Chapter Twenty-Five
Sunday, April 20, 10:12 a.m.
Carmen couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept this much in one week.
She opened her eyes to a ceiling that was becoming much too familiar to her—the apartment bedroom where she and John had spent the last seven days doing nothing but sleeping, eating, and cuddling. The same apartment across the hall from Henry’s.
No sex. From the way John said it, any number of people, medical and otherwise, had told him no sex until she was given the all clear. And he was going to follow those orders verbatim.
She wanted to tell them to mind their own business. She knew herself, knew what she could physically handle. The cuddling was great, but after a week of it, with little else to distract her, she wanted more than his arms around her. She wanted his hands on her.
Although she tried to roll over, John had one arm under her head and the other over her chest, pinning her to the bed. She couldn’t get enough leverage to move him.
Carmen poked his biceps. “John.”
No response.
She poked again, harder. “John.”
He woke, blinked, and asked, “What’s wrong?”
“I need to use the bathroom.”
“Oh.” He looked at her expectantly.
“You have to let me up.”
He blinked again, then nodded and extracted himself from the bed. When she would have tried to sit up, his hands urged her to roll toward the edge of the bed, where he could help her get to her feet.
He kept his hands on her, one on her back, tucking her in close to his body, the other under her elbow.
“Here you go,” he said, guiding her into the bathroom. He let her walk the last few steps alone. “Call me when you’re done.” He shut the door.
She was tired of the whole let me take care of you thing. She wanted to go back to work.
After using the toilet, she washed her hands, then carefully unwrapped the dressing over the wound in her chest. It was looking much better, with no puffiness or tenderness around the site. The pain was down to a dull ache, which was something she could manage without difficulty.
She could have a shower today. An honest to God hot shower.
Carmen removed her loose pajamas and started the water so she could find a comfortable temperature.
The door opened behind her. “What are you doing?” John asked as if she’d engaged in something illegal.
“Having a shower,” she said over her shoulder. “I checked my wounds, and they’re healing well. The pain is quite a bit less intense, and I feel greasy.”
He gave her a skeptical look.
“I’m having a shower,” she told him. She would not be denied.
“What if you slip and fall?” he asked, his tone sharp.
She turned and smiled at him. “That’s a reasonable concern. Why don’t you take off your clothes and join me?”
He didn’t smile back.
“Or are you too scared?”
He swallowed hard, then said quietly, “I don’t want to hurt you.”
She held her hand out to him. “The only way you’ll hurt me is if you go back to thinking you know what’s better for me than I do. I’m the doctor, remember?” She leaned forward and whispered, “I’m not expecting you to fuck me up against the wall.” She allowed a slow smile to curve her lips.
She stepped into the shower, letting the hot water spill over her skin in a refreshing cascade. Despite doing absolutely nothing for several days, sleeping as much as she wanted, and eating as healthy as anyone can from takeout, her muscles were still sore.
She dunked her head under the water, then went to put some shampoo in, but before she could get her hands above her shoulders, masculine hands cupped hers, scooped up the shampoo, and massaged it into her hair.
Strong fingers kneaded the muscles of her scalp, making her moan. Carmen put her hands out, and they landed on John’s naked chest. She slid her palms around him until she was pressed against his torso.
“Hey,” he said, his voice husky. “No sleeping on the job.”
“But you feel so good.”
His erection bumped against her hip.
“Happy to see me?” she asked.
He chuckled and said, “Darlin’, you have no idea.” He kept massaging her scalp.
She giggled. That hurt, so she stopped laughing and just leaned against him.
“I get it now,” he said, tilting her back so the water rinsed her hair. “How you felt when I got sick. How hard it was not to be able to do anything but mop my forehead and watch me get sicker.”
She lifted her head. His eyes were somber. “Love isn’t always easy.”
“Yeah,” he said, a crooked smile tilting up one side of his mouth. “But I’ve discovered something about myself.”
“Oh?”
“When it comes to you, even the difficult stuff feels good. Knowing you give a—” He caught himself, smiled, and finished with: “Knowing you love me. No conditions. No exceptions. No hesitations.” He leaned down and kissed her, long and slow and deep. “It’s a kind of freedom I never knew existed.” He rubbed his hand over his chest. “All week, I’ve awoken in the middle of the night in a panic, thinking you might have a fever again. The relief when I realize it was just a nightmare… I’m so fucking grateful for you.”
She stared into his liquid gaze, seeing herself reflected there, knowing she wouldn’t have to wonder or question his feelings or intentions or anything else ever again. “I love you.”
He kissed her, then whispered in her ear, “If I’m really careful and take my time, can I fuck you up against the wall?”
She laughed. “Yes.”
His answering laugh was a rumble against her skin, sending a shiver through her.
“On second thought.” His voice—slow, deep—was so hot it lit her blood on fire. “A bed is better for what I have in mind.”
“Haven’t I heard this line before?” she asked as he guided her out of the shower.
He wrapped her in a towel and began drying her off with careful concentration. “Possibly. I owe you a lifetime of orgasms, remember? It’s time I started paying up.”
“Hard to argue with that logic,” she said as she stroked his damp chest with one shaking hand.
He cupped that hand in his and brought her palm up, kissing the sensitive center. “You okay?”
She was pretty sure her smile was just as shaky as the rest of her. “Just excited.” Her breathing had gotten erratic, too. “And impatient.” Pressing into him, she hummed in pleasure at the heat of his body. “And maybe a little scared.”
