A middle-age couple walks by and the woman presses her hand to her heart. “Oh look, Harold, newlyweds.”

It kills my mood, but Micha laughs as he slides the keycard into the slot and opens the door. He gently sets me down, but scoops me right back up into his arms. “Gotta carry her over the threshold, right?” He winks at the woman and she smiles, smitten.

He carries me into the room and kicks the door close. “Welcome to the honeymoon suite, where only dirty things are allowed to happen.”

I swat his arm as he heads toward the bed. “We are not newlyweds, so stop pretending.”

His eyes glint wickedly and then he tosses me onto the massive bed decorated with white comforter and mints on the pillows. My body bounces when I hit the mattress and I flip onto my stomach, narrowing my eyes at him as he laughs hysterically.

“I’m going to make you pay for that,” I warn with a dark look. “Really, really bad.”

He backs toward his bag that’s on the sofa. “I’m looking forward to that.”

I roll onto my back and drape my arm over my forehead as I stare up at the ceiling, feeling happy, and I desperately want to hold onto it. “I bet you are.”

Seconds later, he bounds on top of me, bracing himself with his hands just in time so he doesn’t quite smash my body. “I know what we should do.”

“No way. Whatever’s about to come out of your mouth, I don’t want to hear it,” I say and he traps my arms above my head. “You’re in one of your moods.”

“What mood?”

“Where everything you say is going to include being naughty. You know, I’ve often wondered if you just saved it for me, or if you did this kind of stuff with the girls you hooked up with.”

His jaw tenses and he slants away from me, still gripping my wrists. “You know I was never with anyone long enough to do anything with them really.”

Our happy mood is dying because of me and I don’t want it to end. “Tell me what you wanted to do and don’t hold back.”

His aqua eyes sparkle like the ocean in the sunlight. “We should wrestle.”

I shake my head from side to side. “No way. The last time I wrestled you you sat on me for, like, ten minutes, laughing your ass off because I couldn’t get up.”

“First off, get your story straight. I was straddling you, not sitting on you,” he says. “And second off, I only stayed on you for that long because every time you tried to get away your body would rub against me and I was getting turned on.”

“We were, like, fifteen,” I contend. “You didn’t see me like that yet.”

“I was fifteen,” he retorts. “And you were a girl.”

I giggle at his goofy smile. “Alright, let’s wrestle, but I’m not holding back.”

Sucking on his lip ring, he backs off the bed, slips off his shirt, and tosses it onto the floor. “Neither am I.”

I drop my face into my hands, shaking my head, aware I’m about to walk into a mess, but Anna told me to be my own judge of situations. Right now, I’m having fun and don’t want it to end, so I get to my feet and stand up on the mattress.

“Just don’t break anything,” I warn, pointing at the glass lamps all around the room and the portraits on the wall. “And don’t break me.”

He smiles darkly. “Oh trust me, I’ve got big plans for you when I win.”

I start to head for the side of the bed, but he matches my move and blocks my path with his arms out to my side.

To throw him off, I skitter to the other side but then whirl and backtrack, shooting for the open gap as I leap onto the floor and hurry toward the sofa.

“This isn’t supposed to be a game of tag.” He winds around the couch toward me and I dash to the other side. “You have to at least try to pin me to the ground.”

I back toward the bathroom, debating whether or not to lock myself in there. “As soon as I’m within arm’s reach, I know I’ve lost.”

He stalks toward me, his lean arms flexing as he pops his knuckles. “Come on, challenge me. You know you want to. That is unless you’re too scared.”

He’s intentionally trying to get under my skin and it’s working. I search for a solution and smile when I find one. With trembling fingers, I grab the bottom of my shirt, raise it over my head, and shake my hair out.

He leisurely takes in my bare skin and black bra. “Nice move.”

I inch toward him and he matches my steps so we meet in the center of the room. I extend my hand for him, with no other plan than to graze my fingers along his stomach muscles, but he seizes my wrist and crashes our bodies together.

He lifts me up and my legs secure around his hips as his long legs stride toward the bed.

“This isn’t wrestling,” I say, throwing my head back, laughing.

His lips upturn to a conspiratorial grin as he brushes my hair out of my eyes. “I’m not going to throw you down on the floor to do this.”

“Do what?” I ask as he falls down on the bed, landing on top of me.

