Yours to Keep by Claudia Burgoa

Chapter Nineteen

Darren

In a hospital,one hour sometimes feels like a year. Though there are competent neurosurgeons in Portland Medical, everyone seems to need me to consult for them or assist during their surgeries. It feels good to be needed, but I want to go home. Sadly, I stay in Portland for another two weeks. Vance visits me as often as he can. Unfortunately, I’m too busy to spend quality time with him.

Some days, we have lunch in the cafeteria. It’s absurd to enjoy eating a sandwich and orange juice more than a steak at a new trendy restaurant during a date. I know it’s the company. I enjoy it a lot. I relish his attention more than I should. At night, I text him when I’m about to go back to the hotel. Each night, there’s food waiting for me in my room. Vance Aldridge, the emotionless Aldridge, orders room service for me.

Not everything is flowers and rainbows between us—thank God. Every time I suggest that we FaceTime, he declines my request. The excuses range from he’s working to he’s with his family. He isn’t avoiding me, but something. Maybe he thinks I’m going to initiate sex through the camera? He’s wrong. The first time we’re together, I want to touch him. Grace my fingers against his taut body.

Skin against skin.

The warmth of his body searing me from the inside out.

Him and me.

It’s a Monday morning when he picks me up. I’m in the hospital doing the last round when I receive his text.

Vance: I’m downstairs whenever you’re ready. No rush.

Last night, I told him I’d be done early, but I never expected him to be this early.

Darren: I have to go to the hotel to pick up my things.

Vance: I already got them.

I stare at my phone, puzzled by his response. Did he do it because he wants to leave? Then why did he say no rush? I don’t spend much time trying to decipher what he texted. Vance is a million-piece puzzle that needs a lot of time to be solved. I finish my rounds, sign the discharge forms, and head to the locker room to change. I’m glad I brought a pair of jeans and a T-shirt with me.

When I walk outside, Vance is by the entrance.

“Hey,” I greet him.

“Is it over?”

“Over?”

“You’ve been here for weeks,” he says, frustrated.

“Two.”

“Almost three,” he reminds me. “That’s too fucking long.”

He’s mad, but I doubt he’s angry. As I said almost a month ago, this guy doesn’t know how to show emotions or maybe even handle them. I dare to ask, “Did you miss me, Vance Aldridge?”

“I…” He lets out a loud breath. “No, it’s…”

This feels like a good time to show him what he’s supposed to say instead of biting my head off. “I missed you.”

Instead of saying a word, he kisses me. I’m getting used to his demanding kisses. It’s like the Earth trying to swallow all the energy from the sun. I sip it into the marrow of my bones and feel it. Everything he’s giving me and taking from me. I don’t usually like when people take charge, but with him, I trust him enough to be in control of us.

Once we pull apart, he says, “Let’s go home. I have work to do, but afterward, I’ll visit you, okay?”

He sounds like he’s promising candy, but not until he’s done with work and maybe after eating all my veggies. It’s amusing to see how uncomfortable he feels about being around me.

“Okay,” I answer, nodding. I’m used to doing things under my own terms. Vance seems to be one of those guys who likes to dominate. I hate guys who do whatever they want without asking for their partner’s opinion. Though, I find it sweet when he does it. Last week, he hired someone to bring my cars from San Francisco. They’re parked at the Aldridge mansion with the rest of the cars. I don’t know him, but I’m starting to think it’s his way of saying, “I care about you.” It could also be a way of wooing me.

I should tell him that I don’t need him to woo me, just to fuck me hard, to let me taste him, and better yet, let me claim him.

When we arrive at my house, I notice a few things.

“Did you clean my house?”

He gives me a sheepish look.

“I don’t know how to feel about it. Are you calling me messy?”

He shakes his head. “I just stacked some of the boxes you have in what I think will be your office. As I said, I needed to drop off a few things.” I want to ask what he was dropping off, but instead, I walk around the house. When I step into the kitchen-dining area, I spot a coffee maker. I stare at it, astonished. Did he? “Is that the espresso machine I was looking at a few weeks back?”

He rubs the back of his neck. “You seemed to like it.”

I want to tell him it’s too expensive, that he shouldn’t have done it, but I don’t. This is like sending dinner every night or dropping by because he wants to see me. He doesn’t think a text is enough to say I’ve been thinking of you. Not that I need any of that. Though, I find him endearing.

“I stayed away for almost two weeks, and you got me a fancy espresso machine,” I say. “What’s going to happen if I leave for a month?”

He glares at me.

“Is that death glare a way to ask for a kiss?”

He doesn’t say a word or move.

I walk toward the living room where he stands. “You’re not what I expected, Vance Aldridge. And I like it. Do you know what else I like?”

His eyes darken. Taking a step closer, he cups the back of my neck, then kisses me. He kisses the breath right out of my lungs. Vance Aldridge is intense and does everything fiercely. With a passion I’ve never seen in anyone else. I try to ignore the spike of heat in my belly. The electricity we produce charges the entire room. As we kiss, I caress his strong, cut jaw. My cock stirs, growing hard. I feel his length pressing against mine. My heart is hammering so fucking hard. We begin to grind against each other.

I ache for more friction.

I ache for release.

I feel like I’m going to burst like a teenager kissing his first crush.

Want. Desire. Lust.

I’m starving.

“Van,” I pull back, panting. My hands reach for the waistband of his jeans. “Please tell me you want this.”

I unbutton his jeans, part his zipper, and look down at his long, thick, hard length. A drop of precum sits right at the tip. I reach with my finger, wiping it and sucking it. I hear his ragged inhale before I look into his hooded eyes, burning into mine.

“Van.” I repeat his name, running my mouth along his stubble and whispering, “I want to taste you, but I won’t until you ask for it. Nicely.”

“Fuck, do it,” he orders with a shaky voice.

I drop to my knees, lowering his jeans. I touch the velvet skin, running my finger along his length, cupping his balls as my lips touch the tip. Vance shudders. His chest heaves as I stroke him, swirling my tongue just at the tip. I work him with one hand while the other caresses his sack. I suck on it, teasing him. I’m loving that I have him at my mercy, almost falling apart.

He groans out a curse. “Don’t fucking tease me.”

“It almost sounds like an order, but I’m pretty sure you’re begging for my mouth.”

“Fucker.”

I chuckle, parting my lips and taking his length, deep. Deeper. Almost into the clench of my throat. He fists my hair. I hold his thigh with one hand and reach to his entrance with the other. He wants to see who rules here. I’ll teach him. I bob my head as I slowly circle his hole, pushing inside, curling my finger. I find his weakest point.

I moan as I push my finger faster and manage to take him deeper. His hips thrust, his fist pushes my head, leading me. My balls are about to explode as I feel his belly contracting. He’s so fucking close. I push my finger deeper. That’s when his knees buckle, and he moans loudly. His cock pulses inside my mouth, and hot fluid shoots down my throat. I’m dizzy, breathless. Satisfied. And I don’t want to let him go.

Vance pulls himself out of my mouth, kneels, and holds my face with both hands. He kisses me hard, tasting himself.

“Let’s go upstairs, babe,” he says after a lengthy kiss. He traces my cock. I’m about to come.

“I thought you said you had work to do.”

“My brothers can wait.”

I follow him upstairs, wondering what he’s doing to me and if he’ll stick to the rules. This can’t be more. I’ll never want more.