by Jade Sinner
“I need to look at your dressing.” My nurse leans over and pulls the top of my hospital gown open to inspect my arm and shoulder. She takes a pen from her pocket and draws a circle on my bandage.
“Looks OK?” Fuck, she smells good. I open my eyes, and damn, her tits are right there in my face.
“All good.” She glances at me and then quickly looks away when our eyes connect. “How’d you mess up your rotator cuff? Chasing too many girls?” Her question could be taken as comical but her tone lacks humor.
“Pitching for the Mets.” That earns a smile from her. But also a head shake.
“Ah, you are a funny one.”
I close my eyes when a wave of drowsiness rushes over me. “Old pitching injury.”
“Which he re-injured by throwing a speed ball.” Mom hasn’t been shy about voicing her aggravation with me. “Doctors warned him over and over that he was going to do serious damage if he didn’t stop pitching. But did he listen?”
“I guess you’ll listen now.” She closes my gown and steps away as she puts her hands on her hips. “Dressing looks good. Need anything? Head of the bed up some more? Ice chips? Bathroom?” What’s she going to do for me in the bathroom? Hold my dick for me? Maybe I need to take a piss if that’s the case. I wouldn’t mind her hand on my cock.
Mom’s phone vibrates. “This is Emma texting. She wants to come back to see you so I’m going to swap places with her.”
My nurse puts the call thing in my good hand. “I’m stepping out so push that button or have your girlfriend come to the desk if you need anything.”
“OK.” Wait. I don’t have a girlfriend. I open my eyes to correct her but she’s already gone from my room. Well, damn!
She’ll be back in a few minutes to get my vital signs. I’ll set her straight then. Unless I nod off again and miss her. Or forget. Shit.
My sister pulls back the curtain and comes into my recovery room. “Hey. How is Coach Briggs feeling?”
“Emma, you have to tell the nurse you’re not my girlfriend if I fall asleep.”
My sister’s head tilts as she smiles. “You always say the craziest shit after anesthesia. I should be recording this so I can put it on YouTube. Or send it in to that TV show where you can win ten thousand dollars for the funniest video.”
I’m not too sedated to give Emma the finger. “I’m not talking crazy shit. My nurse thinks you’re my girlfriend.”
“So?”
“I don’t want her to think I’m unavailable.”
Emma waddles over and sits in the chair next to my bed. “For real, Ryan? You just woke up from surgery and you’re chasing a piece of ass?”
Yeah, I guess I am. “Come on. Do it for me, squirt. Ash will be back in a few minutes.”
She rolls her eyes. “OK. Whatever.”
Emma’s phone vibrates and she smiles as she thumbs a reply. “This is Ben checking in on you. I can’t wait to see what he says about your hitting on your nurse two seconds after surgery.”
Ben and Emma have been married six months. She’s eight months pregnant. I think the fucker knocked her up on purpose. And she let him.
I’m still pissed off that Ben was screwing with my baby sister behind my back but I guess I’m starting to get over it. Not like I really have a choice. They’re married with a baby on the way. My nephew, Benji, will be making his debut in a few weeks.
I’m not ready to admit it to either of them but I actually like my best friend being married to my little sister. I know he’ll take care of her—he always has—so that means I don’t have to worry about other dicks screwing with her.
“Knock, knock,” my nurse says a moment before she pulls the curtain open. Sort of weird there’s only three walls and some hanging fabric separating all the patients. “Time for vitals again.”
I can tell the anesthesia is wearing off. Or maybe it’s just this beautiful woman making me more alert.
She looks at Emma and her eyes immediately dart to her stomach. I clear my throat, the prompt for my sister to clear up the girlfriend confusion. “Hello. I’m Emma, his sister.”
“Oh, hi.” Maybe I’m imagining it because I want it to be there, but I think I pick up on some kind of surprise-relief-happiness. “I’m Ashlyn.”
Damn. She said Ash before. I’m sure of it. I assumed it was short for Ashley. But Ashlyn? That name brings back some memories from long ago. The one that got away. Literally.
