Page 4 of Running Scared
Dean patted his cheek gently.“So next time I’m in Texas,” he said softly.“You can return the favor.”
“Next time—”
Dean dropped quickly to the floor to pull up Bailey’s scrubs and tuck him in, giving his cock a loving little kiss before it was all tidied and put away.Then with a little push in the right place, he had Bailey sitting down on the lower bunk before he swung Bailey’s legs sideways and onto the bunk, leaving Bailey no choice but to put his head down on the pillow.
With a last fussy movement, Dean Royal pulled the afghan some intern had crocheted and left in the crib for her colleagues over Bailey’s shoulders and tucked him in.
“You need your sleep, Dr.Dodge,” Bailey’s own Junior G-Man whispered.“But I sure am grateful for a quickie in the crib.”
With that he kissed Bailey’s cheek and then…nuzzledhis temple.
“I’m HIV Negative,” Bailey mumbled, probably a day late and a dollar fucking short.
“I’m on a prophylactic protocol,” Dean told him with a little pat on his hip.“But it was sweet of you to think about it.”
Bailey’s eyes were at half-mast, but he still managed to say, “Are you really coming back to Texas?”
“Yeah.”Dean smoothed his fingers through the hair at Bailey’s temple.“I know a really hot doctor here, and I’d like to know him better.”
And then he was gone, and Bailey fell asleep so fast that when he woke up, he wondered if it was a dream.
It wasn’t until he stumbled back onto the ER floor, a giant mug of coffee in his hand, that he thought to check his phone.
You haven’t seen the last of me, Dr.Dodge.
Bailey smiled, knowing the anonymous texter had to be Dean Royal but absolutely positive what had happened in the crib was just a really amazing interlude, never to be repeated again.
THREE WEEKSlater, while stumbling up the stairs to his apartment after another double shift, he found Dean sitting on his hardbound suitcase, leaning against the wall in the foyer next to his door, his arm in a sling and his eyes closed as though in sleep.
As Bailey careened to a halt in front of his own damned apartment, those amazing hazel eyes opened, and Dean gave that dead sexy smirk that Bailey couldn’t believe turned his key.
“Dean?”
“Heya, Dr.Dodge.Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
“Did you getshot?”Bailey asked, a little bit of panic skittering through his blood.
“Cool your jets.It’s only a sprain.”Dean accepted his hand up, and Bailey unlocked his door and paused.
“How did you even find me?”he asked, as though this had just occurred to him.
Dean rolled his eyes.“FBI,” he said, and Bailey grimaced.
“Yeah.Dumb question.Come in.”
Dean did, sparing a glance around, taking in the cream-colored couch and the cream-colored cat and the ebony paneled tables, bookshelves, and dining set—and the bright ocean and wheat field blown-up photographs on his walls to give the small area a feeling of space, as well as green-and-rose-colored throws on the couch.
“Nice,” he said, with a tilt of his head that indicated he meant it.“What’s the cat’s name?”
“Abominable,” Bailey said, sparing a pat for the animal, who spared less than a glance for Bailey.“Bumble for short.”
Dean let out a surprising bark of laughter, and Bailey spent a moment staring at the smooth column of his throat and the momentary relaxation of a face that always seemed to be held stiffly at attention.
“Dean,” he said after the laugh faded, “what are you doing here?”
Dean held up his good hand and cupped Bailey’s cheek with it.“You,” he purred, that suddenly sexually dominant side popping out again, “owe me something, Dr.Bailey Dodge.I’ve come to collect.”
His mouth on Bailey’s was a little less surprising this time, but no less commanding.Bailey fell into the kiss without a net and allowed Dean to push him back toward the bedroom.
