“I can’t leave without clothes on.” It’s a test of sorts. If she wants me out, I’m out. But I want her to want me to stay, and I want her to admit it.
“Who said you get to leave?” She quirks a brow up at me, momentarily distracting me from her hands going lower, until her delicate fingers split around the base of my cock and start rubbing.
It makes me swallow hard, silencing me briefly as I look down and watch her. Her touch is soft and sweet, but firm. I keep watching and clear my throat. “Does that mean you don’t want me to go?”
“Nope. I want to fuck you again. At least a few more times before I let you leave.” She’s clear and decisive, and I’m not going to argue her desires. I’d be a bad man if I didn’t try to give the woman everything she wants.
“Keep doing that and I’ll be fucking you again, and all you’ll be able to do is take it like the good girl I now know you can be.” With her fingers and pussy wrapped tightly around me, stroking and squeezing me like a pro, I’d gladly be at her mercy. She doesn’t need to know though. Not this time at least.
“Hmmm.” She leans forward, the angle shifting yet again and making her slide over me more, then kisses my chest. “Lose the shirt, Nate. Stay a while.”
“Don’t stop rubbing or moving and I’ll lose everything I have on.” I shrug out of my shirt to prove my point, and suck in a breath when her fingers move lower, palming my balls. “Christ, woman…” I toe my shoes off and let my pants and underwear fall to the floor around my feet. “I’ve showed you all of mine,” I hold my arms out wide, putting my whole body on full display for her. “Now show me yours.”
“I can’t pay attention to this if I’m trying to strip out of all this.” She uses her unoccupied hand to indicate she means her shirt and everything beneath. “If you want it, you’re going to have to work for it.”
Yet again, she’s trying to take control and be bossy. It’s actually really sexy how confident she is, but she better not get used to this.
“I’ll strip you down and bare your every curve to me, but I don’t consider that work. It’s play. And you are going to be my most favorite toy.” I start at the hem of her blouse and work it up her ribs, tickling and touching the sensitive skin along the path up, slowly revealing the lacy bra she’s wearing beneath. “Arms up.”
She does as I say, lifting her arms, and I feel the loss of her fingers playing with me immediately. Once her shirt is past her head, I toss it aside and lean forward to kiss her neck and chest.
The soft sigh she emits lets me know she enjoys being kissed and touched here, and with the knowledge tucked safely in the back of my mind, I move my mouth lower, traversing the swells and dip between her perked-up tits in her bra. “More of that,” she purrs out, extending her fingers to play with me again. The velvet touch, combined with her growing arousal causing my cock to slip back and forth in her, has me growing harder and harder by the second.
“Your wish,” I say, reaching back to unclasp her bra, “is my command.” The material falls down her arms and hangs loose near the base of my dick, dangling off her wrist while her hand and fingers work me back into a frenzy.
I close my mouth over a taut nipple and suck, carefully grinding my teeth over her, drawing out a noise I can only describe as the embodiment of ecstasy. I suck and I lick, nibble and torment one side, then switch to the other. I can tell how much of an effect I’m having based on her fingers stopping and then continuing in waves.
“Not here,” I hum over her breast, raising my eyes to find her face.
She mewls out over the vibration my words cause, and nods her head. “Bedroom.” She points her finger, directing me back to the room I deposited her in last night.
I slide my hands down to her ass and lift her off the table. The movement causes me to fall from the tight, warm confines of her body, but that’s okay. I need to refresh our protection, and plan on having a little more fun, and a true dessert in the form of her sweet fucking pussy, before I let her have her way and fuck me next.
Twenty-One
Dee
I’ve never woken up feeling so physically exhausted but so mentally sharp and excited in my life. It’s a weird feeling, inexplicable even, given the warring feelings and sensations in my body as a result of it. It’s also fitting, feeling this way. He pushed my body to the brink and took it back so many times, he had my mind, body, and soul craving more, anticipating more, and feeling more than I’ve ever felt with anyone.
He showed me how incredible and mind-blowing sex could be. Then he raised the bar higher. It’s like every single time we were together it kept getting better and better. Instead of the typical one and done hookup, we finished once and I couldn’t wait to be together again. I didn’t want him to leave. Not after dinner, not after dessert, not even when he had to crawl out of bed at four thirty this morning. I enjoyed every second of our time together too much, and my bed felt cold and lonely when he reluctantly walked out the door.
Now, I’m at work, chugging coffee and Doubleshot energy drinks like they’re the only way I will possibly be able to survive. And I’m nervous. The shaking in my hands was there before the caffeine blitz and the butterflies in my tummy are definitely not due to synthetic chemicals. I haven’t seen him yet. Not since he walked out the door and went back to his house.
Frankly, I’m not sure what to expect. Will he be an asshole? Will last night be all he needed to get me out of his system? Will he avoid me like the plague?
All of these thoughts have been crisscrossing like a braid in my mind with the memories, the what-ifs, and all the happy feelings I have too. I feel like a basket case.
My work phone rings in my pocket and I pull it out, answering, “PT, this is Cassidee.” The deep, sure voice on the other end has me stuttering my steps and my breath hitches and lodges itself somewhere between my diaphragm and my throat.
