by Evie Monroe
“You could say that,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest.
He reached for the blanket, but I didn’t move my arms. “May I?”
I had no choice. My sexy surgeon could’ve felt me up all she wanted, but this prick? I was less than thrilled at the idea. I lifted my hands and he pulled down the blanket, and yanked up my gown, baring my bandage. Then he started to feel around it, poking and prodding with none of the bedside manner Dr. Benson had.
“What the—watch it!” I growled when he hit a tender spot.
Sexy Nora leaned over, lifted the bandage, and pushed a finger down the side of the incision spot. It wasn’t sexual in the least, but I must’ve been hard up because my cock twitched.
“Hey, Doc,” I said to the tall dickwad, “You should let your colleague do the touching, from now on. She’s better at it than you, probably because she clearly likes it more. Right, sweetheart?”
I grinned at her, and there it was, the blush I loved to see. She instantly pulled her hand away.
Dickwad scowled at me. “The CT scan’s showing what could be an intestinal blockage,” he said, not looking at me.
Nora nodded. “I agree. I didn’t notice anything troublesome when I was inside him, but it’s concerning.”
“You know, girl,” I said to her. “You were inside me. I think it’s only fair I get inside you.”
“We should keep a watch on that,” the prick murmured. It was like I wasn’t even there.
“Watch whatever you like, as long as it’ll get me out of here,” I said, voice raised, crossing my arms over my chest again. I gave Nora a wink. “I know it’ll disappoint you, sweetheart. But I can’t stay any longer. So if you want to make that appointment, I’m free.”
The old prick looked at me like, Shut the fuck up, what do you know, idiot? “You should watch how you speak to a lady.”
“Maybe you should watch that I don’t rearrange your face with my fist, asshole,” I growled.
The doctor started to speak, but Nora broke it up. “Okay. Enough, you two. Dr. Vaughn, can I please speak with you over here?”
His scowl lingered on me as she tried to drag him toward the foot of the bed. The pair turned away from me and started to whisper. He leaned down to her, his lips close to her ear, and I watched as he placed his hand on the small of her back and started to rub it slowly, up and down, as they spoke. As he did, he looked at me, like, I have this. And you never will.
Holy shit. I couldn’t fucking believe it.
Was that old, shriveled-up looking shithead plowing my sexy surgeon? What the fuck could a girl that hot find attractive about him?
Jesus. Doctors had all the fucking luck. No wonder Cait went for Drake instead of me.
I watched the two of them talking like I wasn’t even in the room, my temperature rising. The longer they did, the more I felt like shit. “Hey. Doctors. I hate to break up your foreplay, but . . . don’t I need my rest or some shit like that?”
They turned around at the same time, looking sheepish, like teenagers who’d been caught making out under the bleachers. “I’m sorry, Mr. Nash,” my hot surgeon said. “We were just discussing the extent of the possible blockage and what next steps we should take.”
“And you can’t discuss that with me?”
The old prick let out a superior laugh. “Just leave the tough stuff to us, okay, champ? You just concentrate on not getting yourself shot again.”
My face twisted and I clenched my fists. What a condescending little prick. If I was mobile, I’d meet him in the parking lot and tear him a new asshole.
But right now, I was stuck in this infernally hot hospital with nothing to do.
And a raging fucking hardon for a certain surgeon.
And all she’d done was touch me once.
Chapter Five
Nora
You were inside me. I think it’s only fair I get inside you.
That cocky statement from an arrogant, egotistical man named after a cartoon character shouldn’t have been in the front of my mind on my rounds. I had patients who’d come within an inch of death last night. The last thing I needed was an arrogant biker talking smack to break my concentration.
On any other day, I’d have no trouble staying focused on my patients. I was the Ice Girl, after all.
But my concentration was totally in the toilet today and for no good reason.
He was not the kind of man I found attractive. Yes, he was model-perfect, every woman’s fantasy, but I was not every woman. I preferred less obvious, intangible characteristics over a handsome face and a muscle-bound body. Intelligence over street smarts. Inner strength over brawn.
