Page 18 of Mountain Man Bad Boy

We were on two different sides of the law. I had to forget him, and fast. Within a few days, he would be a free man, and all I would have were the memories. I had to purge these feelings from my heart before he left, or his absence would eat away at me. And there was only one way to accomplish that—by talking to him.

It made sense in a kind of backward way. If I could prove to myself that my interest in him was purely professional, by spending time with him, then I would be happy to see him go. His graduation from the program would mean only good things for him: a return to his friends and his job. I would be able to move on and care for other patients in the same professional manner, and that would be the end of it.

I resolved to seek Porter out more often from here until his release date. I needed to prove that what I was feeling wasn’t anything more than fondness. I waited until the end of my shift, until five minutes before I was supposed to clock out, before going to find him. That way I wouldn’t be taking time away from any other patients for my social call.

I found him in the game room, playing cards with one of the other residents. He set his hand down as soon as I came into view, giving me no excuse to duck out. He met me halfway, maintaining a friendly distance but obviously pleased to see me.

“I just wanted to check in and see how you were doing,” I said, feeling like my motives were on display.

“Good.” He gestured towards the doorway, and I agreed. We moved out of the crowd, toward the safety of the nurses’ station. He stopped in the center of the common area, just far enough away from everyone that we could have a private conversation, but in plain view so that no one could accuse us of impropriety. “My therapist says I’m making progress.”

“That’s great,” I cheered. That would mean that he would be leaving soon. The thought brought more heartache than joy, and I scolded myself.

“I was thinking of getting a cat,” he said, changing the subject.

“That’s a good idea,” I said encouragingly. “It will give you someone to care for, and pets provide stress relief too.”

“I’m gonna name it ‘Good.’” He caught my eye with a devilish twinkle.

I laughed. “I guess we can never get the two together, then.”

“Seriously.” He straightened his mouth into a hard line. “I’ll call it ‘Cat.’”

“Why?” I could feel myself leaning in toward him and checked my body language.

“It’s a cat. It won’t know its name,” he argued.

“I’m not so sure.” I hesitated. “I think Evil knows her name.”

“Well, she’s not an ordinary cat,” he said playfully.

“That’s right.” I couldn’t argue. He was scoring points and not in the right direction. Or rather, it was the right direction, just the one that made things more complicated and not less so. “I wanted to tell you I’m off tomorrow.”

“Okay.” He accepted as fact that I cared enough to share my schedule, without asking why. “Grocery shopping? Laundry?”

“A little of both,” I admitted.

“Have fun.” He smiled that disarming smile that made me feel like anything was possible.

I wanted to lean in and kiss him. But that was forbidden, as was hugging or shaking hands. I wondered if I could get away with a fist bump and offered one with a shy smile. He grinned, taking the invitation and setting his knuckles next to mine. That first touch, the only one we had ever been allowed, sent an electric shock through my hand. His was solid yet gentle, applying no more pressure than necessary to make the connection. I didn’t think a fist bump could be erotic, but looking into his eyes, I could see our future in one brilliant flash. We could do so much more than a sterile greeting in an institution. We could—no, we should—be on the beach somewhere, wearing bathing suits and holding hands.

I broke contact a moment later to avoid a lingering touch. It wouldn’t do to have anybody see how much I wanted to dive into Porter’s arms, especially not Porter. I gave him a friendly nod and walked away, ducking into the safety of the locker room. After I had changed my shoes and grabbed my bag, I emerged to see him sitting in the receiving area, reading a magazine. He looked up just briefly as I slipped out the door. One more stolen glance between us, its meaning clear.

On the way home, I steadied my heartbeat. This was getting out of control. I couldn’t have a relationship with Porter. It would break all kinds of hospital regulations. I would get fired lose my nursing license. I had to keep my eye on the prize, and that was a life without complications, a shift without the dynamic pull he represented. There were probably only a couple more days, another week at the most, before Porter was discharged. Then I could return to my normal routine without the erotic fantasies that plagued me.

Returning home, I opened a bottle of wine and popped a bag of popcorn. It was no use going out for the night, I was hopelessly hung up on Porter, and no other man would do. Instead, I thought I would feed my passion with Hollywood actors, imaginary men who could be all that and more. I flicked through my streaming service to find an appropriately handsome leading man and settled down for a party of one.

9

PORTER

In my dream, I was making love to her. She was draped magnificently across the bed, like a Rubenesque model from an expensive oil painting. From her toes to the top of her head, her skin was bare, shimmering in the candlelight. Her red hair fanned across the pillow like flame from a lamp, lighting a fire in my soul.

I lay next to her, devoid of clothing, my cock bulging between us. I ran a palm across her flesh, from one creamy hip to the other, feeling the softness of her skin. I circled her hip, sliding my fingers up and down her thigh, just tracing the outline of her figure. The goddess moaned beneath me, sliding further down the pillow as if she could direct my caresses. I moved my hand up willingly, skimming her inner thigh until I reached the pot of gold.

She came alive, parting her legs to allow me access. Her outer folds were as smooth as her breasts, plump and slick with lust. I ran two fingers along the crease, watching her face as I did so. Her perfect eyes were closed, her mouth a tight line of concentration. I leaned forward to kiss her on the lips as I slid my fingers past her barrier and deep into her canal. I could feel her internal muscles clench, absorbing the shock of my arrival. Her lips parted to allow me entrance above, and I moved inside her from both places, staking my claim.

There was a commotion in the hallway that destroyed the dream at that critical moment. I cursed loudly, finding myself alone on a cot in the hospital. Gina was nowhere to be found. Of course she wasn’t here—my sleep-addled brain fought to catch up with reality. Gina wasn’t my girlfriend; she wasn’t my lover. She was just a nurse who was friendly to me, that was all.

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