Page 13 of Fixation

His jaw dropped. Her harsh words struck a nerve. But seeing her chest heaving angrily and those annoying sighs rolling off her lips was ticking him off even more.

“Stop psychoanalysing me, and be nice for a change,” he said.

“Can’tyoube nice?” she shot back.

“Why are you so difficult all the time?” he said. “If this is your natural setting, then I pity the man who wants to be with you.”

Shit. What was wrong with him? Why was he reacting like this to her?

Her eyes turned to sharp slits. “And I feel very happy for the many women who may have dumped you for a far more reasonable man.”

“For your information, there have been none who dumped me. It’s always the other way round.”

She clucked her tongue. “You’re so full of yourself.”

“Like recognises like,” he shot back.

“Aargh!” She threw her hands up in the air. “What have I ever done to deserve this? You’re like a patient sent from the pits of hell only to torment me.”

“And you’re like a doctor who needs a disgusting disease named after them.”

Her lips twitched at that inane remark. Fuck. What was he thinking?

A doctor who needs a disgusting disease named after them.

Who the hell spoke like that? His own lips curved, and then she was laughing and so was he. All the tension between them dissolved. God, it felt so good to simply let go like that. For the first time in days, he felt the pressure that had constantly been on his chest ease a little.

A moment later, she smiled and shook her head. She captured his wrist in her hand. A jolt of something went through him, something familiar. Fuck. Why did this happen every singletime her skin touched his? She focused on his pulse, while he took his time studying her.

With her expression soft and at ease, and her skin glowing, she looked pretty, despite the monstrous glasses. The urge to pluck the glasses off her face and to see her features fully, slammed into him. The sound of a knock pulled him out of doing something absolutely illogical.

Stefan entered the room and smiled at them.

Vedant addressed him. “How come you’re still here? Isn’t your shift done?”

“It is, but Dr. Singh needs my help.”

“I need to check your dressings,” she told him, sounding calm. “If that’s okay with you.”

Her voice—sometimes, when she spoke, he felt like he’d heard her voice before… prior to even meeting her.

She spoke a few words to Stefan while donning a pair of rubber gloves.

Stefan helped him out of his shirt and began to unwrap the gauze around his chest. When he was done, Dr. Singh came forward. Once again, her strong scent punched him in the gut. Why did her scent affect him so? She moved to touch his chest, and he caught her wrist.

Her eyes widened, and a gasp escaped her mouth as something fizzed between them. He ignored it.

“Will it hurt?” he asked, afraid to learn the answer to that. He was already incapacitated and in pain. More pain only meant his recovery would be slower.

He lowered his hand and looked away, mortified for being weak. She tilted her head to the side. “It won’t hurt. I promise.”

He gave her a watery smile. Her lips curved, and then her gaze lowered to his mouth, to his jaw and further down his body, settling on his abs. Confused, he looked down at his body, at his abs, and realisation dawned. He was shirtless, his abs andAdonis Vee on display for her. And his usually rigid doctor was staring at his lower body.

Her eyes rushed back to his face. He blinked. Was he imagining it, or was there now a tinge of pink on her cheeks? And if it seriously was, then what the fuck? And why was he suddenly feeling too damn hot?

Equal parts of curiosity and amusement sped through him. And from the way she refused to look him in the eye, he was convinced that she had definitely been checking him out. How interesting.

She went back to work on his chest. He looked down his left pec. An angry red scar ran across his upper chest to his shoulder. He watched as she deftly cleaned and disinfected the wound. Beneath that scar was a long purplish bruise, signifying his broken rib.

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