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“Oh, God,” I rolled my eyes. “We’ll see about that. In fact, I’m excited to watch you push down all those emotions when three in the morning rolls around, and I still haven’t been seen yet.”
“Watch away, gorgeous,” he taunted. “Clock’s ticking, and my mood is just fine. And you should know, if I were going to throw a temper tantrum about not getting laid tonight, that would’ve happened when you cut your cute little hand on the mirror right before you climaxed.”
My eyes widened, and I nearly choked on my own saliva. I had no idea he realized that the aggressive way he was kissing me, his hard cock pressing against me, and the low growl that kept erupting from his chest had nearly made me come without him even touching me there.
My cheeks felt flushed, and I was starting to ache in need of that feeling of pleasure that I craved from this man. And now I was back here again emotionally, not caring whether John and I formed any kind of a relationship. I just wanted him inside me.
2:30 am
“Ms. Smith?” my name was finally called after having my vitals checked three hours ago.
“That’s me,” I said, standing up from where I sat in this ER that continued to fill with more people.
I had no idea where John went, but at around two in the morning, he said he was going to find out what the holdup was—as I could’ve bled to death by now. It made me laugh because his need to have things neat, tidy, and perfectly structured kicked in about an hour after we had gone through old pictures on his phone of his family at their various French estates. I didn’t know if all this sitting around had put John in a bad mood, or if seeing his family was the reason he went out for fresh air, but he’d been gone for thirty minutes.
And after seeing his perfect family and the dark eyes of his pretentious parents, I welcomed the break.
That family wore wealth and wore it well. I couldn’t imagine having them stare down their noses at me if I’d ever met them in person. I could easily say that if a woman didn’t look like her family owned an entire country, she most certainly was not worthy of an Aster. John’s brothers were as handsome as he was, and the women on their arms were beautiful, but I could sense a hint of sadness behind their smiles.
I didn’t get it. Overly wealthy people never seemed happy. They always looked serious and calculated, but John had a bright, beaming smile in those photos. He was different from them somehow.
Who knew what the story really was? It was late, and my mood had gone to shit two hours ago, so I wasn’t one to judge.
“You seem too young to have graduated from medical school already,” the handsome ER doctor stated while he injected the anesthetic into my flesh.
“Well, Dr. Melvyn, I’m not, and I’m quite?—”
“It’s Blake,” he said, his piercing blue eyes meeting mine in a flirty way. “Call me Blake. In fact, if you’re comfortable with it, and single, I’ll give you my phone number, and you can call me whatever?—”
“Good God,” I heard John’s voice break through and cut off Blake’s attempt to hit on me. “Don’t they teach you ER folks any new tricks to hit on women? Or are you all that slow to catch on?”
Blake frowned and stared darkly at John, entering the room unannounced and berating him immediately with back-to-back unnecessary insults.
“I’m not sure I follow you?” he responded, looking at me for explanations for John’s rudeness.
“Just ignore him,” I said, not wanting the doctor who was about to stitch up the back of my hand to be pissed.
“Well, of course, you don’t,” John taunted, a bit of humor crossing his expression. “Because if you did, you’d realize that you’re trying to hit on my lady—your patient?—
and I’m not okay with it. So, why don’t you do your job, stitch her up, and stop making your patients wait for hours in your filthy waiting room? Or maybe that’s what you’ve been doing all night? Hitting on patients and holding all of us up?”
“I can assure you, I didn’t think she was attached, and I’m not holding anyone up,” he said, turning to the needle to place a stitch in my hand.
“Well, you wouldn’t, would you?” John said, possessively standing at my side.
“It’s because I’m not,” I answered, looking up at John, astonished to see this side of him.
“Oh, you are,” John insisted.
“Looks like the beautiful lady isn’t attached,” Blake’s eyes went to me, his smirk mirroring John’s cocky smirk from a second ago.
John’s expression grew dark, and I was shocked to see him get this upset. This was stupid, immature, and completely opposite of the man I’d grown to find quite attractive.
I didn’t like his behavior at all. It was totally unacceptable in a million different ways, and I didn’t want to even look at him.
“Just stitch her up, please,” John ordered the doctor. “You have plenty of other patients waiting to be seen.”
After an hour and a half of silence between John and me—and me being entirely uncomfortable with and repulsed by his behavior—we walked into the hotel room that had started all of this. My hand only needed one stupid stitch, and all the dramatic events of the night faded after that.