“Miss Parker.” I can hear the amusement in his voice, and it takes me back to my bedroom last night when he used that same tone during one of our many times together.
I swallow hard and look around the hall, waiting for someone to stop and eavesdrop as though they know what happened last night. “Yes, Dr. Alexander?”
“I have an eighteen-year-old patient just coming out of surgery. She is an athlete; she plays softball. She was in a car accident, and suffered a severing of her flexor tendon, along with multiple other injuries being handled by a few different doctors. She will be in for a while, recovering from those before discharge. It’s important she start therapy with your unit in forty-eight to seventy-two hours, pending examination and assessment of swelling.”
I take in every word he says and store it in my memory to check for her chart as it comes through. “Is there anything else I, or we, need to know?”
His breathing is even and soft over the line as I wait for him. I can hear the faint sound of his fingers clicking over a keyboard, no doubt going over her records and putting any information he needs to in. “She was pretty out of it when I met with her before surgery, thanks to all of the meds she was on, but she was very dejected and sullen about the injuries and accident. I don’t know details, but you and whoever else works with her needs to be prepared for potential mental health concerns.”
I nod for nobody to see. “What’s her name? Did you note that in the file?”
“I know how to do my job, Miss Parker,” he chastises, but his tone is far less condescending today than other days.
“I know you do, Dr. Alexander. But sometimes these notes get left out. Do we need to consult with Psych if she refuses therapy?”
He mutters something under his breath, and I know it’s because of the snark in my reply, but really, neither of us could expect the other to completely change. “Psych has been notified; Child Life will visit with her too. She’s legally an adult, but she’s a young eighteen and they’re well equipped to work with Emily.”
“Emily?” I confirm, with him grunting his affirmation. “I’ll keep an eye out fo
r her file and let Miranda know you called to consult over her care.”
“Thank you. That’s all I have for you…” he pauses very briefly and then adds nearly silently, “for now.”
The whisper, the implication behind it, has the hairs on my arms standing on end with little chills running through me. “One more thing,” I add hurriedly, before he hangs up. “Is there any particular protocol you want us following with her?”
“I’ll leave that up to you all. I trust you. I trust Miranda and the rest of the team too; you’ll take care of Emily in the way she needs.”
Warmth fills my chest and I smile like a fool. He may not know what those words mean to me, but they’re monumental. This man, who was challenging my ability not long ago, is expressing his trust in me. Granted, it is only professional trust right now, but it’s more than I had. And it is a step in the right direction. “Thank you.”
A half a second after the words are out of my mouth, the line disconnects. There wasn’t a goodbye or a talk to you later; he’s just done. It’s actually pretty funny. He may be trying and making strides, but he’s still not completely without his asshole tendencies here.
Men.
I need to go check on a sweet little elderly woman I saw yesterday, make sure she’s been getting up to do her laps around the hall like she’s supposed to be doing after her stomach surgery, and then I’ll call Miranda and see about going to check in on Emily.
Hopefully I run in to Nate sometime this morning. The call wasn’t too terribly awkward, but it’s easy to hide over the phone, especially while discussing actual work. It’ll be less easy to hide anything in person. It’ll be a true test to see how well this being friends—with occasional benefits—and building trust experiment is really working.
Mrs. Tackwell, the sweet little thing she is, was full of delight and pride when I met with her. She’s been walking and even asked me to do two laps with her, just to prove how strong and resilient she is. She’s a badass. If I had to guess, she will shave a day or two off her stay and get discharged early due to her work ethic and willingness to follow doctor’s, therapist’s, and nurse’s orders to a T. If only everyone were as enthusiastic and optimistic as her. She should teach a class. I’d probably be the first to sign up for it, too.
Now that I’m done with her, though, it’s time to visit Emily. Miranda and I spoke, and while it sounds like she may be a challenging patient to work with, my experience with younger athletes as a gymnastics coach, as well as my practicums and internships at sport rehab facilities, I am well equipped to help her.
I slide my hand under the sanitizer as I pass through her opened door and rub my palms together vigorously, knocking on the wall when I hear voices in the room. “Physical therapy,” I call out, “is this a good time?”
I expect to hear a woman’s voice responding, that’s what I was hearing as I walked in, but it’s an unmistakable masculine voice instead.
Maybe it was Emily and her mom talking at first?
I continue my walk through the small entryway next to the bathroom door and step into the open room. Emily is bruised and beat up from her accident, and beside her bed are my Nate and someone else I’ve never met before.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” I say to Emily, then glance his way.
His smile isn’t full, and it doesn’t quite meet his eyes, but his lips do quirk up momentarily—our very first patient encounter is no doubt crossing his mind like it did mine. “It’s okay. My PA, April, and I were just talking to Emily about her surgery and what she can expect over the next few days, weeks, and months.”
I nod with a smile and walk around to the other side of Emily’s bed. “Hi, Emily, I’m Cassidee, but you can call me Dee. I’m one of the physical therapists who will be working with you here until you’re discharged.”
