AllFreeNovel
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You're a liar…
I stare at the message in disbelief. Does this man have a death wish? Like honestly, is this some strange form of assisted suicide? Because I'm this close to ending him and his legendary career.
The phone vibrates again.
You said you always wear pants when you work.
As I'm reading, there's a knock at my door.
I throw my hair into a quick ponytail and tighten the robe around my waist. Looking through the peephole as the asshole suggested, I see none other than Lake Decker waiting for me with an arm bracing him on the doorframe, the clothes and shoes under his other arm, awkwardly holding the crutch.
I sigh, dropping my forehead against the door. “What do you want, Lake?”
“Therapy,” he responds from the other side. “Open up.”
Is he fucking serious right now? This is just another display of control over the situation. Guess because he gave me the room, he feels he can stop by anytime for therapy and use me at his will, even if it's after 10 o'clock.
Opening the door, I suck in a breath. He stands there, hovering over me with his freshly washed hair and godlike masculine frame. He smells so good again, and I mentally curse my stupid olfactory neurons.
I watch his eyes quickly scan my attire, dragging along the white cloth, making me feel as if he can see through it with his burning gaze. Crossing my arms and curling into myself, I glower when his eyes finally reach mine.
“Your clothes.” He holds out the stack of folded clothes with the shoes on top.
“What are you doing here?” I ask. “Do you not understand dramatic exits? The middle finger was my nice way of saying goodnight.”
He smirks, looking down the hallway as he licks his lips. “I'd hate to see the mean way.”
I scoff. “Cute.”
“I can be.” His smirk deepens and his tone lowers as he continues, “I've got something I need you to try on me.”
My eyes widen, replaying the words that sounded so sexual.I'm still caught up in that novel.I’m just frozen in time, waiting for him to continue.
He raises his brows, nodding at the inside of my room as if asking to come in. As much as I need to slam this door in his face, I take the stack of clothes and shoes from him and let him inside, placing the items on the bed in the master suite before I rejoin him back by the door.
He grabs a large duffle-like bag from the floor behind him and throws it over his shoulder as he enters with his crutch.
“I didn't know I signed up for round-the-clock care,” I murmur sarcastically as he shuts the door behind him.
He pauses, staring down at me with a confident smirk. “You signed on for whatever it takes to get me back, Dylan. Day, night, whatever works with my schedule. Whenever I need you.”
Arrogant prick.
“Do you know how important sleep is for healing?” I ask with a bite. “Maybe you should give that a go.”
He sighs, a smile easing across his handsome stubble. “Couldn't sleep. Some lady got naked in the hallway and caused a big scene, so here we are.”
I roll my eyes, not even trying to hide my distaste for his quick-witted mouth. He snickers, sounding very reminiscent of every villain ever, and I’m itching with irritation. Yep, he's back where he wants to be, beneath my skin.
We head to the guest suite, where the table is still up. He sets the large bag on it next to him.
“Alright, so I got this from Carey, our old PT.” He unzips the bag and I recognize it immediately. “He said post-op—”
“The NMES!” I shriek. “I've been telling Greg to order this for me!” I quickly slap the top of his hand away as I admire the machine.
A breath of a laugh leaves his lips, clearly amused by my excitement.
“This is the best NMES system they got out,” I continue, unpacking the unit I'd been eyeing.
