“You promise?” Her hands slid between the waistband on my jeans. I felt her fingers rub against my cock .
It was the first time I had promised anything to a woman, but this one was easy. “Oh, I promise .”
Twelve
Lennon
I walked into the hospital the next morning feeling like the world could see it stamped on my forehead: Wes Blakefield’s sex slave . But the nurses acted perfectly normal, and no one even looked up when I entered the doctors’ lounge .
“Good morning, Dr. Ashworth .”
“Oh hi.” Dr. Evans was pouring a cup of coffee. His timing couldn’t be better. “Dr. Evans, I was wondering if I could discuss a patient with you .”
“Sure. But I’m headed into a surgery .”
“Me too,” I added. The older man liked the rest of us to know he was still active on the surgical team .
“Maybe we could walk together,” he suggested .
“Of course.” I hurriedly grabbed my coat and stethoscope and followed him out of the lounge .
“What’s the consultation?” he asked .
“Oh no, it’s not a consult.” I slowed to match his pace. He had a bit of a limp in his walk. “I was wondering if you would take over a case for me. I completed the surgery last week, so it’s only a couple of follow ups .”
“And why do you need me? My schedule is really full. I doubt I have an opening .”
This was the part I had tried to figure out. What was I going to tell any doctor I asked to take Wes as a patient? Please take him, the sex is too amazing for me to keep him on my patient list. Please take him, I’d rather him rip my clothes off than be a respected surgeon. Or maybe I should say please take him, he’s the best fucking rock star in bed and if you don’t take him, I’ll quit my job to be at his beck and call. I closed my eyes, realizing I’d lost all self-restraint and respect. I was basically a quarterback’s whore .
“Well, to be honest, sir, I heard you were a big Wranglers fan and I thought you might want to work with Wes Blakefield .”
The older surgeon stopped in the hallway. “Are you serious ?”
I nodded. “I don’t really know that much about football. and I know you do.” I was losing IQ points by the second .
“Do you have any idea what his passing record is? Or his quarterback rating ?”
I shook my head. “Not a clue, and that’s why I thought this case might really mean something to you. You could give him the kind of care maybe I can’t .”
Dr. Evans adjusted his glasses. “I see. I see that you’re putting the patient’s interests ahead of your own. And I think that’s the right decision.” He nodded. “Yes, I’d be happy to add him to my list .”
I jumped. “Oh great! I can’t wait to tell him .”
His brow furrowed. “I think I can have my office call and schedule with him .”
I dropped the smile quickly. “Of course. You’re right. Thank you so much, Dr. Evans. I know he’ll be in good hands with you. And if you have any questions about the surgery, please page me .”
“Will do. Thank you for thinking of me, Dr. Ashworth .”
I headed for my OR prep room. “No problem .”
Step one of unchaining myself from my doctor-patient ethics was complete. I reached for the soap and started scrubbing under my nails as I prepared for surgery. This morning, I was reattaching a torn knee ligament .
I wondered how Wes’s morning was going with the team. He had mumbled something this morning about trying to get plays changed. I still didn’t know what that meant. With only one crash course in football and most of that spent naked on the couch, I wasn’t sure I had retained much of what he had said .
I began scrubbing my other hand, careful to trace all the creases in my skin .
I had spent two nights in Wes’s apartment. Of course, that meant I had to get up extra early to make it home and pick up clothes for work, but it was worth it. I was scared to death. Scared to be with him. Scared to not be with him. Scared that it seemed we were somehow igniting something between each other that could blow up in our faces .