Page 14 of Doctored Vows

“Come with me.”

Not waiting for me to reply, Maksim removes my carry-on bag from my grasp, flattens his spare hand on my lower back, and then guides me toward a foreign-plated car that is gaining nearly as many admiring stares as his animalistic walk.

He moves with such purpose, and before a single thought can conjure in my tired head, I’m seated in the back seat of the flashy ride next to him, and he instructs his driver to go.

As the driver finds an opening, I swallow to relieve my parched throat. The heat is at a nice setting, but it is impossible to sit next to a man with such pulse-setting good looks and not feel thirsty.

Maksim must also feel the heat. Two miles from the hospital, he adjusts the sleeves of the business suit he’s now wearing minus the jacket. He only tugs them up an inch, but it exposes what I feared.

I was the only one saved from injury when he sheltered me from the icy ground.

My nails pierced into his wrists so brutally I punctured his skin.

“I’m so sorry?—”

When Maksim’s growl cuts off my apology, I use actions instead of words to express my sorrow. I dig a strip of Band-Aids and the sterile wipes I had planned to use on the bus out of my oversize purse before scooting to his half of the cab.

His scent is more pungent now, almost like he undertook strenuous activities during our time apart. It has my insides jittering like I’m submerged in below-freezing waters, but I act like the professional I’m meant to be. I wipe over the nail-width indents with the equivalent of a sterilized baby wipe before covering them with Band-Aids.

“At least they’re not the Hello Kitty ones I’ve been using all week,” I say when Maksim grunts about the superhero-themed Band-Aid I place on the angry red indents on his wrist. “They were pink and highly emasculating. The perfect accessory for the little princess warrior I took care of today.”

My fondness for my profession can’t be missed in my tone.

It is exhausting, but the rewards to come will forever make up for that.

“I thought you were studying to be a surgeon?”

“I am,” I agree, my smile picking, knowing that he must have researched me like I did his family. “But the plan is to specialize in pediatric neurosurgery, so a few months in the pediatric ward will greatly assist with that plan.”

Dr. Sidorov thought he was punishing me for being ungrateful when he placed me on the ped’s roster. He couldn’t have been further from the mark. This has been my goal since I was ten.

“Why pediatrics?” Maksim asks, his tone genuinely interested.

I give him the answer I gave in my college admission assessment. “There is substantial inequity in survival outcomes for pediatric brain tumor patients residing in high-income areas compared to low-and middle-income areas. I want to change that.” I swallow to make sure my voice doesn’t crack with emotions when I realize how close to home my statement hits. “A patient’s care shouldn’t be based on the tax bracket in which their parents reside. Healthcare should be the same across the board. Wealth shouldn’t enter the equation.”

“A million doctors and pharmaceutical companies disagree with you.”

My huff ruffles a wisp of hair fallen from my bun. “If people stop thinking you must be rich to be successful, greed will only ever be an issue of the heart.” I laugh like the donuts I purchased today for Alla and me aren’t squashed in the bottom of my purse. “Although that could be just as dangerous. My heart always craves more donuts than my stomach can handle.”

Once I peel off the protective strip of a fourth Band-Aid and set it into place on Maksim’s left hand, I lift my eyes to gauge his response to his big, manly hands donning cartoon characters.

Air traps in my lungs when our eyes lock. I didn’t realize I had scooted so close to him. Barely an inch of air is between us. I’ve practically crawled onto his lap during my assessment of his wounds.

“I’m so sor?—”

I swallow the remainder of my apology with the spit his growl instigates. I’ve never heard such a brutish yet arousing sound. It could only be more delicious if it were vibrating through my clit instead of my lips.

I should pull back.

I should do anything but return his stare, but for the life of me, I can’t get my body to cooperate with my head.

It refuses to budge since all its focus is devoted on how wild his hooded gaze makes me feel.

Ecstasy is trickling through every inch of me, and he isn’t even touching me. I can only imagine how explosive it would be if he’d answer one of the shameful pleas beaming from my eyes.

I’m all but begging, and it fills me with so much shame. When I spot the bus I should have caught in front of us, I shift my eyes to the driver’s beady pair watching us in the rearview mirror before saying, “If you pass the bus, I can get out at the next stop. I don’t want to be an inconvenience.”

When the driver strays his eyes to Maksim, seeking his thoughts on my proposal, Maksim waits a beat before he shakes his head.

---