Author's Note: The glorious fun of reading live...I rewrote this chapter a few times but ended up having no way around it without tweaking Chapter 35.
This chapter is dedicated to all women. You'll see why in Jason's conversation with Emma.
Rapping on his office door one morning, she glanced down at Prince. The mutt loved greeting Jason in the mornings upon their arrival...before joining Trudy in the kitchen for breakfast.
"Come in," Jason called.
She stepped in with his medical bag that had taken up the habit of not moving from the front door after her nursing visits each morning. Prince trotted over and grabbed a fresh sock that suspiciously kept appearing each morning in his study.
He stood from behind the desk, wearing the ski mask until a new plastic one was delivered. "Morning, sweetheart." The man strode across the room as he buttoned up his suit jacket.
She smiled and let him take the medical bag. The butterflies flitted in her stomach upon seeing him, just like every morning. "Morning." Tilting her head back, she accepted his now customary greeting kiss on the lips.
Then he leaned down and petted Prince, who groaned his excited greeting and then trotted off to the kitchen with his fresh sock.
"And you say I spoil that dog? Who is reinforcing his habit, Dr. Port?" she scolded and followed him over to the desk.
He set the medical bag on the desk. Then he sat a hip on the edge, as usual, and unbuttoned his suit at the waist. "I have no idea, Ms. Hoplin," he replied with a grin.
Ugh, he'd mastered that mischevious smile recently that created a dimple in his cheek. "Don't look at me like that. You learned full well the other day that I will be late for work if you do that." She pulled medical gloves out of his bag while he shrugged off his jacket and unbuttoned his white dress shirt for the allergy injection.
"Deepest apologies, my lady."
She snorted and drew up the syringe. "Right. You are not remorseful at all." A soft smile escaped.
He grinned. "I'd be an idiot if I was, but it's rude not to apologize. I think that was the best kiss we've had yet, sweetheart." He stood and offered the back of his arm.
"No comment because we are not trying to make a new record. I start work in twenty minutes." She glanced at his shoulders. This was always the best part - lollygagging to have extra time to admire his bare broad shoulders without him realizing. She wiped his arm with the alcohol wipe and pulled his shirt down his arms a tad more not because there wasn't enough space but because maybe his back would flex. He shrugged down his shirt a little more. There it was - sweet heaven from the beautiful bulges of raw male muscle throughout his arms and back. Oh yes. She sighed and pinched his skin to give the injection.
He turned to take the syringe when she finished.
"Hold on, let me check." She gave him the syringe but turned him around. She pulled on his shirt a little and touched his arm so he wouldn't think anything of it. His back flexed again. Oh god, he was lovely. The shoulder burn only added to his powerful appearance. Badass bad boy indeed. Trudy would know what time he usually worked out upstairs. Maybe some urgent question would arise and she'd have to pop in on him. She sighed wistfully.
He looked over his shoulder and burst out laughing. "You naughty girl!" He heaved a sigh of contentment. "You're insatiable. And I love it." The evil man threw back his shoulders and flexed his back.
It would be a sin to let that go to waste. She ripped off a glove and ran a hand over those glorious swells. "Jay, just the sight of you..." She sighed.
He pulled up his shirt and turned around, his face serious as he buttoned up. "Do you truly find pleasure in me like that? It just seems like you having to play nursemaid daily would slaughter the attraction."
She shook her head and searched his vivid blue eye. "No. It..." She nibbled her lip. How to explain it? "There's a safe homeyness to it. Because you wouldn't just let anyone take care of you, it's almost like another way of being intimate. I feel...protective and like you're vulnerable when we're doing this." She frowned. "Does that make sense?"
A smile relaxed his face. "Yes. I know what you're talking about. I don't feel like a child or some invalid being cared for. It feels...safe and a bit like what I imagine having a wife fussing would be like. Perhaps I'd like it less if I could feel the pain during the dressing changes," he cracked a smile, "but I like the domestic homeyness too - I mean that in a good way. It's almost a bit romantic."
She smiled and changed gloves. These moments with him felt intimate and safe to talk about anything. Her heart beat a little faster. She could ask him if he still thought about getting engaged at a year. It all felt so natural, so easy with him like they should already be engaged. "Jay?"
"Emma?" he asked at the same moment. He smiled and waved his hand for her to proceed.
