Page 56 of Desperate Desires

Well, no, not really.

I wasn’t floating anywhere. In reality, I was planted in a vinyl armchair in the tenth-floor lounge, chasing a much-needed cup of coffee like it held the secret to survival.

The harsh hum of fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, and the distant beep of monitors was a constant reminder that this wasn’t some dreamscape.

This was life on the front lines.

I’d spent the last ten hours trudging through surgical rounds, and exhaustion clung to me like a second skin.

Every part of my body felt heavy, like my muscles had finally waved the white flag of surrender.

Of course, my shenanigans the night before were partially to blame for my exhaustion. Oh yeah. I definitely needed some actual sleep time in bed.

Not that I was complaining. I hummed deep in my throat just thinking about the reason for the delicious soreness in my limbs and between my thighs.

Going back to bed sounded great, but I still had six more hours to go—six endless, uphill hours that felt like scaling Everest with no oxygen.

My stomach growled, a low, angry rumble that reminded me I’d skipped my last meal break. Doctors rarely ate leisurely meals, and there was absolutely nothing appetizing in the hospital cafeteria.

I wandered over to the small table where a basket usually held semi-nutritious snacks—protein bars, bananas, if I was lucky.

Today? Empty. Of course.

Just a lonely pile of crumbs at the bottom, as if taunting me. I sighed, resigned to wait until I passed the vending machine, where my choices ranged from ancient granola bars to candy that looked like it came from the last decade.

For now, it was just me and my lifeline—my cup of energy-renewing liquid. AKA rich, black coffee with two generous shots of caramel and a sinful dollop of cream.

I took a slow, deep sip, savoring the warmth as it slid down my throat.

Maybe I wasn’t floating, but in that moment, with the caffeine beginning to stir something awake inside me, it felt like the closest thing to flying I’d get today.

Unless, of course, he came by tonight.

I could not stop the smile from spreading across my face as I recalled how I’d woken up early that morning with Ono Bottarelli’s sexy as fuck face between my thick ass thighs.

The man had one helluva appetite.

He’d licked me from ass to clit and didn’t stop till I came twice, squirting my pleasure all over his chin to which he replied by spanking my ass and calling me his good girl before fucking me on all fours like some wild, pornographic dream.

Dear Lord.

Ono was like a sex god.

A crazy good looking, hard as fuck god of a man who seemed to want me.

Me? Can you believe that?

The rational part of my brain said of course he wanted me. I was a well-educated woman, a doctor, for fuck’s sake, and I wasn’t half bad to look at.

He could do worse.

Fuck yes, he could do much worse.

Not to toot my own horn, but I was a catch. I was a good person. I was funny, generous, and loyal.

Hell, what was I trying to do? Convince myself of the reasons Ono should date me?

Ugh. This was pathetic. He never even said he’d call when I left for work this morning.

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