His expression hardens. “I do what I can.” He dismisses my anger, further infuriating me.
I glare at Dev. He seems to be on Reese’s side, not remorseful at all.
I guess a medical degree doesn’t really set you apart from the rest of the immature idiots. My expectations of him were clearly too high.
“Reese, you can entertain yourself all you want, just keep me out of it.”
“Nothing will blow back on you,” Dev assures me.
“It better not.” I don’t know what pisses me off more, the fact they took matters into their own hands or Dr. Lipschitz’s complete lack of gratitude after I stepped in.
This place sometimes, I swear.
I glance at the four faces before me, unexpectedly swaying to their side. I curve one corner of my mouth up. “You should’ve put the rat on his desk. More people would’ve heard him scream.”
All four faces light up.
Reese
This. Blows.
I watch the sunset through the windows as another wasted day fades away. The horizon lights up orange and red as I lie here incapacitated, hating life. I don’t do sedentary well. To be perfectly honest, I’m not comfortable staying in one place for very long. It’s not my style. I’m an expeditionist. If I’m not tearing it up on a racetrack, I’m climbing mountains in Italy or surfing in Bali. Being trapped here is stifling. It’s been four days, and I’m already going stir crazy. I don’t know how I’m going to fucking handle the next three months.
I shift on the stone slab of a mattress, my muscles already stiff from lack of significant movement. The farthest I’ve gone is to the bathroom and back. At least, I can take a piss by myself now that the stupid catheter is gone.
I huff beyond irritated as I grab for the remote, sending the entire rolling table flying across the room. “Fuck! 5–4–3–2–1.” I count backward to keep from screaming.
“Having some issues?” Kayla laughs as she rolls the table back across the room.
“You could say that. Where did you come from?”
“Over there.” She thumbs at the door. “I didn’t want to interrupt the show.”
“You saw all that, huh? Get off on spying on people?”
“I have to do something to keep me occupied while I’m here.” She throws my words right back in my face. It actually causes my lip to twitch. She’s a fucking smartass. A smartass with a fine ass.
Why do I instantly feel better when she’s around?
Probably because you’re horny as hell and she’s a thousand times better looking than the night nurse, Jabba the Hutt.
“What are you doing here, anyway? Isn’t your shift over?” I ask grouchily.
She shrugs one shoulder, almost flirtatiously. “Picked up a night shift. One of the other nurses had a family emergency.”
“Twenty-four hours? Rough.”
“Yeah. But the money is amazing, and I can sleep all day tomorrow.”
“Must be nice. I haven’t slept in days.”
“Is that why you’re such a crank?”
“I’m a fucking crank because my season is ruined, I’m injured, and I’m exiled in nowhere Maryland.”
“Didn’t you grow up here?” she questions.
“Yeah, so?”
“I’ve just never met anyone who despised his roots as much as you do.”
“You must not travel much.”
“I’ve been to the Bahamas.”
I roll my eyes. “My point exactly. I’ve seen the world. I know what’s out there. This place is a shithole.”
“Dev doesn’t seem to mind it.”
“Well, what the hell does he know?” I stare straight ahead. It’s a rhetorical question. A nasty one, but rhetorical nonetheless.
“I guess not as much as you,” Kayla retorts sharply.
I dart my eyes up to meet hers. She stares back at me formidably. I’m self-centered, I’ll admit, but I’m not used to women talking to me like this. Usually, they’re falling all over me, submitting to my every whim, but her brashness is sort of turning me on.
“I’d love to see you on a bike. I bet you’d tear it up.”
She actually turns pale. “I’ll pass.” Her whole demeanor changes in a nanosecond. Strike a chord, did I?
“You don’t like bikes?” I prod.
“I don’t like bikers,” she clarifies shortly.
Ouch.
“A woman scorned, huh?”
She stares at me pointedly. “Not exactly.”
“Then what is it? No need for speed?”
