I caved. Fuck me. I caved, and now he thinks he’s in control and God’s gift to the world. Fucking great. I won’t let him manipulate me with sex. He must not be that smart if he thinks that’s actually going to work. I said those things in the heat of the moment and because I really needed to fucking come, but that doesn’t mean I meant it. Hell, I would’ve told him the sky was purple if that meant he’d give me what I needed. Regardless, that was really damn hot. The way I yelled at him, and he yelled back, and then we just attacked each other. Every moment of our first night together has replayed in my head since it happened, but now… angry Evan is the one who will haunt me in my dreams. Angry Evan is hot and demanding and knows just how to tease the fuck out of me. I almost hate him for it. Except I could never hate a man who knows how to worship my body like he does. But God, does he really have to be such a controlling asshole? I scoop my scrubs and shoes off the floor and adjust my just-fucked hair. Once my top is on, I search for my panties. When I don’t find them on the floor, I shake out my scrub bottoms, but they aren’t there either. What the fuck? Panic starts to surface at the realization that I lost my damn panties. Shit, shit, shit. My pager beeps, and it’s painfully obvious I’m going to have to put my pants on without them. Quickly, I finish getting dressed and push my shoes on before grabbing my lab coat and the soiled shirt and flying out the door. I throw Evan’s shirt in the trash before anyone can see me and ask questions. Rushing to the nurses’ station for an update, I look around but don’t see any commotion or people scrambling like normal. “What’s going on? You paged me?” I ask, trying to catch my breath. Fiona looks at me like I’ve gone crazy. She swallows and lowers her eyes before bringing them back up to look at me. She witnessed the heated argument back in the trauma room, and now she looks uncomfortable as hell. “Dr. Bishop asked me to page you. He wanted me to tell you that your break is over and to get back to work.” I can tell she’s uneasy delivering the news, but that doesn’t stop the anger from brewing inside me. The vein in my forehead is about to burst, but I remind myself to play it cool. For all they knew, Evan sent me on the break to calm down, and now I’m the one looking like a slacker. “Okay. Thanks.” I pinch my lips together to prevent any further words from spewing out of me. No one can know that Evan and I are…whatever the hell we are. Considering I came to this hospital to make a name for myself all on my own, the last thing I need is people thinking I sleep my way to the top. Crap. “Dr. Bell,” Evan barks from the other side of the room. He’s holding a pile of charts in his hands that are no doubt from the huge fire incident that just unfolded. Taking a deep breath, I put my lab coat on and dig my stethoscope from the pocket and wrap it around my neck. We have to act impartially to each other publicly, but hell, I didn’t realize how hard it’d be now that we’re together. “Yes, Dr. Bishop?” He doesn’t even look up at me when I approach him, and I hate that it irritates me. “I need you on beds seven through fifteen until the next shift rotation, then finish these charts before you leave.” His head tilts up, his lips in a firm line as he piles the stack in my arms. “I also need an update on the Brauer kids once an hour.” Swallowing, I adjust the charts in my arms to prevent them from falling. I won’t let my pride get in the way of doing my job, and if charts are what I need to do right now, then I won’t make a scene. At least not in front of everyone. However, once we’re alone, I’m going to give him a piece of my mind for treating me like a damn intern again. “Absolutely. Anything else, sir?” My tone is laced with fake sweetness, and he doesn’t flinch a beat at it. “Yes, actually.” He takes a step forward and dips his head until his mouth hovers over my ear. “Make sure those charts are done correctly before you leave. I’ll be looking through them extensively.” “Of course.” I grind my teeth, wishing I could give him a piece of my mind right now. “And since I know you’re going commando, I won’t ask you to perform any oral procedures.” He winks before walking away, making my blood boil. That asshole stole my panties!
Brooke Cumberland & Lyra Parish are a duo of romance authors who teamed up to write under the USA Today Bestselling pseudonym, Kennedy Fox. They share a love of You’ve Got Mail and The Holiday. When they aren’t bonding over romantic comedies, they like to brainstorm new book ideas. One day, they decided to collaborate and have some fun creating new characters that’ll make your lady bits tingle and your heart melt. If you enjoy romance stories with sexy, tattooed alpha males and smart, independent women, then a Kennedy Fox book is for you! Keep up with all their social media platforms for updates & info! WEBSITE | NEWSLETTER | FACEBOOK | TWITTER | INSTAGRAM