“Hey. You doing okay?” he asks, leaning in slightly, close enough that I can smell him.
Clean soap. Faint cologne.Heat.
I nod.Lie, Regan. Lie like your life depends on it because it might.
“Yep. Fine. Great.”
He raises a brow. “You sure?”
No. Not at all. Not in the slightest.
Because the man I once had the best night of my life with just walked back into it wearing scrubs and a smile... and I’m lying in a hospital bed high as a damn kite wearing nothing but a flimsy gown and zero defenses.
Chapter 8: Hayes
I feel the faintest flutter of Regan’s heartbeat beneath my fingertips as I hold her wrist. It’s erratic, racing like she’s just run a marathon with no regular pattern. If I didn’t know better, I’d worry she was on the verge of a panic attack.? But I’d bet my license it’s not fear she’s feeling right now. It’s the shock of seeing me again.
Because I’m just as rattled to see that she’s my next patient.
Sure, I knew she was from North Carolina. That much came up during the haze of conversation after our wild night together back when I couldn’t keep my hands, or anything else, off her. But I didn’t know she lived here in Whitewood Creek. I’d never even heard of the town until I signed the job offer and make the trek down here two weeks ago. It’s a small town, and seemed like the perfect fit while I grasped at my second chance at a career upon finishing residency.
Is this where she grew up?
I tug my stethoscope from around my neck and press it gently to her chest. Her warm skin is soft beneath the thin hospital gown,and the moment my hand brushes against her, I’m flooded with memories.
Memories of me sucking on this chest.
Of holding her breasts in my palms.
Ofgrippingher while I had her pinned beneath me, her breath ragged as she begged me to go harder, to choke her, to bury myself inside of her.
My cock twitches at the thought, and I clench my jaw tight, fighting to stay focused on my examination because the last thing I need is a random boner while working.
I haven’t had sex in a while, probably my longest stretch in years. School and transitioning into my new, highly demanding career have been exhausting and I’ve found I just don’t have much in the tank like I did when I was in my thirties. But beyond that, after what happened with my ex-girlfriend six months ago, I haven’t wanted to. Told myself I’d take a break from women, and it’s been good for me.
I’ve been a practicing doctor for a year now, and my body usually moves on autopilot as I assess injuries, come up with treatment plans and deliver prognoses. But with Regan sitting here, looking at me with those dazed, light blue, glassy eyes, I’m thrown completely off my game.
She looks beautiful. A little out of it, sure, but beautiful. Her dark auburn hair is damp, plastered to her shoulders from the shower where she slipped, something I read on her intake paperwork, and her skin is flushed. I’m sure it’s not with the heat of passion but with the residual fog of the pain meds I’d had the nurse administer for the nasty bruises I know she’ll have on her head and hip.
“How are you feeling?” I ask again, this time softer, my voice caring too much intimacy and familiarity for what this situation deserves. I clear my throat and take a step backwards to put some space between us. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips, drawing my eyes instantly. She always had the prettiest, softest lips and I see that hasn’t changed.
“I’m okay,” she murmurs. “It was just a small fall.”
I hold up a finger and have her follow it with my eyes, my hand steady even though the rest of me feels anything but. Then I step closer, my hands moving to her neck and cupping there, pressing gently on the sides and back to check for any swelling.
It’s all standard stuff but my fingers linger for a fraction longer than necessary around her throat. I can’t stop thinking about the way I choked her right here, how she begged me to do it harder, how her head tipped back, her body arched into mine as I kissed her, and the way that that she moved with my cock buried deep inside of her pussy.
Fuck.
I shake it off and slide my hand to her scalp, searching for bumps or tenderness. But even as I move through the motions, my brain betrays me, flashing to how it felt to tangle my fingers in her gorgeous, dark red hair, to yank on it as she gasped my name, her cries replaying in my ears.
An image of her face down, ass up on the hospital bed with my large hand splayed across her lower back flashes through my memories.
I need to stop.
Now.
I drop her hair like it’s scalding and take a quick step back, clearing my throat.
