Page 38 of Challenge
“Stitches still there?” I ask.
“Yes. They haven’t dissolved yet, but I hardly notice them. The incisions are small. You and Dr. Prichard are true to your words.”
“Don’t you mean Dr. Fuckwad?” I laugh and he smirks knowingly in response.
“You have to admit he’s got a creep factor to him.”
“But you luring a naïve doctor into your patient room at night is so innocent?”
“‘Naïve doctor sounds like an oxymoron, doesn’t it?” He stuffs his hands in his pockets and narrows a playful gaze at me.
I bob my head from side to side. “Experienced in books, but not in life I’m afraid.”
He winks and responds, “That’s all right. Life happens to be my specialty.”
We arrive at my basement flat, and he follows me down the exterior concrete steps. I’ve lived here since I was an intern because it was the only place close to the hospital that I could afford. Belle and I talked about living together after med school, but she comes from a lot of money and I knew she wouldn’t let me pay my way.
Being a doctor in England isn’t as lucrative as it is in the States. Since Royal Hospital is partially private owned, I make more than a lot of residents working for the NHS. But as a second year, it’s still pittance considering what we do for people every day. Thanks to my scholarships, I don’t have the outrageous student loans that so many others have to pay back. That, along with my parent’s guilt money, helps keep me comfortable.
I feel Cam’s warmth behind me as I unlock the door and it all feels strangely ordinary. He’s a famous London footballer. He plays in a stadium that’s a mile from my flat. People chant his name in the crowd, and girls throw their bras at him in hopes he’ll just look at them. What on earth is he doing here, and how is this my life?
“No roommate?” he asks, walking around my studio flat and taking in the tight quarters. He looks so large in here, his head only six inches from the ceiling. Everything looks tiny with him in here, right down to my gold, floral loveseat.
“No roommate. I erm…grew up in all-girls boarding schools with roommates all the time. So…” my voice trails off as I drop my keys in a bowl and desperately wish I had something to do with my hands. I also wish I wasn’t in my scrubs at the moment. I also wish he wasn’t peering into my closet.
“That’s right. You mentioned boarding school before.” He turns back to face me, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against my closet door. A dirty smile teases his mouth. “Have any pillow fight stories you want to share with me? Girl on girl experimenting perhaps?”
My cheeks heat as I laugh through my nose. “I’m afraid you’ll find my boarding school stories quite dull.”If he only knew what the other girls did there.
He steps back for me to place my trainers in the closet and makes his way over to the adjacent wall. He grabs hold of what looks like a shelf and pulls out my Murphy bed as if he’s done it a thousand times before.
“I share a flat with Tanner. I envy your solitude.” He flops down on my multi-coloured quilt, and the view of him on my bed is…disarming.
“Do you want something to drink? I’m going to have something to drink.” I walk over to my refrigerator and rummage for something alcoholic. I could sing when I find a bottle of Prosecco that Belle left here last time she was over. I grab two tumblers and pour generous portions into each, turning around to find him watching me.
His brows arch. “Nervous?”
“No,” I baulk. I reassess. “Yes.”
“Indie…” He says my name in that way again. That way that makes my knickers feel warm and my heart feel fast. “I’m not expecting us to fuck right now.”
“You’re not?” I ask, deflating a bit but still affected by his cavalier use of that word. I don’t know why I assumed he was coming here for sex. I don’t know why I thought that I’d even be ready for it right now. In a way, I wish we would do it right now so there’s no time for me to overthink it. This is what I’ve been waiting for. Why doesn’t he want it?
“Well, not entirely.” He stands up and walks up to me, placing his hands on either side of the counter, caging me with his hard body. I clutch my sparkling wine to my chest as my back presses against the worktop. He’s so close he has to bow his head to pierce me with his eyes. “Not tonight away.”
A playful twinkle in his gaze relaxes my nerves. “Then what are we doing?” I ask, pulling my lips into my mouth and rubbing them together.
“We’re reacquainting.” He leans down, and just when I think he’s going to brush his lips against mine, his hand comes up between us and he grabs his glass from me. A smirk plays on his lips as he takes a drink. “It’ll make it that much sweeter.”
A soft smile creeps across my face as I muse over his playful demeanour. Suddenly, I’m taken completely off guard when his lips land firmly against mine. The sweet, fizzy bubbles of the Prosecco are still fresh on his lips as he works himself into my mouth. I nearly drop my glass when his hand blindly takes it from me and places it on the counter somewhere beside us. He bends and grips behind my thighs, hoisting me up onto the counter to give himself better access to my face.
When he presses himself snuggly against my centre, I want to moan. Or sing. Or whimper. But definitely moan. His tongue enters my mouth, but it’s not greedy and demanding. It’s passionate and warm, sensual and hot. It’s delicious and even better than I remember it being at the hospital.
His hand slices into my tied up hair, snagging in the messy bun. As a result, he grips my top-knot with need and a command that has me arching into him and sliding myself closer. When his other hand slides up under my shirt, tickling my ribs, I stupidly realise that my hands have been frozen in fists on the countertop this entire time.
I quickly reach up and grip his biceps, shoving my hands under his short sleeves to stroke the tensed muscles. They’re smooth and hard, promising and powerful. They’re exactly what I want.
“We should stop,” he groans against my lips while need courses between us like bolts of electricity with every exhale.