She pushes a button and the cuff on my arm squeezes again. “Still feeling all right?”
“Better than I have in weeks.” I’ve been in some motherfucking pain for a while. I shouldn’t have been showing off for my team. It was stupid. But I wanted my players to see my talent. Aspire to be like me. Know they were being coached by someone who knew what the hell he was doing. I didn’t play college baseball—and almost go pro—because I was no good at it.
This broke-down shoulder put an end to any hope I had for making it into the pros. I was forced to trade that life for one back in my hometown as a high school baseball coach.
I felt that fucking rotator cuff rip when I was showing the boys my speedball. I wanted to lie on the field and cry like a baby but I held it together in front of them. No way I’d let those kids see me like that.
“They put a block in your shoulder for pain control and immobilization.” Explains why it feels so good right after surgery.
“Which means it’s going to hurt like a motherfucker when it wears off, right?”
Emma swats my leg. “Ryan.”
“Yeah, it’s going to hurt but the doctor will send you home with a prescription for pain meds. You’ll be fine if you don’t wait until it starts hurting to take it. But we’ll talk about that when I give you discharge instructions.”
This was an outpatient surgery so she’ll be sending me home soon. That means I have to work fast if I’m going to score a date with her before I go.
She isn’t wearing a ring on her finger but that doesn’t mean she’s not married or dating someone. I don’t know if nurses are allowed to wear jewelry at work. “Are you single?”
She doesn’t crack a smile as she peels my gown back to inspect my bandage again. “Yes.”
“Why don’t you give me your number so I can call you later? I’d really like to take you out to dinner or something.”
“Or something?” Her veil of hair has fallen again so I can’t see her face as she draws on my bandage. “I don’t go out with patients.”
No way I’m taking that for an answer. “Then it’s a good thing I won’t be your patient much longer.”
This is crazy as hell. I wake up from surgery, see this angel standing over me, and lose my fucking mind because I’m scared I’ll never see her again. I won’t let this be the last time I ever see her.
She releases my gown and steps back. “Dressing still looks good.”
“And so do you.” I know I’m coming on strong but the countdown is on. I need to convince her to go out with me before she kicks my ass out of this bed.
“I don’t date players.”
I point to my injured shoulder. “Mets put me on the bench. Not a player anymore.”
“I think we both know you are.” Her eyes lock with mine and I see her. I mean I really see her.
“Wait. I know you. You’re…her.” Ashlyn, from five years ago.
She quickly looks away without a reply. “Doc will be in to round on you in a bit and we’ll see about getting you out of here.”
She’s the one. I’m certain of it.
The girl I met five years ago at a party.
The girl in my bed who slipped away in the middle of the night.
The girl I haven’t been able to forget.
Holy shit. I walked into that recovery room to take care of my patient, never expecting it to be him. Ryan. One of two people who without fail I’ve thought of every day for the last five years.
Ryan Briggs. I didn’t know his last name until now. Not that I couldn’t have found out if
I wanted. But I wasn’t interested. I wanted to forget him. Forget that night. Forget those eyes.
Those pale blue eyes. I’ve seen them every day of my life since that night. Hard not to when you have a daily reminder.
You are beautiful. I knew it was him the minute I heard those three words leave his mouth. They’re the same ones he told me that night. And I believed him.
I’d just had the hardest nursing exam and skills check-off of my life. Passed by the skin of my teeth. I needed to blow off some steam and escape the stress so I could get my head in check for what was coming next. I swore I was going to do better. I had to. I couldn’t afford to flunk out of nursing school when my family was depending on me.
It was homecoming weekend at UT. My best friend, Brittany, invited me over for the game and all the festivities. Huge mistake. I shouldn’t have gone.
No. That isn’t the truth. Going to that party was the best decision of my life.
