6
DANNY
My forearm throbs under the temporary bandage I’ve wrapped around it. Not as much as my dick throbs, though, as I cross the parking lot to the All Saints ER. It’s been bitching at me for the past week—since the elevator—and now it’s happy as a fucking clam.
No. I didn’t deliberately cut myself just for an excuse to see Holly again. I can walk up a flight of steps and do that if I want. But I was thinking about her as I picked up the shards of glass off the barroom floor instead of concentrating on what I was doing and fell ass-over into the middle of the mess when someone from behind gave me an accidental nudge.
I’ve been doing that a lot this past week. So I don’t have anyone else to blame for cutting myself. It’s actually not that bad, despite the bar owner’s cold sweat over a potential lawsuit. It could probably do with a few stitches, but I’ve had worse.
Normally, I wouldn’t bother anyone with it—just tape it up and leave it for a few days. But the universe just handed me a perfect excuse to bother Holly and I take it with both hands even if it is two in the morning.
It’s a relief to finally walk inside the hospital. The blizzard may have blown itself out days ago, but it’s still as cold as fuck and even after a decade of living in Hardrock I haven’t got used to how the winter air stabs like icicles in my lungs. A blast of heat at the entrance doors welcomes me, and I unzip my parker with my good hand.
I follow the signs that say triage, the antiseptic smell of the place enveloping me. It seems quiet to my untrained eye. It’s early hours of the morning, I suppose, but I figure the time of day doesn’t matter a whole lot in an ER.
I come to a desk, and there’s an efficient looking black woman, mid-thirties, at a computer in a pair of scrubs. Her name tags tells me she’s Trudy. I smile at her, which is usually guaranteed to melt most women—Holly being the exception. This woman too, apparently, as she looks me up and down, obviously not impressed.
I suppress a laugh. They breed them ornery here at All Saints.
“How can I help?”
I know instinctively if I present my arm I’ll probably spend half the night in the chairs, so I keep my injury below the raised ledge of the desk. “I’d like to see Doctor Vincent.”
I know she’s working tonight. She left just before me in her regular work clothes, her stethoscope hanging from her fingers.
“And who might you be might be?”
“Danny. Colton. I’m a neighbor. She’ll want to see me.”
That’s a lie. I have no idea whether she’ll see me or not, but I’m hoping she will. I hope she considers the hospital neutral ground for us. I hope she’s as desperate as I am for more than a glimpse.
“Why don’t we let Doctor Vincent be the judge of that?” Trudy picks up a phone, her eyes firmly trained on me. “There’s a guy called Danny Colton, says he’s your neighbor, asking for you.”
The woman nods twice then puts the phone back on the cradle. She nods her head in the direction of some doors and says, “Go through.”
I smile at Trudy, who ignores me, but I barely register the snub as I start towards the doors. I push them as I get near enough and they open into a large space with a central work station lapped by a bunch of mostly-empty gurneys parked in bays around the perimeter of the room. The lights are dim and there’s not a lot of bustle going on here.
“Danny?”
I turn to find Holly coming at me from a dark corridor. She’s in scrubs, her hair is pulled back in a low ponytail, and her stethoscope, which is slung around her neck now, swings a little against her tits as she strides closer.
It’s hot as fuck. She’s hot as fuck, all capable and confident. In the elevator, she’d been in my domain, totally out of her depth. Here, the shoe is on the other foot. She’s the one in charge, she’s the boss, and my cock roars to life again.
Not even her frowny face has an effect. She’s obviously annoyed at my presence but goddamn if that’s not a turn-on too. She’s the perfect woman right now—sexy, pissed off, powerful.
I want inside those scrubs so fucking hard.
“What do you want?” she demands, her voice low and short, as she crosses her arms. “I have paperwork up to my eyeballs.”
“Well, see…” I lean in and lower my voice. “I have this dildo shoved up my ass, and I can’t seem to get it out, Doc.”
“Danny.”
Her voice brooks no argument and it’s like an electrical charge to balls. I chuckle as I straighten, loving the flash of annoyance in her amber eyes.
“I think this needs stitching.” I drag my arm from behind my back. Some blood has seeped through the bandage.
The fact I seem to have a legitimate reason to be here does not improve her mood. “What did you do?”
“Cut it on some glass.”
She sighs. “Fine. You’re lucky we’re in a lull right now. Follow me.”
Yes ma’am. Fuck, I’d follow her right into hell at this particular moment.
I follow her ramrod frame as it briskly covers the distance to the nearest gurney. Even in slightly baggy scrubs I can make out her ass, and I wonder if those pants just pull down. Her ponytail brushes between her shoulder blades in a hypnotic swing.
“Sit here.” She gestures to the empty gurney. “I’ll get some stuff and get Trudy started on the paperwork.”
