“What are you mad about?”
“This,” she screamed. “You and me. What we did. How you made me feel.”
Her shoulders tensed as I moved within inches of her. “I have never asked a woman to stay with me the next day.” I stared into her stormy blue eyes. “I have never left a woman in my apartment while I went to work. I have never rushed home, praying to God she’d still be there when I got back. I’ve never cared if she came more than once. I’ve never given her my jersey to wear. And I sure as hell have never spent twenty-four hours with her.” I tipped her chin upward. “I’ve never spent a night like I did with you. That’s what I’m trying to say.”
Lennon’s arms flew around my neck, and she drew me toward her, kissing me softly, but with more passion than she had before. I breathed against her, drowning in her, falling for this woman I barely knew, but somehow knew was mine.
I pressed my forehead to hers. “I’m not going to lie to you, Doc, I’m a fucking bastard, but please stay. I want you to stay.”
She nodded. “I don’t want to go.”
“I have no idea what I’m doing,” I groaned into her ear. The words she said had scared the shit out of me. I didn’t know anything about relationships or commitment. But what I had told her was the damn truth. I wanted her more than I wanted anything, and that meant she had to stay.
“First thing tomorrow, you’re getting a new doctor.”
“All right. If you insist.”
“I do.” Her hands slid over my shoulders.
“And then there’s no conflict with the hospital?”
She smiled. “No conflict.”
“So I can fuck you whenever I want?” I grinned greedily.
“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.”
12
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?”