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A small smile played at the corner of her mouth and then she fell asleep. From one breath to the next, she was out, the orgasm that fucking good.
Hardin groaned.
“Is this for real?” I asked him, my voice low. “The perfect woman in my bed, her fingers still on her pussy, sound asleep?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely.”
6
SAM
* * *
I woke up because my cell rang. Not because I was in a strange bed beneath a cozy down comforter. In a strange bedroom. I was by myself, the smell of coffee in the air, which meant I wasn’t alone. I wasn’t sure how my phone had ended up on the bedside table beside my glasses, but I had to assume one of the men had put it there before I’d fallen asleep. God, had I passed out?
I grabbed it on the second ring.
“Hello?”
“Dr. Smyth, this is Marion Gables in HR. I received your voice mail from yesterday.”
“Yes,” I replied.
“I’ve added the incident you mentioned to your file, but just so you know, there’s nothing that I can do from a human resources standpoint.”
“Dr. Knowles got in my space, made physical contact and invited me to eat with him.”
“And you said you told him you wanted to keep things professional. Has anything happened since then to indicate he didn’t take that to heart?”
“That was eighteen hours ago. I haven’t been in the hospital since.”
“Please let me know if it changes. Have a good day.”
She hung up. While the woman was calm, she was abrupt and far from thorough. I knew sexual harassment
laws, knew Dr. Knowles was pushing every one of them. Without HR taking my concerns seriously, I was on my own.
As usual.
I let it go, just as I always did, and thought of my more immediate problem. Hardin and Mac.
I had to go out and face them. The bedside clock told me I had two hours until my shift.
I considered escaping out the window, but my coat was by the front door and I had no car. I wouldn’t make it a block before I froze. I did consider that as an option, because I had no idea how I was going to confront them. Not after how I’d behaved. After what I did.
Oh. My. God. I’d masturbated in front of them.
I was in my scrub pants, no top. I remembered taking it off. Wantonly. I’d all but thrown myself at them, and they’d pushed me off.
“Oh my God,” I whispered at the ceiling. It all came back, how Mac had told me to keep my eyes on them. While. They. Watched.
Shit, shit. SHIT. While they watched!
I grabbed my glasses and launched myself out of bed, went to the connecting bath. I stared at myself in the mirror, took in the snarled hair, bleary eyes. I had to shower. Was it polite to use a guy’s shower after a one-night-stand—even if there hadn’t been any sex? I didn’t have any choice; there was no way I could look them in the eye like this. I was a hot mess under normal circumstances, but now? I groaned. What they must think of me!
I didn’t linger under the hot water, even though it felt so good and I was enjoying the familiar scent of Mac’s soap. After drying off, I separated the scrub top from the long-sleeved shirt I’d worn beneath, put the long-sleeved shirt back on. There was no way I was putting on dirty panties, so I went commando beneath the scrub pants.
I ran my tongue over my teeth, felt fur and finger brushed my teeth using some of Mac’s toothpaste.
