Isabel
With slow, steady steps, I reach my car for the rest of my supplies. I’m hoping the snowflakes falling on my face will cool my fevered skin.
Viktor Prinz.
Sweet baby Jesus. The man is…hot. Holy moly is he hot!
Sure there have been some great looking patients before him, but there is something about the man inside that house. Something that scares me. It’s not the words that come out of his mouth, those I’m used to. Every amputee patient I’ve helped is grieving the loss of their limb in their own way. It brings an onslaught of emotions that no one person should have to experience in such a surge.
No, but something about this moment makes me feel like the tides are changing. My attraction to him was instantaneous. Friends, if I had any, would argue that I’m only drowning in pheromones thanks to spending time with a nearly naked man.
Naked man.
It’s been so long since I’ve been with a man. Too long since I’ve experienced the pleasure of an orgasm at another’s hands, mouth, or yes, dick.
I think back to Viktor’s erection and press my thighs together as an image of him disappearing into my wet core pops into my mind. “Shit.” I groan. I need to get myself under control. I inhale deeply and the cold air burns all the way down.
When I step inside the house, I note the barely lived in bachelor pad. Viktor isn’t in sight, and I assume he went to dress like I asked. God, I hope he put on some clothes to cover up that sexy body. If he hasn’t, I’m going to have a hell of a time concentrating.
Pushing my less-than-professional thoughts aside, I take in the space and debate where the best room to set up for these next few weeks will be. I spot the open bottle of Jack on the table and wish it surprised me. It needs to go.
I hear Viktor come out of a room down the hall as I step into the open kitchen. I look at the higher cabinets and smile to myself. Rolling to my tiptoes, I stretch my body and place the bottle on the highest shelf I can reach.
“What the hell are you doing?” he barks.
I erase the smile from my face and turn to face him. “I’m here to help you get stronger.”
“No.”
“No?” I ask and stare him down.
“No. This is my fucking house. You don’t get to go through my shit. You don’t get to hide my Jack.”
The vein in his neck swells and pounds erratically. I take another fortifying breath and give him a small smile. “Viktor. I’m here to help you, to make you better, to make you stronger. I’m sorry, but I don’t have an assistant, so Jack has to go.”
“You’re absolutely correct. You’ve been hired to make me stronger.Notto act as my mother. And seeing as though I buried her yesterday, and I’m not looking for a replacement, you can lower that bottle.” Hurt, anger, and pain flash across his face. Thankfully, Mabel Potts already notified me of Viktor’s loss before sending me in today.
“No.” Leaning against the counter, I hope I look calm and collected. The complete opposite of how this man makes me feel, because right now I want to wrap my arms around this man I don’t even know.
“No?” He rolls himself into the kitchen, stopping inches from me. Viktor shoots me a fierce stare meant to intimidate me. “Give me the bottle, Ms. Marchant.”
“Call me Isabel, and no. Let’s—”
A beast-like growl tears from him, and the muscles in his arms ripple as he grips the handles to the wheelchair. He pushes himself up to balance on his left leg, and beads of sweat begin to form across his brow. I’m impressed by his stubborn motivation. Standing, he’s nearly a foot taller than me. Waves of his anger crash against me, but I can’t help but feel my nipples tighten at the power before me.
His arm raises, and I force myself not to react as he leans over my shoulder to reach the cabinet. The skin between his eyes creases, and his skin pales. My concern for the man trumps the sexual charge running along my skin at having him in my space.
“Viktor?”
A grunt escapes his parted lips, and I see a flash of pain as his body trembles. My arms dart out to help him back down into his chair. His breaths are shallow from his exertion, and he refuses to make eye contact with me.
Turning from him, I open cabinet after cabinet until I find a glass. “Okay, first things first. You need to do your part, Viktor.” After filling the glass with water, I hand it to him. “I need you hydrated. I don’t mean with Jack or any other alcohol. Whether you like it or not, you’ve been given a second chance. You will hate me and fight me every step of the way, but I promise you, in the end, you will thank me.”
Viktor grunts as he holds the glass filled to the brim. Temptation to admire his features tickles my senses. What is wrong with me? My throat is dry from the desire and confusion tumbling around inside me. I grab another glass and fill it for myself, even though I don’t think it’s going to help.
Between sips of water, I force myself to concentrate on the man sitting in quiet contemplation. “Drink up so we can get started.”
His lips part but no words come out. A moment passes and as he tips the glass, I watch the cords of muscle in his neck bob up and down as he guzzles the fluid.
