I shrug, mentally begging her to just take my words and move on. "It was an older woman. She was probably thinking she'd want someone to do this if it were one of her grandkids or something. I don't know." I squeeze her hand. "But what matters is I just wrote a check out to that snob of a woman in the financial department, and it's done. You're going on the list."
Kamila's eyes fill with tears. "Is this for real, Sarh? After everything we've been through, can it really be that simple?"
I lean down and kiss her cheek. "I think we're due some good luck on our side for once, don't you?"
"Hell yeah." She gives a half chuckle, half cry. "I will help you pay back the loan, every cent. I promise."
"Don't you dare even say those words to me. You would do the same for me and more."
"I'm going on the list, Sarah," she says, as if she's reminding herself more than me. "I don't want to get my hopes up, yet my heart is racing right now."
"Let your hopes go as high as they want to, Ka. This was the hard part. Now we're one step closer."
"Yeah, because the hard part isn't my body basically getting sawed in half. I like the way you think."
"Why, thank you." I grin, ignoring the ping of pain at the very real risk her surgery still poses.
"Have you told Laury yet?" she asks.
I nod. "I told her as soon as I got approved."
Another lie. I told Laury about the money going into my account on Sunday. To which she shamelessly asked if I'd earned every cent in the hotel room.
"And you guys kept it from me?"
"I didn't want to say anything until everything was finalized with the hospital."
"I can't believe this."
"Believe it. We always figure out a way. This was and is no different. Now, you just kick this fever's ass and then we'll be good to go. Did you realize you had a fever, or the nurse did?"
"Me. I was hot one minute, and had chills the next, so I figured something had to be going on."
"How do you feel now?"
"Better than earlier. Just really thirsty."
I quickly get out of the chair to get her a water bottle from the few that are always on the windowsill.
"Now tell me something else to cheer me up," she says after taking a long sip.
"Something that will cheer you up more than finding out you're gonna get a kidney?" I laugh.
"Yes. Like, maybe you're going out again this weekend."
I swallow. "I am, actually."
"You are holding out on me these days. A loan, a date. What's next? A wedding?"
I roll my eyes. "Let’s not even talk about either of us getting married. But yes, I'm seeing him again on Saturday."
"It occurred to me, as I was sitting here like I usually am these days, that you never even told me your date's name. I dare say you even went out of your way not to."
I wish I could tell her it seems almost impossible that I didn't utter his name just from the sheer amount of times it rings through my mind. Law. Lawson. It's like he's all I can think about. It would be simple to justify if I were only thinking of the sex, how his marks are just now beginning to fade from my hips. How this morning was the first time I woke up without that ache between my thighs as a reminder of what he and I shared.
But no, it's more than the sex, and that's what bothers me. I looked at my phone far too many times, hoping that a call or text from him would appear on the screen. It hasn't. And somethinginside of me, something I desperately want to deny and subdue, is sad about that. That he probably isn't thinking about me even half as much as I'm thinking of him.
"Well?" Kamila prods.
"His name is Lawson."
"Oh, I like that. It sounds like a gentleman's name."
I can't help it. The laughter bursts out of me before I can control it. Because Law is anything but a gentleman, at least in a hotel room. Kamila arches a brow at me.
"Interesting." She smirks. "Well, as long as he's a gentleman outside of the bedroom."
I gasp and she chuckles. "Don't let me being in this hospital trick you into thinking I'm some nun. I'll have you know one of the very first things on my list of things to do the moment I've recovered is have some good sex."
"Just good?" I tease.
"Fucking great sex."
"Oh, Good Lord," Veronica says as she walks in.
I look at Kamila, trying like hell to hold in my laughter, and see her turning the same beet red color I'm sure I am.
"Oh, don't mind me. " Veronica smiles. "I was young once. I have a tattoo or two in places that you wouldn't believe."
"Well, excuse me." Kamila chuckles.
"Let's check this temperature, and I'll let you ladies go back to your..." She clears her throat. "Conversation."
I remain silent as she checks Kamila's vitals, giving Kamila another sip of water.
"Look at that. Down another degree," Veronica excitedly tells us. "The antibiotics are doing their job, and your sister is here to cheer you up. Just what you needed. I'll come tell you what the bloodwork says when it comes back. You ladies need anything?"
We both shake our heads, and she gives us another smile before leaving.
"Am I right to guess that I'm not getting you to leave tonight?" Kamila asks.
"You know better," I reply. "I'm here until I know you're okay."
"I figured. Tight, uncomfortable hospital chair it is."
And it is exactly as Kamila describes it, too tight, too small, uncomfortable, the blanket scratchy and thin. But there's no way I'm leaving this room tonight. After Veronica comes to tell us the infection is likely from the dialysis, that it's normal, and even expected, I'm still not able to fall asleep. Instead, I watch the TV that's turned down to a low murmur as I look up hotels on my phone. As if I don't already know which one I want to go to next.
It's only because Kamila's fever has all been disappeared that I'm even able to think about Law, and Saturday. It's after 2 a.m. and it's crazy to think he's awake, but I text anyway. It's technically Friday now, right?
Me:The Royal
I bite down on my lip, going back to the site. This time, I look at the most expensive room, since I suspect that's what he got at The Lincoln. The presidential suite. A red and white room, or rooms. No, he won't get that when it's just for us. My phone vibrates, and I close my eyes at the rush of excitement that goes through me. What is wrong with me?
Law:Room 1401. 8pm.
I have to remind myself not to let the fact that he wants to meet an hour earlier mean anything. It's just a random time. Another vibration.