She sighs as she fiddles with my equipment and does whatever the fuck it is nurses do.
“I’m just not into the whole biker thing.”
“Then what are you into?”
“Working out. I like to work out.” Her answer is clipped.
“What a coincidence. I also like to work out.” I smile suggestively.
Kayla doesn’t seem to buy into my charms, but I pursue it anyway. “Maybe we can work out together sometime.” I put my hand on her thigh.
She raises an eyebrow at me.
“Mr. Dane, if you feel like you need to stretch your legs, please feel free to take a walk. Right off a cliff.” She brushes my hand away.
Whoa.
“I would kill to see you on the back of my bike.”
“You have an imagination. Use it,” she returns curtly.
What the fuck? She’s rude as hell, and all it does is turn me the fuck on. “I have. Baby, I think the only thing hotter than you straddling me is you straddling my bike.”
Kayla pauses all movements. I press my head into my pillow because I’m pretty sure she’s going to slap me.
To my surprise, she just shakes her head and laughs. “You’re as bad as your brother.”
“Because we’re both compulsive flirts?”
“Flirts? Try compulsive players.”
“We do share the exact same DNA.”
Kayla just huffs. “Is there anything you need before I go? I have seven other patients I need to see.”
I have a laundry list of things I need from Kayla. I wasn’t kidding about her straddling me.
“I’m good for now,” I lie.
“If you need anything, you know what to do.”
“Yup. Ring, ring.” I watch her strut out of the room, her slim hips and tight ass on full display.
It’s three a.m. and I’ve done nothing but toss and turn. My mind won’t turn off. I just keep thinking and thinking and thinking. About the accident, about racing, about my career, about my life, and surprisingly, about Kayla.
Three months out of commission. That means three missed races, a shit ton of lost points, and a wasted chance at defending my title. I’ll be thirty in February. Young by society’s standards, ancient in the racing world. I think that’s what kills me the most—not knowing if I have another championship year left in me. Being forced to watch some young hotshot take it all because I’ve burned out. I left home when I was eighteen years old and never looked back. My first year going pro, I placed in almost every race, catapulting my career. The past three years I’ve come into my own, becoming world champion two times over. This year, I was defending my title for the third time--a formidable feat.
Lying here in the dark thinking about it makes me goddamn crazy.
I ring compulsively for a nurse.
“Yes, Mr. Dane?” Kayla’s voice comes over the speaker.
“I need to pee.”
“I’ll be right there.”
I click on the light and start to shift on the mattress. I have a fucking cast swallowing one leg and a bandage around the other. I’m a damn mess, and I fucking hate it.
“Where are you trying to go, moto?” Kayla grabs one of my arms before I fall right on my face.
“To take a piss before I have an accident. I didn’t know how long you were going to take.”
“Apparently not very long since I’m here.” She helps me to stand and hands me my crutches.
“The other nurses take forever.”
“I’m not the other nurses.” We walk slowly across the room.
“I’ve noticed.” I slip through the bathroom door.
“Do you need me come in with you?”
“No, I’m good.” I position myself in front the john.
“I’ll be right here if you need me.” She closes the door, leaving it open just a crack.
I juggle the hospital gown and crutches, trying to find a steady position. Once I’m wrapped like a friggin’ mummy and balancing on one crutch, I relieve myself.
Ugh, I groan. The only thing that would be better right now is a shower and a blowjob.
Once I’m done, I shake my dick and attempt to put myself back together, but the crappy robe gets tangled with the crutch, and I end up smashing into the wall. “Goddammit!” The impact rattles all the way to my ankles, and I nearly fall over from the pain.
“Reese?” Kayla rushes in just in time to keep me on my feet.
“You okay?” She steadies me.
“No, I’m not fucking okay!” I explode, slamming my fist into the tile. “I can’t even take a leak without help!”
“You’re hurt. It’s normal.”
“I hate it! I hate all this shit!” I try to push away from her, but she surprises me and holds on steadfastly.
