Page 53 of Merciless Attraction

“Yes, and you were a Mer-man. You can poke me with your trident any day.” She laughs and yawns.

“Is that the only thing on your mind?”

“Do you know you had a tentacle dick in my dreams?” she says just as Bash comes in with the doctor and a nurse. Their eyes widen with intrigue.

I turn with my hands in the air. “Just help her.”

“I don’t need help.” Gemma protests. “All I need is my husband’s octopi-dick.”

She reaches for my crotch and actually grabs it for emphasis. One eye closes as I have to pry her grip off me. I lean down to whisper in her ear. “Behave yourself, Gem.”

“You behave, doc. You’re the one with the hard-on,” she says with a smile as she releases her grip, turns her head, and passes out.

The doctor and nurse immediately move to treat her. Gemma wakes up as they fuss over her vitals to shoo them away. When they try to explain what they’re doing, she reaches under her pillow with disappointment riding her face.

Gemma fights them with slow moving limbs as she says, “I would shoot you assholes if someone didn’t move my piece. Leave me alone.”

I catch Bash smiling from the doorway and go to join him.

“She doesn’t know she’s been in a coma, does she?” he asks.

I shake my side-to-side. “No. She’s talking like that crash happened a few days ago. I don’t want to be the one to tell her it’s been weeks.”

Chapter 25: Gemma

Everything is moving in slow motion as I watch Antonio put too many bouquets of flowers into one area of my hospital room. Memories of the crash are fleeting, but from what I’ve been told, I’m waking up after being in a coma for nearly nine weeks.

All the events from that day come back to me in flashes. The doctors clear me to check out after a week of physical therapy to ensure I have full control of my faculties.

“Can we compost the dying flowers and gift the vibrant ones to other people in this wing?” I ask Antonio.

“How about I compost all of these bouquets, and I’ll pay for a fresh batch go out to everyone, nurses, patients, everyone who makes this hospital work seamlessly?”

I give him a smile of approval as he leaves the table full of roses and my doctor comes in. She’s a sweet woman and hands me a card with an appointment for the following week after she gives the approval to discharge me from the hospital.

Antonio is sweeter than sin as he cares for me and helps me put my clothes on to leave. Every touch is delicate, and I have to admit, also mildly annoying.

“You don't have to be so careful with me," I tell him.

He’s bent over, helping me step into a pair of sweatpants when he shifts his gaze up to mine and says, “You didn't see what I saw. Just let me do this much."

I’ll question him about that later. Until I can recall everything that happened, I won't diminish anything he’s feeling right now. Memories come back to me in bursts of visions but quickly fade and blend into dreams of utter ridiculousness. I hate being unable to trust my own mind and all the uncertainty makes my nose burn and tears fall.

Antonio stands straight up and takes my face into his hands, assuring me, “It’s okay. I promise you that everything is going to be okay. I’m so happy you came back. I thought I lost you.”

“I still can’t believe I was out for so long.”

He silences me with a kiss. It’s soft, tender, and slow to the point of jogging my memory of how much I’ve missed Antonio’s touch. The way he makes me feel has my body aching for pleasurable release. I can’t stop myself from reaching for his left hand.

The bandages are gone and the bruising no longer exists. I stroke it, but all I get is a timid grin of gratitude. The pained expression of lust is nowhere to be seen.

“Let’s wait until we get home, babe,” Antonio says as he lowers his mouth to capture mine.

I know he’s placating me, but still, feeling his firm lips and soft tongue exploring my mouth again is creating a new memory of us. I don’t remember my body without his touch.

Antonio takes his time helping me through the hospital after I refuse a wheelchair because my legs still work. I’m grateful to have all of my faculties having been in a coma for a while. There’s no time like the present to show my resilience. While I believe no one is expecting me to be at full capacity, I find myself pushing to be a stronger version of who I was before I crashed into the bay.

Once we reach the large revolving door of the hospital entrance, I find myself trembling at the idea of going outside.

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