Page 121 of Can't Always Get What You Want

My ears perk up. Play doctor?

Now there’s an idea.

I tilt my head and put a hand on my hip. “You need medical attention?”

Luca smirks, clearly amused but playing along. “I mean, I did puke this morning. That’s got to earn me at least a wellness check.”

I step forward, my hips pressed against the mattress and rest my finger along his jawline. “Patient appears responsive. Color looks good. Breathing seems normal.”

He opens his mouth wide and sticks out his tongue. “Ahhhh.”

I lean in, squinting to look inside his mouth. “Hmm. Noobvious swelling. But I should take your temperature just to be safe.”

He grins. “Orally or the up-the-butt kind?”

I roll my eyes, snatching a throw pillow off his bed and whacking him with it.

“That’s disgusting. I’m thedoctorhere—show some respect.”

He laughs, but he lifts his hands like he’s surrendering. “Sorry, Doctor. Just trying to lighten the mood.”

I grab his wrist and feel for a pulse. “Hmm. Heart rate elevated. You got anything you want to confess?”

He raises one eyebrow, the amusement in his expression giving way to something softer, more curious. “Depends. Do you believe in patient confidentiality seriously?”

“Always.” I press the back of my hand to his forehead, checking for a fever. “You’re not warm, but I’m prescribing bed rest.”

“What kind of bed rest?” His hands go around my waist, dropping to my ass. “The fun kind?”

“Mmm,” I hum. “Not sure yet. I’m still waiting on that confession.”

His fingers flex around my waist, and I feel the shift in his mood—how the playfulness hasn’t gone away, but now it simmers beneath the surface, layered with something darker, deeper.

“I confess,” he murmurs, low and slow likehoney. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

My breath catches. “Even while barfing?”

He groans. “Maybe not while I wasactivelyvomiting, obviously. But before? After? Yes. Absolutely.”

“Hmm.” I make a show of scribbling on an imaginary note pad. “Mental note: obsessive thoughts. May need prescription.”

Luca grins, lips twitching. He likes this game…

“Can you kiss it better?”

I tilt my head. “Where exactlyisthe injury?”

“Everywhere,” he moans in mock misery. “I might need a full-body examination.”

I crawl over him slowly, straddling his waist, palms flattening against his bare chest. “You’re damn lucky I make house calls.”

“One lucky bastard.” He groans again, this time not so dramatic. His hands slide up under my sweatshirt, calloused thumbs grazing the skin at my sides. “God, I love when you’re bossy.”

Which is most of the time.

Ha!

“I’m a professional,” I tell him, leaning down to brush my lips against his jaw. “This is strictly medical.”

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