Was he naked below? She shivered at the idea and then pushed it aside. The man was in a coma! How could she even think something like that? She’d never seen a naked man but here she was, trying to get a peek at him.
As soon as they were alone once again, she turned back to the man, a grimace on her face. She knew he couldn’t see it so she felt a little silly. “Sorry about my bad thoughts,” she whispered to him. “I have to confess that you’re a very fascinating specimen of manhood. But that’s really no excuse because you’re…well,” she blushed and looked at the man from the top of his head to his toes that were sticking out of his cast, “you’re incapacitated and that’s not really fair.”
“I’ll confess that I haven’t really dated anyone seriously and even those boys that I’ve dated, well, they’re no match to you physically. Not that you would be even remotely interested in me because I’m well…I’m me,” she said, thinking about her breasts, or lack of breasts. She laughed, feeing ridiculous, but she couldn’t move away. She was drawn to this man in some odd, indefinable way. “I’m afraid I’m taking advantage of you by looking at your body when you’re not around to tell me to stop. I know I’d feel very angry if our positions were reversed.” She thought about that for a moment, looking down at his long, elegant fingers, the skin over his knuckles broken and battered which gave her a smile because the man had fought back, at least for a few minutes. “Anyway,” she laughed and moved her fingers higher on his hand, covering his wrist and feeling the strong bones underneath her fingers, “I shouldn’t be so fascinated but I am and you’re asleep so I’ll at least pretend that I’m ashamed of my lack of consideration.”
She sighed and ran her fingers over his forearm, loving the almost rough feel of the arm on his skin. It was so different from her own skin and she was completely entranced by the differences.
“Okay, I’ll behave,” she promised, but it was only a half-hearted attempt at being appropriate. She laughed softly and shook her head. “At least, I’ll try to behave. It isn’t easy since you are extremely fascinating.” She glanced at his face, so bruised and battered and her heart broke for his pain. “Probably not something you want to hear right now, though. I’m sorry. You’re probably thinking I’m totally insensitive. And you’d be correct.” She looked at him with soft eyes. “My only excuse is that, well, confidentially, you’re quite spellbinding. I don’t believe I’ve ever met anyone quite like you.” She grimaced again. “Not that we’ve actually met. Not officially, anyway. Nor will we ever meet. You’ll probably hate me if you knew who I was.” She was rambling now, but the doctor had said he could hear her so she shifted to other, more interesting subjects.
She continued to talk to him until her voice was hoarse and she couldn’t speak any longer. She wasn’t sure when it happened, but she fell asleep, her head resting against his hip and her hand holding his own.
Drake woke up at some point in the night, confused and in more pain than he’d ever thought was possible. He couldn’t move his leg and he slowly lifted his head in order to figure out why but even that was difficult. His leg was encased in a cast and lifted higher than the bed on some sort of pulley system. There were beeping sounds all around him, lights, white sheets, a hideous mint colored wall…he was in the hospital, he finally realized.
His face hurt like hell and he tried to lift his hand to figure out why but he couldn’t move his arm, which confused him. Nothing about his arm hurt. His ribs hurt, it ached to breathe, there was something seriously wrong with his stomach and he couldn’t believe the pain shooting up both of his legs. But nothing was wrong with his arm except that he couldn’t move it.
He laid his head on the scratchy hospital pillow, every cell in his brain aching with the pain shooting around in his skull. When he finally had enough energy, he lifted his head once again and looked at his arm and was startled to find the dark-haired beauty he’d seen earlier today. Or was it yesterday? He wasn’t sure what day it was, or even if it was day or night.
She was laying on his arm, her hair draped over his thigh with the curls wrapping around in places he really shouldn’t be thinking about right now.
He suddenly realized that she’d been crying. He wanted to lift his hand, to touch the tear tracks that had marred that beautiful skin but she was holding his hand tightly and he couldn’t move anything. In the end, he accepted that it felt good to just have her close, to smell that incredible, honeysuckle perfume, and listen to her soft breathing.
He closed his eyes, intending to rest for just a moment, but by the time he opened his eyes again, the woman was gone, replaced by a stern looking nurse who was trying to take his pulse.
“So you’re awake?” the nurse asked, her eyes assessing him carefully. Without even a smile, she wrote something on a paper attached to a clip board and walked out. “I’ll inform the doctor,” she said and she was gone. He wasn’t sure if his need for information was stronger than his fear of her harsh demeanor. He wanted to understand what was going on, but that nurse was a tough cookie and he wasn’t sure he could butt heads with her right now. Maybe later, he promised himself.
He slept fitfully for what seemed like a long time. Every once in a while, he dreamed that he was walking through the forest, surrounded by honeysuckle and he breathed in the scent, enjoying the calming effect it had on his pain. Every time he smelled her, his body ached just a little bit less.
Several times, he thought he heard her talking to him, telling him stories about…school? No, not possible. But she was giving him arguments for taking calculus and linear algebra, something about discrete mathematics and numerical analysis. Was she actually giving him the pros for statistics? No one liked statistics, he thought but his mouth was still too sore to actually form the words, and he couldn’t even open his eyes to let her know that he heard her. He smiled though. Well, at least he thought he was smiling. She certainly liked discussing math.
Drake liked math, could do complex problems in his mind, but he didn’t enjoy math simply for the challenge of doing math problems, which is what he suspected she enjoyed. He used math as a tool, something to further his business efforts and gain the competitive edge over his rivals.