“It won’t be like this forever. Every day you heal a little more and get stronger.”
Stronger, right.
“I feel useless.” I look down into her compassionate brown eyes. They’re so sincere. I’m not used to people looking at me like that. Like they can actually see the person behind the star.
“What would make you feel better? What would help right this second?” she asks.
My lip twitches. “A shower?” I go with the safe answer because I’m sure blowjob would get me knocked out.
“Well, that’s sort of out of the question with the cast. But I think we can improvise.”
“Improvise?” She has my full attention.
“Mmm hmm. Let’s get you back to bed, and then I’ll take care of you.”
I raise my eyebrows, my tongue wagging to say something completely inappropriate. But I don’t want to ruin whatever she has planned.
Once back on my medieval death board, I watch Kayla move around the room gathering multiple items: towels, a sponge, and a pink bucket. My excitement mounts.
“How do you like your water?” Kayla pokes her head out of the bathroom, some dark hair falling over her eye.
“Hotter the better.”
“Got it.” A few minutes later, she appears with a full bucket of water.
On some level, this feels like the making of a porno. Hot nurse, dimly lit room, and me.
“Strip, moto.” She’s playful and I love it. I don’t hesitate, ripping the flimsy robe from my chest.
“Here.” She hands me a small cloth before the robe is completely gone. “Cover yourself.”
“You don’t want to see the full package?”
“We’ll get there.” She dunks the sponge into the water. I haven’t been so excited about anything in days. Not that I’m expecting a happy ending, but just the thought of warm water and a beautiful woman touching me makes my insides buzz.
As soon as the sponge touches my skin, I break out in goosebumps, my muscles tightening in a gratifying way. Without even realizing it, I close my eyes and relax into the mattress as Kayla moves across my chest and down one of my arms. After a few more strokes, I find myself moaning softly, the casual caress of the sponge working like magic to destress my body and calm my mind. I hear Kayla giggle sweetly, and I pop my eyes open.
“Am I entertaining you, Nurse Kincade?”
“Not as much as I’m entertaining you, apparently.”
“You have good hands.”
“Did you actually just pay me a compliment?”
“I did. Don’t let it go to your head.”
“I promise I won’t,” she says as she brushes the sponge underneath the cloth covering my pelvis. My abdomen quivers as she does it again, our eyes locking in a heated stare.
I test the waters, pulling the towel off so she can continue without any obstructions. I don’t know the protocol for sponge baths, but butt naked is fine with me. The only thing that would make this better is if Kayla was naked right along with me.
Carefully, almost clinically, she rubs me clean, but I can hear the uptick in her breathing and see the points of her nipples under her scrubs. It excites me to know I’m affecting her as much as she’s affecting me. I moan a little louder as she strokes over my cock. It hardening and thickening unapologetically as she works me up. We never take our eyes off each other as the tension mounts in the room. After another minute of spine-tingling petting, I grab her wrist and squeeze, causing her to drop the sponge. My breathing is choppy, and my hormones are teeming. I need more. So much fucking more I may explode.
“Put your mouth on me,” I order.
Kayla hesitates for a beat before leaning down and kissing me. I jolt with surprise before succumbing to the connection. Not exactly what I meant, but I’ll take it. I shove my fingers in her dark hair and fuse our mouths as she wraps her hand around my shaft and jerks hard. Sternly, commandingly. Her authority takes me by surprise, but it shouldn’t. Kayla has a presence even when she isn’t trying to convey one.
I moan and lick and nip at her lips as she brings me higher and higher--so high I’m writhing and pumping my cock fitfully through her tight grip.
“Fucking Christ, baby.” I grunt as I come, shoving my tongue as deeply into her mouth as I can. The tumultuous sensations tear my insides apart. Once the exhilarating tremors pass, and my stomach is coated with jizz, Kayla lets go of my cock like she just snapped out of a trance. She stares down at me with wide, startled eyes.
