Madison is by my side when I wake up in my room. I just wish I wasn’t so groggy. I feel like I’m glued to the bed.

“Are you okay?” she asks, rushing to my side.

“Great,” I try to answer, but it comes out as a mess of vowels instead.

She was worried about me. I try to smile but my lips are too heavy.

“Just relax,” she says, placing a hand on my shoulder. “You’re just coming down off the anesthesia. You should feel more like yourself in a few minutes.”

She tells me that I had a huge blood clot pushing against my spine and that she had me rushed into emergency surgery. When I remember the kiss in the elevator, I’m not able to focus on anything else. I don’t hear anything after that.

I can still taste her on my tongue. I can still feel the tingling on my lips—although that may be the anesthesia.

Gradually, the weighted feeling in my body dissipates and I can move my mouth again.

She’s talking a mile a minute, explaining the surgery in specific detail that mostly goes over my head. “Dr. Cialdini and I were able to—”

“You kissed me,” I say, interrupting her. I want to hear about my spine, but I want to get the most important thing out of the way first.

The kiss.

She stops talking and her adorable cheeks go red as she looks down at me.

“I was wishing you good luck on your life-threatening surgery,” she says. I grin when her tongue quickly slips out and she licks her lips. Apparently, she liked it as much as I did.

“So, you kiss all of your patients?” I ask with a smirk.

She gets even redder. “I was checking your breathing.”

“With your lips?”

She nods. “It’s a medical technique.”

“Oh,” I say with a laugh. “Well, in that case, you better check it again.”

Madison tucks a strand of hair behind her ear as she quickly looks around. “This is an advanced medical technique to test your breath rate,” she says as she leans down. Her lips are hovering over mine. “Definitely not because I’m attracted to you.”

“Good to know,” I whisper, loving the feeling of her warm breath washing over my lips.

She smiles and then kisses me. It feels even more euphoric than when I was under the anesthesia.

“Mmmm,” I moan when she pulls away, batting her lush dark lashes and looking at me with her sexy gray eyes. “How’s my breathing rate?”

“Delicious,” she says, licking her lips. “Although I didn’t get an accurate reading. I’ll have to test it again.”

She kisses me again, and my cock hardens as her warm silky tongue slides against mine. At least I know that still works after the surgery.

“Dr. Mendes,” I say, holding her hand when she pulls away. “I like you. A lot. I want you to be my girlfriend.”

“I’m your doctor,” she says, sliding her hand out of mine. “I shouldn’t be doing this. It’s unprofessional. It’s against regulation. It’s unethical.”

“It’s fun,” I say, reaching for her hand and pulling her back to me. I fight through the pain in my back and lean up to kiss her. She moans as I take her lips in a soft kiss.

“I didn’t say it wasn’t fun,” she says, licking her lips as she looks back at the door. “I said it wasn’t appropriate.”

“I almost died,” I say. “What’s more appropriate than telling someone how you really feel after that?”

“And how do you really feel?” she asks, holding her breath as she waits for my answer.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” I say, wanting her to know the truth. “I love to make you blush and tease you, but I’m falling for you, Madison. I want you to be my girlfriend. You’re funny and smart and sexy as hell. That date was the—”

My manager Christopher walks in, ruining the moment.

“Hey, Shane,” he says, hurrying over. “Are you okay, man? They called me and said you had surgery?”

“Madison?” I whisper. My eyes are still locked on her as she takes a deep breath and composes herself. She smooths out her lab coat and looks around for the clipboard, never looking at me again.

Every time I think I’ve succeeded in getting a little closer to this girl, she pulls away.

“Shane,” Christopher says, waving his hand in front of my face when I ignore him. He turns to Madison with a look of confusion on his face. “Is he still out of it from the surgery?”

“Mr. Winters is still recovering,” she says, looking flustered. “He may say things he doesn’t mean.”

“No, I won’t,” I say, wishing she’d just look at me. “I meant every word.”

She turns to Christopher, ignoring me. “One of the side effects of anesthesia is delirium and cognitive dysfunction,” she says. “Sometimes patients can’t think too clearly, and can get carried away with their thoughts and especially with their emotions.”

“I want a second opinion,” I say. “I feel perfectly fine. My thoughts are perfectly clear.”

She finally turns to me, but all of the warmth of Madison is gone, and only the professional coldness of Dr. Mendes is left. “I have to go attend to my other patients,” she says. “I’ll come back and check on you in a little bit, Mr. Winters.”

“Thank you, Dr. Mendes,” I say, talking like I have a stick up my butt.

I watch her leave, wondering if I’ll ever get anywhere with this girl. It’s always one step forward, two steps back. Maybe it will be different when I’m free and not her patient anymore, but I’m beginning to think that day will never come if my spine keeps crapping out on me like it’s been doing.

“Do you think you’ll make it to Moxie?” Christopher asks.

“Good to know you always have my best interests at heart, C.” My back was sliced open and surgeons were prodding my spine only an hour ago, and he’s asking if I’ll be able to ride my bike off ramps and do back-flips through the air in three months. “I’m not sure if I’ll be out of the hospital in three months with the way I’m going.”

“I do have your best interests at heart,” he says, pulling a folded-up paper out of his pocket. “That was a costly surgery. And the recovery is going to be pretty rough on your wallet too.”

I drop my head back on the pillow and sigh. I’ve been so focused on Madison that I haven’t even thought about how much all of this will cost me.

“How much?” I ask, not really wanting to know. I close my eyes as he ruffles through the papers.

“The surgery has put you close to three hundred thousand dollars,” he says, making me want to puke. “The recovery could add another hundred depending on how long you’re here for and how many tests they have to do.”

“Four hundred thousand?” I whisper as I rub my eyes. “I better be ready for Moxie, or I’ll be living on your couch.”

Christopher shifts around uncomfortably. “Not unless—”

“I’m not suing anyone,” I say, cutting him off. Just the thought of doing that makes my heart pound angrily now that I know Madison’s history.

“But it’s the best way,” he says. “We can get the bill wiped clean. Otherwise, what are you going to do?”

I take a deep breath and look out the window.

What the hell am I going to do?