She strides off again, and I watch her until she disappears, turned on by just the motion of her. I sit on the thin mattress and dangle my legs over the edge. The clinical smell of the place works deeper into my nostrils as I wait for Holly’s return. I hear low voices, a grizzling baby, a mechanical pinging noise, and then she’s back.
With equipment. Bustling around setting things up. I could watch her all night. Her quiet efficiency keeps my desire on a low simmer and my hard-on raging.
I have no idea when efficiency became such a fucking turn on, but my dick is hard as stone watching her. Or maybe it’s just the scrubs and the stethoscope. Finally she sits on a stool and uses her feet to roll it close to me as she snaps on some green gloves.
The snap zips straight up my spine.
“Let’s see it.” She holds out her hand, all business.
Lust churns in my gut, as does the urge to rile her up. “You want me to pull the curtains, Doc?”
She shoots me a no-nonsense look. “I think they’ll be just fine open, thank you.”
I grin and she ignores me as she quickly unwinds the bandage. She squirts some saline on the wound, which has stopped oozing now. She’s quick and thorough as she wipes at the old blood with some gauze. Once it’s clean she angles the lamp to examine the cut. “What kind of glass was it?”
“Beer bottle.”
She gives a soft snort, and I suppress a smile as she inspects the site, her head bent over it, her profile glowing in the lamp light. Her hair smells sweet like maple syrup and my mouth waters. She shuts her eyes and feels inside and along the edges for what I assume might be retained glass fragments.
It’s sore but my balls ache worse as the v of her scrub top gapes a little and the bell of her stethoscope brushes the slight swell of her cleavage.
I want to play doctor with her so fucking bad.
She lifts her head. “Probably needs four or five stitches.”
I smell coffee on her breath. “Okay.”
“When did you last have a tetanus shot?”
“About two years ago with my last lot of stitches.”
She looks both curious about those stitches—left calf—and disappointed she’s not going to get to jab me in the ass.
“I’ll just wash up.”
She disappears, then comes back a couple of minutes later drying off wet hands. Within two minutes she’s gloved and I’m draped, a patch of hair has been shaved around the site, and I’m all numbed up. She gets to work with the stitching, barely saying a word to me except for simple directions.
How can she be so cool when I’m running so fucking hot?
“So you were boozing?”
I laugh at her emphasis on boozing, like drinking’s another sin she’s added to the mental list she’s compiling to keep me at bay. “One beer at the end of the gig when this happened.”
She sniffs a little but doesn’t make further comment. “It might hurt to use your sticks the next few days.”
“I’ll manage.” I dismiss her concern—it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve played injured. “Unless you want to come and supervise me. My own personal physician.”
The curved needle stops, poised above the ragged edges of the cut, and she glances up, the same flare of interest I’d seen in the elevator burning brief and bright before it’s gone.
“Can’t. Working the next three nights.”
I shrug. “You’re welcome any time.”
“Nights aren’t good for me.” Her eyes seem to say neither are you.
But I’m done with pansy-assed excuses. I know she wants me, I’ve just seen it in her eyes for fucks sake. “Maybe I could give you a demo in the morning? You could drop in for breakfast. I make awesome pancakes.”
I don’t know whether it’s her hair, but I have maple syrup on the brain. I try not to think about pulling up that scrub top and pouring the sweet sticky stuff all over her tits.
I am not in the least bit successful.
Her eyes flare a little more as if she can see the pictures inside my head. “No.” She lowers her gaze to my finger and pushes the needle through the skin. I feel a dull pressure but nothing else.
“Breakfasts not good either?”
She ties off the stitch and sighs, her frame losing some of its stiffness. “I already told you, we can’t do this.”
“Right. I’m not part of your plan.”
Sitting back, she looks at me directly. I try to keep my focus on her face and not the way the stethoscope nestles in that valley between a woman’s boobs that I love so much.
“I have several more years left in my residency. If I pass. I’m having breakfast with my textbooks for the next few years.”
“So?” I shrug. “Bring them with you. You gotta eat, right?”
She shakes her head. “You don’t understand. If I want to become an attending after my residency, I have to keep my head down and work and study. This stuff is hard.”
By which she means, being a drummer isn’t. That’s true, of course, and I, luckily, have a healthy ego.
“All I have is gaps, tiny slices of time here and there. I don’t have hours or days to give anyone. And god knows I don’t have the energy. I’d be a lousy partner. It’s better to not even go there.”
Jesus. I’ve never heard anything sadder in my life. “I’m not planning on adding to your burden of things to get through each day, Doc.” I smile at her because she looks weighed down just talking about it. “I’m happy to fit into those gaps and I’m not just talking about sex. I’m talking about fun. Stress relief. A foot rub, a hot bath, a cooked meal. Pillow talk if you want it. Someone to rant at when you’ve had a lousy day at work. Although screwing you until you can’t see straight is also on offer. And you know what I can achieve in a short space of time.”
