Page 40 of Stolen Bases

Being so close and yet so far from this man has me on edge. I’m fighting with myself to keep as much space as possible between us rather than sit in his lap like my body is begging me to.

His foot reaches out and slides along the side of mine as if he needs to touch me. Butterflies soar and dip in my belly. Cam watches me as he shifts from side to side uncomfortably, his jaw clenched tight.

“Are you okay?” I ask, basking in the electrifying caress of his skin against mine as the hot water eases my nerves and the tension in my neck.

“You don’t want me to answer that question.”

His answer confuses me. “What?”

“I’m fine. Just finding it … hard … to relax.” Cam’s eyebrows lift, waiting for me to catch onto the meaning in his words. He looks down at the water, to his lap, and back at me.

Hard?

“Oh,” I gasp.

“Yeah, oh. I need you to say something that will distract me.”

I can’t help but giggle at his obvious agony as he takes a deep breath.

“That’s not helping.”

“I’m sorry,” I lie. I enjoy knowing I have this effect on him.

“Little liar. You like knowing I’m sitting here, only a few feet away from you, with my cock hard as fuck for you.”

At his vulgar language, heat surges between my legs and blood boils hotter than the water in this whirlpool. No man has ever spoken to me like that before. I’m not sure I would like it to come from someone other than Cam.

My tongue swipes across my bottom lip as I contemplate his words.

He’s right. I do like knowing I turn him on. But he asked for me to make it go away, so …

“When I was in grad school, I worked as an ER nurse at night, not only because it looked good on my resume, but the pay was great for a struggling college student.”

“You’re a nurse?” His eyes widen with surprise.

Have I not mentioned that to him yet?

I shrug. “Yeah. It’s no big deal.”

“Are you kidding? That’s fucking awesome.”

“I’m not a doctor or anything.” You would not believe the number of people who have asked me why be a nurse when I could be a doctor. Like being a nurse is less than.

Cam’s face turns serious as he chides me. “Don’t do that. Don’t diminish what you do. I saw the way your eyes lit up when you said you were a nurse.”

“Okay,” I whisper.

“Good. Now, finish telling me your story, itty bitty.” Cam winks at me.

My heart skips a beat at his nickname for me.

“Anyway, one night shift, this guy came in and he was screaming, holding his crotch. Another nurse and I approached him, trying to help calm him down, but he was freaking out and screaming in pain.”

As I tell him my story, Cam listens to me with such rapt attention that it has me feeling all kinds of things. The way he’s staring at me so intently, it’s almost like he’s proud of me.

My chest tightens and floods with this unfamiliar warmth. No one has ever looked at me with such intensity as he absorbs every word I’m telling him. When I tell these stories at home, my family half listens. I mean, I come from a long line of artists, chefs, and athletes, so I get it. They don’t have any interest in medicine. It sometimes makes me the outsider in my family.

I don’t get that with Cam. He sees me. He sees my passion and wants to hear about it. He’s interested in whatever I want to say.

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