Chapter 6

chapter

six

Maxine

Shayla arrives a few minutes later just as she said she would. Thank God.

I need to get out of here. As. Soon. As. Possible.

The fact that I was comfortable enough around Andrew to fall asleep in his bed, does not bode well for my levels of resistance. Plus, I have already seen this man's ass more often than is beneficial for my heart rate.

"Thank you for taking time out of your lunch break to do this," I say.

"For you, anything, anytime. Tell me again about this injury you need me to look at."

I point at Andrew. "He's got a hole in his butt."

"Don't we all," Shayla says dryly.

I do introductions, refusing to give more than the basic details. I don't need Andrew knowing more about my life than he already does. I have a lifetime of experience keeping details about my family to myself.

"All right, let's see what we've got going on," Shayla says.

"Drop your pants, Andrew," I say.

"This is so fucking awkward," he mutters.

"Nonsense. You told me earlier you're the reigning Mr. Perfect Ass or whatever you called it," I remind him.

"Mr. Perfect Cheeks," he corrects.

"I'm gonna need clarification," Shayla says, waggling her eyebrows in obvious delight. "What exactly is it you do?"

He blows out a breath, looking uncharacteristically embarrassed.

"I'm a set double," I say.

"What exactly does that mean?" Shayla asks. "Wow, this is a straight up hole in your ass." She laughs. "You weren't wrong, Max."

"I'm usually not."

Andrew gives the basic overview of his job and how he injured himself this time.

Shayla looks amused by his job and the injury, which makes me feel oddly protective of him. What's up with that?

"Someone on set gave him a Xanax because he has vasovagal syncope," I explain.

"I never actually pass out. It just makes me feel woozy and a bit sick to my stomach. Just not a fan of blood."

"Fair enough," Shayla says. "The good news is, I think I can do this with only a couple of stitches."

"What about scarring?" I ask.

"Minimal," Shayla says. "If any at all."

"Good," I say.

"First though, the tetanus shot," Shayla says."Let me go grab my bag."

"So how do y'all know each other?" Andrew asks.

"Medical school."

Andrew's eyebrows shoot up. "You're a doctor? Not just a medic?"

"I haven't finished med school."

"Why not?"

"Things got complicated." Normally, I don't talk much about med school, but something about Andrew makes him easy to talk to, so I find myself telling him the truth. "My grandfather was bankrolling school for me. One night last year, I said something he didn't like and he cut me off."

I shrug, trying to act like it doesn't bother me that my closest family member is a manipulative, controlling asshole.

Andrew winces. "That's rough. You couldn't do loans?"

"I could. Sometimes I wonder if I'm being silly not doing that. I think I just want to do it on my own terms."

Andrew nods. "That makes sense."

A moment later, Shayla comes back in with her supplies, and I excuse myself so she can clean the wound better.

I stay out in the kitchen while she works. Making a pot of coffee, for no reason other than I want to stay busy. I'm not used to days off or afternoon naps, and having both at once has me disconcerted.

It's not long before she comes out, pulling off the latex gloves as she walks. "You probably could've handled that one yourself, Maxine."

"Probably. But since he needed a tetanus shot anyway, I figured I'd leave it to the experts."

"Don't get me wrong, I am not complaining." She turns around to give Andrew an exaggerated wink and blow him a kiss.

He flashes her a flirty smile and drawls, "Thanks for stitching me up, Doc."

Before I can say anything, he slings an arm over my shoulder and tucks me to his side.

Shayla all but cackles with delight as she eyes the pair of us. "Well then. I'll be getting out of your hair and leave you two to it."

"It's not what you think." I slide out from under his arm and make to walk for the door. "I'll be getting out of your hair also."

"Oh, no you can't do that." Shayla smiles mischievously. "He definitely needs to be observed for at least twenty-four hours."

"I don't think that's necessary."

"Sounds good to me."

Andrew and I answer at the same time.

Shayla‘s grin brightens. "Yes, but I'm the doctor. So I think it's my opinion we'll be taking. You need to make him feel as comfortable as possible."

I roll my eyes.

She links her arm through mine and walks with me toward the door, lowering her voice. "That man is delicious."

"Tell me something I don't know," I grumble.

"And he's obviously bonkers for you."

I should've phrased that differently.

"He's not. He's just a flirt. That's all."

"Interesting theory. But not supported by the evidence. He didn't flirt with me. He was friendly enough, but he didn't flirt." She glances back over her shoulder, and I follow suit. Sure enough, Andrew is looking straight at me, dopey grin on his face.

It's suspicious.

Shayla is undeniably gorgeous. She has the kind of voluptuous beauty that most women would kill for. She looks like if Elvira went to medical school.

So, yes, it's suspicious that Andrew is looking at me when he could be ogling her.

She gives him a little wave and then leans in to whisper to me, "If you don't ride him like a tilt-a-whirl, you are truly missing an opportunity."

