He’d kept that promise throughout his career. Hadn’t waivered at all. Not from his first day on the job as a resident at Belford Hospital back in Scotland, right through his meteoric rise to Head of Neurosurgery at Central Perth Medical Centre, Australia.
And then Bebe bloody Wells joined the nursing staff, and for the first time, cracks began to appear in his hard-line resolve, like a network of dendrites in the hippocampus.
Or, in non-medical terms, he was fucked.
The second he saw Bebe six months ago, he wanted her.
It was a carnal, primitive lust at first. It hit him straight in the groin. Literally. He saw her on that first day, standing with the other two new nurses, her face catching his attention with its simple beauty, her thick chocolate-brown hair braided into a bun at the nape of her neck, her curves so feminine and sexy, and got a hard-on.
Instantly.
Chest tight, balls tighter, he’d watched her taking instructions from the head ER nurse, watched her chew on the end of her pen, watched her adjust the neckline of her scrubs uniform over and over in an attempt to—he suspected—hide how incredibly full and round her breasts were. She was shorter than most of those around her; her head would just reach his chin if he stood next to her. He’d watched from a distance and had to stop himself from striding over to her, yanking her close, and kissing her until she could no longer stand.
Hell, he’d almost taken a step.
Thank Christ he’d remembered in time where he was. And that he wasn’t a bastard like his father.
It was only after that, after he’d somehow managed to temper his immediate sexual craving for her, that he’d noticed she appeared at once shy yet confident as she went about her work. Like she was holding back her true self. The contradiction drove him to distraction, and he’d spent way too many minutes when alone trying to banish his hunger for her from his body with his hand.
But there are only so many times a man can jerk off to the thought of a beautiful woman before he must accept that the mere thought of her can’t fully sate him.
He’d come so many times to the mental image of Bebe Wells—hand pumping his cock, mind trying to convince him it was her mouth—his strict Catholic mother would’ve wailed for his sinner’s soul and condemned him to Hell for all eternity if she knew.
No one knew.
He’d kept his desire for Bebe well concealed.
He’d made certain she was never rostered into the neurology department, despite the fact she was already—at even such an early stage of her burgeoning career—one of the best nurses in the hospital. He’d taken his breaks in the private specialists’ lounge as opposed to the staff cafeteria, where he used to eat before she arrived at Central Perth.
And more importantly, he’d deflected any possible suspicions about his desire for her by involving himself in more than one overt public dalliance with various women from Perth’s social elite.
Since Bebe had entered his world, however, the thought of being with anyone else left him cold. Saying good night to his dates at their doors had become routine, as had going home to his own hand with thoughts of Bebe in his head after.
The ruse had left him with the reputation of being a player. He could cope with that, despite the fact it rubbed him the wrong way.
It was that reputation, however, that had led Gretchen Shultz—the wife of the head of the hospital board—to slip into the private lounge while he was dozing.
He’d been dodging Gretchen’s unwanted attention for a few months now—as had many of his fellow specialists—but it seemed one of his colleagues had “encouraged” her to seek him out in the lounge, that he was waiting for her there.
Storming back to his office now, he bit back a growl. The shock of discovering Gretchen between his legs, thinking all her Christmases had come at once, at the exact moment the object of his secret desire had also come into the private lounge—a place no nurse would normally enter without strict instructions to do so—still had him on edge.
Who’d told Gretchen she could find him in the lounge? And who had sent Bebe in a few minutes later?
Someone playing a dangerous game with him. Someone who wasn’t scared of what Erik would do to them if discovered.
Brogan Whittaker?
Erik let out a dry snort. The Chair of Surgery was a likely candidate.
That’s what you get for beating the son of a bitch at darts in the pub two nights ago.
Whittaker hated losing.
And Erik hated to be caught off guard, which was exactly what had happened when the low gasp sounded on the air as he dozed in the private specialists’ lounge.
He’d snapped his eyes open—just in time to see Bebe fleeing from the room and feel Gretchen attempting to lower his fly.
Yeah, Brogan was going to pay big time for this.
But not until Erik was ready.
Revenge was a dish best served cold, after all.
Forget about Whittaker for the moment. What’s important is dealing with what Bebe thinks she saw.
It shouldn’t matter, and if she were anyone else, it wouldn’t. But she was the reason his cock hardened every day, the reason he smiled at the sight of long dark hair braided into a thick rope. She was the reason—he was beginning to fear—he drew breathe, even if she didn’t know it.
The last thing he wanted was for her to think he’d be so gauche as to allow a woman to blow him while at work.
The only person he wanted giving him oral sex was her, after all.
Checking his watch, he paced around his office.
Any minute now. She should be arriving any minute now.
The lighting was low, muted. A deliberate move on his part. Not in any attempt at playing some kind of male power game with her, but because he had no fecking clue what his dick would do with her so close to him. Better to make it impossible for her to see any hard-on he might get than to make her uncomfortable.
After he apologised for what she’d walked in on, after he assured her it was not his usual behaviour, he’d dismiss her in his normal abrupt manner and get on with lusting after her from afar.
It was safer that way.
