Baby For My Grumpy Chef, page 11
Yes, I decide, tilting my head back as he kisses up my throat to my jaw. This is a cosmic reward of some kind. It has to be.
Every touch sends a buzzing pleasure through my skin, my belly doing flips at the low, growling moan he gives when I nip at the side of his throat. I can feel him, his cock hard and stiff under his sweatpants, the shape of it grinding against my inner thigh with every rock of my hips.
His hands find the hem of my tank top, and I lift my arms as he slides it up off of me, tossing the thin scrap of fabric to the floor. “Fuck,” He growls, lips finding my stomach, “You’re so perfect.”
I don’t know what gets the words to come out of me, my voice sounding like a keen against the dim background noise of our movie. “Please-” He catches my nipple between his lips, electricity exploding through me from the ghosting touch of his teeth, and I whine, “Fuck me.”
A snarled curse tears out of him, and he’s fumbling for something in his pocket, a condom, though I barely see the wrapper before he’s tearing it open with his teeth.
His hips shift beneath me, and I take the liberty of sliding his waistband down, letting his cock spring free. The hot, hard form burns against my inner thigh, making my stomach do flips with anticipation. I lift up on my knees, letting him slide the condom on, and then-
We both exhale through our teeth as I sink down onto his cock, taking him more easily than I’d expected. I barely have to move my hips before he’s hilted fully inside of me, the pressure and aching pleasure making my lips part with a pleasant sigh. “You feel- mm, so, so good…” I manage, feeling his hands tighten on my hips.
It’s an easier kind of rhythm to start, Sebastian moving with slow, deep thrusts up into me. He kisses me, grinding up perfectly against my g-spot, until I think I might just melt from how good it feels.
My head feels fuzzy, clouded with pleasure, and my body’s warm and loose as I lean on him, letting him control the pace. He grips my hips tight, pulling me close with each thrust, groaning little praises every time he fucks into me.
I’m making my own noises, too, barely audible moans and sighs and pleading, coaxing whispers of yes, more, please, oh, Sebastian escaping me.
It startles me when he suddenly straightens up, turning to lay me on my back on the couch. And then, his pounding hips increasing in tempo, he starts fucking me, pulling my hands up above my head as he slams into me. Stars flash in my eyes, each impact sending a jolt of pleasure into my belly, my moans coming out staccato in time with his movements. I’m going to explode, or fall apart, it’s too much, it’s so good-!
My climax suddenly shatters through me, Sebastian’s hammering thrusts carrying me through it as he groans my name and leans down to bite at my shoulder. He’s close, too, each powerful movement getting more erratic until he finally grinds into me, his low voice vibrating against my ribs where our chests are pressed together. He pants and moans softly in my ear as he comes, hips rocking against mine once, twice, until he finally goes lax over me.
It takes a few minutes to remember how to speak, or that the movie is long over, the final credits rolling.
Takes even longer to will myself to sit up. “Oh, my god.” I pant out, running my hands over my face and up through my hair, tidying the messy strands. It feels impossible to catch my breath when my body is still wracked with little waves of ghosting pleasure. My thighs and hips are going to be sore tomorrow, I can already tell, and even the small motions of pulling my legs up make me twinge with how oversensitive I am.
It’s perfect. I don’t think I could be any happier, or maybe giddier is the right word, like I’ve just gotten off of a rollercoaster. It’s that feeling, the aftermath of flooding adrenaline and good-feeling hormones, that makes it all so delicious.
My silence must be unnerving Sebastian, even if I have a silly grin on my face. “You alright?” He asks, his own words a little breathy as he recovers.
“Mhm.” I manage, swallowing hard. I lean into his side, exhausted, fucked out, and too wonderfully happy to find the right words. “I-”
I cut myself off, eyes widening in the dim light. Just then, for the briefest moment…I was going to say, I love you.
Sebastian chuckles, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “You sure you’re good? Feels like you’re a little out of it.”
“Well, yeah.” I force a laugh, trying to sink back into that bliss for a little while longer.