"I don't even know what that means. But I will not ride him like that or anything else. For several reasons, not the least of which is he's injured."

"Bullshit. You know anatomy well enough to be able to work around an injury like that. And the fact that this man landed on your doorstep and is this into you this close to Christmas," She clicks her tongue. "This is proof there really is a Santa Claus. Please don't ruin it for me."

I shake my head as I watch Shayla leave.

That girl is on crack.

Okay, she's not. Because she's a medical professional who is definitely not doing drugs. But you know what I mean.

Andrew is a consummate flirt, but he's not into me. Certainly not "bonkers" for me. And even if he was, I wouldn't act on it.

That's just … not my style.

However, when I turn back to Andrew, he's doing that thing again—that flirty, sexy smiling at me—thing.

I don't know how he's capable of flirting without saying a word, but, oh Lordy, can this man pull it off.

He quirks an eyebrow. "So, it looks like we've got some time to waste."

He gives me a long, slow once over and I'm pretty sure he's trying to strip me naked with the Force .

Okay, so maybe Shayla is right. Maybe he is into me.

The question is, what am I going to do about it?

Sure, I could ignore it, ignore him, like I've been attempting to do since that first day when he kissed me. Or I could …

What?

Give in?

Sleep with him?

Actually have one of those on-set flings that I grew up hearing so much about. Not, on-set, exactly, since we are not currently on-set, but you get the picture.

Having a fling is so outside my normal comfort zone, it isn't something I even consider. Normally.

But my life isn't normal right now. It's topsy-turvy in all the weirdest ways. I walked away from medical school and took a job on a movie set for fuck's sake! I'm so far from my comfort zone, I can't even see the edges of it.

So maybe this is the perfect time for a fling? The perfect time to do something crazy that I would normally never do.

I've played by the rules, my entire life, and it hasn't gotten me shit.

If I do this one crazy thing, at least I'll get a fantastic orgasm out of it. I know that for sure. Because the man looking at me like he wants to eat me alive looks like he knows how to give one hell of an orgasm.

He gives me one those panty-melting grins. "I'm all stitched up and basically feeling no pain because of that numbing cream that Shayla used."

I nod.

"What are you thinking about so hard over there?" he asks.

"I'm considering something. Weighing my options."

"Yeah? What are your options?"

I walk closer to him. "Whether or not to have sex with you."

He closes his eyes for a brief moment and smiles. "Oh, sweet thing, you should definitely have sex with me."

I feel every one of his syllables pulse in my clit.

"There are things I need to know first," I say. I step even closer so that we're merely a breath away, standing facing each other in his entryway.

"Anything you want to know, I'll tell you. I don't have any secrets," he says.

"I don't need you to make me any silly promises. But I'd like to know that I'm not just another notch in your bedpost. I mean, have you fucked all the other women from the set?" I ask. I hate that I ask, but I do it anyways, because I know I won't be able to relax if I don't.

He winces. "Wow. You don't think very highly of me, do you?"

I shake my head. "It's not you. Just the industry as a whole. It does things to people."

"True enough. Well, I can tell you this, I've never slept with anyone on that set or any other set. That's not the kind of man I am."

I frown. I open my mouth to further question him, but then close it.

"What's the problem, sweet thing?"

"That just doesn't seem possible. I mean look at you!"

"I'd rather look at you, Max." Again his eyes take in my form—well, as much of it as he can see this close up. "You're gorgeous. I could look at you all night." He grabs my hand and pulls me so our bodies are flush. "Listen to me, darlin', we don't have to do a damn thing tonight. We can watch movies or binge a series or play battleship. I don't care. I just wanna spend some time with you. Do I want to see you naked? Fuck, yes, but I can be patient if you need more time."

"Let's go to the bedroom."

We make our way, hand in hand, to his bedroom. Then he's walking me backwards until the backs of my knees hit his mattress. I lock my legs to stay standing though.

His hazel eyes darken, the blackness of his pupils spread. "I'm gonna kiss you again, sweet thing." That lusty gaze drops to my mouth.

My tongue darts out to wet my lips which suddenly seem so dry.

"Goddamn it, Max, you undo me," he growls.

Then he kisses me. I've been kissed before. Even had what I considered to be a good kiss. A great kiss, I'd thought. But in this moment, with Andrew's oh-so-soft lips moving across mine and the whisper of our breaths mingling together, it feels like my very first kiss.

We haven't even started in with the tongues yet!

Then he licks my bottom lip and I'm ready to tear off all my clothes and offer myself to him like a virginal sacrifice. Am I technically a virgin? No. But the fumblings in the backseat of a limousine with my senior prom date named Mark hardly count. I'm not even sure he got it all the way in, and it lasted like seven seconds.

Why am I thinking about that right now when this beautiful man is—pulling away from my kiss?

"Where did you go?" he asks.

"Huh?"

"One minute you were into it and the next, I lost you."

"I was thinking about my senior prom."

"Wow. The kiss was going a lot better on my end."