She bit her lip. It might be pushy and trap him into moving faster than he was ready for. She took a deep breath and opened her mouth. Then she looked him in the eye, their gaze intense and intimate. And then she closed her mouth.
His brow furrowed. "Sweetheart, don't be worried about telling me something." He rubbed her upper arm. Patience and love overflowed in his voice.
The uneasiness faded away. Her heart melted. "I love that about you. You're so encouraging and patient." Then she flushed at being so frank.
"You're very much the same way, Em." He smiled. "I love our relationship. It's...it's more than I ever hoped to have." His voice grew thick.
Her heart beat faster. She should say that she didn't want to wait until a year to get engaged. Maybe he felt like he had to wait a year for propriety or something. If she asked him to be brutally honest, he would be. It was their promise they made two weeks ago to say what they were feeling and be patient as they discussed it to make sure there weren't misunderstood or hurt feelings. And it was working out wonderfully so far. She bit her lip. Maybe now wasn't a good time to bring it up, though. First, they needed to discuss what Father Bob had said this past Sunday about physical intimacy.
"If - " He stopped and frowned. "What, Emma? I know that bite. You're worried about something."
"Um..." Her throat constricted. She pulled off the gloves and set her hands over his in his lap. This would be a delicate line to tread without him thinking it had to do with the scars, especially now that it was coming up after having seen a tiny area of his forehead burn. She looked straight into his eye. "This has nothing to do with the burns. I need you to believe me."
His brow furrowed. "Alright..."
She took a deep breath. "At church this past Sunday, Father Bob inquired after you. I just said that until a new mask arrives, you prefered Mondays again. We sort of got to talking, and he brought up something that's been bothering me the past few days."
Concern marred his brow. "What, sweetheart?" He took her hands and pulled her closer.
This was hard to talk about...or more like hard to admit. "Well, he made a comment about physical intimacy, and I just said we weren't having sex." She swallowed hard and searched his eye. "I didn't come out and say what we've done, but he made a side comment about some people misunderstanding that going too far isn't just about having intercourse." She bit her lip.
He frowned and blinked for a moment. "And now you're thinking we've gone too far?"
She nodded and chewed her lip.
His thumb caught her lip and pulled down a bit to free it. "Don't eat your mouth, sweetheart. We'll figure this out." He leaned back against the desk. "I am completely open to cutting things back to whatever you feel comfortable with. This is why I'm saying that, I'm not just laying the burden at your feet: clearly my parents were not the epitomy of morality, and I sort of cut health class in high school." He rolled his eye in embarrassment. "I genuinely thought that if we're not performing oral sex on bare skin or any kind of penetration that it's alright. I know I've rubbed you with my fingers, but to my knowledge I haven't actually penetrated, correct?"
Her face burned. "No, but I think we've done more than we should." Tears blurred him.
He took her hands and his voice held so much concern. "I'm sorry, Emma. I never meant to take advantage - "
"No." She shook her head. "I'm not saying it's your fault." She sniffled and stared down at his shirt, brushing away the tears. She was the one who pushed most of the time, the one who owed him an apology. This was so humiliating. "I think it's my fault. You're the one who usually puts a stop to it." She looked up at him.
Dabbing at her tears with a handkerchief, he frowned. "Sweetheart, don't cry. We're both responsible. Why you think this is your fault?"
"I've been so scared of men and ashamed of my body since him, and I never knew there could be that kind of pleasure." Her face crumpled. "There's so much relief in feeling safe with you and that you desire me." She hiccupped. "You make me feel pretty, and I can feel that you love me when you touch me. I just...I want that so much. I've pretty much outright asked you for sex in the moment. But then a couple weeks ago when I thought you were really going to, I got scared. Not of you but of having sex."
Those strong, safe arms wrapped around her. "Oh god, I should've seen it this whole time," he whispered to himself. "You're scared to have sex, like maybe it will hurt or be scary like it was when he hurt you? Like part of you just wants to get our first time with intercourse over with? Oh, I should've asked. Sometimes it surprised me that you didn't shy away from physical intimacy."
When she buried her face against his shoulder, she muttered, "Don't blame yourself for me messing up."
