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My eyes scan farther, and then I catch her name. Doctor Catherine Wakeford. Fuck, even her name is beautiful, delicate, fucking feminine as shit. Most of the women I know are Rhonda, Tobi, or even Megan, which are all nice names, don’t get me wrong. But Catherine Wakeford is refined. Elegant, even. She is not for me, I have to chant in my mind, over and over again, because even her name causes me to want her more.
But we are opposites. Like night and day. We move in totally different circles. She works in a hospital, helping, caring. I punch the shit out of people. I even kill a few of them too, if need be. She is too good for me. A man like me can’t give her the kind of life she is accustomed to, so I need to stop fucking thinking about her.
I groan at the image I have of her in my mind as I cup my dick, which is already standing to attention. I can’t say I minded having her body so close to mine last night. I had to keep my hands gripped together to refrain from latching onto her. If it were up to me, I’d be trading places with her, exploring her body instead. I’ve already dreamed up the countless ways I’d love to hear her scream my name.
She was open with me too, her answers were genuine. I could also tell when I stepped over the line. I didn’t miss her body as it stilled when I called her a “daddy’s girl,” so I know I hit a nerve. Perhaps because I am right, and she just doesn’t like to admit it. Although I think there is more to it than that.
I never ask a woman for her number either. But as soon as I opened my mouth, that request came out, the thought of her leaving and not seeing her again making me speak without thought. It shocked both of us, I think. I hated the rejection, but I saw her contemplating it for just a moment. That intrigued me, even if I had to man up and get over her knock back.
Then, I couldn’t just let her leave when I had ruffled her feathers. So, like an idiot, I grabbed her hand. I couldn’t even stop myself from caressing her skin, and I didn’t even realize I was doing it at first. What is wrong with me? Now I’m daydreaming about holding her hand? My mind is out of control because of this woman. Hell, even now, with her not even in the room, I am still thinking of her. I am putting it down to the drugs and lack of sleep as I rub my eyes.
I look over at Benji, who is still asleep, snoring in the armchair in the corner of the room, his head at an odd angle and drool dripping on his chin. He can sleep through a hurricane and is clearly just as tired as I am, even though his sleep count doubled mine last night. I touch my head, the small stitches reminding me that I must have fallen asleep as soon as Doc left due to the pain meds. The hospital is quiet now, and I see the sun breaking through the cracks in the curtain.
Whilst I am still in pain, the throbbing in my head has subsided and the swelling has reduced and moved south to my crotch. I want to go home. If my relentless dick is any indication, then I need to go home. I need a cold fucking shower and to get my head on right.
I put the clipboard back and press the call button to wait impatiently for a nurse.
Ian comes in too fucking bright and cheery. “Good morning! Everything all right, Carter?” he asks as he checks the fluid bag connected to my arm.
“I want to be discharged.” I leave no room for argument with my demand. I am cranky, I am horny, and I want my own fucking bed, preferably with my doctor in it, naked, bouncing up and down on my cock. But, I’ll have to do without, I suppose.
He looks at me with wide eyes at my grumpiness, but it isn’t his fault his boss is the hottest fucking woman to ever appear in my life.
“Oh, well, I will need to get the doctor for you. They will check you over again and give you an update on your condition before the release papers can be signed.” He places the clipboard back into the holder.
I nod like a damn pushover, because even though I want to leave, I want to see her one more time even more. And it will be the last time; our paths will never cross again. I am a masochist, and if one last look is all I can get, then I’ll take it.
Ian walks out to make the calls, and I bark at Benji to wake up.
“Wake up, motherfucker.” I throw my pillow at his face, and he jumps up with a start.
“What the fuck, man? I was having the best fucking dream,” he whines, dragging a hand down his face.
“We’re leaving.”
“Fuck, okay. How you feeling?” he asks through a yawn, sitting up and stretching his arms above his head.
“Sore, but fine. They fixed me up. I need to rest, and I want to do that in my own fucking bed,” I grumble. I am an asshole in the mornings. Actually, most of the time, but particularly in the mornings.
“Do you think that sexy doctor does house calls, because I have a swelling down below that I think she can alleviate,” Benji says with an eyebrow wiggle I’d like to smack off, cupping his junk as he stands.
“You say one word about her again, and I will knock you out,” I grit out. Benji stops suddenly, eyes wide with surprise.
“Fuck, you like her?” he whispers, gaping at me in shock.
“Fuck off, Benji. Let’s get our shit together. The doctor will be here any minute, and I want to go home as soon as she’s done.”
Benji grins. He knows me too well. Do I like her? She is fucking beautiful, I can’t lie. But I don’t date. I fuck. Often. That is how my life is and, unfortunately, as much as I would like a taste of the pretty doctor, I don’t think she is the fuck and run type.
As Benji hands me some clothes, Ian walks back in with an older man following him.
“Who the fuck is this?” Benji asks, and I am glad he did because I was wondering the same thing.
“Good morning, Mr. Grange. I am Doctor Gregory. I believe you would like to be released?” he says as he looks over my chart.
“Yes, I do, but where is Doctor Wakeford? She is my doctor.” I look between him and Ian.
“Ahh, Dr. Wakeford finished a few hours ago. She came to see you before she left, but you were sleeping, and she didn’t want to wake you. Dr. Gregory here will need to check you quickly and then you can be on your way,” Ian answers me.
