Three Little Mistakes (Blindfold Club 3)

“No, why?”

Her fingertips skated over the quote buried within the art. “Nothing lasts forever. That’s not exactly what I’d call a hopeful statement.”

“It can be,” I said quickly, stretching my hand up and tucking it back behind my head, obscuring most of the ink from her view.

A puzzled look flashed on her pretty face. “How can that be hopeful?”

“If nothing lasts forever, that includes weakness. Pain. Nausea, and doctors—” I snapped my mouth shut, but it was too late. I could see the thoughts in her head, reflected in the windows of her eyes.

I sat up. “Forget I said anything. We should get dressed.”

“Oh. Okay.”

The hurt in her voice stabbed into me. I didn’t want to throw her out of my bed, in fact, I wanted her to get under the covers. To curl up beside me so we could go again in the morning. But I didn’t know how else to get her away from the questions I knew were coming. The last thing I wanted was her to look at me differently, like I was breakable. I didn’t bend or break. I was the one who did the pushing now. Others bent at my command.

She slipped off the bed and began tugging on her clothes, not looking at me. It was awful. Every tense movement of her body displayed how uncomfortable she felt, and I had to do something.

“Wait.” My voice was unsteady, and I hated the sound of it, but I’d made the mistake. Might as well finish it.

Her hazel eyes were going to destroy me.

“I’m sorry, come back here.” My hand patted the bed beside me. “I don’t like talking about it, but I can try.”

She crept to the edge of the bed and sat, her cautious gaze focused. “When were you sick?”

“I found a lump here when I was sixteen.” I pressed two fingers in the spot where the ink started, the chest area just to the front of my armpit. “Hodgkin’s lymphoma.”

Her back straightened and the word came out tainted with horror. “Cancer?”

“Yeah. Cancer.” The illness had defined my life for years and nearly taken everything.

Her expression was heartbreaking. “But you’re better?”

“I’ve been cancer free for twenty years. Well, technically in a week.” Noemi didn’t look like she had a clue what to say, which I understood. I didn’t either. The silence that stretched was awkward.

“Oh,” she said, her voice uneven. “You should do something to celebrate. Like a party or . . .”

“Not too many of my friends know about it.” Her gaze examined mine, urging me to elaborate. “I haven’t found a good way to say, ‘Hey, cancer and chemo almost killed me when I was seventeen.’ It derails the conversation fast.”

Her eyes were sobering. “But that had to be a major part of your life. I mean, you beat cancer.”

“Yeah. Wasn’t easy.” There was a colossal understatement.

She shook her head, like she was shaking away a weird thought. She climbed over the mattress top and straddled my lap in a surprising move. Her warm hands bristled on my five o’clock shadow as she took my jaw in her grip.

“I’m sorry you went through that.” Her soft lips pressed to mine in a gentle kiss. “I’m glad you’re here.”

I could have made a joke, something about how she was just saying that because I was the only man who brought her to orgasm, but her words carried way too much sincerity. They tore me apart and yet made me feel warm. I was glad to be here, too.

With Noemi Rosso.

In my bed, in my arms, and working her way into my head. A strong case could be made that she was already there. I wrapped my arms tighter around her slender body, pressing her to me, and deepened the kiss.

When my fingers curled around her bra strap and inched it down, she sat back. “You said we should get dressed.”

“I changed my mind.”

She smiled, but pulled her strap up on her shoulder. “Um, I have class at eight tomorrow morning.”