“I didn’t think we were starting therapy yet,” April says, eyeing me closely. “You must be new. These sorts of procedures require at least two or three days of recovery before your assistance is needed.” I’m not sure why Bridget has sang her praises so much, because from where I’m standing, April is a bitch. That’s abundantly clear. Emily’s sunken down eyes flash from April to me, then back to Nate.
“I asked PT, Cassidee, to come down and meet with Emily early. She’s the therapist I told you about earlier. I’ve asked her to give Emily here a brief rundown of what to expect, make sure they’re comfortable with each other.” Nate glances at April after he speaks, and she snaps her mouth shut.
“Of course,” she says in a sickly sweet voice to him. “I must have missed that in her charts. Playing catch-up after my vacation must’ve made me miss it. I do apologize.”
“It’s quite all right.” Nate smiles at her, and April’s grin widens, clearly pleased with herself. It feels like there is something there, between both of them, and not just on her behalf, but surely that would have made it through the gossip mill? I really don’t have much time to think about what may or may not be between them before he’s addressing Emily again and explaining to her what he would like, and what he expects prognosis-wise from her therapy and work.
After he finishes, I dive right in behind him. Emily looks exhausted and despondent while I speak to her. If I had to guess, she probably just wants us to leave so she can sleep and pretend none of this is happening. It’s a look I have seen before, in fact, it’s a look I saw my best friend through a few years ago.
“I won’t take up much more of your time, Emily. I, or someone from our staff, will come by tomorrow to check in on you, and go over Dr. Alexander’s notes so we can make a plan of attack moving forward. Until then, you just try to rest and take it easy.”
Emily grumbles her acknowledgement and closes her eyes as Nate, April, and I exit her room. I pull the door closed behind us and stop abruptly when April and Nate stop and turn to face me.
“I thought a proper introduction was necessary,” he states. “Cassidee Parker, this is April Johnson. April, this is Cassidee. She’s new to the PT staff and fresh out of her internship program. She does great work though.” He tries not to smile too affectionately at me, but the look that passes between us is unmistakable, even if it was fleeting.
“Should you be handling such a tender case?” April makes no effort to hide her disdain for me, and I have to wonder why. Surely it wasn’t the smile he and I shared.
“I’m more than qualified,” I assure her, injecting just as much snark in my voice as she had in hers. “I finished top of my class, have been catapulted into working cases alone here due to a staffing situation, and have managed to make headway with some of the most stubborn patients. And Dr. Alexander, as well as multiple members on the clinical staff have approved of my work and efforts.”
“Well, to be sure, we will be keeping a close eye on your work with Emily.” She crosses her arms over her chest; drawing a line in the sand I have every intention of crossing. If she thinks she can throw down blatant disrespect and attitude with no foundation for her mistreatment, she has another thing coming.
“You do that. You better make sure you stay just as on top of Miranda, Anthony, and the rest of the staff who will be cycling through as well.” I give her a snarling grin and cross my arms over my own chest; angling my head just enough to show her I really don’t give two shits what she has to say.
“Dee is more than capable of working with Emily and any other patient we see. I’ve personally vetted her, and as we all know, I’m the senior member of the staff in this little group. If there are any problems with the work she does, I will be taking it up with her supervisors or the board. Are we all clear?”
April barely catches her jaw before it drops and snaps her mouth shut, nodding her head.
“We are more than clear, Dr. Alexander. If you two will excuse me, I have another patient to visit and tend to. I hope you both have a wonderful day.”
I walk away from them with my head held high and a smug grin on my face. He stood up for me to his assistant, who clearly dislike
s me for some reason. He had my back and didn’t let her bully me in an attempt to gain the upper hand and evoke fear in me.
He stood up for me, and if the look on her face was any indication, she will most assuredly have something to say about it when I’m no longer in earshot.
****
Nate
I only defended her because April was out of line. There was no other reason for it—certainly not us having mind-blowing sex last night that had me craving more the second I left her bed and apartment. Nope. That didn’t have a single thing to do with me stepping in and making it clear April was wrong.
Regardless of Dee and I fucking each other, April had no right to behave in the manner she did. It was wholly unprofessional and it looked bad. It made me look bad, both in front of our patient and in an open corridor anyone else on the staff could have heard.
That’s what I told April too. She is not the boss here. She never has been, and she never will be. I may have given her more leeway than necessary in the past out of guilt, but that doesn’t extend to her being unprofessional.
Dee handled it exactly as I thought she would, too. Rather, she handled it as I hoped she would. Personal feelings and experiences didn’t come up, she didn’t even hint at any relationship we have, she simply stood her ground and snapped back—just like she did when I questioned her.
April’s antics did piss me off on a personal level, though. Two years ago at a hospital-wide Christmas party, she flirted with me, had a few too many drinks, and made a pass. It was one I didn’t return, of course, and it left her a crying, embarrassed mess right in front of me. Since that night I’ve cut her slack, it’s my own way of apologizing for the unintentional signals she said I sent her. I’ve never remembered me flirting or encouraging her pass, though. But since she said I did, I didn’t want to argue with her while she was already upset. I made it clear then, though, I would never date her or any coworker. My private life is just that, private. It was the same then, it’s the same now.
Doctor Desirable: A Hero Club Novel Page 16