Brittany scored an invite to a shindig being thrown by her classmate, Brantley, and his friends, Ryan, Ben, and Drake. Ben and Brantley were a pair of big-fucking-deal baseball players for Tennessee. Sounded like the perfect kind of fun before returning to nursing classes the next week. Cardiac. I wasn’t looking forward to starting that unit. The class ahead of us said it was hell and about half failed the exam.
I was surprised when I caught the attention of one of the hotshot baseball players. Not that I wasn’t a catch but I pegged him and his buddy as the kind of guys who’d go for the sorority-girl type. Not someone with a serious agenda like me. But Ryan overlooked every one of those sorority girls to see me. Talk to me. The girl from a community college nursing program, praying she graduated so she could take on some of her family’s financial burden.
Ryan wanted to know everything about me: Where I was from. What I was doing in school. What kind of nurse I wanted to be. We drank and talked and talked and drank. I wasn’t just a little tipsy. I was totally trashed.
The party got crazy. Like really crazy. We could hardly hear each other over the thumping bass, and I wanted to hear every word he had to say, so it seemed like a great idea when he asked me to go upstairs with him to his bedroom where it was quiet and calm.
We stretched out side by side on the bed, facing one another, and talked for hours. That’s all we did. He didn’t even try to kiss me. I admit that was disappointing but I simultaneously liked it because it meant he hadn’t brought me to his room with the intention of using me to get laid.
Lying next to one another, fully clothed. That’s how we drifted off. But not how we awakened.
I don’t know who made the first move. I only remember waking in the middle of the night, the room dimly lit by the bedside lamp, and Ryan lying on top of me.
His long, lean baseball-player-esque body was nestled between my parted legs, his hard-on pressed against me. Rocking. Thrusting. And I didn’t tell him to stop. In fact, I’m pretty sure I was the one who made the first move toward getting naked.
I’m not sure if it was the alcohol or our intense physical chemistry, but I wanted him. Bad. And I was going all the way despite the fact that it was my first time.
A panty dropper at a drunken college party. That’s how I came to lose my virginity at nineteen to a guy whose last name I didn’t even know.
“I discharged both my patients. Want me to watch yours so you can grab lunch?”
“Yes! That would be great.” And what would be even more awesome is if Hutch came around and discharged Ryan Briggs while I’m away so I don’t have to see him again. “Vitals are due on the half-hour.”
You’re. . .her. I push the lettuce around on my plate as I consider what those two words mean.
Her, the girl he screwed while he had a girlfriend?
Her, the girl who was dumb enough to go upstairs and hand over her virginity?
Her, the girl who was so easy he didn’t even have to tell her his last name to get laid?
Ryan was pretty drunk. He probably doesn’t even realize he took my virginity. Probably assumes I was a whore who wanted to hook up with a baseball star like all the other girls at that party.
“Needed a break from my brother, eh?”
I look up at the sound of the woman’s voice. Ryan’s sister. Great. He hasn’t been discharged yet. “When you’re a nurse and someone offers to watch your patients so you can grab lunch, you don’t say no, since the chance will likely not present itself again.”
She sits on the bench across from me. “He’s not happy another nurse took your place. He wants you.” A grin spreads across her face. “In a long string of choice words, he told her to get out and send you back to be his nurse again.”
“Martha’s an excellent nurse. She’ll take great care of your brother.”
Emma grimaces as she pushes her shoulders back and straightens her spine. “He’s going ballistic; he thinks you left and won’t be coming back in to see him.”
That was the plan but not if he’s potentially going to be mouthing off to my co-workers about the past. I can’t have him asking questions or getting answers about me and my present life, so it’s time to put out this fire.
I gather my lunch to toss in the trash. “I’m on my way back.”
Emma’s expression is apologetic. “I shouldn’t have disturbed you on your lunch break. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Ryan Briggs killed any appetite I might have had.
“I don’t know why my brother’s being so nuts. Anesthesia always makes him say funny things but he’s never been this way.”
“We’ll blame the drugs.” Not the fact that he’s waking up from anesthesia and recalling a night from five years ago.