He caught her chin with his forefinger and raised her gaze. "Emma, you did not mess up. There have been times when I've crossed lines too that later I think I shouldn't have, particularly in Florida. The love and desire and trust get flowing, and sometimes it's very hard to stop. We're both responsible. Given your history and the possibility that you might need surgery to have intercourse, it's understandable that you want to get it over with. Do not ever force yourself into something sexual that you don't want - that's is not fair to you and it teaches you to see me as a monster. Even after we're married, one of us is going to have a higher sex drive, and there's nothing wrong or bad about that. We just need to communicate when and what emotions are happening."
She gave a solemn, watery smile. He always knew how to take away the embarrassment and guilt so everything could just be safe and open to discuss.
"Tell me what you want. Clearly the rule of not touching under clothes is not a strong enough line, so we'll back up." He ran a hand over her hair.
This had to get off her chest before talking about rules. "Do I do things you're not comfortable with?" When he frowned, she bit her lip. "Like touching you. I get the feeling that you don't always like it, so I don't do it then. Or like a couple weeks ago you stopped me and mumbled something in a foreign language. At the time I thought you were just struggling to control yourself, but now I'm wondering if you didn't like it." She frowned, her forehead aching from such deep worry lines.
His fingers stroked over her brow to smooth it with such care. "I did like it, I just didn't trust myself to stop. I muttered a Gaelic prayer for strength." He held her eyes, and the corner of his mouth curled up a bit. "You're very beautiful, Emma, and I love you so much. Sometimes while it's happening, my conscience whispers that maybe we shouldn't be doing that. And sometimes I choose not to listen, but that's my fault, not yours." His eye delivered a stern look.
Guilt sat heavy on her shoulders. She'd tempted him when he wouldn't have crossed the line otherwise. A partner shouldn't do that. He'd said once that a woman had never physically pleasured him before. She shouldn't have taken that from him. He'd said that he and his ex had never done more than kissing. What if Gaston was right that she was good for whoring now? Maybe he'd twisted her mind. Maybe there was something sexually wrong with her now.
"Emma, tell me what you're thinking. You look so upset. Let me in." He squeezed her hands tight. When she spilled her thoughts and tears, he ran a hand over his head like he was frustrated or overwhelmed, or both. "Sweetheart, no. I know you're not comfortable talking to a therapist about what happened, but you need to, Emma. He planted ideas in your head that aren't true."
Profound shame washed up. He was begging her to see a therapist...because he thought there was something wrong with her. She pulled her hands out of his to hold herself, feeling so naked and damaged.
"Tell me," he demanded with patience. "That thought that just went through your head - you just shut down, and I can't reach you. You've been slamming up walls the last few seconds, and I can't get through them. Emma, I think we have multiple conversations going here, and they're getting jumbled up." He sat in the chair and pulled her into his lap to sit sideways. "Come, Emma, I think we have some kind of disconnect going." He wrapped an arm around her hip, giving a soft shake. "Tell me what you just thought."
Reason said not to put words in his mouth, that it wasn't fair to him. Shoving down the shame and humiliation, she said in a quiet voice, "Do you think there's something wrong with me?"
"What? No." A deep frown marred his face. "I think he knew how to plant twisted ideas in your head, and now you're having trouble getting them out. That's all. I'm sorry, I said that poorly the first time, didn't I? You can call me an idiot for that." A soft twinkle sparkled in his eye, as if trying to lighten the mood for her.
That won a watery laugh. She brushed at her eyes with the handkerchief he handed over.
"As far as being physical, what if we cut it back to no touching whatsoever below the waist? I agree that we're headed for trouble, especially being we need to get to and through an engagement yet."
It definitely wasn't a good time to talk about moving up an engagement. She nodded. "What about breasts? We have to know what all the lines are."
He nodded. "Good point. What do you think?"
She blinked that he threw this at her. "You have a better conscience about it. You say first."
He held up a finger with a disapproving frown. "Don't talk like that. We have different views," he corrected. "It's your body, Emma. You tell me what I can do."
She frowned. "So, you're just washing your hands of making this decision because you don't have breasts?" This didn't seem like him.
"I have no business in being part of this decision. This part is strictly your body - you have every right whenever you want to revoke whatever privileges. Someone being allowed to touch you is a priviledge, not a right. I don't care if we're married forty years and then you decide you don't like me touching you sexually or nonsexually, you tell me. Just because you've done something sixteen thousand times doesn't mean you have to do it or let someone do it even one more time. Every single time I touch you it is a privilege, and I should be watching for verbal and nonverbal permission. I might be surprised if you suddenly reject me, but I have no right to get angry. Having the title of boyfriend or husband does not mean you owe me anything."
