The 18th Floor

Chapter Sixty Three

After four more days that seem to drag on forever in hospital under close monitoring, the doctors send me home, clearing that most of the infection has been dealt with. Lucien refuses to let me go to work despite my protests and I spend another week at home, whilst he works from home, also refusing to leave my side. By the end of the week, he lets me go on my laptop to do some work and not to fall too behind.

"I don't know why you worry so much, I'm literally your boss", he smirks from behind his screen, as he sits down next to me on the sofa.

"Because I actually like my job maybe as much as I like my boss", I tease back, "plus, my boss also has bigger bosses who scare me, so I'd rather neither of us loose our jobs."

"Fair point. How are you feeling?"

I give him a knowing look.

"What?", he asks in protest.

"You need to stop asking me every 10 minutes."

"It's actually been 25 minutes, so get it right", he says fake rolling his eyes and laughing. I laugh lightly, trying not to exert myself too much. Lucien made me laugh so much the other day I thought my lungs were going to explode from pain.

As our laughter dies down, I turn to look at him again and ask "how are you?", and poke him slightly in the ribs.

He sighs and swings one arm behind the sofa, over my shoulder, pulling closer into me.

"I'm better, now that you're better", he explains planting a kiss on top of my head. "As long as you're good, I'm good, remember that love."

"Calm down Shakespeare. I'm being serious, how are you?", I ask looking up into his eyes that have slowly started to regain colour beneath again. He nods.

"You scared me", he admits. "Scared us all, I was really worried. All I could think about was if you didn't make it and I realised I didn't want that as possibility in my life, so I prayed to whoever was listening that they would save you."

I feel my breathing get deeper and not because of the infection, but because of the words Lucien's pours straight out of his soul right in front of me.

"I'll try not to do that again."

"Thank you", he smiles.

"I can't think of a life without you either Lucien", I say and he kisses me. He kisses me so passionately like somehow, it's his lungs that need oxygen straight from me.

"I love you so much", he says in between kisses.

"Me too", I say back. It was only months ago that I met this man, that we learnt every corner of each other's soul, but every part of my body knew. It knew how much I needed him, how much I wanted him. He was made for me, and I for him. He pulls out of the kiss but I lean in for more.

"Uh-uh. You're still resting, we can't ruin your lungs" he smiles.

"Bold of you to assume you could do that."

"Cyrene. Once you are healed and back at full capacity, I'll have you begging for a new pair for lungs", he said biting my ear with his kisses following down the nape of my neck. I can't help but feel a familiar sense of heat pool around my stomach.

"You're terrible", I moan.

"Rest my love", he says. "I'm postponing Greece."

"What? No!"

"No?", he looks at me in shock. "You were a corpse for the past two weeks; I'm not letting you go anywhere", he says firmly.

"We've been planning this for ages. Your family is waiting."

"And they can wait a bit longer, I'm not putting you at risk of getting sick again. Especially with the Greek healthcare system, there's no way."

"Lucien."

"I'm also signing us up to private healthcare. I don't care. You need a specialist that's on-call on the time."

I don't know if I should look at him in frustration or awe, slightly relieved I don't need to think about travelling right now.

"Lucien."

"Cyrene", he says and inclines his head towards me. "Get better and rest up. We can go in summer."

"Why don't you just lock me up inside the house?"

"Hmmm, that sounds like my ideal plan", he says, sealing it with a kiss.

"You're annoying", I say.

"Ótan se kitázo, vlépo to ipólipo tis zoís mu brostá apó ta mátia mu" he smiles. I look at him smile in confusion.

"Have you not been brushing up?", he jokes.

"I'll have to make a note of that one", I say, as I nestle further into, my stomach alive with butterflies with what I think he's said.

--

Later that night I translate a few of the words I didn't understand and confirm what I thought he said.

When I look at you, I see the rest of my life in front of my eyes

--

Saturday morning I have a follow up with my doctor just to run a few more tests. The lack of movement within the past two weeks has taken its toll on my body when I find myself out of breath from doing a simple bed to wheelchair transfer.

I hear the bathroom door open as Lucien steps out towel tied around his waist.

"What did I tell you about sudden movements, you're going to hurt yourself", he says coming up to me. I hold my hand out to stop him before he can come closer.

"I need my strength back Lucien", I say as I push out my chair with my arms still bruised from the needles and IV drips.

"And you will, but let me help you whilst I can", he says, face sincere. But my eyes wonder lower. Down his neck to his broad, olive shoulders. The chest and abs that have been perfectly honed and crafted over years of gym and training. My mouth dries at the sight of him.

"Now you're out of breath for different reasons", he smirks and I don't even have a resort to come back at him with.

"Please", is all I manage to say.

He unties the towel and lets it drop to the floor. I feel my heart in my chest pounding at the length of him, thinking about how good it would be to have him inside of me right now.

He takes a step closer, his frame so tall I can't help but come eye to eye with it. His hands cup my face and I look up to meet his eyes. He bends over to give me a kiss and with one of my hands wrapped around his neck, the other starts to wonder down his chest, reaching just the apex before he holds it back.

"When the doctor says so", he whispers.

"You're no fun", I say trying to move my hand further down but he stops me again.

"Look but don't touch. The next time I'm inside of you, we're going to test that lung capacity of yours", he promises as he gets back up to full length and turns around to start walking towards his clothes.

"I want to smack your arse", I say, surprised at my own admission.

"Be my guest", he winks over his shoulder, "after the doctors."

"Dickhead", I say as I go into the bathroom and try to compose my breathing.