Ryan’s demanding I return to be his nurse? Going ballistic because he thinks I left? Why? Is he so egotistical he hasn’t gotten over being left in the middle of the night without a goodbye?
Martha laughs when she sees me approach the nurse’s station. “You weren’t gone long, missy. Let me guess. The bossy bastard in room six sent someone to get you?”
“The sister.”
“I figured as much when I saw her scampering out of his room. Guess he prefers a pretty, young thing over this old, wrinkled lady. Can’t say I blame him.”
Already half past the hour so vitals are due again. “Thanks for keeping an eye on him for me.”
“No problem. Maybe you’ll get some downtime for a lunch break after you discharge him.”
“Maybe.” Doubtful. There’s always another to replace the one you send out the door.
I stop at the curtain to Ryan’s room before entering. Deep breath in, Ashlyn. Exhale slowly.
It really pisses me off he still has this kind of effect on me five years after the fact. One encounter. One damn night five years ago and the man can still wreck me today.
Fate is unkind to me. Why the hell couldn’t his body have gone to shit after he stopped playing college ball? Why does he still have to be so damn hot?
Fuck being hot. It doesn’t make up for being an asshole.
“What’s the matter, Ashlyn? Trying to think of a way to explain what you did?”
What. The. Actual. Fuck?
I yank the curtain back and march to his bedside, my hands fisted at my side. “What I did? I know you didn’t actually just say that to me.”
“That got your attention, huh?” His mouth tugs at one corner and the adjacent eye narrows as his brow arches. Holy shit. Jacob makes that exact face…every time the little shit is up to no good.
And now Ryan Briggs is up to no good. I’m sure of it.
Like father, like son.
Releasing July 28, 2016
Excerpt: Mine to Have
A Claimed Story
Jade Sinner
I can’t concentrate. I can’t get a fucking thing done in my own home. Between the blaring music and the continual rings of feminine laughter, my mind is consumed with the girl just beyond my office window. I tell myself she’s a girl, but holy fuck, she looks like a woma
n.
When I close my eyes, I see her—all of her: her long tan legs, that seem to fucking go on and on. The curve of her round ass. Her flat, toned stomach and full blossoming tits. Lacy is the whole goddamn package, all the way to the long blonde hair that’s perfect for wrapping my fist into as I glide her shimmering pink lips up and down my cock.
My imagination takes me to places on her young, virgin body that I haven’t seen, not that she leaves a lot to the imagination with the way she parades around the house in tiny bathing suits, skimpy shorts, too-short skirts, and crop tops that showcase her slender waist and large, round tits.
Painfully, I push my chair away from my desk and shift my growing erection. Fuck work. All I can think about is her skin and how soft it would be if I ran my hands... Shit! I run my fingers through my hair.
I reach the large window just in time to watch as Lacy comes out of the pool. Each step above the surface is perfection. Water glistens on her sun-kissed skin, droplets shimmering as they cling to her tits and slide below the white triangles of material, the fabric so skimpy it barely covers her erect nipples.
Even from this distance, it’s clear that they’re hard, tenting the fabric.
Her face turns toward my office window. Can she see me watching her? Is that why her nipples are hard?
Fuck! This shouldn’t be happening. Lacy is my niece—kind of—she is my responsibility.
Then again, I never asked to be responsible for my stepsister’s kid. I never asked for my family to perish in a car crash, leaving me in charge of her, as well as the sole owner of a multi-billion-dollar empire at the ripe young age of twenty-seven.
That was three years ago.
Three years since my father, his second wife, her daughter and son-in-law were taken out by one distracted driver—a teenager with a cell phone and a text message that wouldn’t wait. Three years since I went from a carefree playboy with the world on a fucking string to Mr. Responsible with that same world now a gigantic weight on my shoulders. Three years since I knew what it was like to be laughing and lighthearted like the beautiful, sexy girl now lying on a long chair with her round, nearly-covered tits baking in the Arizona sun.
