Page 47 of Day Shift

Outside, Bethany screamed, and then there was a splash. I turned to look. Braxton stood laughing at the edge. He had helped her enter the pool the hard way.

Once the dishes were done, the rest of us headed out to join them for a night swim. The temperature was just right. Murphy, not one to be left out, splashed alongside us, his tiny legs paddling energetically.

After a while, Conan floated over to me, nudged my arm, and nodded toward the house, where Atticus and Samantha were already retreating. “Goodnight, guys,” Atticus called. “It’s time for the old guy to turn in. Thanks for coming tonight. It’s always good having you over.” He slid his hand around Samantha’s waist and squeezed, causing her to squeal.

“Those two are in no way tired. Trust me on that one,” Conan whispered, his brows bouncing. “Atticus just wants some alone time with his lady.”

Bethany, catching on, laughed. “Well, we’d better clear out then. Don’t want to interrupt the romance. Come on, Braxton, let’s let these lovebirds have their nest.”

“Yeah, it’s getting late, and some of us have early mornings,” Braxton added as he and Bethany wrapped themselves in towels. “Beth, I’ll give you a ride home, and you can pick up your car in the morning,” he offered, sliding into his loafers.

“That’d be great. I was just about to order an Uber.”

She and Braxton disappeared into the house.

With just Conan and me in the pool, the night became quiet and calm. The soft underwater lights made the surface of the water shimmer, casting a magical glow around us. Conan, stretching out on a pool lounger, drifted lazily, while I perched on the edge with my feet in the warm, inviting water.

I gazed up at the full moon and then back down to the water, noticing its silver light reflecting off the pool’s surface. The atmosphere was peaceful, almost dreamlike, and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so at ease.

Conan floated closer, his eyes half-closed as a contented smile played on his lips. “You look like you’re enjoying yourself.”

A warmth that had nothing to do with the pool meandered through my chest, spread to my core, and settled between my thighs. “This is the most relaxed I’ve felt in ages,” I admitted, letting my hand trail through the water. “The whole setup here is incredible. It’s like going on a posh vacation.”

He chuckled, the sound coming from deep in his belly. “Yeah, it’s pretty great. Nights like this make all the crazy shifts in the ED worth it.”

I slipped into the pool, the water enveloping me like a gentle hug. Then I swam toward him, the distance between us closing with each kick. The moonlight highlighted the contours of his face, making his features even more striking.

As I floated closer, Conan reached out and pulled me to him, his hand rough against my skin. The desire between us thickened the air. I placed a hand on his chest and, without breaking eye contact, traced the ridges of his abs with my fingers. His skin, wet and warm, seemed to pulse under my touch.

Holding onto the edge of the float with one hand, I shifted my gaze to where the fingers of my other hand glided along his contours. His tattoos, now on full display, were an eclectic mix. Some appeared to be badges of honor, while others were clearly souvenirs of a life well-lived. “You’ve got some really interesting tattoos. Looks like a lot of history inked on your skin.”

He lay still, with one hand tucked up under his head and the other resting on his belly, watching my fingers trace one of the images—a red flag starting low between the V-cut of his hips and disappearing under the waistband of his shorts. He froze as my fingers moved lower.

Chapter twenty-five

This woman’s touch was like fire straight to my groin. I was instantly hard and wanted nothing more than to throw her against the side of the pool, feast on all she had to offer, and fuck her thoroughly. But the fact remained—she had no idea who she was or the life she’d had before the wreck that brought her to me. No matter how badly I wanted her, it wasn’t an option.

I seized her hand before she went any further and slowly shook my head. “No.” Every man had his breaking point, and I could only resist so much.

Angel pursed her lips into a pout, squinching her eyes in frustration. Irritation was etched across her face, her brow furrowed and her nose crinkled. She crossed her arms and let out a huff, clearly not happy about being stopped, and allowed space to come between us. The expression on her face was almost comical, but I knew better than to laugh. She was really worked up, and there was something oddly endearing about her fiery reaction.

I floated lazily on the pool lounger, letting the cool water lap against my skin, enjoying a rare moment of peace. My eyes closed as I let myself relax—that was, until Angel gave my float a hard shove, flipping me into the water with a huge splash.

The shock of the water hitting my skin woke me up real quick. I surfaced, sputtering and shaking the water from my hair, only to see Angel swimming away, her laughter echoing across the patio. “You’re gonna pay for that!” I called out, diving after her.

She was fast, but not fast enough. When she reached the edge of the pool and grabbed onto the side, trying to pull herself out, I closed the gap between us, wrapping my arms around her waist.

“You’re not getting away that easy,” I growled. In one swift motion, I spun her around and pinned her against the wall, planting my hands firmly on either side of her head, trapping her in place. The water sloshed around us, up to her shoulders, and her wide eyes met mine, filled with surprise and something else—something that ignited a fire within me.

My eyes traced the silvery scar cutting through the perfect skin of her forehead. I raised a hand, softly trailing my wet fingers over the mark. “You’re beautiful,” I murmured, locking my eyes onto hers. She let out a soft gasp.

Her eyes darted to the water, and she tried to pull away, her cheeks flushing a deep pink. “Don’t,” she murmured, turning her head. “That thing makes me look like a monster.”

I tilted her chin back toward me, brushing my thumb against her jaw. “Bullshit,” I said firmly. “You look fierce. This scar is a badge of courage, showing you’re a survivor.”

Her pupils dilated, and she bit her lower lip. My touch had affected her. The blush spreading down her neck—and the way her chest rose and fell as she all but panted—told me she was not only embarrassed but aroused, and it was driving me wild.

I leaned in closer until our noses were almost touching. “You think this scar makes you ugly? No. When I see it, I see strength.” I kissed the scar, then moved to her temple, trailing kisses down to her jaw.

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