It’s hard to ignore that realization, and my heart is pounding from more than just the sex, now. I can’t love him. I can’t do it to myself, not when I know how heartbreak feels. I’ve spent years of my life trying not to grieve again.
Sometimes, I wonder if that’s the real reason I don’t let anyone get close.
One more person loved is one more person I can lose, and Sebastian…it’s so new, what we have. He could slip out of my hands so easily, and then I would be left there with a bleeding hole in my chest, wondering how I let myself get abandoned yet again.
I don’t need him. I don’t love him.
I can’t love him.
But, as his familiar warmth settles around me, a fearful, dreading part of me wonders if love is something I get to choose.
The rest of that day was terrifyingly wonderful. We laid together, cozy and warm, ordered pizza and let the rest get cold. It was late at night when Sebastian finally stood up, groaned and said he should go.
I kissed him goodbye. And half an hour after he closed the door, I got a text on my phone.
Made it home. Thanks again.
With trembling hands, I replied.
Of course :) I had a great time.
It’s been a week since then. We’ve texted every day, but now, every sweet message or smile he brings to my face comes with a wave of nauseating anxiety.
Thankfully, it’s hard to be too worried when Chloe’s switched to the labor and delivery department. I hear, rather than see, as she comes barging into the OB ward. “Amelia!” She calls before she’s even close enough for me to see, waving her hand as she bursts through the open doorway. “Amelia, Sarah told me she wants to see you in her office right now!”
I jump, nearly dropping the pregnancy test I’m processing - which would have sucked, since I have a jar of urine in one gloved hand. “Chloe, slow down! What are you talking about?”
She’s grinning from ear to ear. In fact, she can barely stop smiling long enough to get the words out. “I just got sent down from the boss. She wants to see you as soon as possible.”
I swallow, mouth suddenly dry. Great. Sarah, the head of nursing staff in the hospital, wants to see me? I can’t imagine what she has to say. I’ve barely interacted with her, since she was on days when I started nights, but I’ve seen her once or twice since moving to my morning shifts. She’s not especially fond of me, or maybe that’s just how she looks at all of the travel nurses. There aren’t any others in my department except Chloe, and she started here back when she first graduated nursing school, so it’s not quite the same for her.
“Am I in trouble?” I finish the test, disposing of the trash and scribbling down the results. Positive - someone’s in for a surprise, but I won’t be the one delivering the news. I suppose I’ll hand it off to Chloe to take care of, since she’s the one calling me away.
“I can’t say. Bound to secrecy.” Chloe winks at me, holding a finger up to her lips.
“...I mean…” I raise my eyebrows, glancing around as though to demonstrate how empty the room is. The door is open, but it isn’t like anyone will hear if she’s quiet, right?
Chloe hesitates, then apparently, is too excited to resist any longer. “You’re getting a promotion!” She squeals, grabbing me in a tight hug.
“A promotion? But I’m- oof!” I let out a grunt as she crushes the air out of me, catching my breath as she steps back. “How can I get promoted?” I demand, utterly bewildered. “I didn’t even think they liked me here! I’m pretty sure Sarah hates me!”
“I don’t hate you, Amelia.” An older, slightly husky woman’s voice comes from outside of the room, and Sarah herself rounds the corner, crossing her arms with a sigh. She’s a tall, rail thin woman with perfectly straight salt-and-pepper hair. Usually, she keeps it up - today, it’s down, reaching her shoulders like a curtain. “Chloe, I asked you to page her, not run down here yourself.”
“I couldn’t help it!” Chloe grins sheepishly at her, looking completely unworried. “She’s earned this, you know.”
“I know. I’m the one who suggested her. And you not being able to help it is exactly why I said to page her. You get too energetic at times like this.” Sarah offers me what’s supposed to be a friendly smile, though I think the businesslike gleam in her eyes undermines it a little. “Amelia, come talk with me in my office. I think you’ll like what I have to say.”
