Page 3 of Nice & Thick

He left so abruptly from the gym, and he never does that. If anything, it’s me cutting my walk short, running to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water, and then heading to the back patio. I thought about walking or running on the beach, except I’m being paid to do a job and leaving my patient goes against every cell in my being.

The last time I was in Rhodes' bedroom, his spicy scent assaulted me. Looking at his massive king-size bed inspired a hell of a lot of time with me and my fingers. I wondered what side of the bed he slept on, what he wore to bed, and even what he looked like waking up in the morning. Sure, there’s a small insecure part of me that wondered if he ever had someone in his bed with him. Then I shut my wayward thoughts down. I’m sure he has. Rhodes is twenty years older than me, and the last thing I want to think about is him with someone else. No freaking thanks. We’re both adults and have a past. That doesn’t mean I’d want him to dredge it up. Jesus, now I’m talking like a Looney Toon. We’re not even together, except I’ve been envisioning so much of the future here with him. Which is dumb. The only relationship we have is in a working capacity.

Today isn’t much better. Our moment in the gym has me spiraling. There’s an ache between my legs, my heart is racing, and I have an overwhelming desire to slide my hand beneath my shorts to help relieve the desire Rhodes keeps building inside of me. His bed is once again in my sights, and I’m back to thinking what it would feel like to be with him between his black sheets. I glance out the sliding glass doors at the beauty of the ocean, the sun, and the sand. My room isn’t bad. It’s not Rhodes' with this view; mine is of the street. The neighborhood is starting to wake up. Some people are walking, usually with a partner or a dog. The golf carts are plentiful, which makes sense with narrow streets and alleyways here on the beachside of New Smyrna.

I don't find him in any other room in the house, and while I should leave him be, his bedroom door is open and so is the bathroom. My curiosity gets the best of me, so I turn the corner and remember the last time I stood in this very room, helping him get in and out of the shower. He’d groan and grumble, not in a demeaning way toward me. Lucky for me, Rhodes isn’t a horrible patient. He might make a comment or curse an obscenity here and there under his breath, but the second he realizes he’s not alone, he recovers quickly and acts as if nothing happened. I stay quiet, having never been in his position. The last thing I want to do is make him feel bad in case he’s struggling in the shower.

“Oh my fucking god,” I whisper the words, so Rhodes doesn’t hear me. The outline of his body is on full display. The steam is doing me no favors, but I can make out his silhouette, ripped arm muscles, corded thighs, one hand holding him up in a prone position, and the other hand… well, let’s just say I’m stopped dead in my tracks. My hand covers my mouth when I swear he utters my name. This is nothing like helping him in and out of the shower. Those days were so hard, literally and figuratively. I’d help him get in, turn around until he was situated, and then I’d wait in his room. My ear on alert in case of a fall, but no issue ever arose…except his cock.

I lick my lips, recalling when I’d helped him out of the shower. The only thing wrapped around his body would be a towel. There were more than a few times when I’d hope for the fabric to drop a smidge, wanting to see exactly what his happy trail led to. Hell, I’d have loved if it dropped to the floor. The shorts he wears do absolutely nothing to hide the fact of how nice and thick his cock is. I really should leave, let him finish taking care of himself, and run to my room to do similar. Instead, I stay as still and quiet as possible, wanting to watch as he lets go, wishing it were my hand around his dick.

My legs tremble, my body is burning up, and the flesh pebbling on my heated skin is an anomaly of its own. Hot yet cold to the touch. A small moan rolls through me. The noise is louder than I expected. My hand goes to my mouth, attempting to keep it together. Rhodes' movements slow, as if he’s heard me, and I’m cussing myself up and down for staying as long as I have.

I should not be watching him. I should go to my room. I should do so many things, except I can’t.

He re-doubles his efforts, going harder and faster, then his body locks up, and that’s when I hear my name, loud and clear, tumbling off his lips in the most decadent way possible. The cadence is deep and powerful, almost like his prayers are answered with the two-word syllable.

“Fuck,” I curse beneath my breath. My time is up. It’s go-time, or I’m going to be caught for sure. And wouldn’t that be hard to explain. Besides that, I think it’s time I take a shower of my own.

4. Rhodes

Isensed her presence.

I heard her.

I smelt her scent lingering in my bedroom—cherry and vanilla.

And when I walk out of my room, heading down the hallway, the door to her bedroom does a fuck of a lot of nothing to muffle the sounds coming from the other side.

