Chapter 3

Two weeks later

"I'm fine," he insisted. "Really, there's no reason to stay here over night. I'll go home, sleep and set the alarm to take my medication"

He was putting on the best method acting effort he could because he did not want to spend another night in hospital. He wasn't entirely sure that Mrs. McCall believed him, but she knew his body by now and she must have thought he'd be all right if she agreed. What she didn't know was that she was the main reason for not staying in hospital. If he spent the night there, she would've stayed too. He couldn't stand being the cause of her exhaustion. Not to mention that he also didn't like to be the reason she had to deceive her co-workers. Whenever he stayed, she had to lie to the people she worked with to keep his secrets.

The Sheriff drove him home, and Chris pretended to doze off in the passenger seat to avoid talking. Just as he promised, he went to bed. He was exhausted and medicated enough to fall asleep instantly.

It was still night when he woke up. He heard a sound, but not the alarm he set to take the drugs. It was something else, and it was getting closer. He reached for the gun under his pillow and pointed it at the opening door. To his utter shock, in the dim moonlight, he saw Melissa McCall. He couldn't quite believe his eyes. Maybe it was a supernatural creature pretending to be her.

"Don't shoot!" she said.

Her voice was soft, with no trace of fear. He took his finger off the trigger, but kept it along the barrel and kept the gun pointed in her general direction.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

She advanced slowly.

"Checking if you're all right, of course" she said.

The flirtatious note in her voice was very clear. She took small, deliberate steps, coming closer. She trailed her fingers on the edge of the bed, brushing over the bed sheets, her eyes never leaving his. Chris didn't know if he should be glad or worried that he was naked.

He watched her like she was a tiger circling its prey.

"Well… are you?" she asked.

Her voice was dripping honey. His eyes wandered briefly over her breasts. She was wearing her hospital coat, with the first three buttons undone. He saw the curve of her breasts and hoped she wasn't wearing anything under that. He licked his lips involuntarily.

"Am I what?" he asked.

His voice was thick betraying arousal. She leaned over him, put her palm over the hand in which he was holding the gun, and pushed it gently away. Her face was very close to his, her breath caressed his lips when she spoke.

"All. Right." she uttered the words carefully, quietly, the sounds barely rolling off her lips. "Are you?"

It took him a hundred years to process and reply. Was he all right?

"Yeah," he answered.

Chris placed the gun carefully on the bed. Her hand slid up his forearm as he did so. Even in the near perfect darkness of his bedroom, he saw the desire in her eyes. He had no doubt why she was there. He couldn't help wishing he wasn't wounded. Or at least not medicated.

As if reading his thoughts, she whispered.

"I'll be gentle."

She slid the sheet off him with maddening slowness. A thin bandage was covering half his chest. Nothing else was covered. It was her turn to drop her eyes from his. He watched her lick her lips and his dick twitched in response. She swept his body with a heated gaze, as if it was the first time she was seeing it. When their eyes met again, Melissa undid her hair and it gave her a sensual air of abandonment. He kept growing harder just looking at her. He was surprised to hear the low growl in his throat when she started to unbutton the white hospital coat. He was glad to be proven correct. She had been naked under the hospital uniform. And soon she was truly naked.

"Beautiful," he whispered, worshipping her with his eyes.

"Indeed," she agreed, caressing him the same way.

She straddled his hips in a swift, graceful motion, hovering over his erection. He wanted to flip her over, needed to be on top and bury himself deep in her, but he was dizzy. Pain shot through his right arm when he reached out, wanting to touch her. She bent at the waist allowing him to reach her breasts. Her sigh of abandonment when he cupped her breasts gave him as much pleasure as he got from touching her warm skin. And he wanted more.

"Please," he said.

He slid his hands from her breasts down to her hips and gently pressed, trying to convey his desire. His left hand remained on her hip but he moved the right between her legs. She was already wet, and his fingers glided between her folds. The wound was making the movements of his right hand clumsy. He was tracing small circles around her clit but he couldn't control his fingers as well as he wished. He wanted to feel more of her and apparently she was just as eager. She let herself slide on his throbbing hard dick.

It felt so good, being engulfed in this tight, wet, hot heaven. She started moving her hips, searching a rhythm. It was excruciatingly slow. Maddeningly out of sync with his need. He tried to move his hips, to set a pace, but Melissa stopped him.

"Don't. The stiches," she whispered, breathless.

It took long, frustrating minutes until the tension built up to the point of no return.

At the moment of orgasm, Chris woke up, only to find out that he had been jerking off in his sleep! And it had been frustrating and strange because he was using his left hand. The part about being shot in the right arm was just as true in reality as it had been in his dream.

"I have to stop getting hurt," Chris muttered and groaned getting out of bed to go to the bathroom to clean up.