Certainly, no one like him had ever given me the time of day.
That was probably why I left his room with my face flushed and hot. He’d given me more than the time of day. He’d given me an earful unlike anything I’d ever gotten from any man. I was used to people admiring my brain. But Jetson? He’d done something no other man had ever done, and I was suddenly feeling a little . . . sexy. Hot. Desirable.
Michael even saw it. But he mistook the flush for embarrassment.
He leaned down and said, “Don’t let what that piece of trash said get to you. Guys like that just want a reaction out of you. Unfortunately, we have a big gang population around here. You’ll have to develop a thick skin to deal with them.”
I wasn’t embarrassed. I was turned on. Ragingly, ridiculously turned on, and raring to go.
But I couldn’t say that to him, so I nodded. “Oh, sure. It’s not a big deal. Already forgotten.”
He gave me a look, a double-take like he could sniff my bullshit from a mile away. Then he patted my hand. “Good. Are you going home?”
If I’d gone home, and he’d gone with me, I probably would’ve attacked him on the way. Made him have sex with me. That was how horny I was. But I knew he was just going to stay at the hospital and work late. “In a little bit. Just want to get Dr. Vanderbilt up to date on the standing cases.”
He stroked my hand. “Sweetheart. You’ve been here twenty hours. And before that, you were in a moving van. The staff nurses can handle things from here.”
“I know. I know.” I yawned because the conversation called for it. “You’re right. I should go home.”
“Yes. Go and rest.”
Rest. That was the last thing I wanted to do. But it was probably the right thing. As usual, Michael was right. That was the big difference between someone totally reckless like Jet, and someone like me. He went around getting his cheap thrills with women he barely knew, and I was in a fully committed relationship that transcended the physical. It went beyond sex.
At least, that was my story, and I was sticking to it.
I needed to cool myself down and get some sleep.
I smiled at him. This was good. He was so damn good for me. Just looking at his serene face calmed me. He was my path to everything I wanted and needed in life — a stable family, a great career. He took such good care of me. I mean, how many other surgeons had a fiancé as understanding as he was? He knew everything that I faced and how to deal with it all.
Well, maybe Michael didn’t know everything.
He certainly didn’t know that since Jet Nash had mentioned getting inside me, I’d been thinking almost non-stop about what that would be like. Jet Nash’s eyes undressed and fucked me, made me nearly wild. His touch? His skin against mine?
Even thinking about it made me flush.
As I said, Michael wasn’t the most physical of men. He’d told me it came with being a doctor. He didn’t look at bodies in a sexual sense; he looked at them from an entirely different perspective. I’d believed him, because what did I know? Michael was my first. My only.
But only after I met Jetson Nash did I realize that Michael was wrong.
I’d operated on Jetson. Seen him at his worst. I’d cut him open, had both hands deep inside his body, pulled out his intestines and shoved them back in, felt his liver and spleen and all
the other organs that should stay on the inside. And still the guy oozed sex. Pure and simple. And the more he recovered, the more irresistible he was to me.
Because it wasn’t just my face that had turned red. My whole body felt hot; my nipples pressed painfully against my bra, and I was wet between the legs.
I needed to control myself.
I couldn’t, though. As I finished my rounds, I started to think about exactly how Jetson Nash’s cock would feel inside me.
And then I looked down at my ring finger and felt guilty. I didn’t wear my engagement ring, or any jewelry really, because at work it was more trouble than it was worth. But there was an invisible ring around me, and I felt like it was squeezing all the air out of my lungs.
Michael was right. I’d been at the hospital forever, since ten last night, and now, it was almost eight the following evening. I needed to get out of this place and collapse. Screw the boxes.
