Page 16 of Lethal Attraction

I interlace my fingers, pleading with him. “Please! I’m hydrated enough to last me forever, dude. Just for my smoke break! I’ll be quick.”

Yeah, right.

He pinches the bridge of his nose before looking behind him at the three other nurses on staff. One is flicking through charts with her back turned to us as another spins in his chair and stares up at the ceiling. The last healthcare professional is drumming her fingers on her desk out of boredom as she stares off into space.

“Let me check your vitals, and as long as everything is good, I’ll remove the IV,” Neil says as he stands. “Give me a minute to check on another patient.”

“Of course!” I watch with bated breath as he slips into a room before ducking off into the supply closet. I grab a syringe before sneaking back out to the nurses’ station. Charlotte, my daytime nurse, has had a steady order of that magical sleep drug on standby for me in case I decided to get ‘combative.’

Whatever that means.

But the vial is sitting nice and pretty on Neil’s desk next to my paperwork. I creep it into the pocket of my hospital gown before slipping back into my room and waiting for my friend. It doesn’t take long for Gym Bro to sweep right in with his little machine on wheels. He checks my blood pressure and temperature before typing everything into his computer and instructing me to lie back while he removes the IV.

“I put that you’re stable enough to forgo the drip in your chart. Don’t abuse your power.” He smirks as he packs his kit up.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I grin back at him as he leaves. Once the coast is clear, I shoot out of bed and race towards the elevator.

Fuck a smoke break.

I have bigger fish to fry.

I jam my finger on the button, waiting patiently as a draft creeps into the back of my gown. My mouth twists as I realize I’m clothesless and pantiles under the hospital-issued wear.

That’s bound to raise suspicion.

Nothing a little five-finger discount can’t solve.

Two hours later and I’m climbing up the fire escape of the Reeds’ apartment building in a fresh new pair of black fishnet stockings, combat boots, and a lace-trimmed black corset dress I snagged off a mannequin at the local mall.

Don’t ask me how I did it.

Okay, I may have broken into the employee entrance, set off the alarms, and grabbed the first thing I saw. I was rushed for time, and it was cute.

I hum lightly to myself as I test the window of the unit I know belongs to Reed, finding that it’s locked. Naturally.

I pull a bobby pin out of my pocket before sliding it between the seal, biting my bottom lip as I concentrate and try to pop the lock. When it finally slides, I squeeze my fingers through the crack and lift it slowly. The apartment is dark as I clamber through the window, trying to keep myself quiet as I ease into the living room.

The scene is cozy and minimalistic with a brand-new neutral-toned sofa and matching recliner. There’s a basic round coffee table with glass covering the top, and a few medical journals rest neatly stacked in the center. Towards the edge, there’s a book that was left open, facing down as if Reed means to pick it back up the moment he wakes. The kitchen is clean and sparkling, and the countertops are cleared of any signs that someone even lives here.

Okay. He’s definitely a neat freak.

I shouldn’t find that adorable.

And I shouldn’t be itching to leave a mess just to fuck with him…

I smirk as I skip over to the coffee table and run my fingers over the book that’s open. “What are you reading, Dr. Dreamy?”

I flip it over, plopping down onto his sofa as my eyes skim the first paragraph.

…Clara didn’t know what it was that was attracting her so intensely to Dax. Maybe it was the way he wielded the surgical knife over her pale, slender neck with anticipation and slow strokes that bit into her flesh with every pass. Maybe it was the darkness in his eyes that matched her own depraved and sick ways that had her pulse fluttering impossibly fast. Or maybe it was the way he was wrapping her thin fingers around the knife’s handle with a whispered plea.

“Sink the blade into my skin, Amore. Make me bleed for you.”

“Holy shit…” I muse with wide eyes as I flip the page and continue with the steamy, bloodlust-induced scene.

Clara grips the knife with shaky hands, her bottom lip trembling as arousal sweeps through her. “Dax—”

“Shhh,” her masked villain whispers as he strokes her cheek tenderly. “I trust you, my love.”