I follow her, anxiety churning in my gut. My palms are sweating by the time I’m sat in front of Sarah’s desk, the woman who’s been a nurse at this hospital for thirty-five years. She gestures for me to take a mint from a glass bowl on her desk, and I do, fidgeting with the plastic packaging as she starts to talk.
“Amelia, we’ve seen your work here and it’s been incredible. You very rarely miss a shift, cover your own schedule if you have to move things around, and your work with the patients is of another level. We’ve gotten nothing but compliments, and even some requests to be scheduled with you in particular for future appointments. I know there are another three months on your contract, but the director of the hospital is wanting you to move your employment to our other location.”
“Other…location?” I question. The mint is unwrapped, but I’m too nervous to eat it, and it’s starting to melt. I peek down just enough to see red dye staining my fingertips.
Hopefully she won’t notice.
Sarah nods. “It’s a smaller hospital, focused on women and childcare. One of the doctors there is a world-renowned obstetric surgeon, and he takes on a lot of special cases. You’ll be worked hard, but you’ll have fewer patients, more days off, they do a three on, four off schedule, with twelve hour shifts.”
“I don’t know if I can afford that.” I interrupt, relieved to have a problem with what’s sounding like a pretty good proposition so far. “I need all my hours. I’ve been working forty-five here.”
Sarah raises an eyebrow. “It’s salary, honey.” She slides an offer letter across the desk, and my eyes bulge at the yearly salary listed there, a little over fifty grand more than what I make right now.
I take the paper between two fingers, lifting it and scarcely able to believe the words I’m reading. “That’s…this is…” I murmur, a lump forming in my throat.
“Good money.” Sarah smiles, huffing with soft amusement. “What do you think?”
“I…I just don’t know.”
I spy a line among the formally written letter and freeze, my mouth going dry and my blood chilling.
Caring Hearts Hospital
San Jose, California
My voice sounds strangled when I ask, softly, “It’s…in San Jose?”
Sarah frowns, tilting her head at me. “Is that a problem? I was under the impression that travel is what you prefer, although this position starts at twelve months, which I know is longer than what you’ve worked out before. If it goes well, I would expect an offer of full-time employment by the end of those twelve months.”
I open my mouth to tell her what’s wrong, but I can’t form the words. She wouldn’t understand, anyways. A man I barely know is stopping me from taking the opportunity of a lifetime?
This is exactly what I want to do. It’s my specialty, in a great location, and the pay is…well, the pay is enough for me to use that apartment stipend on a house, even if I’m just renting it. Hiring me at this much just to start, they must have the money to spend, and money for raises over the years. If I decide to stay long-term, finally settle down…
I could have a life. A life without the moving, where I can hang pictures with nails, fix my own pipes instead of waiting for weeks, stop worrying about crazy neighbors. It’s everything I’ve wanted for years.
The only problem is the man waiting to have dinner with me tonight.
“Can I…get back to you?” I ask weakly. My head is spinning, it feels like the world is ending, although I know it isn’t. Why did this have to happen? Everything was perfect!
Sarah hesitates, then nods. “The owner wants an answer by the end of this week. If you accept, he’ll pay for your moving expenses to get you there as soon as possible. Just let me know Amelia, you have my number?”
I nod, feeling numb, and murmur a thanks as I get up and leave. I need to return to my shift, but I feel like a ghost, staring aimlessly ahead as I walk through the halls.
Two choices, and ones that I didn’t even want in the first place.
I can stay here, working a job I like but don’t love, making enough money to get by.
Or I can leave, go to San Jose, and build a new life for myself. A better life.
But to do that…I’ll be giving up Sebastian. A long-term relationship would work for a lot of people, but I’ve tried and failed before, and I know I couldn’t do it again. If I go, it’s over.
Why did anything have to change?
16
SEBASTIAN
Amelia’s thinking about something, but what? I can’t figure it out.
We sit across from each other at a Greek restaurant, some little hole in the wall by her apartment. Amelia suggested it, and the food is pretty good, I have to admit, places like this usually are. The best part is that it’s practically empty at this time in the evening, the music drowning out any stray voices in our section. For the moment, right here, right now, it’s just us.