But as I walked to the elevators, intending to change out of my coat and grab my purse, I saw those men. The men who’d been here to visit Jet, standing at reception, flirting with the nurses. Black boots, jeans, tight t-shirts, just like my father. And like him, they exuded a shit-ton of confidence and attitude. They didn’t fit in this clean environment and something about the way they took up the space. Leaning on the reception desk like they owned it. One of them, the guy with the beard and long brown hair in a ponytail, caught sight of me and winked. He had green eyes, just the shape of Jetson’s, assessing and penetrating. Was that his brother?
I didn’t like the way Michael had treated them in Jet’s room. Like they weren’t fit to breathe his air. Michael knew very little about my father, but I’d always hoped, since he was so kind to me, they’d have gotten along. When I saw the way Michael looked at those men, it made my insides twist.
I hadn’t been much nicer to them, mostly because I’d been flustered by Jet. It wasn’t because I thought they were less than me. Feeling guilty, I decided I needed to rectify things.
I moved a little closer and saw the patch on the man’s cut. It was a club patch for something called the Steel Cobras.
Just as I had figured.
Taking a deep breath, I approached him. “Excuse me. Are you Jetson Nash’s brother?”
He nodded. “Yeah, that’s my baby brother in there. I’m Nix.”
I shook his hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t have a chance to introduce myself in there. I’m Dr. Benson. I’m your brother’s surgeon.”
“Thanks for everything you did, Doctor.”
“Can I talk to you a moment, in private?” I said to him, looking at the other man, the one chatting up the nurse. Nix shrugged a yes, and I led him over to an empty waiting area, where a television blared the news. I sat down in a chair next to him. “I just want you to understand the severity of your brother’s injury.”
He gave me a blank look. “He’s all right, now, though. Thanks to you.”
“Yes, but it wasn’t easy. We nearly lost him several times.”
I waited for that to sink in, but he just reached into his jacket and pulled out a pack of Marlboros. So much for a life and death lifestyle. He tapped the cigarette pack on his knee, apparently needing to just hold them in his hands to calm himself. That little motion reminded me so much of my dad that I wanted to cry. I squeezed back the tears as he said, “Yeah. Well. Great job.”
“Don’t you care?” I asked.
He nodded. “I do.”
“Do you want to lose your brother before his thirtieth birthday?” I shot out.
“Hell no.” His voice was gruff.
“Well, then, what are you doing?” I pointed at his patch. “I can see you’re both in this motorcycle gang, and you think it’s a great way of life. And I get that you think you have to be in it for life. But it could get you both killed. There are ways out if you’re smart enough to pursue them. As the older brother, don’t you think your brother might look up to you and respect your opinion?”
He scratched at the stubble on the side of his face. “He does. But I ain’t ever gonna tell him to drop the Cobras if that’s what you’re asking me. They’re family.”
“Even if it means the difference between life and death?” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Because whatever business the Cobras are involved in, it nearly killed him last night. I had to bring him back three times on the operating table.”
He shook his head. “Like we told the police, that was just random. Wrong place, wrong time. We don’t know anything about what happened, baby. Seems like you know more than we do.”
I gritted my teeth. He was just like my father, too. Always playing dumb. I should’ve known I couldn’t talk sense into the senseless. “So you won’t even talk to him and try to convince him to be more careful?”
He shook his head. “He’s a big boy. He makes those decisions for himself.” He stood up, pulled a cigarette from the pack, and stuck it between his lips. With it dangling there, he said, “Why don’t you talk to him about it, sweetheart? He likes talking to you.”
He winked suggestively. Had they discussed me, or more specifically, Jet’s liking me? From the way he flirted so unabashedly, I just assumed he did it with every woman. I found myself blushing like a schoolgirl. Then I cursed myself for letting it matter. “What do you mean?”
He chuckled. “I mean that my brother’s got it bad for you.”
All my breath left me, and I felt dizzy. Then I told the biggest lie I’d ever told in my life. “That’s of no interest to me. I’m worried about my patient.”
