Not able to keep myself from trembling I open my knees wider to give him space, and in a gesture that looked more like a reflex, he steps closer, and I clutch his hips. In response, Ford tightens the grip on my neck.
We both breath deep and heavy absorbing each other’s essence and the world disappears into the blurred background. Somehow this man, who is on a mission to tarnish me, is capable of arousing every single nerve I have.
He doesn’t take things any further, and it makes me anxious to feel him so I put my hands on his chest, then slide my palms up his pectorals. My hips push further, hungry for him and my back arches. There’s no confusion in my body language, but he still doesn’t do anything, so I put my hands around his neck and lean in for a kiss.
The tension is so thick someone could cut it with a knife. and the only sounds in the room are our crushing breaths. When our lips are so close, I can taste him on my tongue, he opens his mouth and all hell breaks loose.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He pushes back on my collar bones and his eyes filled with viciousness. “You think I’m Shaw or some other puppy you can check off your bucket list?”
“What...?” My voice is dull and I’m ready to throw up on the floor. “Keep your whore behavior for when you are off the clock.”
Nausea kicks in again when I hear his words and feel their deep cuts on my skin and soul. What did I ever do to deserve this?
I’m looking at him with my eyes burning from the tears, desperately looking for a sign he’s making a sick joke, but all I can see is a hard, cold brick wall that threatens to fall over and break me.
“Why are you doing this to me?”
“Rejecting you? I like women who at least pretend to be harder to catch.” With a whip-like move he wrote something on the consulting chart. “If you’re fine to try and fuck me, you’re cleared for work.”
“Try and fuck you?” The embarrassment and fury are steaming my veins and all I want to do is get the hell away from him, put the world between as if that is possible. I want to run back to France. “Don’t clear me, I’m going home.” I can’t walk around here all day, working by his side and not hit him in the balls. I can’t.
Quickly, I pick up my blouse and put it back on because I’m ready to get the hell out of here. Being choked by that guy in the ER was nowhere near this painful.
I think Ford might be bipolar or something because his expression softens while I am gathering myself.
“London...” unsure of his actions he takes a step toward me.
“No.” I raise my palm in defense. “We are done!” I say sharply, and without giving him a second glance, I walk out slamming the door behind me so hard, I’m surprised the glass doesn’t break.
We are done? We aren’t shit!
And when the hell did we begin so we can be done?
All kinds of thoughts have crossed my mind since our little scene yesterday. I couldn’t eat or sleep well because she was sitting so comfortably in the middle of my fucking brain.
It was a good call on her side to take the day off yesterday because the tension was too high between us.
A shiver works its way up my spine as I remember how welcoming London was, opening her legs and pulling me closer, ready to surrender herself to me. If I’d have taken my dick out, I could have fucked her right on the consulting table without a word of protest.
...That was before I snapped at her neck and called her a whore. Again. I should really try to control my temper when I’m all caught up in my head. She’s been my scrub nurse for a while now, I’m sure she knows I’m all talk and no bite.
And it’s her fault anyway. The woman breathes in my direction and I’m ready to strip down and take her in every way possible. I want her that much.
And I hate that I want her. Not even Isabella had me in a grip so tight, so hot for her I would walk straight to a brick wall just for some touches. I know from experience this kind of sick magnetism isn’t good and I’m not about to let my stupid ass get caught in the palm of a woman ever again.
I get to the hospital and change, and I still have ten minutes to spare because I’ve been up since four this morning and I got bored at the house. Even when she’s pissed at me London has some kind of positive influence over my life and I can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. Probably bad. I swing by the lounge first and dress two cups of coffee, one black for me and one with all the girly things I can find on the table - like Frappuccino hazelnut syrup - so I can give it to her as a peace offering.
When I get up to the cardio floor something doesn’t smell good and I don’t mean a patient. Usually, I’d meet London at the central desk so we can go ahead and do rounds but there is no sign of her. Instead, a nurse - another nurse - is standing there, with a stack of files in her arms and the most ridiculously tight pair of scrubs I’ve ever seen. I can almost see her organs, let alone every curve of her body.
“Good morning, Dr. Ford. I have everything in order for rounds and I’m ready to go. May I call you Zach?” She bit her full lower lip with her bunny teeth and gave me a smile that was supposed to be shy and cute, but it only looks vulgar from where I’m standing.
” No, you may not. What are you doing here again? Aren’t you part of the ER staff?” I remembered specifically telling HR I never wanted this one on my service ever again.
” I was, yes. I knew you saw me. Well, now that London transferred to a different department, it’s for the best if you ask me, I think she’s kinda clumsy, I work under you again. Thanks for asking for me, by the way.”
The heaviness of her words crashes onto me like a big rock. Transferred? Who the fuck transferred her? Why? If this a fucking joke, it’s shit.
Slowly I leave the cups of coffee on the counter and take a deep breath to help calm and gather my thoughts.
Did she leave me? That’s what this means?
“You brought me coffee? You shouldn’t have.” The nurse says and tries to grab one, but I pull it away from her.
“I didn’t, so don’t touch it.”
“Oh, ok. I could bring you coffee any time, I don’t mind.” Yeah, I bet she wouldn’t. London hates to fetch me coffee. “You have open-heart surgery in three hours. Do you have a specific way you want your utensils lined?”
Yes, I do. The way London does it.
“Where is London?”
“I think I saw her with Dr. Sullivan. I don’t care and you shouldn’t either. I have way more experience than her...in every aspect.” There it is, she bites her lip again. This one sniffs for my dick with no intention of hiding it, but I’m not in the mood so I abandon both cups of coffee and go to get back my fucking scrub nurse.
I march through the hospital with my fists clenched and my eyes bloodshot. A tank couldn’t stop me. She’s rearranging the staff structure now? Who the hell does she think she is? Also, Sullivan is gonna receive a boot in his ass for signing those transfer papers without consulting me first.
I find them in OR six, I don’t know how, maybe out of instinct. Impatient to scrub myself properly I just put on a protective coat, a mask, and some gloves and walk in. There are ten people or more in the room except Sullivan, I’m the boss of all of them so fuck it.