Page 17 of Healed By Doc
“Fuck!” he curses under his breath, but this ought to teach him to save handling guns for when he’s fully awake. He may be the club's weapon expert, but he’s not immortal. He more than anyone else should have known better.
“There, we’re done. If you decide to ignore the doctor’s orders and tear the stitches, I’ll skip the analgesic when I replace them.”
He gawks at me. “Damn, that’s cold.”
I arch a brow at him and he raises his hands placatingly. Then I start packing my things into my bag.
“You are serious about her, aren’t you?”
“What makes you say that?” I ask, not one bit surprised by the shift in the conversation.
“Why else would you stick around?” he says, leaning against Saint’s desk. “You have a hero complex, Doc. That’s one of your many flaws, but you don’t stick around unless something matters. So, I’m thinking she must matter.”
Looking him dead in the eye, I answer, “She’s the only thing that matters.”
Chapter Seven
Cara
I know he’s gone before I even open my eyes.
Am I surprised that his side of the bed is cold when I reach out to touch it? Well, not so much surprised as disappointed. By now, I should be used to him running off every time we share an intimate moment. It shouldn’t affect me the way it does when I open my eyes to find myself alone in the room. There are so many unresolved issues between James and me that we cannot comfortably lie together and pretend everything’s okay.
No, everything is not okay.
I didn’t just steal a huge portion of his life from him, I also ruined his career in the process. When I turned fifteen, I took myself to the library and looked him up. Before his sentencing, James Loxley served as a battlefield medic. He went to medical school while in the military and was just starting his career when the incident happened. According to the police report—my account of events—James attacked an innocent man and, in the process, killed him.
I close my eyes at the memory of it. Reading that report chipped at the bits of my heart that hadn’t crumbled yet. He was labeled a killer and he lost his job and his reputation. I betworking as doctor had been his dream as much as working as a social worker is mine.
And I stole that away from him.
Now as a convicted felon, it’s unlikely James will ever get a license to practice medicine again. The closest he can get is working as an unlicensed medic for the Steel Rebels.
Would I find it in me to forgive him if our roles were reversed? If I couldn’t work with women and children anymore—if I couldn’t help them find better lives—would I ever forgive the person who stole it from me? Kiss and hug them? Touch and bring them pleasure unlike anything they’ve experienced before wrapping my arms around them and letting them find comfort in my embrace?
Would I stay in bed with them all night?
Ours could have been an epic love story if we’d met under different circumstances. I allow myself to imagine meeting a handsome doctor without all this guilt and heartache between us. There wouldn’t be hesitation and second guessing every time we were together.
Maybe I’d wake up to his face after a night of pleasure.
And maybe, just maybe, I wouldn’t second guess every touch and caress between us. I need to get a hold of myself. I can’t afford to fall into delusion.
“Too late now,” I whisper to myself, pushing the covers to the side and climbing out of bed. My eyes cross to the bedside clock and wince when I notice it’s already eight before remembering that I have today off. I typically spend mine studying and trying to get ahead in classes. But I know that won’t be enough to distract me this morning. Looks like I’ll be heading downstairs and begging Samantha to give me something to do.
There’s a heavy weight the size of a boulder sitting on my chest as I drag my feet to the bathroom. The warm shower does little to take it ease the burden, and a few minutes later, when I find a single coffee cup sitting on the kitchen counter, the weight intensifies. There’s still coffee left inside, it’s gone cold now. I bring my finger to the cup, running it around the rim and imagining James drinking from it. I bet he looks so darn sexy in the morning, that neatly combed hair all mussed up.
His voice… God, I can hear that deep voice rough with sleep murmuring in my ear. Those lips trailing my skin as his hands seek my body under the blankets, touching me, guiding me into touching him back until we are both panting.
I sigh, grabbing the cup and walking to the sink, daydreaming as I wash it. I’m still in my head, staring into space, when a knock comes. It snaps me right back into the present, and my first thought is Samantha. She wouldn’t come to my door on my day off unless there was a problem in the building.
Oh God, do we have a new resident? Even then, she’d only come to me for help on my off day if it was a real emergency.The new arrival must be in really bad shape.
I drop the cup in the sink and rush to the door, remembering how Abby had looked when she’d arrived and starting to panic as I unlock it. The panic quickly morphs into surprise when I see the person on the other side of the door is not my boss.
My breath hitches when my eyes lock on his, the man I’ve spent all morning thinking about. He’s standing there, bathed in the morning light and… Wow. Dark slacks, a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a couple of buttons undone, and those tattoos I adore peeking out. His dark hair is slicked back, not a strand out of place, and his olive skin seems to glow in thelight. Christ, he looks so good, and for some reason, he reminds me of one of those old movies about Italian Mafias.
He looks just as dangerous too.
