Page 38 of Make Me Dream of You

“Does it hurt when I do this?” He presses the palm of his hand against my ribs.

“A little.”

“And this?” He presses more firmly.

I whimper. “Yes.”

“Fuck. Is it a sharp pain or dull?”

“Dull.”

“That’s good, I’d be worried if it were sharp. How about when you take a deep breath?”

I breathe in, filling my lungs, and shakily exhale. “No, not too much.”

“Good, I don’t think there’s a break.” He stands, but his fingertips linger on my side. He slides his hand down. Slowly. Barely touching until he reaches my hip bone, caressing over the angel wing. “Your tattoo is healing nicely.”

His voice is thick and my pulse is so loud in my head I barely register his words.

“Oh. Right, yeah. They’re doing good. Past the itchy stage and not much peeling.”

He pulls his hand away, but my hip is burning where his fingers were.

We stand in the quiet of the small space for a moment. Him, still shirtless and me with my robe half open, no words, just eye contact. Fuck, he’s so pretty.

His gaze flickers down to my mouth for a second, then lower before he looks away quickly.

“Let me get this water started for you.” He turns, pulls back the shower curtain, the rings screeching against the rod, and turns the knob. Water pelts the tub, mist billowing into the air.

I’m anxious to get this sticky robe off. I start to disrobe as he shuffles out of the bathroom, eyes averted, the tips of his ears pink.

I step in as the door latches closed, letting the hot water cascade over my face. I wash my hair and body with his soap. It smells like him.

When I get out of the shower, a pair of his sweatpants and one of his T-shirts are folded on the counter next to a clean towel.

I’m wearing Noah Dixon’s clothes, smelling of his soap, in his apartment. It’s unreal.

I pad barefoot out of the bathroom to the main living area. Wood is in the kitchen. No Noah.

The doorbell buzzes and Wood opens it to Macy, standing in the hall with frazzled hair and a small bag.

“Mace,” Wood says, his voice jumping an octave.

“Hi.” She smiles, eyes shifting. “Um, can I stay here tonight?"

He moves aside, sweeping her inside. “Of course you can, girl.”

“Thanks.” She tucks a lock of hair behind her ears. “Spencer has an early surgery tomorrow and he really needs his full eight hours of sleep for it.”

Wood takes her bag, and she stands in the living room, looking out the windows, her smile unmoving.

“It was silly, really, me bothering him this late at night. I should have known better. He’s a surgeon. It’s literally life and death. He has to be focused and dedicated. It’s really what I love and admire about him.”

I’m not sure if she’s talking to us or herself at this point.

Noah comes out, hair wet, black sweats, shirtless, towel over his shoulders.

“Oh good, you’re out of my bathroom,” Wood says. He turns to Macy with a big, lopsided grin, his straight, white teeth bright against his tanned skin. “I’ll go make up my bed for you with clean sheets and blankets so you can stay there tonight.”

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