Her lips purse. I’ve pushed her too far and the glitter in her eyes tells me she’s going to push back. “Danny.” She glances over her shoulder and drops her voice when she returns her attention to me. “Screwing a drummer is a really lousy career move.”
I chuckle. If she’s trying to be insulting, it won’t work. Plus I’m encouraged by that dirty word slipping from her pretty mouth. “Haven’t you heard, Doc? Screwing a drummer is always a great career move.”
She rolls her eyes and leans over my arm to continue her work. “We come from different worlds.” Her voice stays low as I feel more dull pressure. “Being with someone in my profession makes more sense. They’ll understand the rigors of the job, the demands on my time.”
“Ah…I see. You only want to fuck doctors, huh?” If I knew I couldn’t give her what she needs, I’d be jealous as fuck over that. But I have no doubts.
Her hand falters as it pulls the thread through my skin. “Another doctor would understand why I’m always at work.” I can hear the certainty in her voice. “And why even when I’m not at work, I’ll probably still be totally preoccupied with it.”
I smile at that. I do like a challenge. “That’s only because you haven’t had anything else to be preoccupied with, Doc. But, I bet you my last cent, work has been the last thing on your mind since the…” I deliberately lean in closer to her and whisper, “screwdriver.”
Her hand falters again as she ties off the suture. If she’s thought about me half as much as I’ve thought about her, we’re both in serious trouble.
She doesn’t say anything, just puts in the last stitch, pulls the surgical drapes off my arm, and calmly applies a dressing. Only when she’s done that does she look me in the eye, her expression serious. “That isn’t who I am, Danny. The woman in the elevator.”
“Oh yes it is, Doc.” She just has to let her out.
“No.” Holly shakes her head. “But thank you for…letting me be her, during the blizzard.” She stands and peels off her gloves, and her stethoscope gives that beautiful swing. “I’ll get one of the nurses to talk to you about wound care.”
Before I can stop her or call her back, she turns on her heel and walks away, and I crane my neck to follow her progress back down the corridor until she disappears into a room at the end. It looks like I’m going to need to prove to her she is the woman in the elevator. And that it’s okay to have needs a medical calling alone cannot fulfill.
Challenge accepted.
Fifteen minutes later, my arm bandaged better than I’d managed it, I sign the paperwork. The local has worn off, and I’ve refused painkillers. The nurse accompanies me out but someone calls to her and I tell her I’ll be fine. She smiles gratefully at me and turns away. I wait a beat or two, then slip silently down the darkened corridor in Holly’s footsteps.
I have no idea if she’s still down here somewhere, but it’s all I’ve got. My boots sound loud on the linoleum floor, and I expect to have my ass busted at any moment. Suddenly, a door opens just ahead of me and I freeze, my pulse skyrockets. But it’s her. Holly.
My heart settles into an entirely different rhythm.
She’s halfway out the door when she spies me, her arms full of medical supplies, that goddamn stethoscope nestled exactly where I like it. The sign on the door says supplies. She gives me one of her cranky looks, and it has the predictable effect of throwing flame onto the smoldering heat of my desire.
“Danny!” She hisses my name and checks over my shoulder as I step close. “What the hell are you doing back here? This is off limits to—non-medical personnel.”
But I see the flash in her eyes, hear the husky rasp of her breathing. And damn if the prissy way she says non-medical personnel doesn’t yank me by the dick.
I give her one of those slow smiles I know shows off my dimples and irritates her so much. I know because she frowns when I do it, just like she does now. “You look hot as fuck in those scrubs and that stethoscope is driving me nuts. I’m here to do you, Doc, and this time, I have a condom.”
I don’t give her a chance to respond, just slide my hands onto her biceps and steer her back into the room. It’s dark in here, too, but my eyes are adjusted enough to make out the looming shadows of row upon row of large metallic shelves laden with stuff I can’t identify and don’t give a shit about.
I only have eyes for Holly.
“Danny. We…shouldn’t be doing this. I’m at work. Anyone can walk in here at any minute.”
“I know.” I smile as I direct her to the nearest row. “That’s half the thrill.”
“I…have patients.” But the catch in her voice betrays her excitement as I bump her back against the wall at the far end of the row.
“You’re in a lull.”
I start unloading the stuff from her arms, shoving it haphazardly on the shelf beside me. She doesn’t help but she doesn’t stop me either and by the time she’s empty handed, her breathing is a rough pant winding its fingers around my cock and I’m dizzy with it. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”
“Danny I—”
I cut off whatever she’s about to say with my mouth. I have to kiss her. And by the way she’s melting against me, opening her mouth and clutching at my shirt, I’m guessing she has to kiss me too. My hands slide to her hips as my tongue slides into her mouth and she moans and twists her fingers into my shirt.
