Listed: Volume V (9 page)

Emily
was still pale and there were dark circles under her eyes, which somehow looked
too large for her face. “You all right?” she asked, her expression a little
nervous.

He
smiled as he set her bag onto the bed next to her. “Of course. Better than all
right.”

She
smiled back at him. “I’m trying not to get too excited. This new treatment
might not work any better than the first.”

They’d
stayed at Stacie’s apartment the night before, since Emily had been too weak
from the fever to go home the previous evening. This morning they’d gotten a
call from Dr. Franklin about another treatment he wanted to try.

It
was experimental, of course, but the potential side effects were minimal and
they had nothing to lose at this point.

Paul
was allowing himself to hope. Things had never worked out perfectly in his
life. Nothing ever came easy. And the people he loved left him. Or they didn’t
love him back.

But
Emily had said that she
did
love him, and part of him actually believed
it was true. And now there was hope that she wouldn’t even have to die.

It
was too much to process, so he had to force the swell of uninhibited hope back
down into the safe, dark corners of his mind. He just didn't believe he'd be
given quite so much—that he'd be allowed to have what he so desperately wanted.
Which might be why he’d been obsessing about the much more inconsequential idea
of Emily’s having her own room instead of sharing with him.

“Paul?”
Emily prompted, when he hadn’t responded to her last comment. “Are you sure
you’re all right?”

“Yes,”
he told her. He swallowed and experienced a familiar resistance to speaking the
truth openly to someone, to anyone—even though he knew it was safe with her.
“I’m trying not to get too excited too.”

Her
face relaxed into a grin. Then she started to pull things out of her bag—the
Riverside Shakespeare, the music box he’d given her for her birthday, the
clothes she’d worn the previous day.

The
last two days had forced Paul into emotional overload, and he was too drained
to process any feeling with intensity at the moment. It was only ten o’clock in
the morning, but he felt like he could sleep for hours. Despite his mental and
physical exhaustion, however, he was still oddly touched by seeing what Emily
had taken with her when she thought she was leaving him for good.

It
was another sign—however small—that she’d been telling him the truth when she’d
said she loved him.

 “I
think I need a nap,” Emily said, starting to pull off her sweater with a yawn.
“Do you mind?”

“Of
course not,” Paul said, trying not to get distracted by the sight of Emily in
her bra. “You can rest all day. I need to catch up on some work anyway.”

She
took off her bra and pulled on an oversized t-shirt. Then she pushed off her
jeans and pulled on a pair of sweats. She wasn’t at all self-conscious. It was
as if she’d barely processed the fact that she was undressing in front of him.
She was obviously tired and still recovering from being ill, and she just
wanted to get more comfortable to take a nap.

But
Paul’s body didn’t make that kind of distinction. It just saw her taking off
her clothes, saw her firm breasts and soft ass. He felt a sharp tug of interest
in his groin.

“You
all right?” Emily asked again as she climbed into bed. She looked a little
concerned, probably wondering why he was standing stiffly and staring at her
like an idiot.

“Yes,”
Paul assured her, pleased he sounded somewhat natural. “Try to get some rest.”

He
left her to her nap and walked toward the master bedroom. There, when it was
clear that his body still hadn’t lost interest, he decided to take a shower.

He
turned the water on hot, and he adjusted the settings so the rain shower head
as well as the sixteen body jets were all spraying out on him.

For
some reason, it felt like he’d run a marathon. His body was actually sore from
the emotional ups and downs of the last two days. It hadn’t been very long since
he’d had sex—it was Monday morning now, and just Saturday night he and Emily
had had what might have been the best sex of his life—but his body needed yet
another release, some way to channel everything he’d felt since then.

So,
after he’d let the water beat down on him for several minutes, he reached down
to pump his erection. He closed his eyes, picturing Emily beneath him, that
soft affection in her gaze. He could see her eyes hooded with hot desire for
him, her mouth supple and tender, her body arching up with need, her breasts
bouncing shamelessly with her motion, her nipples tight and straining for his
touch, her legs wrapping eagerly around him, her voice hoarse from screaming
his name.

Paul
came hard in the shower with a long, thick groan. His eyes still closed, the
water still massaging him all over, he breathed raggedly and tried to relax.
But the first climax wasn’t enough and he pumped himself again, imagining Emily
wrapping herself around him, gasping out how much she loved him. The image was
so powerful he came again without warning.

He
didn’t know what was wrong with him. He’d never been like this in his life,
even back when he was fifteen and thinking about sex every minute of the day.

He
assumed his body would eventually become accustomed to wanting Emily so much
and wouldn’t always act so ludicrously needy.

He
stayed in the shower for a half-hour, which was something he almost never did,
and he did feel a lot better when he finally got out.

Although
he was so relaxed afterwards that he was tempted to take a nap with Emily, he
went to his office instead. As soon as he checked his messages, his mind was
immediately diverted, and he lost track of time as he quickly became wrapped up
in work.

So
he was surprised when Emily came into the office with a tray of food. A quick
look at the clock told him the astonishing fact that it was almost one-thirty
in the afternoon.

“I
thought you must be hungry,” she explained. “You should eat some lunch.” She
was still wearing the t-shirt and sweats she'd changed into earlier.

Paul
rubbed his eyes and tried to pull himself out of the proposal he’d been
writing. “Thanks. I didn’t realize it was so late.”

She
smiled at him fondly, put a plate and a bottle of water in front of him, and
sat down in the chair beside the desk. She’d brought a plate for herself too.
“I figured,” she murmured, opening her bottle of water. “I’m impressed by your
powers of concentration. I don’t think I’ve ever been so absorbed in work that
I forget to eat.”

