Ava jerked awake, her pale, pasty face crinkled in disgust as she wiped the saliva off her lip. “Shit, I must have dozed off.”
He noisily washed the cups in the sink while the water heated for the coffee maker. “Rough night?”
“Yeah,” she muttered, getting to her feet and tugging at her dirty scrubs. “My roommate decided to host a party in our apartment last night without telling me. I maybe got an hour of sleep and grabbed the wrong scrubs.”
“Sucks,” he said, trying hard not to sound that indifferent. “Coffee?”
“Christ, no. I’d rather be stuck in the eye with a needle than drink that.”
“Suit yourself.” He placed a clean mug on the counter and poured the first bit of coffee, watching it splash thickly into his cup.
“How can you drink that?” Ava asked, cringing.
“Grew up on a horse ranch. I’ve endured far worse.”
Ava quickly retied her hair into a fresh ponytail and headed for the door, which almost opened onto her face as Donnelly stepped in.
“Aw, Taschen, I was wondering where you were,” Donnelly said smoothly, slipping his reading glasses off and sliding them onto the hem of his scrubs.
“Sorry, Dr. Donnelly. I—uh—” She glanced imploringly at Wyatt as though he’d save her. He merely leaned against the kitchen counter indifferently. She rolled her eyes. “Just needed a minute. Sorry.”
“It’s alright. Next time, just let me know if you need some extra rest, I’ll be happy to send you home early… again.” His tone was impeccably polite, making Wyatt laugh, which he unsuccessfully covered with a cough.
She flushed, gave them both a bland smile, and hurried out the door.
Donnelly pivoted on his heel, shooting Wyatt a knowing look. “That wasn’t very nice.”
“She’s not very nice,” Wyatt drawled. “Coffee?”
“Absolutely not. That stuff tastes like tar.”
“You’d think a hospital this good would have a nicer coffee maker.”
“I’ll work on getting us a new one,” Donnelly replied, and for a moment, they simply stared at one another. Donnelly scrubbed a hand at the back of his neck, looking adorably bashful.
Wyatt stared, thunderstruck. Was Dr. Donnelly nervous? Of him?!
Holy fucking shit.
Heart racing with excitement, Wyatt went to him. Donnelly shifted slightly, stiffening. He was taller, but Wyatt was slightly more muscular. He could smell the musky scent of Donnelly and nearly sighed. He liked his natural scent so much. It was stupid and nonsensical, but there was something oddly arousing about it. Sweet, spicy, male.
“How’s the shoulder?” Wyatt asked quietly.
“Good. Could be better.” He said it in his Dr. Donnelly tone, and Wyatt couldn’t stop the smile.
“So, let’s make it better then.” He reached for him, and Donnelly sucked in a wavering breath.
Facing him, Wyatt began to work the tight muscles, feeling the knot bunch beneath the layers of clothes and skin. He worked his hands and fingers into the tense muscles, and within seconds, Donnelly relaxed, swaying toward him but not into him—not yet.
His head lowered, giving Wyatt easy access to the side of his neck. Access for his lips to take… to suck…
“Better?” Wyatt husked into the shell of Donnelly’s ear.
He answered with that moaning sound again, which was weak, raspy, and so fuckin’ hot he couldn’t stand it.
Wyatt hummed, placing his free hand on the opposite side of Donnelly’s neck, holding him in place as he dragged his knuckles up his neck. It was risky being this close. They both knew it, and yet whenever Wyatt touched him like this, Donnelly became compliant and subdued.
He wondered if he were to drop to his knees right now and take his cock into his mouth, if Donnelly would let him. The mere thought had his dick hardening.