Not so much for himself, but for her. He had a feeling he’d not only never get enough of her, he’d be incredibly possessive of her. Something told him it’d be very satisfying to tie her to his bed and pleasure her over and over until neither could barely move.
He ground his teeth. He’d struggled with the obsessive side of his personality for a lifetime. Had channelled a lot of it into his work, but it scared the shit out of him to know an alpha-male prick lurked deep inside him, waiting to break free.
He’d never willingly subject someone as sweet as Bebe to that potential darkness. Which made her completely off-limits. One taste of those full, plump lips of hers, one handful of her curved hips, her exquisite arse, and he’d be—
A soft knock at the door yanked him from the turbulent and unfortunately arousing thought.
Shite. He should’ve had more control over himself.
Before he could hurry to his desk, the door opened a crack, spilling in harsh white light from the corridor. “Dr Murphy?”
Motionless, he raked his gaze over Bebe’s silhouette. “Nurse Wells. Come in.”
Bollocks, he sounded like a pompous dick.
You’re on the razor’s edge. Need to get a hold of yourself.
Clamping his hands behind his back, he turned on his heel and feigned a bored gaze at the dark night beyond his window. The perfect way to watch her while keeping his unsettling physical state hidden.
She stepped over the threshold and closed the door behind her.
He bit back a groan. Fuck, he wished she hadn’t. If she’d left the door open, it would’ve been easier to resist the desire surging through him to throw her onto his desk and make her come over and over. With his fingers, his tongue, his teeth, his cock…
Jaysus, Murphy. Control yourself.
Grinding his teeth, he watched her walk de
eper into his office. His cock pulsed at the natural way her hips swayed, and he dug his blunt nails into his palms to stop himself from adjusting its position.
Reaching his desk, she stopped and studied his reflection in the dark glass, the dim light casting her clear hazel eyes in shadows. “I just wanted to say I didn’t…” She faltered, her gaze falling to the floor, teeth catching her bottom lip.
“Didn’t…” He prompted. What the fuck was he doing? Goading her? To what end?
“Didn’t see…”
She fiddled with her scrubs’ neckline. How easy would it be to bunch the cotton in both his hands and tear it apart? How easy would it be to bury his face between her beautiful breasts and lose himself in her body?
Control. Control.
“See?” he said, voice low.
Shite, he really had become a prick. This was what she did to him, what she awoke in him. So why the hell couldn’t he tell her to leave?
“See you getting…” She licked her lips, eyes flicking below his waist before finding his stare in the window again. He drove his nails harder into his palms. It was that or turn to face her, and that would be unwise. “Having someone give you…umm…oral…”
She petered out again.
Thank fecking God. He didn’t have the strength or the control over himself to hear her say the word sex.
Closing his eyes on her reflection, he drew a slow breath. “You didn’t see what you thought you saw, Bebe.”
Nurse Wells. You should’ve called her Nurse Wells. Keep the professionalism between you both.
“I didn’t…” She shook her head, eyes wide, and then slumped a little and let out a shaky breath, a soft smile curling her lips. “I’m glad.”
“You are?” His heart smashed into his throat. Every nerve ending in his body—way too many to count, even for a neurosurgeon—tingled. She was glad he wasn’t engaged in any kind of sexual activity with Gretchen? Why?
Because she wants you, too.
The teasing thought whispered through his head and, before he could stop himself, he turned to face her.
Their eyes connected across his desk, the muted light from its lamp highlighting how beautiful she was.
“Why?” He shoved his fists into his pockets. He had to hide the inconvenient fecking bulge in his pants somehow.
“Why am I glad?” She chewed on her bottom lip again, and again, he had to bite back a groan. He’d give up a year’s salary to capture that bottom lip of hers with his teeth instead.
He dipped his head in a single nod. Christ, he’d led himself to a risky place; if she confessed to being attracted to him, he was a goner.
“I…” Another bite of the lip, followed by a lick of her tongue.
How the hell was he not vaulting his desk and taking possession of her mouth with his? He wanted to feel her tongue against his more than he wanted air in his lungs.
“I need this job,” she said, lowering her gaze to the floor. “And I thought you were going to fire me for walking in on what…”
A heavy knot twisted in his gut, and he swallowed. Disappointment lashed at him. As did self-disgust at his inflated ego.
What had he expected her to say? That she wanted him to fuck her senseless?
“It’s okay.” He shook his head. He would’ve held up a reassuring hand as well, but he still had both fists shoved firmly into his pockets. There was no other way to keep his cock’s hardened state hidden. “I’m not going to have you fired, Bebe. Or recommend you be transferred out of the hospital, if that’s what you’re worried about. I think you and I are the victims of a practical joke.” What he was going to do was kill Brogan Whittaker when he saw him next. Figuratively, of course.
That small smile played with the corners of her lips some more. “Ahh, yes. I’ve heard rumours some of you specialists enjoy making life tough for each other.”
He chuckled, even as he struggled to stay still. Bebe smiling at him directly scraped at his control, eroding it. Her smile was beautiful, relaxed, with a hint a mischief. It made him wonder how mischievous she could be, how playful—
Damn it, he needed to get her out of his office ASAP. Before he broke every rule he’d ever set for himself and begged her to let him make love to her on his desk.
