Chapter 3

I stutter over my words as I try to understand just what my patient is getting at.

"I'm not…You wouldn't…" I huff out a breath, chuckling a little to ease the tension crowding my thoughts. "Mr. Shaw?—"

"It's still Luke."

When I refocus on his face, having previously dropped my attention resolutely to the floor, I'm greeted by that damn smirk of his.

It is wildly unnerving—in a way that makes me clench my thighs together unconsciously.

With a forced laugh, I try to just smile politely back at him.

"I'm a surgical resident. I don't usually do this type of work. I'm sure the people at the clinic will treat you?—"

"Look." Luke steps closer, dropping his gaze on me from his superior height. "I know I'd be taking you away from your regular patients, so I have no problem making it worth your while. Just while I heal up, of course. How's…"

He flicks his stare to the side as he thinks, and I should speak up.

I should shut down this entire line of thinking, but the part of me that's really hard up for money right now holds me back.

"Three hundred an hour?"

My mouth falls open when he drops that huge number, and I immediately think of Beth.

Regina could actually pay for Beth's surgery co-pay. It wouldn't crush her. Even just a few hours would pay for all the BS out-of-pocket fees.

It's too damn tempting.

I'm still working on paying off my student loans, and knowing I could help my sister pay for everything hits me like a punch to the sternum, and the wind is knocked out of me.

"I…Mr. Shaw, that's far too generous. And like I said, I'm not a physical therapist or anything like that."

He just shakes his head, that grin still in place, and then his hand is on my arm. My heart races as my patient squeezes my bicep lightly.

My patient. Yup, you need to remember that.

"I'm sure you'd do wonderfully. I mean, surgeons have to know their way around a body, right?"

Say no. Say no right now and leave.

Except when I look into those intriguing hazel eyes of his, I feel a pull toward him in a way I can't explain.

"All right." I blink several times, refocusing. "But to be clear, this is just to assist with your injury. I'll do my best to ensure you're healing properly. Yes?"

Luke, who I should be calling Mr. Shaw even in my head if I know what's good for me, smiles bigger and nods.

"Perfect." Goddamn, his smile is gorgeous. "I'll settle things up. Can you come by this evening?"

My jaw drops a little, and I fumble as I start to ask for more time when he steps in.

"Not available. Okay, well, I can try to be patient." Something I'd rather not examine too closely flickers behind his gaze. "How about tomorrow, then?"

"Um…"

You are a terrible person. What are you doing?

This is entirely because you need money, though. It's not the fact that he's extremely attractive. Nope, not in the slightest.

"Sure. That should be fine. I have an early shift, but I could come over in the afternoon?"

Mr. Shaw puts a hand on the small of my back, walking us over to the nurse's station for him to finish being discharged.

"I'll take it." He signs the last form necessary, provided by Denise again, and then turns toward the exit. "I'll see you tomorrow, doc. And it's still?—"

"Luke," we both say.

My eyes go to the floor, and I nod before chancing a glance at him. It's a terrible idea, of course, because the guy is too beautiful and too charming.

He's your patient. Stop it.

I plaster on that practiced bedsidemanner smile and watch him head for the door. Luke gets a few steps away when I call out without thinking.

"It's Clara. So…" I swallow around the lump that's formed in my throat. "Yeah."

Luke chuckles, the sound lovely and relaxed, and as he smiles, he licks his lips. "See you tomorrow…Clara."

When he's gone, I turn back to the nurses behind the desk to get my next assignment. Unfortunately, I'm treated to Denise's barely restrained grin.

"Oh, shut up. I'm just helping someone out. Okay?"

She holds up her hands in surrender, the corners of her mouth turning down. "No judgment coming from me, boss. Here you go."

I take the patient clipboard from her and sigh. What have I gotten myself into?

* * *

The remainderof my shift passes by in a blur. More sutures, an appendectomy, suture removal, all pretty standard stuff.

Once I'm good to go home, I hurry through the parking lot as a summer storm picks up.

I, of course, haven't brought my umbrella, so when I sit down behind the wheel in my sedan, I'm drenched.

"Gross. Wet socks." I frown to myself, cranking the heater and choosing the vents by my feet.

Quickly enough, the car warms, and I pass under the familiar red and green lights on the side streets.

The rain comes down in sheets, and I have to flick my wipers on as high as they'll go.

It's not a long drive, thankfully, and I'm over the highway and through the metaphorical woods in just a hair longer than I would be without the rain.