My hand presses against the wood as I breathe in deeply to hold myself back. I only leave once I hear her moan my name as she orgasms.

My smile comes easily. Fuck yeah, Kyra more than feels what we do to one another. The only shit part is waiting. Two more weeks of keeping my hands to myself will be near impossible. Once I’m released from the doctor, I’ll have Kyra in my bed in every way imaginable.

5. Kyra

Two Weeks Later

Ithrow myself on the bed in the spare room of Rhodes' beach house, my phone at my ear while I’m waiting for my best friend to answer the phone. I need to vent about the way Rhodes has my hormones in literal overdrive. I’m beginning to think it’s all in my head, minus the fact I’ve seen the heated looks he sends my way when he thinks I’m not looking.

“Hola!” Lauren, better known as Lo, answers on the third ring. Her voice is chipper, more so than normal. Things must be going well with her live-in boyfriend. Gag me with a stick. He’s truly a user, and I personally can’t stand the way he treats her like his human ATM machine. I pretend to like him because I refuse to let a man get in between our friendship. One day, she’ll realize that she’s not his personal bank or maid, and when that happens, I’ll be there to pick up the pieces.

“Hey, Lo.” My tone is less than happy, more or less resigned. Probably because of the perpetual state of horniness I’ve been in. Great, now I feel like I’m a teenage boy. I’m twenty-two, have a career and a somewhat good head on my shoulders. Sure, I make mistakes. Who doesn’t? But for the most part, I feel like I’m a good person. No, I am a good person. Positive affirmations and all those self-help books I’m constantly reading would slap my hand if I didn't respect myself.

“Uh-oh, what’s wrong?” She doesn’t say anything else, only asks me what’s wrong. This is part of the reason I love her. It’s also why Chadwick the dick wick stomps all over her.

“I have the hots for my patient.” Talk about a work ethics violation. Never in my life have I ever been as tempted as I have been lately. The full outline of his cock that presented itself to me in his boxer briefs when I help him get in the shower was completely unexpected. Rhodes is a shower; I also realized he’s a grower. Talk about the best of both worlds. Of course, he caught me looking. He didn’t so much as say a word, yet I saw the way his nostrils flared and his jaw clenched. In return, my thighs fused together in an attempt to relieve the ache between my legs. A fat lot of good that did. The only time I get a semblance of relief is late at night. I’m either in my bed trying to muffle my noises or in the shower, where I can let go a little bit but not like I’m used to, when I can be as loud as possible. The days of seeing Rhodes practically naked for my viewing pleasure are over, and I’m not sure if I should be happy or in a state of mourning.

“I thought we talked about this. Let me move outside, then I’m all ears.” Clearly, dick for brains is at home. Shock of all shocks. All he does is rot on the couch while Lo pulls doubles at the hospital as a respiratory therapist.

“We did.” Did we ever, but it’s been weeks now since the last time, and I've spent nearly a month here with Rhodes. I swear I’m in a permanent state of horniness. “No problem, this won’t take very long.” It can’t. Rhodes has another appointment today. Ever since we left the hospital, he’s done physical therapy daily. He’s had his two-week post op, and today, as long as his wound looks good, they’re going to fit him for his prosthetic.

“Sure, we both know that’s a lie. Our conversations never last shorter than an hour.” I hear the chirping of the birds on Lo’s end.

“True. Do you think if I just jumped him and got it out of my system, I would be okay? It’s not like I’ll be needed here much longer anyways.” Rhodes really hasn’t needed me in weeks.

“I think that could make for awkward holidays and whatnot with your dad living so much closer now. Imagine it’s Christmas, your dad does his usual holiday shenanigans, and whoops, you and Rhodes are under the mistletoe. There’s all this built-up tension between you two, so a simple kiss turns into a make-out session, and next thing you know, your dad is having a shit fit. So, yeah, the fun for what, an hour, would be worth it, but what about later?” Shit, why does she have to make so much sense?

“Ugh, why did Dad decide to move closer to New Smyrna Beach again?” I grumble, already knowing the answer. Dad did twenty plus years in the Army Rangers. He thought he’d be there still, but after the last deployment went fubar (fucked up beyond all repair), that was the end. Kade and Rhodes live within ten minutes of each other, if that. And Dad’s place in Daytona Beach is only twenty minutes away. Which makes it seem odd that the man of the hour wouldn’t want his friends to come in and help. Apparently, these macho men are of a different breed or caliber, and while my dad is the same way, I didn’t expect the rest of them to be, too.

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