She cracked a smile. "You should be a feminine rights speaker."
"I will if it'll make you believe what I'm telling you." He would too. "You tell me what I am allowed to do, Emma."
She fell in love with him a little more. If only every man had his honor... "Well, I think it's fine if it continues to be through clothes. But you can't get my shirt wet so it's like kissing without any barrier."
His face grew a bit red with embarrassment. "I admit I got carried away that time. Alright, no wet kissing like that. What about touching through a nightgown? Your bras seem to usually have cups that provide a bit of a padded barrier."
She flushed. "This has to make top spot for our weirdest conversations."
"No, it's smart. This is a conversation I wish I would've thought to bring up myself a long time ago. There wasn't this kind of physical attraction with my ex, so I didn't really think about setting guidelines before you and I did. And those were obviously naive guidelines. So, what do you say?" He smiled.
"I'd say no touching without a bra."
"And why do you say that?" He cocked an eyebrow.
She flushed. This felt silly, like a school lesson. "Because it's my body."
"And?" When she bit her lip, he slapped his thigh. "Come on. It's you're body and you have the right to decide privileges. Own it, Emma!" He smiled. This man sure knew how to hang up the tie and be a cheerleader when needed
"It's my body and I have the right to decide privileges," she mumbled. Her face burned with a shy smile.
He threw his hands up. "Really? I'd believe I should chase my nonexistent tail before I'd believe that. Make me believe it!"
She said it with a bit more excitement and then laughed.
"Hell, yeah!" He kissed her cheek.
With a hearty laugh, she wrapped her arms around his neck in a hug. When their laughter died, she pulled back to look him in the eye. "Jay? I think I like this. We're kinda falling into a pattern of being physical instead of talking. These past couple weeks we haven't really done much more than kissing, and now we talk more like this."
A tender smile from his heart touched his face. "I like it too. I admit that I miss the physical aspect, but I agree that it was becoming just physical. I think it lost a little of the emotional feel it had in the beginning. It feels like we're growing more now." He brushed a kiss over her lips. "I'm glad you came up with this idea that we talk and don't leave until we're certain there aren't misunderstandings," he said, his voice so intimate and honest. "Look at all the hurt feelings we would've had in these past fifteen minutes.
"As far as the therapist, I think it would be good for you and for our relationship. I obviously need to learn more about what I should be doing to help you, and we need someone who knows how to get all of his evil out of your head. You don't have to have me, but I would like to be at some or all of the sessions. I want to be there to help you feel more comfortable and to give you support." He cupped her face in his hands and looked into her eyes. "I know all that he did, Emma, so there's no need for secrets anymore."
Her smile died. It would be so humiliating for him to hear if the therapist said she was messed up. She opened her mouth to protest.
He stroked her cheek with the back of his knuckles. "Sit with me for the support group next week, and let me sit with you for one of your appointments. Let's take this step, Emma. Believe me, I'm probably dreading you sitting in as much as you are me, but I trust you. For better or for worse. We love each other for the better, and we'll love each other for the worse too." Hope and trust brimmed in his eye. "Jump, Emma. I promise it's safe. Trust me." He held open his hands.
The galloping of her heart drummed in her ears. But she took his hands. Some of the fear melted when he raised her hands to his lips for a gentle kiss. Love glowed in his tender gaze. She flushed. "What were you going to ask?"
A chuckle bubbled up. "Well, it seems very trivial compared to what you had to talk about. Would you like to accompany me to town tomorrow night for the Fourth of July fireworks?"
She beamed. "A date?"
His face fell. "I'm sorely lacking in courting you if you to light up that much over a date night." He sat back in the chair and rubbed his chin through the mask.
"No." She frowned. "I know you're limited in what we can go out and do with this ski mask."
"This mask has only been for two weeks. The other mask is supposed to arrive this afternoon." He glanced at his watch and patted her hip. "We will discuss setting up regular date nights. You'd better get to work."
"Do you have a few minutes? I can go clock in and have my files download - they usually take five minutes. Then I'll change your bandage."
"I do. And, Em?" A look so intense and intimate cut right through all the barriers and straight into her soul. "You are the one who determines your worth - not me or him or anyone else in this world. That's power that only you hold. Never let anyone else make you think otherwise."