Still, I pass an accident on the side of the road near my exit. I'm about to stop when I hear the sirens behind me. They've got it. Get some rest.

Driving around to the back of the small shop, I find my usual parking space near the dumpster. I try to find something to protect me from the rain, but all I have in the car are case reports and a box of tissues.

Ugh. Okay, shield the notes.

Pulling the collection of folders against my chest, I do my best to cover them with my light jacket and make a break for it.

Dashing through the nearly empty lot, I hurry for the metal stairs that lead directly to the second-floor apartment I call home.

Mr. Chen is probably still at the shop, despite the fact that no one will be looking to hunt for antiques while it's pouring, and I anticipate the knock that'll come before he goes to bed.

Sweet old guy.

On nights when I'm home, he always checks to make sure I got in okay, and that'll go double for a rainy summer evening.

Scrambling to get my key into the lock and head inside, I shift the weight between my feet. Why is it you always have to pee the second you get home?

I burst inside, tossing my keys in the catchall basket and putting the case reports on my coffee table. The small bathroom is just down the hall, and I practically sprint.

When I've relieved the pressure squeezing my bladder, I realize I've left the door wide open and go back to shut it and lock it back up.

"Oh, so much better."

Rain patters on my window, and I decide that a cup of tea and a shower are in order. I push off my sneakers with either foot and then stoop to pull off my soggy socks.

My toes are frozen. Definitely a shower first.

I pad to the bathroom again, pulling my scrub top over my head and tossing it to the floor when I get inside. The air is chilly, and when I shuck the bottoms, a shiver makes me jerk.

Quickly stepping to the small bath mat I have in front of the shower, I reach in and turn the water on. I'm going for a damn sauna right now.

Soon enough, there's steam, and I think the temperature's safe to get inside. Slipping past my shower curtain, I moan as the hot water caresses my skin.

"Hmm, so nice."

Leaning my head back, I let the water rush through my hair, making my short bob hang a bit longer.

For a few moments, I just stand there under the spray. It's heaven on my sore muscles, and here, in the privacy of my shower, I can just relax a little.

I run my fingers through the wet locks, finger combing some of the tangles away. I need a trim; my shaggy, asymmetrical style a little too shaggy.

With a sigh, I reach for the loofa and standard lilac body wash. Sudsing up doesn't take long, and I coat my skin in the fresh-smelling bubbles.

As I hang the loofa back up, rinsing clean with my hands, my fingers brush my nipples. An image of Luke pops into my mind, and my eyes flare open.

"Um…"

I swallow hard. What on earth was I doing thinking of him now?

Except, of course, I know exactly why that thought bloomed behind my lids. I just don't know why I can't let it go or why Luke looked at me like that to begin with.

I'm not exactly the enchanting type of gal.

Most guys look past me easily enough because I'm donning scrubs and stress as much as other women might wear lipstick and push-up bras.

Not that a push-up bra would do you any fucking good.

Glancing down at myself, that age-old prickle of self-consciousness tingles under my skin.

I'm just not built the way most guys like. I'm short, flat-chested, and couldn't possibly care less about fashion or makeup.

No, thanks.

Still…

Luke did not look at me like that. There was darkness behind his soft hazel eyes, and the heat behind his touch was intense.

Before I can talk my neglected libido off the edge, my mind circles back to the feel of his hand on my back, on Luke's smile.

I chew on my bottom lip, a burn setting up shop in my core as I clench my thighs.

This is bad. Don't think about him like this.

But it is definitely too late. I'm already wondering what it would be like if his full lips found mine—if they traveled down my neck.

A slight groan escapes me as I hang my head, running my hand down the side of my body as I let my fingers brush my nipple once more.

The thick bud is pebbled from arousal—sensitive and needy.

Maybe if I just do this quick…Get Luke out of my system…

Turning around, I take the handheld part of the showerhead down from the hook. As I switch it to the massaging option, I drag the spray across my body until I hit the space between my legs.

Imagination takes over at that point.

I feel Luke's tongue traveling across my skin, taking the hard tip of my breast in his mouth as I pinch myself to mimic the sensation.

His hands roam my body as I angle the spray right at my clit.

My head falls back as the pleasure crests through me. I think of Luke down on his knees, tasting me.

The pressure builds. I'm nearly there.

The water batters against me, and then my mind offers the perfect image to launch me over the edge.

Luke using those muscles to cage me between his arms, his erection sinking home within me as he takes what no one else has.

I orgasm hard, and then reality makes my eyes flare wide.

You just imagined your patient taking your virginity. Oh no.