Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 75240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
At this point in our nursing career, we were supposed to have the basic handle on human anatomy.
If, after Jade graduated and became a nurse, I walked into a room and saw she was my nurse, I’d walk right back out. I wouldn’t care if I was in the throes of a real-life heart attack. I wouldn’t let her anywhere near me.
It’s bad enough that she was on the same clinical rotation as me.
I secretly thought that she had a lot to do with why she was in the same rotation as me. Likely, she was the one to ask for the shift, knowing that I had to have a certain one to keep up with all of my jobs.
Though, after my first two clinical shifts in the ER, I scaled back on my shifts at work. I now only worked twice a month, and the rest of the time I spent at my brother’s.
Though, all I did there was file and answer phones while studying.
“All right, who can tell me what the proper protocol is when you have a patient enter through the ER doors not breathing, with no shockable rhythm, and bleeding profusely from a gunshot wound?” Bowe asked.
Jade raised her hand, and I accidentally snapped my pencil right the fuck in half.
“Ms. Matthews?” Bowe asked, pointing at me.
His tone was completely neutral, but his eyes…well, those were filled with mirth.
He knew what that woman was doing to me and he was finding it funny!
“Push fluids,” I suggested through clenched teeth.
Bowe grinned, then turned his eyes to the rest of the room. “Right. Then what?”
Jade raised her hand even higher.
There was absolutely no way that Bowe didn’t see her hand. It was right in front of his face.
He didn’t call on her, though, and I could kiss him for that.
Then again, it didn’t take much for me to want to kiss Bowe.
He was looking much, much healthier lately.
His eyes were ringed with less black as he was now getting plenty of sleep.
The bruising around his face was gone.
His hair had grown back, covering the scars on his skull.
Although, he’d been wearing hats lately.
Today was a black hat with KFD embroidered in red.
It looked old and worn, almost as if this was the one he used while he was working out or on shift. The bill of the cap was curved perfectly as any country boy was known to do with his hats.
And I wanted to wear it.
I wanted to put it on my head with my hair down, and look up into Bowe’s eyes as he leaned down and laid a demanding kiss on my mouth.
I wanted him to run his hands over my hips, pull me to him, and hold me in place whether I wanted him to or not.
I wanted him to tangle his hands in my hair, tilt my head back, and suck on my neck while I rode his leg.
“All right, class. It’s time for a short break. Be back in ten minutes,” Bowe’s voice interrupted my fantasy. “I’ll be locking the door at the ten-minute mark, so be sure you’re on time.”
I got up and practically ran out of the room like Bowe was about to assault me with his tongue.
Unfortunately, he didn’t.
Disappointed that I was losing my control, I decided to use the bottom bathroom instead of the top bathroom.
I’d nearly made it to the doors of the women’s restroom when I felt familiar arms encircle my hips.
Then Bowe dragged me into the empty computer lab, shut the door, and locked it.
“Please, for the love of all that’s holy, tell me you were not undressing me in there,” Bowe ordered, crowding me. “Because the only thing that’s making me be a good boy is the fact that you are being a good girl.”
He prowled forward, and I started to back away.
My back hit the door, and he stopped with less than a few inches separating us.
He wasn’t touching me, but he was close.
If I breathed in, and he breathed in at the same time, my breasts would hit his chest.
Then, as if we both planned it, each of us inhaled.
The tips of my breasts brushed his chest, and my eyes closed.
“Jesus Christ.”
My eyelids parted lazily, almost as if they were heavy with sleep, and I stared at him as he fought an inner battle.
A battle that I wasn’t sure I wanted him to win.
“The jeans you are wearing today leave very little to the imagination,” he growled. “And I’m hanging on by a thread. Please, please—if you’re not ready for this, you need to get in control. You need to stop, because I’m tired of being the good guy.”
“Did I ever ask you to be the good guy?” I asked him, licking my lips.
He looked at me, was about to move forward until his lips touched mine, then the alarm on his phone started to chime.