Page 77 of Gamble
The first night, she’d transformed his bedroom into a recovery suite worthy of a five-star hospital. Extra pillows positioned just right to support his hip, a bedside table organized with medications, water, and anything else he might need. She’d even moved a comfortable chair from the living room so she could sit beside the bed when he needed company as they’d watched old movie classics to pass the time.
And she’d slept next to him every night.
That should have been the best part of his recovery. Having Reagan’s warm body curled against his uninjured side, her vanilla scent surrounding him, and the soft sound of her breathing in the darkness. It was better than any pain medication Dr. Jennings could have prescribed.
But it was also torture.
Lying next to the woman he’d fallen in love with, unable to touch her the way he wanted to, unable to give her even afraction of the pleasure she deserved, was a constant reminder of how much had changed between them. In Vegas, he’d been confident, dominant, able to make her body sing with desire. Now he needed her help just to make it to the bathroom in the middle of the night without falling on his face.
Christ, what a pathetic excuse for a man you’ve become.
The kisses she gave him—soft pecks on his forehead or cheek—felt more and more like the affectionate gestures Nalani offered during her visits. Caring, but devoid of sexual interest. And who could blame her? Watching him struggle to put on his own pants wasn’t exactly the stuff of erotic fantasies.
Reagan had been nothing but gracious about his limitations, never making him feel worse about needing help than he already did. But Elijah knew what he was seeing in her eyes. Pity. Compassion. The look a nurse gave a patient, not the heated gaze a woman gave a lover.
The realization was devastating and liberating at the same time. He was losing her as a romantic partner, but if he could keep her as a friend... well, that was more than he’d dared to hope for after the way he’d treated her.
“Elijah?” Reagan’s voice carried down the hallway. “I’m running to the store for some groceries. What sounds good for dinner tonight?”
“Whatever you’re in the mood for,” he called back, then added, “Maybe some of those pasta shells you made yesterday?”
Her laughter was warm and genuine. “I can do that. Anything else you need? I’m going to pick up your medication refills on the way back.”
“I’m good. Drive safe.”
He heard the front door close and her car start in the driveway. The silence that followed felt oppressive, highlighting just how much he depended on her presence over the past few days. When she went back to work the next Wednesday, orworse… when she returned to her own apartment and her own life, the emptiness would be unbearable.
Stop feeling sorry for yourself. At least she forgave you. At least she’s still in your life.
Twenty minutes later, Elijah heard the front door open again. She hadn’t been gone long enough.
“Reagan? Did you forget something?” he called out.
Instead of her voice, he heard the heavier footsteps of someone much larger moving through his house. His hand went instinctively to the bedside table where he kept his .38 in the top drawer, only then realizing it was out of reach.
“It’s just me, old man. Don’t shoot.”
He relaxed as a familiar voice called out. Jaxson Cartwright-Davidson appeared in his bedroom doorway, looking ridiculously out of place in the domestic setting. The man commanded boardrooms and BDSM dungeons with equal authority, but standing in Elijah’s modest ranch house bedroom, he looked almost... normal.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Elijah asked, surprised to see his boss and friend. Emma, Chase, and the kids had stopped by to check on him the week before, but this was the first time he’d seen Jaxson in over a month.
“Checking on my dungeon master. Making sure you’re not driving your nurse crazy with your winning personality.” Jaxson settled into the chair Reagan had been using, his large frame making the furniture look delicate. “I was hoping to meet this Reagan properly, but I noticed her car isn’t in the driveway.”
“She went to the store. Should be back soon.”
“Good. I want to get to know the woman who tamed Elijah Keaton.” Jaxson’s grin was knowing. “So how are things going with her?”
Elijah hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. But this was Jaxson—one of the few people he trusted.
“She’s even more amazing than I thought she was back in Vegas,” he admitted. “The way she’s taken care of me, the way she’s just... been here. I don’t deserve her.”
“That’s awesome,” Jaxson said. “I only met her for a few minutes that night at Runway, but she seemed perfect for you.”
“Yeah, she may be perfect for me, but I’m the last thing she needs. That’s why it’s going to be so damn hard to say goodbye to her after she goes back to work and her own life.”
The expression on Jaxson’s face shifted from pleased to thunderous in the space of a heartbeat.
“Have you lost your fucking mind?” His voice carried the authority that could silence a room full of unruly submissives. “Don’t tell me you’re planning on ghosting her again. Do you care so little for her that you’d put her through that twice?”
