake and ate ittoo.
He had ventured back out on the dating scene since he found out she was married. He was positive he didn’t need to reach out for her at a time like this. It would just be stringing her along…scratch that, it would allowherto string him along. She would get the sex, and he’d get to return to an empty house. He wasn’t going there again. Ever. Aileen was the last in a long line of failed dating mishaps, and her drama finally convinced him that something long-term was probably not in the cards forhim.
Sebastian lingered in the tub until his fingers were wrinkled and the water was beginning to feel cold. The throb in his knee had eased, so he climbed out of the water and dried off. Chest bare, he stood in front of the mirror and studied the stubble on his cheeks and jawline. He could wait to shave on his day off. He walked to his room and pulled on boxers. That’s when it sank in. Every day for the next few months would be a dayoff.
Fuck.
It was a disaster. That realization stole the rest of his energy. It was now too much work to go back downstairs to the kitchen for something to eat. He made a mental note to make the appointment with the day clinic, and walked to his bedroomwindow.
He looked out on the normally quiet street—another habit, and something he saw as his contribution to the neighborhood watch. There was an ambulance outside his neighbor, Maxwell Storme’s home. He let the curtains drift closed and limped over to his bedroom, wondering what might be going on next door. If they needed help, Max or his girlfriend Rosa would have called. He had enough on his plate, so he left italone.
At the moment, his personal disaster was the idea of recuperating alone. It wasn’t the first time he wondered what it was about him that made it hard to hold down a woman for much longer than a few months. Sure, it was the job, for one thing. Most women he met wanted him in their beds, and many more gravitated to him because he was a firefighter. Sooner or later though, they would discover they couldn’t handle his crazy shifts, or the fact that what he did for a living was dangerousbusiness.
“Best to just do what we always do, Bash,” he said to himself. “Soldieron.”
He turned on the television in his room, lowered the volume to almost zero, and climbed into bed. Again, he wondered what was going on next door, but it was late, he was tired, and news travelled fast on the close-knit street. He would find out sooner or later. He picked up his phone from the night table and searched through his contactlist.
“Tanya or Michelle?” he asked himself, debating who was more likely to be awake and ready to come overtonight.
