Chapter 135
Amelia
Two mornings after Ethan's accident, I had just finished braiding Ella's hair into two adorable pigtails and helped Lucas button up his shirt. Glancing at the bedside clock, I suddenly remembered today was Ethan's discharge day from the hospital. My heart skipped a beat at the thought.
"Sophie," I turned to my sister who was organizing the children's toys scattered across the floor. "Could you please watch the kids for a while? I need to go pick up Ethan from the hospital."
Sophie looked up, a teasing glint in her eyes. "Sis, you seem awfully eager to see him. Is there something you're not telling me?"
I felt heat rise to my cheeks. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm just concerned about his injuries. He got hurt because of me, after all."
"Mmm-hmm," she hummed, unconvinced. "Don't worry about the munchkins. We'll have a blast, won't we guys?"
Lucas nodded seriously while Ella squealed with delight, already pulling Sophie toward her dollhouse. I grabbed my jacket and keys, then hurried out the door, my heart pounding in my chest at the thought of seeing Ethan again.
---
I rushed into Manhattan Central Hospital, making my way directly to Ethan's room. When I pushed open the door, I found him already dressed in a fresh button-down shirt and slacks, talking with his doctor about recovery plans.
His right hand, which a knife wound had previously injured, was further strained during the car accident and was bandaged quite heavily. Meanwhile, his left arm was aching from the fall, making his movements appear somewhat awkward and clumsy.
Ethan's eyes lit up when he saw me. "You came. I was just about to call you."
I walked closer, carefully examining the bandage on his right hand. "Of course I came. That's a serious injury."
The doctor smiled at us. "Mrs. Black, perfect timing. I was just explaining to your husband that he'll need to get used to using his left hand for a while. The wound can't get wet, so he'll need to wear a waterproof covering when showering. If he has trouble, you might need to assist him."
At the word "husband" and the thought of helping Ethan shower, my face flushed. We weren’t officially remarried yet, but that long-lost title now stirred a strange, yet warm feeling in my heart.
The doctor continued listing care instructions while a nurse brought in discharge papers. Ethan tried signing with his left hand, but his attempt was clumsy at best.
"Let me help," I offered, taking the pen. Our fingers brushed as I took it, and Ethan gently squeezed my hand. That small touch sent warmth spreading through my body.
As we walked out of the hospital, Ethan looked at me with concern. "You didn't have to rush here. I could've taken a cab. You're supposed to be on vacation, and now you're taking care of me and the kids. It's too much."
"I wanted to come," I said softly. "Besides, I don't mind. It's my choice."
Ethan suddenly suggested, "Why don't I move to the Black Rose Hotel? You and the kids are already staying there. I'll take the penthouse suite, and if you need anything, I'll be close by."
I hesitated. "Won't that be too conspicuous?"
"Don't worry about that. I'll make the arrangements. The Black Rose has private elevators. No one will bother us."
After a moment's consideration, I nodded my agreement.
---
In the car heading to the hotel, Ethan's phone rang. He answered on speaker, and Noah's enthusiastic voice filled the car.
"Hey man, glad you're out of the hospital! James and I are planning a celebration picnic this afternoon at your hotel. Nothing fancy, just some food and drinks. You in?"
Ethan glanced at me before answering. "Sounds good. We'll be there."
"We?" Noah sounded surprised but pleased.
I leaned closer to the phone. "Noah, would it be okay if I bring Sophie along?"
"Sophie?" Ethan questioned, turning to me.
"Benjamin's daughter," I explained.
Ethan nodded his approval, and Noah enthusiastically agreed. After hanging up, I couldn't help but smile to myself, suspecting Noah's real motivation was spending more time with Olivia.
---
When we arrived at Black Rose Hotel, the staff greeted Ethan with respectful nods and "Welcome back, Mr. Black."
In the private elevator, the small space forced us to stand so close that I could feel the heat radiating from his body. The faint scent of his cologne – woody with hints of spice – mingled with the unique scent that was purely Ethan, making my pulse quicken.
Our eyes met in the mirrored wall, and the intensity in his gaze made my breath catch. Without warning, Ethan turned toward me, using his left hand to gently caress my cheek, his thumb brushing across my lower lip. The elevator seemed to shrink around us, the air growing thick with unspoken desire.
"I've been wanting to do this since I saw you at the hospital," he whispered, his voice husky.
Before I could respond, he leaned down and captured my lips. What started as tender quickly deepened as years of separation melted away. My knees went weak, and I found myself pressed against the elevator wall, one of his legs slipping between mine. His tongue sought entrance, which I granted with a soft moan that surprised even me. I clutched at his shirt with desperate fingers, careful of his injuries but unable to maintain any distance between us.
The world disappeared, reduced to just his mouth on mine, his body against me, and the thundering of my heart. I was drowning in sensation, in Ethan, and I didn't want to come up for air.
The elevator chimed, announcing our arrival at the penthouse floor, and we reluctantly broke apart. Standing before his suite door, Ethan invited me inside, but I took a cautious step back.
"I don't think that's a good idea. I'm afraid if I go in, you might..."
He smirked, his eyes dancing with mischief. "Might what, Amelia?" Then he sighed dramatically. "Actually, I do need help. The doctor said I can't get the bandage wet, and I haven't been able to shower properly since yesterday. Maybe you could help me?"
My face burned with embarrassment as unwanted images flooded my mind. "I... I should go to my room to see our kids," I stammered, turning to leave.
Ethan instinctively reached out with his left hand to stop me, but the sudden movement made him wince in pain.
I immediately stopped. "What's wrong?"
"My left arm is sore from the fall, and my right hand is bandaged. I can't even open the door," he admitted with a self-deprecating smile.
I hesitated. "Where's your key card?"
"Left pants pocket."
Taking a deep breath, I cautiously reached into his pocket, my fingers brushing against something firm. Realizing what it was, I yanked my hand back as if burned.
My eyes darted down to his pants, where there was now an unmistakable bulge. I glared at him, convinced he'd done this on purpose, and quickly retrieved the card to open his door.
Ethan caught my glare and had the decency to look both sheepish and amused. He raised his eyebrows in a "what can I do?" gesture, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips.
"Sorry," he murmured, not sounding sorry at all. "Some reactions are beyond my control when you're this close." His voice dropped lower. "Especially after three years of missing you."
As I turned to leave, Ethan called out, "Amelia... you really won't help me shower?"
His voice carried a mixture of neediness and suggestion that made my insides flutter. The doctor's words about him needing assistance echoed in my mind, along with the memory of what I'd just touched.
My face burning hot enough to start a fire, my heart hammering, I managed to whisper, "Not now. Maybe... tonight."
Ethan's eyes immediately brightened. "Really?"
I couldn't bring myself to respond, turning quickly to leave before he could see how red my face had become.