Page 12 of My Dreamy Holidate

Waking up to her this morning had me wanting to stay in bed, and not just for sex, but we did have round three. The way the sun poured over her, framing her in golden light, made me think for a moment that I imagined it all. That she was a dream. Then she curled herself around me and nuzzled into my neck, and the world righted itself, and I now believe heaven resides on earth.

All in the form of Nicklin.

I kiss down her neck, lift the shirt collar, and lick and suckle over her skin. Revisiting all my favorite spots from the night and this morning.

To be fair, all of her is my favorite spot.

I lick the tip of my tongue over scars, one of many. Then kiss the light pink, puckered skin tenderly.

“That was from the car accident.”

I spend extra kisses around there and stand straight. She needs to know that I am always here to listen to her and help her through anything.

“If you want to tell me what happened, I’m here to listen.” I push the tangled milk chocolate strands of hair from her eyes.

Her chest rises and falls a few times. “I don’t even remember much about the accident. Actually, nothing at all. Somebody told me that I was out driving late, on my way home from a date, when a drunk driver ran into me head-on.”

I rub her arms and then lace our fingers.

“I slammed my head several times. They rushed me into surgery, where I ended up having a stroke. I didn’t wake up for thirty days. I don’t remember any of it. Even from earlier that day, everything is very vague.”

My whole body goes rigid at what she says. I stare into her eyes, and recognition ignites inside of me. There’s been a connection from when we first met. I could feel it. Now I know why.

I stand taller and wipe my hand down my face.

“Nicklin, I think I was your surgeon.”

My heart falls into my stomach. The image of her wrapped in bandages and her body swollen and bruised fills my mind. This can’t be the same woman, but clearly, she is.

Nicklin pushes against my chest and stares at me for a moment. “Oh, my God. That’s why you’re the man of my dreams.”

What is she talking about?

“I think I remember you, Riggs. And I’ve dreamed about you ever since.”

I step away from her and lean against the opposite counter, working on wrapping my head around this. My heart gets a slight crevice in the process.

“We really shouldn’t do this,” is all I can get out as she smiles softly.

“Do what?” She looks around the kitchen. “We can go out to brunch. The oven is kinda trashed.”

She’s so innocent. This is probably a gray area of ethics, but my bosses might see it as black and white. She was my patient. There are issues.

“No, you were my patient. I’m not sure it’s a great idea.” I put up my hand slowly between us. I can’t even say the actual truth and keep hedging when it’s only drawing out the inevitable.

Her body stiffens before me, and she sits up tall. “What? Why?”

I take a moment to gather myself before I give her all my attention. I owe her that.

“Your surgery… I can’t. I was your doctor.”

She crosses her arms, protecting herself from the words. It’s clear she is setting up a wall. I can see it in her narrowing eyes. The openness she shared with me last night, our second date, is slowly disintegrating before my eyes.

“But you told me you love me,” she whispers, never taking her gaze from mine.

“And I do.”

“But?”

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