Law:Don't wear panties.
Holy shit.
I am never more aware of Law's request, or was it a command, than when I'm driving to the hotel, thighs rubbing together in anticipation of getting into the room. A thrill shoots through me every single time I realize there will be nothing between me and Law's fingers, tongue, cock. By the time I'm walking from the car to the hotel doors, my thighs are slick with my wetness to the point that I wonder if the man in the lobby is staring at me because he can smell it.
I get into the elevator, press the button for the fourteenth floor, and take a deep breath. Here I go again, preparing for the unexpected. Because I have a feeling that this Saturday will be nothing like the last. Pleasure, sure, dirty words, yes, but I don't think Law is the kind of man to do what's expected of him.
The elevator stops, doors opening to a hallway with light gray walls. When I step out, I look to the left and see only one door, same when I look to the right. The sign in front of me only has two numbers listed. 1400 and 1401. To the right it is. My heels are soundless on the carpet as I walk, pulling my peach dress down my hips. Then I'm at the door, a feeling of deja vu overtaking me. I knock and wait.
A few moments pass, and the door opens. This time Law has no shirt or pants on, muscles on display, that small trail of hair that leads to beneath his boxer briefs visible. Funny since there's no hair beyond that. He opens the door wider in lieu of a greeting, and I step inside. I don't get far, though.
As soon as I'm past the door, Law slams me against the wall, his face so close to mine, our noses almost touch. His eyes are staring into mine, a crazed lust in them. But it's hard to pay attention to his eyes, or anything, when his hand is skimming up my thigh, bringing my dress with it.
"Did you follow my command and leave this pussy bare for me?" he asks, his voice low.
I swallow. Does he expect me to be able to speak after he says words like that? His hand stops, a brow arched, waiting for my answer. I'll find the damn words if it will get his hand moving again.
"I did," I answer hoarsely.
He smirks. "We'll see."
His fingers drift up my inner thigh as he ghosts his lips against mine. I greedily try to get more of both, arching my body into his hand and leaning forward to capture his mouth. He denies me both, a dark chuckle coming from him.
"Greedy little thing, aren't you?"
I nod, zero shame at how needy I feel right now. He brings his lips back to mine, and too worried he'll stop sliding his finger closer to my clit, I remain still, even when I feel his lips curve up against mine. Bastard.
Finally, fucking finally, his finger reaches my clit, and a low moan escapes me at the first circle he rubs into it. I widen my thighs, needing more, daring to demand more. And he gives it to me, stepping closer so the tip of his cock rubs against my clit through his boxer briefs as his fingers slide through my wetness to my opening.
"Look how wet you are for me," he huskily says. "I can hear it. Can't you?"
I quickly nod because I can. I hear it as he slides two fingers into me, hear each and every thrust of them into me, each time he slides them out of me. And from the way his cock feels rubbing roughly against me, I know I'm only getting wetter by the second. Then his fingers are abruptly leaving me, but before I can even beg him for more, his fingers are at my lips.
"Don't you want to taste how much you want me?" he asks, but it doesn't feel like it's a question at all. Not when his finger are already pressing on my bottom lip, demanding I open for him. So, I do.
My eyes close at the taste of myself on his fingers, but not before I see the way his own eyes light up with desire as he licks his lips.
"Get my cock out and wrap your hand around me," he commands.
My eyes open, and I do as I'm told while still licking myself off of his fingers. Pulling the waistband of his boxer briefs down with one hand, I wrap the other around him, feeling the hot, smooth skin of his cock, heavy in my hand. I stroke my thumb up the vein until I reach the tip. He groans. I slide my hand up and down him as he takes his fingers out of my mouth. His lips are there a moment later, his tongue circling mine as he pumps into my hand.
Two fingers thrust into me again, making me gasp into his mouth. I move him until the tip of his cock is against my clit again, and continue pumping him, loving the sounds that seem to vibrate from his mouth to mine. They sound wanting, longing, as if he's just as desperate for more as I am.
He backs away, his fingers leaving me as he breaks our kiss and makes my hand slip away from him. Then his movements are frenzied as he shoves his boxer briefs down his legs, steps out of them, and reaches for my dress. He shoves the shoulderstraps down, all but rips the dress past my hips and drags it to the floor. I don't have a bra on, so I stand bare before him. His chest heaves as he takes me in, his gaze intense. I almost want to cover myself, to create some type of distance between me and his almost reverent look, but I don't dare. I'm his, in this room, and God, it's starting to feel like out of it too.
"Walk to the bed. Slowly."
I turn, getting my first look at the room. But my mind refuses to take in any of it, my eyes only searching for the bed, and finding it beyond the door to my left. Walking to it, I look over my shoulder, find Law putting on a condom, giving his cock a few pumps. God, just the sight of his cock, remembering all the things it made me feel last time, has a shiver racing through my body.
I reach the bed, climb onto it, lie on my back, and watch him come toward me. His eyes roam up and down my body until he's crawling onto the bed between my legs. He hovers over me, his eyes staring into mine. His eyes alone are like some type of sex, like they enter me and never let go, grabbing me to him until he's ready to let me go, until he's ready to look away. Because his gaze makes me feel like it's wrong to look away first.
He comes forward, kisses me, his tongue sliding into my mouth without a pause to see if it's welcome. He knows it is. I think, at this point, he knows I want every single thing he'll give me. His kiss is wild, crazed, needy, taking and taking, and I give and give. I'm breathless, but what does air really matter when Law is kissing me like this? Then he's backing away, breathing as hard as me, biting down on his bottom lip.
"I need to taste you. All of you."