And Christ she feels good—hot and eager, greedy as her hands pull me closer. Every suck of my breath fills up with the sweetness of maple syrup. My pulse washes like a waterfall through my ears. My hands shake with need, the pain from my arm forgotten. She rubs against me and I know how she feels. I want to bury myself inside her so bad.
To fuck her. Finally.
I pull away slightly, my lips not quite touching hers. “Say you haven’t been able to stop thinking about me.” I fully expect her to bite me but I’m pathetically desperate to hear her articulate what her body already knows.
“I barely think of anything else,” she whispers.
I groan and kiss her hard instead of roaring and beating my chest like a fucking caveman, which is exactly what I want to do.
Holly Vincent is mine.
I drag the stethoscope off her neck as I pull at the hem of her scrubs and rip it up and off, her Henley follows next. I vaguely note her bra is a pale pink as I fumble with the hooks. My hands shake with the need to be inside her. How I manage to get it off, I don’t know. I’m juggling it, my finger, and the stethoscope, all while her hands are working at the top button of my fly.
When she’s completely topless I sling the stethoscope back around her neck. “Jesus.” She’s so fucking sexy like that, the bell and the earpieces brushing her tits. “One of these days you and I are going to play doctor.”
Her breath hitches, then she’s dragging me close again and whispering, “Hurry,” against my mouth as she rips my fly down.
I hurry. Grope for my wallet, pull out the condom, rip it open, knock her busy hands aside as I roll it on, all without breaking from the soft-hard seduction of her mouth. I am obsessed with her mouth. Its shape, the way it moves, the way it tastes. I want to spend hours kissing it. For damn sure I want to fuck it real bad. Hell, one day I’ll write a goddamn ode to it.
But not now.
Now my hands yank down her scrubs and her underwear, my hands slide under her ass and lift, pinning her to the wall with my hips as she locks her legs tight around my waist. I adjust my stance to fit against her, grab my cock and guide it to where she is so fucking hot and wet and ready for me.
“Yes!” Her gasp is soft in my ear as I tease her slick folds with my dick. “There.”
I’ve almost forgotten in our haste that this is our first time and I have a fleeting regret that it’s up against a wall. It’s not very romantic. But I’m too far gone to be a gentleman about it. And acutely aware I’m in a room full of medical supplies with a woman desperate for my cock who probably knows how to perform a castration.
There’ll be time enough for rose petals.
I pull back to look at her as I notch myself just inside her. She’s gloriously naked except for her stethoscope and I make sure our gazes are locked before I shove into her. She moans and her tits rock a little as her hand grabs my shoulder.
“I can fill in all your gaps, Holly.”
I pull out and thrust in again and she gasps this time. I pick up the pace, thrusting and withdrawing, watching her head rock and her tits bounce. She’s gorgeous, her chest rising and falling erratically, her eyes shut, her mouth parted.
I slide in to the hilt. “Let me fill them, Holly.”
Her eyes flick open. They’re roiling with lust and I shove into her—hard. I withdraw quickly and she moans. “I know you, Holly. I know you love it when I talk dirty. When I say fuck.” I thrust and withdraw. “And cock.” Her nails bite into my neck at the profanity and she pulses around me. My hips piston once more. “And pussy.”
I go again and again. She whimpers and her thighs tremble around my waist, her internal muscles contract around my cock. I can tell she’s close as my own pleasure balances on a knife’s edge.
“I know you love it when I make you come.”
My hand slides between our bodies to her clit. It’s as stiff as I am and I flick it. She arches her back, bites her lip to stop from crying out. And I kiss her. I kiss her like the world’s about to end and I want to go out with her. Kiss her as I stroke her, kiss her as I fuck her deep and hard, kiss her as she fills my head with the sweet aroma of musk and maple syrup and the nonsensical sounds of her orgasm.
“Fuuuuck.” I groan and follow her into the light, my heart pounding, my body an agony of pleasure, bucking and thrusting, until we’re both spent and gasping against the wall.
I wait until my pulse has settled a little and I can speak again. “I can fill your gaps, Holly.” I pull back, lapping up the sight of her as I slide out. I ease her down until her feet touch the ground, shoving the condom in my pocket as I tuck myself away.
She blinks up at me like she can’t really believe what’s happened. I can hardly believe it either.
“Let me be your respite, Holly.”
“Danny, I…”
I bend and kiss her, soft and brief. I don’t expect an answer right now. “Just think about it,” I whisper.
Then I turn and leave. She knows where I live.