5 Bikers for Valentines

“Better,” I said. “I think the painkillers are still working.”

“That’s great.” She smiled and moved to take my vitals. I fell silent while she took my blood pressure and temperature. She jotted a few things down on my chart and then turned toward me with a furrowed brow. “Is there anything I can do for you? Do you want the T.V. remote?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m fine right now.”

“Your physical therapist was doing the rounds earlier,” she said. “I’ll let her know you’re awake now.”

“Tara?” I asked, hope blooming in my chest.

The nurse nodded and smiled. She hurried from the room, and I felt my heart begin to race. I hadn’t expected to see Tara again so soon, but the prospect of seeing her face was enough to send waves of excitement coursing through my body.

It was another ten minutes before she arrived. In that time, I adjusted my position twelve times, trying to find the most comfortable position that would make me seem the least weak. I hated that Tara was seeing me this way: broken and bedridden. It wasn’t my proudest moment.

When she came into my room, I smiled and watched her walk toward me. She was wearing the same outfit from before. Her body looked even better today, now that my mind wasn’t clouded with pain. The seventeen-year-old I held in my memory couldn’t hold a candle to the woman standing before me.

Her body swayed just right with every step she took. Her curves had always been enticing, but now that she was older, they were more defined. She exuded confidence, and that alone was enough to make me hard beneath my hospital blankets. I swallowed and told myself to get it together. If I couldn’t control myself around Tara, this would never work.

“How are you feeling today?” she asked, her blue eyes searching my face.

“Better,” I said with a nod. “Last night was pretty fucking brutal, but today, I’m all right.”

“Did the pain keep you awake?” Tara asked, ready to take notes on her chart.

“Yeah,” I said. “Most of the night.”

“What did they give you?” Tara asked, frowning and looking down at my chart.

“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “Whatever it was, it worked.”

“Good.” She nodded and looked back at me. Her eyes roamed over my face and then down my body. I felt myself flush as she looked me over. I knew she was just visually assessing me, but it felt like more. My dick twitched, and I shifted on the bed. “Mind if I take a look at your leg?”

“Sure.” I nodded, and Tara moved forward.

“Tell me if anything I do hurts, okay?” she asked.

“Got it.”

Tara lifted the bottom of my blanket. I felt a sense dread wash over me. What would she say if she saw my erection? Fuck, why couldn’t I get the damn thing under control?

Thankfully, Tara didn’t lift the blanket far enough for it to matter. She moved it off my leg and examined the surgical dressings. Gently, she ran her fingers down the length of it, pausing every so often to apply pressure.

Her hands were warm and felt electric against my skin. I trembled at her touch and prayed she didn’t notice. I stared at her face while she worked. God, she was beautiful. I’d spent ten years imagining her face, but seeing it in person was better than I ever dreamed it would be. I could have stared at her for hours.

Now that my pain was gone, I felt more like myself. As Tara gently massaged my leg, feeling around for any tenderness, I felt a rush of confidence rise inside my chest. She ran her finger up my thigh, stopping just before she reached the blanket covered part. When she glanced up at me, I grinned.

“Don’t stop there,” I said, my voice low and husky.

Tara’s eyes instantly hardened. She lifted her hand off my leg and glared at me, not bothering to hide her irritation.

“What?” I asked, laughing lightly. “I’m just saying what we’re both thinking.”

“I’m not thinking about your dick,” Tara said boldly.

“You weren’t?” I raised my eyebrows. “Not even a little bit.”

“Did you feel any pain, Caleb?” Tara asked, sighing deeply and rolling her eyes.

“Only when you rejected my offer,” I said playfully.