Her
tone was teasing, and Paul couldn’t help but enjoy the affection in her eyes
and her tone.

“Is
everything all right?” Emily added, nodding toward his computer screen. “Did
you get really behind?”

“No,”
he said, after taking a bite of his sandwich. “It’s fine. Actually, it’s good. I
was actually given something real to do. I’m putting together a proposal now,
and I’m to present it to the board on Wednesday.”

“Something
real? So they’re giving you more responsibilities?”

“Maybe.
I’m sure this is a test too, but if the board likes what I put together, then
maybe...”

“Of
course, they’ll like it!”

He
gave a half-shrug, although her outraged tone made him smile. “Most of them
still think of me as a boy—and not a very responsible one. They’re not going to
be swayed easily.”

Emily
frowned. “That’s ridiculous. They’ll see how great you are in no time.”

Paul
smiled again at her indignant expression, touched that she was so defensive on
his account. “Thanks. We’ll see.”

As
they ate, they talked over what Paul was putting in his proposal. And she even
gave him some good ideas about his strategy on a few points. When they’d
finished lunch, Paul went back to work, and Emily said she was going to take it
easy and read Shakespeare that afternoon.

Paul
worked until Emily came in at seven o’clock that evening and dragged him out to
have dinner on the terrace with her. Since he was almost done with the proposal,
he went back to his office to finish it up after dinner. He finished and was
rereading it for the third time when Emily came in at around eleven, wearing a
slinky purple nightgown that was semi-transparent.

She
put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “Are you ever coming to bed?”

Paul’s
body clenched in desire as he stared at her luscious body in that gown. “I’m
done,” he said quickly, saving his document and then shutting down his
computer. “I’m done now.”

She
frowned at him as they walked together toward the master bedroom.

“How
are you feeling?” Paul asked, trying to look beyond her gorgeous body and
tousled hair to see signs of whether she was fully recovered or not. Her cheeks
were flushed, but her eyes still looked tired.

“Fine,”
she told him. “Did you get your proposal done?”

“Yes.”

“Good.
Then you can relax a little.” When they got into the bedroom, she twined her
arms around his neck and kissed him.

Paul
kissed her back eagerly, lifting her up so her legs wrapped around his waist.
He carried her over to the bed and eased her down so she was sprawled out
beneath him.

His
body tightened almost immediately, and he kissed her long and deep.

When
he finally pulled his head back, he breathed raggedly as he stared down at her.

Her
eyes were hot, soft, and a little groggy. “I love you, Paul,” she whispered.
“You know that, right?”

He
stifled a moan of pleasure as his hips gave an involuntary little thrust
against her. “I love you too, baby.”

He
kissed her again. They were still kissing and he was starting to unfasten his
pants when he heard a familiar ringtone.

With
a groan of frustration, he tore himself away from her warm, soft clinginess.
“That’s security. I better see what’s going on,” he said, standing up as he
connected the call.

He
listened to Tim for a minute on the other end of the line. “Okay,” he said.
“Just a minute.”

Emily
was sitting up on the bed now, and her eyes were very wide. “Is everything all
right?”

“Yes,”
he assured her, “It’s fine. There’s no danger. I just need to take care of
something.  I’ll be back in just a minute.”

“Okay.”

As
he started to leave, he glanced back at her over his shoulder, his body and
heart resisting the idea of leaving a passionate, rumpled Emily in bed, even
just momentarily. But he made himself be reasonable. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“It’s
fine. Just come back soon.” She didn’t look annoyed, so he was able to leave
the room without further apologies.

He
was only gone for five minutes, and his body was still anticipating Emily
waiting in bed for him on his return.

She
was still in bed when he came back into the room. She was still looking
irresistibly sensual with her loose hair and slinky nightgown. She was still
sprawled out on top of the covers.

But
she was also sound asleep.

Paul
stared down at her blankly for a long minute, trapped between surprise, irony,
and frustration. He was deeply tempted to wake her up so he could have the sex
he desperately wanted.

But
he couldn’t bring himself to do it. She'd been so sick just the day before.

Instead,
with a stifled groan, he went to take yet another shower.

Emily woke up aching
all over.

As
she stretched out under the covers of the big bed in the master bedroom, she
processed how she felt, what it meant.

She’d
had another fever yesterday, but it had broken just before midnight. She didn’t
have a fever now. She just felt sore and aching and like she had no energy at
all.

Her
body was probably just protesting the toll the fevers were taking on it. So
even on her good days she might not really feel
good
.

Since
she’d started the experimental treatments, the rhythm of her fevers had
changed. The fevers came more often, but they didn’t last as long. So she’d
been sick on Sunday, when Paul had found her at Stacie’s. Then she’d been well
on Monday. Sick on Tuesday. Today was Wednesday. Today she should feel well.

But
she didn’t.

She
wondered if she’d ever really feel well again.

Feeling
a heavy weight in her chest, she pulled the covers up over her head, wanting to
hide, wanting it all to go away. But, even as she did, a flicker of thought
reminded her that she would go in for another round of the latest treatment
today.

It
might be a slim hope, but it was something.

She
turned her head and stared at Paul’s empty side of the bed. The covers were
rumpled. He’d gotten in bed with her late last night, after her fever had
broken and she’d been well enough to sleep with him. A glance at the clock told
her it was almost eight in the morning. Paul had probably been up for at least
a couple of hours.