He came up close to me, and I realized that while he didn’t have Jet’s dimples, he did have the same arrogant smirk. “All right,” he said, “sweetheart, you don’t know what you’re asking. One thing you need to know about people like us? You ain’t gonna tell a tiger to become a rabbit. It don’t happen.”
My father would’ve probably said the same thing, had I ever had the courage to ask him to stop. I stuck out my chin. “I know more than you—”
But he was already walking away, feeling around in his pants pockets, probably for his lighter. “See you later, sweetheart,” he said when he pulled it out, saluting me. “Take care of my little brother, okay?”
My brother’s got it bad for you. I frowned after him. Why should that make even one lick of difference in my life, whether some good-looking, sweet-talking biker wanted me?
Answer: It shouldn’t.
But damn it, it did.
I turned on my heel. Despite everything telling me to go home and haul my exhausted ass to bed, I felt drawn to Jetson’s room. He was supposed to be resting. I expected to peek in and see him sleeping. He was the type of person people watched, even in sleep. I bet he even looked hot doing that.
But when I poked my head inside, he was sitting up, holding a crossword puzzle book and chewing on a pencil, his brow knitted in confusion.
I need to get out of here, I told myself, trying to tear myself away from the doorway.
Before I could get away, I heard, “Hey. Doctor.” That same taunting voice. I cringed and shivered. All my nerve endings went haywire, all at once. I poked my head in. “You know a five letter word for pun-gent?” He pronounced the word with a hard g.
“Pungent?”
“Yeah. Whatever.”
I thought for a moment. “Acrid?”
He scribbled it in. “That works.” His eyes drifted to the next clue, his lips moving a bit. He dropped the book and groaned. “Fuck. I hate crosswords.”
I smiled. “Why are you doing one, then?”
He picked up the book and jammed the pencil between his pretty, full lips again. He didn’t look up. “Because I’m hoping to impress you with my smarts.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Because they didn’t have Find-a-Words,” he said, meeting my gaze briefly. He read another clue, his lips moving again with the words, and his face twisted in disgust. “Jesus, this is brutal.”
He tried to set the book on the side table, but
it was a stretch for someone who’d just gotten his stomach cut open. I grabbed it from him and set it next to him, by his cell phone and his water glass. “Is there anything I can get you, Mr. Nash?” I asked.
He was so on to me. “Ain’t that something the nurses are supposed to do? Not the important surgeons?”
I paused, dumbstruck, trying to come up with a halfway intelligent excuse.
“Seriously,” he went on. “Aren’t you royalty around here? I see the way they’re all kissing your ass.”
I tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “I was just on my way out. I thought I’d check on you.”
“Yeah? Well, I’m fine, sweetheart.”
“No pain?”
“A little. The meds are kicking my ass though, in a good way. Thanks for your concern.”
That was my cue to get out. But something made me stay. I wanted more. More . . . what? More of him, in my life. In that room, I didn’t need sleep. Around him, I felt energized. Excited in a way I hadn’t been since I was a kid.
I edged over to his bed. “Also, I had a conversation with your brother. He seems to think that nothing on this earth means more to you than your motorcycle club. Is that why my recommendations for you to change your lifestyle are going in one ear and out the other?”
He nodded. “That, and I don’t let anyone—even a hot doc like you—tell me what I can and can’t do.”
Did he just call me hot? I’d always known I was pretty—Michael told me that all the time—but hot? What was this man doing to me?
Doing my best to ignore that comment, I let out a little “Hmm.”
One corner of his mouth lifted up. “What’s that mean?”
I shrugged. “It means that if you were hoping to impress me with your smarts, you’re failing miserably.”
His smile turned into a smirk. “Oh, yeah? Well, you ain’t winning any awards for your brilliance, letting that old fart plow your fields, sweetheart.”
My eyes widened. He wasn’t . . . he couldn’t be suggesting . . . How did he know? “What?”
“You. And that old, stick-up-the-ass doctor. You let him between those pretty legs of yours?”