“This.” With a sinister look in his eyes, he gathers my wrists in one hand, rendering me captive, while putting a leg on either side of me.

My body writhes. “How do I tap out?”

He leans in closely and strands of his blond hair tickle my cheeks. “You don’t.” He grazes his finger along my rib cage and I jerk upward.

“Don’t you dare,” I advise, squirming to get away “I mean it. It’s not funny and this time I’ll get you back.”

His fingers move along my stomach, dithering, before he squeezes my side. My muscles tense as I squeal. “Micha, please don’t,” I beg, forcing back the laughter. “I’ll do anything you want, just don’t tickle me.”

He moves his hand away, looking pleased. “And that’s how you win wrestling.”

I stare up at him with anger in my eyes, but my body is ecstatic with being concealed beneath his. “That was a dirty move.”

“What can I say, I like to play dirty.” He pauses, with his eyes piercing into mine as his breathing speeds up. “Ella… I’m not sure how far to push you. I know you said you needed time to get better, but you’re lying under me and it feels so fucking good—all I want to do is touch you right now.”

My chest heaves as I imagine his hands all over me and my therapist’s words echo in my head: baby steps. “You can touch me if you want… But just take it slow.”

He waits for me to retract my statement, but I clench my lips shut with nervousness and anticipation. Purposely, his hand tracks up my side and toward my breast as he gazes into my eyes. When his hand arrives at the bottom of my bra, he stops to test my reaction. I lay motionless, craving for him to go further, and bow into him.

His aqua eyes blaze as his fingers slide underneath my bra while his mouth dips toward my neck. Sucking on my skin just below my ear, his hand massages my breast and his thumb brushes across my nipple. He doesn’t try to take my bra off and instead of his hand going into my pants, he keeps it on the outside as he rubs me between my legs.

He’s keeping a boundary, so he won’t take it too far. I love him so much there are no words to describe it. I’m extremely lucky to have him. I make a promise to myself that I will work on giving him what he wants and try to make him happy.

Seconds later, a blissful moan escapes my lips as he momentarily takes my anxiety away.

Chapter 13

Micha

The next day is the transplant thing and we meet up with my dad at the hospital. The room they put us in is small, with a curtain, a couple of chairs, and this odd-looking machine with a lot of wires. It smells like Lysol and the loudness of the hallway flows in from the open door.

I read up on the procedure before I came out to New York and it’s not too complicated. The doctor will put a needle in my arm and run some of my blood through a machine before it returns to my veins.

My dad is doing something on his phone as the three of us sit there in silence. Ella is scrapping her fingernail polish off, and I can’t stop tapping my foot against the floor. Ella’s got a hickey on her neck from where I sucked on her skin last night. She tried to cover it up with makeup, but it’s still visible and I love that it is.

“Micha, could you knock that off?” my dad asks rudely as he eyes my foot. “I have a headache.”

I stop jiggling my leg and Ella slides me a sidelong glance before staring coldly at my father.

“Would you mind getting off your phone?” she asks him, pulling at the ends of her sleeves “It’s kind of rude since he’s here to help you.”

God, I love when she gets this way. Even though it’s rare, her spitfire attitude is beautiful. At least to me, but probably not so much for the people she’s directing it at.

My dad scowls at her harshly as he pushes a button on his phone. “Excuse me?”

“Yes, excuse you,” she counters. “Instead of doing that, you should be sitting here thanking him, don’t you think?”

I cover my mouth with my hand to hold back a smile and place my other hand over hers, sketching my finger along her wrist, thinking about what it felt like to touch her last night.

My father looks at me, hoping I’ll intervene, but I shrug. “You’re on your own.”

The nurse enters before anyone can say anything else. She has a clipboard in her hand and her eyes skim the papers. Her hair is the same shade as Ella’s but she is at least ten years older, with brown eyes and freckles. “Alright, is it Micha?”

I flash her a charismatic smile. “Yeah, you even pronounced it right, which doesn’t happen very often.”

She smiles at me, a little frazzled as she sets the clipboard down on the counter. “It’s probably better if you two wait outside. It’ll take a little while.”

Ella looks at me and I nod my head while my dad hurries out of the room like it’s on fire.

Before she leaves, Ella kisses me on the cheek. “I’ll be right outside if you need me.”