Page 47 of Misadventures in Blue
When I wake up again, it’s dark outside the window and the nearby highway is mostly drained of traffic. The lights in the room are dimmed, and a television is playing a rerun of a sitcom I normally hate. But I’m too tired and out of it to bother trying to find a way to change the channel.
Most importantly, there’s someone in bed with me. Someone warm and sweet-smelling. My arm wraps around her instinctively, pressing her tight against me as my heart squeezes in a familiar, achy way.
The monitor next to me reflects that, and Cat shoots upright in alarm.
“Jace,” she says urgently, searching my face. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I murmur. “Just awake. Just holding you.”
The panic recedes from her expression slowly. “Does your arm hurt? Do you need the nurse?”
“Cat,” I say, reaching for her again. “I only need you.”
With a huff of disbelief, she nestles back into me, and I savor the feeling of her close to me. My body gives a faint pulse of aroused response—muffled by the pain meds—and I ignore it for now, simply enjoying the contact. Enjoying the weight of her against me and the spill of her hair, messy and tousled as it hardly ever is, cascading over my shoulder. She’s in something surprisingly casual too—jeans torn at the knees and cuffed at the ankles—and an old army shirt that I left at her house once.
For some reason, seeing her in my shirt makes me want to cry. I fight off the urge by burying my face in her hair and breathing her in.
She’s here.
She’s safe.
I kept her safe.
A few more days pass like this. Russo comes by and tells me I’m on medical leave until I’m cleared by the doctor to come back to light duty. Cat comes in at night, after my parents leave and always wearing my shirts, and snuggles in the bed with me, much to the nurses’ amusement. She doesn’t say much, which begins to worry me, and every time I bring up the case or my injury, she shuts down completely.
I’m not sure what to do about it. I want her to know how happy I am she’s safe. How few fucks I give about getting shot when it means that she’s here now, unharmed and whole. Even if I have lingering impairment in my arm that means I can’t wear the badge anymore…
Worth. It.
I’d do it again and again if it meant Cat left that staff room alive.
But the more I try to tell her that, the more closed off she gets. I’m desperate to get out of this hospital bed and into a real bed with her so we can extinguish all this pent-up frustration and fear in a frenzy of touch and sweat. If I could just get her underneath me…
She’s in bed with me now. The lights are dimmed and the nurse just checked on me, giving me a conspiratorial wink when she shut the door, and I know we have at least an hour or more before she returns. Without giving myself time to doubt the wisdom of this, I tuck Cat close to my side and roll us so that she’s underneath me and I’m covering my body with hers. I have to grit my teeth a bit as I settle my weight on my injured arm along with my good one, but the stitches hold and the Demerol blunts the worst of the bite.
“Jace!” Cat says breathlessly, blinking over at the door and then to my injured arm. “You’ll hurt yourself. You’ll—”
I cut her off with a fierce, hard kiss—the first real one I’ve been able to give her since the shooting. I silently thank God that I’ve been able to walk around the past two days and shower and brush my teeth and all that, because I don’t have to hold back. I lick at her lips until she parts them for me, and then I lick inside her mouth, tasting her and teasing her until her wary body begins to melt under mine. Until she’s moaning and her hands wander to the back of my hospital gown to clutch at my ass.
“The only way I’ll hurt,” I breathe against her lips, “is if you don’t let me taste you right now.”
“Taste me? But—”
It’s too late. I’m already working my way down her body, careful of my IV and monitor wires, and rucking up her borrowed T-shirt to kiss around her navel as I unbutton her jeans.
“You can’t,” she says, “you can’t, but oh God, you are, you are…”
I yank the jeans down past her cunt, ignoring the sharp pain in my arm as I shove the denim to her knees and expose her silk-clad mound to my stare. The silk goes down to her knees too, and then I push her legs up to her chest so that she’s available to my mouth.
I lick her slit, and the sweet, earthy flavor explodes on my tongue. She cries out at the same time my heart monitor pings its alarm.
“Shh,” I pant, “or the nurse might come in.”
She presses the back of her hand to her mouth and turns her head to the side, as if that’s going to make my onslaught any easier to bear. I highly doubt that, since it’s been nearly a week since I’ve eaten her pussy and I’m hungry as hell.
It’s hard work to service her properly, with her legs bound together by her jeans and her knees shoved up to her chest, and with my body hanging off the bottom of the bed and my ass hanging out of my gown.
&nbs