Her lip quivered, and she nodded. It was hard to believe those words now, but one day she would.
When she returned with freshly washed hands, he wore a ski mask that had a a hole cut in the forehead for the bandage changes. She pulled on gloves as he brought over a wastebasket and sat on the front of the desk. Easing off the bandage, she pulled out the gauze packed in the wound. Heaving a sigh, she dropped the items in the trash. The gore no longer caused faintness.
His eye followed, calm and serene. "Thank you, Emma." Tender love and compassion filled his voice, and love flowed from his gaze.
With a soft smile, she brushed a kiss over his lips. "Of course, honey." Then she straightened with a frown and dabbed at the bleeding area. "Shouldn't this be healed by now? It doesn't look much better than two weeks ago."
"It might take a couple more weeks. The doctors said my skin heals a little slower than most people. Plus, it will take longer because of the burn. If there's no infection, I'd rather we just keep working on it at home." He sighed. "A surgeon would probably want to do a skin graft, but it'll probably not take well, like all the other times. I can't be in the hospital again, Emma. I'm so weary of it."
The distress pulled at her heartstrings. "Alright. As long as it doesn't get infected, we'll give it a few more days." She packed it again and nibbled on a question. He probably wouldn't mind if she asked. "You don't have to answer, but is the skin uneven in thickness because of the graphs failing?"
"It is. I was in the hospital longer than most because I wasn't healing like I should've. The hypertrophic scarring is why you're able to pack it too," he added. "If you got a cut on your forehead, there's not enough thickness to be able to pack." That beautiful blue eye held her gaze. "Thank you for doing this. I know it's not pleasant - "
Opening a fresh bandage, she gave him a look. "If you thank me once more, I'll wear earplugs when I do this tomorrow morning." When he smiled, she moved to tape on the bandage. His skin was red around the wound - it hadn't looked like that a minute ago. She stilled and frowned. "Are you allergic to this adhesive? Your skin is getting red." She leaned a little closer. "Oh, honey, it's getting raw. It didn't look like that yesterday."
He pulled back and slipped to his feet. "It's just irritation from the mask rubbing."
She grabbed his arm when he stepped around her. "Tell me what we need to do for it. Do you have to put a cream on?"
"Stevens can finish." He didn't look and his voice was terse.
"Or you teach me how to finish."
He shook his head, still only offering his profile. "I'm not going to make you touch it or see more of it."
"Jay, I know that third-degree burn survivors have to put moisturizer on two or three times a day because the oil glands aren't there anymore. The ski mask and adhesive must be drying it out faster. Put the cream on a cottonball or something if you don't want me to touch you directly. Teach me how we do it," she said with all the compassion and tenderness in her heart.
His arm pulled out of her hand, and he walked out.
At lunch when she sat down to eat with Trudy and Pete, Trudy handed her a note.
Emma,
An urgent matter came up with the patent, so I had to go out to the East Coast. You were on the phone, and I had to leave to make a deadline. I'll call you tomorrow morning to see what time you'd like me to pick you up.
I don't wish to leave you with the impression that I'm angry about earlier. It's still hard having you see and touch for bandage changes. I understand that you mean well, but I don't know that I can handle more than what we're doing. You already do more than I could ask for, sweetheart.
I love you,
Jay
It was sweet of him to make sure she didn't think he was angry with her, but an ache grew deep inside. She'd pushed when she hadn't meant to. Protectiveness and love swelled up. Pulling out her cell, she opened a text.
Thank you for your note and making sure I didn't misunderstand. Just slip in next time so I can give you a kiss before you go. Tell me when I push cuz I don't mean to. I love you.
A reply came five minutes later. Just got out of meeting and walking to another. I know you don't mean to. Love you. Miss you.
She smiled. He knew that everything was done out of love, but sometimes a reminder meant just as much. Miss you too. And, Jay? Remember that I'm blind to what you see in the mirror. I want to take care of you in whatever ways you'll let me because I love you so much - in sickness and in health, my love. She included a heart emoticon.
Her phone chirped. Emma...you melted my heart. I wish I could hold you. I love you so much that it would take more a lifetime to show you, sweetheart. Meet me with a hug tomorrow. He added an emoticon heart too.
She sighed with longing, her heart skipping a beat from his messages. The sweet man knew how to sweep her heart away, and he'd done it all day over and over. She looked up from the phone to Trudy and Pete. "I want to marry him."