I glance up at him, and his eyes are searching mine. I suck in a deep breath and then slowly release it before saying, “I’m trying to live in the moment.”
He sighs, and he’s so stoic right now, I can’t tell if it’s a good sigh. But then I feel his hand on my knee, his thumb brushing over the top of it. He searches my face and then reaches up and tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. “That’s all I want,” he says. “A few moments here and there. I’m not asking for your entire timeline.”
I stare at him, completely infatuated with his mouth and his blue eyes and the words that he just said. I nod a little, but I don’t really have anything to say. I just want him to kiss me. And so he does.
He takes my face in both of his huge, warm hands and presses his lips to mine as he stands, kicking the stool away from him. I sigh against his lips. I grip the collar of his white coat and take his tongue as he pushes my knees apart and slides in front of me. I’m so thankful I was forced to put this gown on. I wrap my legs tightly around his waist as he lowers me to the exam table and leans over me, kissing me with extreme urgency. But he breaks that kiss with the same urgency seconds later, breathing heavily, looking down on me with heated eyes. He shakes his head. “Not here.”
I nod. I wasn’t expecting this to happen here. I can tell he’s about to pull back, but then he pauses, looking at me with so much hunger, I can practically see his ethics melt right to the floor. He kisses me again, and the way his hand is sliding up my thigh has me forgetting that he’s a doctor and we’re in a clinic and I’m technically on record as his patient now. But none of that matters because his hands feel so good, and his mouth even better, and I’ve never had so much fun visiting a doctor before.
He’s making his way to my neck when he pauses and glances at the door. He immediately pulls me up, giving my gown a quick tug over my thighs. He spins toward the sink and turns on the water.
The door opens, and I swing my head toward the nurse who is now standing in the doorway. Jake is casually washing his hands, trying to pretend he didn’t just have his hand halfway up my thigh and his tongue all the way down my throat. I’m trying to catch my breath, but his hands and his kiss have left my already weak lungs aching for air. I’m practically gasping.
The nurse gives me another concerned, pitiful look. “You sure you’re okay?”
After my coughing fit earlier and now this, she probably thinks I’m near my deathbed. I nod quickly. “I’m fine. Just…shitty lungs. Side effect of CF.”
I hear Jake clear his throat, attempting to cover a laugh. He gives his full attention to the nurse.
“They need you in three,” she says. “Kind of urgent.”
Jake gives her a nod. “Thanks, Vicky. Be right there.”
When she closes the door, Jake covers his face with his hand. When he looks up at me, he’s grinning. He pushes off the counter and walks past but turns toward me. “Put your clothes back on, Maggie,” he says, backing toward the door. “I’ll come over tonight and take them right back off.”
I’m smiling so stupidly when he leaves the room. I hop off the table and walk over to the chair to retrieve my clothes. Feeling another coughing fit coming on, I cover my mouth, still unable to stop smiling. I’m so glad I showed up here.
I clear my throat, but it doesn’t help. Pressing my hand on the counter for more balance doesn’t do anything either because here it is. Hello, old friend. I can feel it about to happen before it actually happens. I always do.
As soon as the room begins to spin, I allow my knees to buckle so the impact isn’t as hard when I hit the floor.
My father took me to Puerto Vallarta when I was ten, just so I could jump out of an airplane.
I’d begged him to take me skydiving with him since I learned how to talk, but it’s not so easy in Texas to give your child legal permission to jump out of an airplane.
He was an adrenaline junkie, just like the child he had created. Because of that, I basically lived at the jump zone where he spent all of his free time. Most dads golf on Sundays. My dad jumped out of airplanes.
By the time I graduated high school, I had already completed four hundred fifty of the five hundred jumps it took to qualify as a tandem instructor. But because of the turn my life took during my senior year, it took me several years to finish those last fifty jumps. I finally became certified as a tandem instructor right out of med school. And even though Maggie was my five hundredth tandem jump, I’ve probably taken that leap at least three times that amount doing it solo since the age of ten.