Page 73 of Second Act
Chapter 17
Jessica lay beside Hugh in the rumpled hotel bed, Manhattan’s neon lights painting a kaleidoscope of colors across the sheets and their naked bodies. She shifted slightly to pull her stethoscope out from under her shoulder.
“If we damaged it, I’ll buy you a new one,” Hugh said as he took it from her to place it on the bedside table.
“Stethoscopes are pretty sturdy. They have to be.” She snuggled in as he pulled her against his slightly sweaty side.
“Except I’m fairly certain the manufacturer wasn’t expecting it to be used quite the way we did.”
Jessica chuckled and spread her fingers over Hugh’s chest, the rise and fall of his breath still noticeable after his exertions. “At least we know your heart is pumping just fine.”
“A few other things pumped just fine, too.” She nipped at his shoulder, making him growl, “It’s your patients who are supposed to bite, not you.”
She closed her eyes to bask in the press of his ribs against her breasts, the hard muscle of his thigh under the crook of her knee, the warm steel of his arm around her shoulders. If she’d thought her body was humming before, now it was singing an aria of sexual satisfaction, the music welling up from deep inside her. “I feel so good,” she said on a sigh.
He traced a finger along her shoulder and down her arm. “You certainly do.”
But that wasn’t enough. No matter how hard she tried to convince herself it shouldn’t be necessary, she couldn’t let go of her need to have Hugh put whatever he felt into words. As Aidan said, it was going to hurt if he told her this was just an interlude because they happened to be in the same city at the same time. However, she wanted to know that right up front.
She levered herself up on one elbow so she could see his face. Its angles seemed less stark and hard edged somehow, and she brushed a fingertip along his cheekbone where it was lit by a slash of scarlet neon.
“You look like you have something to say.” For a moment she didn’t recognize the emotion that flickered in his eyes. Then she identified it as fear.
“Something good.” She hoped, swallowing against the nerves that made her throat constrict. “It’s different between us tonight, isn’t it? We’re more...open with each other, less cautious.”
He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, hesitating before he spoke. “Jess, I know it won’t be easy, but I want to try again with you, with us. Would you be willing to do that?”
Disbelief waltzed with joy, so she was spun in the grip of first one and then the other, leaving her uncertain of what she wanted to say except “Yes!”
“Did you say yes without stopping to think about it?” He pushed up to a sitting position, taking her with him. Now he sounded jubilant.
“No, I’ve been thinking about us quite a bit, but I did say yes.”
He shook his head, but he was smiling. “You’re confusing me. Just say yes again.”
She took his face between her hands and held it while she locked her eyes on his. “Yes!”
He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her with a tenderness that made her want to cry. When he released her lips, he drew back onlya couple of inches. “We’ll make it work this time.I’llmake it work, I swear.”
His vehemence was almost daunting, as though he would overwhelm any problem they might have through sheer force of will.
“That’s something else I’ve been thinking about,” she said. “It wasn’t just you back then. I could have been more understanding.”
“Don’t say that. I’ve kept important things about my past from you.” He slid his hands down her arms to intertwine their fingers. “I should have been honest with you...and with myself.”
“Let’s forget about that tonight and just enjoy the present.” She wanted to hold on to the sweetness of the moment a little longer.
“Do you know how much I want to do that? But we can’t move forward until I’ve repaired the damage from the past.” He shook his head. “I owe you a full explanation for my unforgivable behavior over the past eight years, because there’s more you don’t know.”
All the softness in his face was gone now. “Tomorrow,” she said, still trying to spare him the pain.
He looked down at where their hands were joined and said in a raw voice, “I don’t know if I’ll have the courage tomorrow. Right now, I believe in your love.”
“You should always believe in it.”
His grip tightened. “I’m trying.” He released her hands and shifted on the bed so he was silhouetted against the city lights, his face in shadow.
His deliberate obscuring of his expression made her feel strangely vulnerable, so she pulled the sheet up over her breasts.
