CHAPTER 4
Noelle
I had returned to the nurse break room because I could feel my body quivering. I shut the door behind me and was thankful that the room was empty.
At the vending machine, I tried to buy a granola bar, but the machine was stuck. With pent up frustrated I banged it repeatedly and then kicked it with my foot. I just wanted the feeling to go away. I just wanted to be able to stop thinking about Aiden Gowen, or Tank as his friend called him.
With no granola bar in hand, I went over to the coffee machine and attempted making myself a cup. I ended up putting in too much sugar and too much milk, and when I took a sip, I hated it so much that I had to throw it away.
No matter what I did, all I could do was think about Tank.
Shirtless, with his chiseled muscular torso, his washboard abs, the light dusting of dark hair on his chest, his tattoos, his beard, the strength of which he had caught my wrist and pulled me to himself. My mouth felt dry, and I went and sat down on one of the metal benches.
I didn’t even know if I was on break, I hadn’t bothered to check my watch. I just needed some time to assemble myself again, to get back to working condition. Since the moment I had seen Tank on the gurney the previous night, being rolled into the operating room, I had been waiting to talk to him. I wished and prayed that his operation went well, and when it did, I tried to hide the constant smile on my face.
And now he’d woken up. I had actually spoken to him, and the electricity in the air between us was palpable. Had he felt it too? I couldn’t get those hazel eyes out of my mind. He had a slow and deliberate way of looking at me, his eyes roaming over my hips, over my belly and breasts. I knew he had undressed me with his eyes and I liked it. I liked being watched by him.
I had dealt with so many patients in the past three years of being a nurse, but nobody had this effect on me before. Hell, I don’t think any man has ever had made me feel this way. I pressed my eyes closed, but I was thinking about him again. His large rough tanned hands on my milky white breasts, his thumbs teasing my nipples, my legs were thrown over his hips. I wanted to kiss him, I wanted him to claim me. I could almost hear the rip of my scrubs as he tore them off me, and tore off my bra and sucked on my left nipple…then my right. I wanted him to take me in the room, lock the door and ravage my body on the hospital bed.
I could feel goosebumps on my arms as I imagined it. His rough grizzly beard leaving burns on my skin as he kissed my neck and my breasts. I was breathing hard as I fantasized. The knots in my belly were growing tight, only his fingers could unravel them.
I pressed my thighs tightly together and could feel the throbbing in my core. I was wet just thinking about him.
My eyes flew open. I shook my head and stood up from the chair. What was wrong with me? I was supposed to nurse my patients back to health. I was supposed to care for them. And here I was, fantasizing about one of my patients’ hands and his bulging cock inside me. I barely even knew him!
I paced around the room, trying to remind myself that I was a professional. That it was inappropriate to have thoughts such as these. Then the thought of him and his friend discussing the shooting drifted up in my mind. I knew there was something going on. They were trying to hide something. I didn’t want to rat on them…on Tank, but I had no idea what they were involved in. Whatever it was, they had not been out practicing shots and Tank had not shot himself accidentally in the stomach. That was just not possible.
Licking my lips, feeling a little dizzy with my overwhelming desire for him, I walked over to the door to step outside. I figured that getting back to work would help me forget about him…and what I wanted him to do to me.
When I opened the door, I saw Tank’s friend leaving the room. I remained where I was, frozen to the spot as the guy walked down the corridor. Leather jacket, tattoos, a threatening gait, dusty boots…this guy belonged to a world I was unfamiliar with. My eyes fell on the patch on the arm of his jacket. It had the logo for a Motorcycle Club called Bad Disciples. The name meant nothing to me…because I didn’t live in that world, but I had an idea of what it intoned.
Tank’s friend walked past me, and I got a glimpse into the life that Tank himself probably led. Did he belong to this MC too? That could explain his mysterious gunshot wound. I didn’t know much about Motorcycle clubs, but I knew that they risked their lives every day. They thrilled in living dangerously.
I stood there for a few more moments, the knots clenching and unclenching in my belly. I still wanted Tank, that feeling hadn’t gone away yet, but now I was reminded of the world he probably belonged to. How different he was from me. He was the bad guy my mother had always warned me against…and for a good reason.
The fact that Tank was my patient was only one of the many reasons why I needed to stay away from him. But my body was screaming out in protest. It was as if there was an invisible thread that continued to pull me towards him.