“Fucking Christ is right.”
Kayla
I suck in air as I hit the ten-mile mark on the treadmill. I punish my body as I play over and over what happened with Reese the other night. After I came to my fucking senses, I bolted out of his room like it was on fire.
Stupid. Stupid. Not to mention completely unethical.
I lost my fucking mind.
That’s exactly what I’ll plead when I face the hospital administration. Temporary insanity mixed with sleep deprivation. I can’t be held responsible for my actions. Even though I enjoyed them. Immensely. That’s the worst part. I wanted it to go further. I wanted to straddle him just like an idling street bike.
The only other person I’ve ever had feelings as strong for is Dev.
What a complete fucking mess I am.
My tendons scream and sweat pours down my neck as my feet pound on the revolving belt.
“Morning.” Sam hops on the treadmill next to me, glancing at my display.
“Honey, you’re pushing eleven miles. Are you doing penance for something?”
“Huh?” I break concentration and trip over my feet. Sam acts fast, pulling the emergency shut off before I go down and break my neck.
“Kayla!” She hauls me up and shoves a bottle of water in my face. “What’s going on with you?” Her voice elevates, highly concerned.
“Nothing.” Everything. “I’ve just missed a bunch of workouts and was trying to catch up,” I lie between heaving gulps.
She shoots me a doubtful look.
“I swear,” I huff.
“If you say so.” She turns on her machine once I’m steady and begins a brisk walk. I do the same, but at a much slower pace to cool down. I think I’ve punished my body enough for one day.
One phrase keeps playing through my mind as I walk next to my intuitive aunt. Crystal clear.
“How’s your man dilemma?” she asks casually.
It just got a whole lot more complicated.
“The same,” I fib again.
I haven’t spoken to Dev for a few days, and after the other night with Reese, I would like to avoid any man with the last name Dane. How am I supposed to look Dev in th
e eye after giving his twin a hand job?
At work, of all places.
“How’s your drug situation?” I redirect the conversation, wanting to talk about anything besides my disastrous love life.
“The same.” She shakes her head frustrated. “There was another OD last night. Fifteen years old.”
“That’s so sad.”
“It’s needless. And doesn’t have to be happening.” She increases the speed of her machine until she’s jogging. Sam and I are one and the same when it comes to dealing with stress. There’s one bona fide way to relieve it. Run it out of you. She taught me that a long time ago when my life hit a monumental rough patch. When I thought I could never come back from the darkness, the black feelings, and the despair. I was a stone’s throw away from being put on medication, but Sam refused to let me become some strung-out, pill popping, anxiety freak. Her words. So every morning she woke me up at the crack of dawn to go running with her. Rain, shine, or snow. I cried for the first few weeks, but she wouldn’t give up on me. She was determined to make me stronger, and she did. Soon, running became my go-to every time those feelings threatened to bring me down. I still battle with anxiety and depression, but a good, long run in the fresh morning air always helps me fight through it. Conquer it. It’s my medicinal marijuana, so to speak.
I hit stop on the treadmill and stretch my legs. I need to retain some energy for work.
Work. Blah. I really don’t want to go. I don’t want to face Reese or Dev. Or be constantly reminded that I’m a complete hypocrite. Not only is Reese a patient, but he’s also a motorcycle racer. Talk about breaking moral code, both personal and professional. He’s the friggin’ alpha and omega of the bike world, and I rode right over the line with him. Actually, it was like the line wasn’t even fucking there. It was just him and me and electricity crackling through the air.
I wipe the sweat from my brow and neck before I step off the machine.
“I’ve got to get to work,” I inform Sam.
“Have a great day,” she pants as she hits her stride, fully engaged in her run.
I shower quickly and head in. I find myself applying extra lip gloss before my shift, and I have to stop and wonder if it’s for Reese, Dev, or myself. I’m turning into a damn ping-pong ball.
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