His eyebrows lowered. “Scared?”
“I’m not sure how much I’ll be able to…do.”
His grin came back and then some. “Not a damn thing.” He leaned down to rub his nose against hers. “I’m going to do all the doing.” He kissed her, a long, slow promise of pleasure. “Let me take care of you today.”
“Yes.” It came out breathy, and she didn’t care.
He kissed her again. “And tomorrow.”
“Yes.”
Another kiss. “And forever.”
Tears wet her face, and she gave him the only answer she had inside her. “Yes.”
He opened his mouth to speak again, but she slapped her hand over his lips.
“Stop talking and make love to me.”
He kissed her, walking her backward out of the bathroom and toward the bed. When they reached it, he scooped her up and laid her down.
Uncertainty crept into his expression as he stared at her torso. “Maybe we should wait.”
She glanced down. A small amount of watery blood was smeared around her wound. “Bandage me up, and it’ll be fine.” When he didn’t move, she added, “John, this is normal.”
Instead of leaving to get bandages, he leaned down and kissed the tender skin next to the wound. Then another and another until he’d kissed his way all around it.
His gaze met hers. “I’ll be right back.”
It was only after he left the bed she realized she’d been holding her breath and let it out all at once. She’d wasted so much time on her hurt and anger; she wasn’t going to waste another second.
He returned with a fresh dressing, removed the tape covering the adhesive all around the borders of the bandage, and gently positioned it over her wound. He placed his palm over the wound. “It guts me every time I see this.”
She stroked one finger over the mostly healed bullet wound on the side of his chest. “I have never felt as powerless as when you were hurt. Then you got hurt again. And again.” Her throat closed up.
He captured her free hand and kissed the ring on her finger.
Her gaze caught on it. “I want to get married.”
“Good.” He sounded so satisfied.
“Today.”
He blinked. “I’m not going to run away.”
“I know. I just don’t want to wait.” She swallowed. “For anything.”
A grin kicked up one corner of his mouth. “Well, there’s no way I can say no to that, because my lady gets whatever she wants. Which do you want first?” he asked, laughter in his tone. “Orgasms or a marriage license?”
She bit her lip. “It’s hard to choose, but…I think orgasms.”
“Yes, ma’am.” This time, his kiss was a sensual promise, one she intended to collect.
He kissed her, long and slow, until she was breathing hard and halfway to senseless. Then his lips made their way down her body. Her breasts were licked, sucked, and teased until she begged for him to take her. Only when she demanded a damned orgasm right now did he slide down between her legs to lick and suck at her clit. Her first orgasm rolled over her like a massive wave, and she floated on its currents and eddies for a long while.
John let her down from the high gradually, then built it back up using his fingers to tease and torment her. Only when she was incoherent with need did he enter her. It felt so fucking good she climaxed on the second stroke.
He fucked her through the orgasm until she opened her eyes and met his white-hot gaze. He sped up and brought her to climax again. He came then, and they lay in each other’s arms for a long time before either of them moved.
John rolled out of bed and snatched his pants off the floor near the bathroom door. He pulled his cell phone out of a pocket and punched in a call.
“Hello, this is John Dozer. Can you tell me the fastest way I can get a marriage license?”
Wednesday, April 23, 11:00 a.m.
It ended up taking three days to obtain the license. The outbreak had disrupted the smooth running of the government, but now that everyone was getting vaccinated again, more and more departments were back to their regularly scheduled work.
DS and Rawley stood as witnesses, DS wearing a smug expression, as if their union was all his doing.
Rawley seemed slightly confused, like he couldn’t figure out why he was there. He looked even more confused when Dozer handed him his written resignation.
“You’re quitting?” Rawley’s face was pale. The man had been working nonstop since the outbreak started and probably hadn’t had a full night’s sleep in weeks.
“Yup. Looks like your job as liaison is permanent now.”
Rawley stared at the sealed envelope in his hand. “But…”
“Don’t worry,” Dozer said. “I’m going to be working with Carmen and her people on the Outbreak Task Force, so you’ll see me a lot.”
“That’s not what I worry about.”
“Oh?” DS said, joining the conversation. “You scared of something, Homeland?”
“Everything about this job,” he said with no hesitation. “I had no idea of the scope of the work the CDC does. No idea how important it is. I thought you were just a bunch of lab techs and nurses who never see the outside of a lab or clinic.”
“And now?” Dozer asked.
“Now, I think I’m horribly underqualified to be liaison.”
“You were underqualified,” DS said, slapping him on the back. “Now, you just convinced me you’ll do.”
Carmen was watching him from a few feet away, a smile on her face. When he met her gaze, she raised an eyebrow.
“Gentlemen,” Dozer said, barely glancing at the two men. “I’ll see you in a week.”
“Honeymoon?” DS asked.
“Something like that.” He took her hand and led her out of the courthouse and into a car.
“Whose vehicle is this?” she asked.
“A friend of Henry’s loaned it to me.” He drove them to a small boutique hotel.
There still wasn’t enough traffic for it to feel like normal, but there were people out and about and a few cars on the road.
“It feels like we’ve been through a war,” she said softly.
“We have. One kind of war. It’s going to take a while for things to return to normal.”
“But we haven’t won the war. In fact, we still don’t know who’s attacking us.”
“But we’re getting closer to them all the time.” He reached over and squeezed her hand. “Don’t lose hope. We’re going to get them.”
Carmen let out a breath, rested her head on the seat behind her, and nodded. “Yes, we will.”
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