Christ, he was in so much fecking trouble here.
Chapter 2
So. That was settled. He wasn’t firing her, and what she thought she saw wasn’t what had really been happening. Cool.
So there was no reason for her to still be standing in Erik Murphy’s office.
None at all.
Except she loved listening to him talk. His Irish accent did things to her she couldn’t fathom. And she loved the fact he was actually looking at her. Was it possible to have an orgasm just from eye-contact. She knew it was medically impossible, but whoa, the way her girlie bits were carrying on, all the contracting and squeezing. And her clit was throbbing. Throbbing. What the hell? Every time Erik’s eyes found hers, she wanted to moan and touch the button in her folds.
Was it wrong to stay in his presence just for future masturbation fodder?
Yeah, probably. Definitely. But now she was here, talking to him…
“I should go,” she said, picturing herself being swooped into his arms like a freaking heroine in an old romance movie. “I need to get back to Paediatrics.”
She enjoyed working in the children’s ward. Helping sick kids, injured kids, kids forced to be away from their homes and loved ones…it made the unusual childhood she’d had worthwhile. In her first six months at Central Perth, she’d be stationed at almost all the various departments at least once, but Paediatrics had so far been the one she liked the most.
So get back to it. Now.
Erik watched her, his expression unreadable. Why the hell was it so dim in his office? Why couldn’t it be lighter? Not just so she could check him out—she’d never been this close to him before—but so she could get a better idea of what he was thinking.
“What time does your shift finish?”
Her pulse kicked up a notch. Why did he want to know when her shift ended?
Because he likes you?
Her overactive imagination immediately pictured them having breakfast together, although he was eating a stack of pancakes naked. A horde of crazy butterflies threw a rave in her stomach.
Frowning, she bit her bottom lip to stop herself from asking him when he finished work. She had to remember she was a nurse, a first-year nurse at that. And he was the freaking Head of Neurosurgery. And the hottest damn man on the planet. There was no way he was asking her when she got off work because he wanted to have breakfast with her. Right?
Right?
Fresh images rolled through her head, although there was nothing “old romance movie” about these ones. More…X-rated movie, and way too delicious and enticing for her peace of mind: Erik shoving aside the plate of pancakes before yanking her scrubs shirt over her head; Erik tearing open the T-shirt she wore beneath it; Erik scraping her bra cups apart, his hands catching her breasts as they tumbled—
“I finish at six.” Was that really her voice? That husky and breathy exhalation? What had happened to it? And come to think of it, what the hell had happened to her sanity?
Get a hold of yourself, Be.
The mental slap didn’t help. Instead, all she could do was ache for an invitation to breakfast she knew wasn’t coming as fresh images of Erik making love to her filled her head.
Stupid head.
Stupid lust.
Stupid her.
God, she was so—
“Six,” he said, his tone as enigmatic as his expression. “Okay. Good.”
Good? What the hell does that mean? Good?
“I’ll just go now,” she blurted out, cheeks filling with heat. “Promise I won’t walk in on you when you’re with some other woman not doing what I thought you were doing again.”
His eyebrows shot up and her stomach clenched. What the hell was wrong with her? Was
she really being sassy with a doctor? Was that what she was doing? At the hospital where she finally had her dream job?
Ah fuzzbucket. This is why you’ve only ever dated losers, Be. Never have to worry about destroying your life dating losers.
A low chuckle rumbled deep in Erik’s chest, and he smiled.
She swallowed a whimper. It was the sexiest smile she’d ever seen, a little lopsided, with a flash of a dimple on the right side.
Yep, there you go, almost orgasming again.
“So what you’re saying,” he began, a devilish glint in his eye, “is the only way we’ll see each other like this again is if someone tries to give me oral sex while I’m dozing in the specialists’ lounge?”
Or if I’m the one giving it to you.
She clamped her teeth shut before her misguided, forgot-she’s-no-longer-a-wild child brain spilled the freaking words out. She really would lose her job. “Yes,” she managed, the word a strangled croak. “That.”
He tsked. “That’s a pity.”
She hiccupped out a laugh, throwing in a stupid little shrug along with it. “Or you could take me to breakfast if you like.”
What the…?
Had she really just said that? What the ever-loving fuck was she doing? She’d walked in here ready to beg to keep her job, and now she was…what? Flirting with him? Him? Dr. Erik Murphy?
God, she really had spent too many hours masturbating to the thought of the man. And now she’d just…just…
Crap, what did she do?
Erik studied her, a muscle bunching in his jaw. His nostrils flared, and he slowly straightened his spine, his stare locked on her face as he withdrew his hands from his pockets.
Bebe’s stomach rolled. That’s it, I’m sacked.
“I’m so sorry, Dr. Murphy. I didn’t mean to say that. I was making a—”
Before she could say “bad joke,” he’d rounded the corner of his desk, coming to a halt directly in front of her. So close, the heat from his body seeped into hers. So close, she could smell the subtle scent of his cologne.
Pinning It Down Page 2
