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SAM
* * *
An hour later, after stopping at my apartment long enough for me to run in and change into some clean clothes—I definitely wasn’t going to work without panties—Mac dropped me off at the hospital. He said he’d get my tire fixed and drop the car in the lot before I finished my shift.
I was in a dreamy haze from what he’d done to me in his kitchen, and I hadn’t even noticed when Dr. Knowles came up to me as I walked through the ER’s ambulance entrance.
“Dr. Smyth.”
I didn’t stop for him, only yanked off my winter hat as I made my way toward the doctors’ lounge and my locker. “Dr. Knowles.”
“You’ve been making new friends.” He pushed open the lounge door and held it for me.
I sighed but couldn’t argue that his being gentlemanly was inappropriate.
“Oh?” My pussy still tingled from Mac’s mouth and fingers, and I was happy. Oddly at peace and I tried to stifle the smile on my face. A Mac-induced orgasm was definitely worth grinning over. I went to my locker, worked the combination of the lock so I didn’t have to look at him. Would he be able to tell from my face what I’d been up to?
“You’re new to town, so I’ll give you some advice.”
“I thought we were going to discuss sutures,” I countered, shoving my bag into the locker, then taking off my winter coat.
“Kissing the town mechanic isn’t a good idea. You’re young, have poor judgment.”
I whipped about, pushed my glasses up. “Dr. Knowles, I will take your guidance and advice on anything medical, my performance in the operating room or with patients. My personal life is none of your business.”
He ignored me. “He’s not good for you.”
I thought of how good Mac was, and I could feel my cheeks heat.
“Again, my personal life—”
“Fine, fuck a convict. Don’t sa
y I didn’t warn you.” He stalked toward the door as I stared at him, processed what he’d said.
“Wait!” I called.
He turned back around, a smirk on his face. He’d hooked me like a fish, and he knew it.
“Explain.” I wasn’t going to talk about whether Mac was fucking me or not. It was the convict part I was caught on.
“Your boyfriend went to jail for buying drugs.”
What?
“Cocaine? Meth?” I knew the signs of both in a person. I saw them all the time as a doctor. Meth was much more noticeable than cocaine usage, but I didn’t recognize either in Mac. Then again, I’d seen his dick yesterday, not a blood panel.
He shook his head. “Oxy.”
Being hooked on pain pills was bad.
“A guy like him into a sweet little thing like you? He’ll eat you up and spit you out.”
He ate me out, that was for sure. Dr. Knowles was insinuating Mac was paying attention to me because he, what, wanted me to write him scripts for Oxy? That that was the only thing Mac would want me for?
I spent the rest of my shift, between three back-to-back surgeries, wondering about Mac. About me. A bookish virgin who wore glasses. About the way Dr. Knowles’s words made me doubt not only Mac but myself.
Yet I’d found a text from Mac, which made my heart skip a beat. At first.