So why won’t she look me in the eyes? “How has Goat been?” I ask mildly, hoping to spark up a conversation. “He still pissed at you?”
She tries to laugh, but it comes out all wrong, too weak and wavering to be really convincing. “He forgave me after I let him break his diet.”
“Oh, is that so?” I try to smile, but just as Amelia looks away from me, I catch a gleam in her eyes that tells me she’s an instant away from crying. I grab her hand, the impulsive urge winning out despite my better senses. “Amelia, what’s wrong? Something’s off.”
“No, I-” Her voice breaks, and it sounds like her nose is stuffed up. “I’m fine.” She raises her other hand to try and wipe at her cheeks.
I grab it before she gets the chance. Amelia looks at me, big, round tears leaving a faint trail on both of her cheeks as they drip down. “You’re not fine.” I keep a calmness I don’t feel into the words, meeting her eyes with a firm gaze. “Tell me what’s going on with you.”
Amelia sobs. It breaks out of her chest too easily, like she’s been holding it in all night. “I got a job.” She finally whispers, her voice high and crackly.
“A job?” I loosen my grip on her hands, slide a thumb back and forth over her knuckles.
She nods, slipping one of her hands free to dab at her cheeks. I offer her my napkin, untouched up until now, and wrack my brain to understand what’s so wrong. Why is getting a job a bad thing?
“It’s, It’s really good.” Amelia admits, her eyes red and shining with tears. “I’d be working with just a few other staff, crazy good doctors, people who really need our help. They specialize in obstetrics. And the money is-” She breaks, laughing softly. “It’s more than I could ever have hoped for. I’d be able to make a better life for myself.”
“Then what’s the problem?” I ask gently, squeezing her hand.
Amelia looks up, her eyes glimmering like the ocean in the mornings, a pale greenish hue that shines in the light of a single lamp hanging over our heads. Tiny spots of brown speckle her irises, almost looking golden. The air feels heavy, weighted, as though everything is about to change.
“Sebastian…it’s in San Jose. The clinic itself is a six hour drive from here.”
And everything does change.
The first thoughts flitting through my head are denying, hopeful, desperate. I could drive, but no, not with my schedule, not when the restaurant demands so much of me. For me, two days off a week is a stretch, let alone the amount of time it would take to maintain a relationship from a city six hours away. We could call, but that wouldn’t work, not when our day lives are so busy and chaotic. One missed call would turn into five, into ten, until we hadn’t spoken in weeks or months.
It wouldn’t work. Nothing would work except keeping her here or going with her myself.
And I can’t. Financially, sure. I could rent myself out an apartment in another city. I could train someone to take my place as head chef, David, maybe, and retire to get fat off my savings and the income from the restaurant.
But it would kill me. Days of nothing but management, just paperwork and supplies shipments, dealing with maintenance technicians and never touching a pan or plating a dish myself…
I can almost see it now, how it would rot away at me. How Amelia would suffer for that, even if I tried to keep her from it, even if I tried to hide how miserable I’d be.
As it comes to me that there really is no way out of this, I realize that at least a minute has passed and I’ve said nothing. Amelia is smiling, trying to stay strong, and she croaks out, “You’re figuring it out too, aren’t you?”
“...I am.” I struggle to reply, my mind still moving a thousand miles a second.
She sighs, glancing to the side. “I haven’t accepted yet. I have a few more days.”
“You should take it.” No, I’m screaming inside, no, she shouldn’t. She shouldn’t go anywhere but here, where I can hold her, look at her, hear her laughter. But I’m silent on the outside, meeting her eyes with a steadiness that hides the panic swirling in my chest.
“What?” Amelia stares at me, those shiny eyes widening. “But-”
“Look. Be real with yourself.”
God, I wish I could stop talking. I’ve always had an unfortunate ability to size up a situation right away, to know in an instant what should be done. And this one, despite the pain that I know it’s going to bring me…this one is no different. There are a hundred different ways this could end.
