Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 68936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
“You try livin’ without moving your hands, Doc. It ain’t easy,” Adan grunts.
“I understand that, but it’s not forever. That’s why you have Ramona to help you. You need to rely on her more.”
“To be fair doctor, I already have to wash his junk. I’m not sure he could possibly rely on me any more than that,” I point out.
Doctor Daniel grins at me.
I think he likes me.
Every single time I bring Adan in here, he flirts with me.
I’m certain if I asked, he’d take me out.
A doctor wouldn’t be so bad, either.
“I understand it’s difficult,” he begins, and Adan cuts him off.
“Difficult?” he grunts. “How is it difficult for her? It’s her job.”
“Once again ...” I say, raising my brows. “Junk.”
Adan glares at me.
“You need to do less, Adan. If you want to get back to it sooner, then you have to listen to what I’m telling you.”
Daniel dresses Adan’s hands and bandages them again. Then he looks to me. “Wonderful job on keeping them clean, Ramona. You’re doing fantastic.”
I beam. Daniel winks.
Adan stands. “Fuck me. Are we done here?”
“Sorry, Doc,” I say, standing too. “He’s moody.”
Daniel waves it off. “It’s no problem. See you in a week, Adan.”
Adan walks out and Daniel calls after me, so I stop in my tracks and turn toward him.
“If it gets too much for you, Ramona, feel free to call me anytime.”
Oh, boy.
He is flirting with me.
“It’s nothing,” I say, shrugging. “He doesn’t bother me.”
“There is support, if you need it. You can get a second nurse, to help break it up for you.”
“It’s not forever, and I could use the experience, if I’m being honest. I don’t really want to share.”
“Understandable. If you’d ever like to get together, I’m happy to talk you through any questions you might have.”
There it is.
I grin. “Well, I wouldn’t mind chatting to a doctor ...”
He grins now, too. “Here’s my number, feel free to call anytime.”
He hands me his card that contains his cell number. “I will.” I smile. “Catch you later, Doc.”
I walk out with a huge smile on my face. Adan is waiting for me at the front counter, and once we’ve fixed up the receptionist, we walk out to the car and the second we’re out the front door he turns to me. “You goin’ to fuck my doctor now?”
I stop, staring at him with wide eyes. “What on earth gives you that impression?”
“The man is practically fuckin’ humping your leg he’s that into you.”
I flush. It’s that obvious?
“Well, I mean, he is only human.”
“He’s my doctor.”
“Yes, and I’m not his patient.”
“You’re my nurse.”
“Great job on figuring that out, Adan.”
He growls. “He’s not your type. Way too clean cut.”
“Since when do you know my type?”
He studies me, eyes scanning over my face. “I know it. You like a man who is going to take charge, slam you against a wall when he walks through the door and fuck you right there, panties ripped to the side, teeth in your flesh as he drives his cock deep into your pussy.” He leans forward so his mouth is super close to mine, and my heart rate picks up. “That doctor ain’t goin’ to do that for you.”
With that, he straightens and turns, walking to the car.
My god.
Am I wet?
I’m wet.
I’m actually wet.
His words nearly brought me to my knees. They made my heart race and my skin prickle.
Damn him.
What would he know, anyway?
Daniel is a nice man. I can go out with a nice man. I can.
I’ll prove him wrong.
Just wait and see.
SMASH.
Grunt.
Smash.
Another grunt.
I stare at Adan walking around his apartment like a gorilla who has just escaped a zoo. He’s angry, mostly because he has been forced to follow the doctor’s orders for the last week and he’s losing his mind. He’s bored. He can’t even have women swarming all over him because he has been instructed to at least have a few weeks to do nothing and heal.
He’s horrible.
Living with him is like living with a really angry two-year-old.
He growls and barks at me every time I speak, he refuses to help with anything and instead throws orders around like he’s a king, he doesn’t sleep, and is forever smashing shit that gets in his way.
Moody bloody biker.
“Can you stop smashing things?” I mutter, walking over and picking up the same lamp I’ve picked up three times now because he knocks it off every single time he walks past it. My god he’s angry.
“Don’t tell me what to fuckin’ do,” he barks, spinning toward me, eyes wild with anger.
He’s only wearing a pair of pajama shorts, and even though I’ve seen every inch of him, it doesn’t mean he’s not absolutely gorgeous when he’s standing there, fuming, muscles tensed. He’s a spectacular man, and he knows it.
“Don’t yell at me or I’ll stop helping you. I’ll let you get an old, cranky nurse in here to sort you out. You think she’ll stand for this shit?”