Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 72892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
I nod.
“Your hands.” He looks into my eyes. “Did you land on either? Are you experiencing any pain in your hands or your arms?”
This may be a routine post-fall examination to him, but it’s not that to me.
I’m reveling in the spotlight that is his full attention. I haven’t felt quite like this since the last time I came to this part of the city.
That was the night he took me into the private room in the club.
“My left arm stings a little,” I admit, wanting to forgo the rest of his medical related questions.
I want to leap frog to the discussion we need to have about that glorious night when I came on his hand.
“I’ll check on it once you’re back on your feet.”
“Okay,” I whisper.
“Are you ready to give it a try?”
I glance around him. A few people are standing watch, most likely because I’m still wearing a mask.
It’s staying put though, because our close proximity to Club Skyn is a dead giveaway to where I was headed.
I actually did make it there, but the devil in the horrendous looking mask came at me full force as I waited in line. He insisted he knew me. When I politely told him I didn’t, he decided to bring up his dick.
He must think it’s a wondrous, unforgettable creature because he started describing it to a T, right down to a twisty vein that down the length of it.
When I stepped aside and told him he had the wrong girl, he pulled out his phone to show me a picture of said dick that he nicknamed “his dragon.”
Since he held the phone’s screen directly in my line of sight, I couldn’t help but notice his dragon more closely resembled a little lizard.
I brushed past him then, and that’s when he declared to everyone within earshot that he knew me from a dating app and we had hooked up once last year.
That felt too close for comfort because I had indeed hooked up with a blond-haired guy I met on an app.
I panicked and ran.
He chased after me, and Dr. Morgan came to my rescue.
“I’ll try, sir.”
A soft smile splits his lips, but as quickly as it appeared, it vanishes. “Lean on me.”
I do just that, using his muscular arms as leverage.
He scoops an arm around my waist as soon as I’m on my feet. “Can you walk?”
I hesitate before answering with an affirmative nod, and a murmured, “I can.”
“My place or yours?” he questions, a dangerous low tone punctuates his voice.
I gaze up at his face, the question I want to ask is stuck on my tongue.
“I need to tend to your wounds,” he explains like a responsible doctor. “I don’t see the need for stitches.”
“I have a first aid kit,” I blurt out.
“You live about the record store, don’t you?”
I’d find hope in his knowledge of that, but he’s related to my cousin’s husband. I’m sure Astrid or Berk has mentioned that Astrid owns an apartment above Vinyl Crush and I live there now.
“I do.”
“Let’s grab a cab,” he suggests as he guides me closer to the street as light rain falls on us. “I’ll have you feeling better in no time.”
I know from experience he’s speaking the truth, but something tells me that tonight I won’t be coming on his hand. He’ll be using both to dress my wounds and check me for broken bones.
As he raises a hand in the air to hail a cab headed in our direction, I stare at his profile.
Dr. Morgan is coming home with me. I’m grateful for that since my heart is beating so hard against the wall of my chest that I fear half of Manhattan can hear it.
“You thought you knew him, didn’t you?” he blurts out as the cab driver winds his way through the heavy Friday evening traffic of Manhattan.
“The devil?” I ask.
A grin ghosts his mouth. “Yes, the devil.”
“I thought there was a chance he was someone I met on a dating app, not from the club.” My fingers trace the outline of the bottom of the mask I’m still wearing. I move to remove it, but he leans over to do that for me.
Hope blooms in my chest again because I want something to follow that move. Maybe a kiss, or a longing look in my eyes, but his gaze darts to my forehead.
He winces as he runs a fingertip over my skin. “You must have hit the pavement hard.”
I lean back slightly, feeling flushed from that faint touch. “I put out my arm to save my face. I think my bracelet is the culprit for the cut.”
His gaze drops to the fake diamond bracelet on my wrist.
“It’s karma,” I say with a burst of nervous laughter. “I stole the bracelet, so…”
“You stole the bracelet?” His expression softens. “It wasn’t worth the trouble. Those aren’t real diamonds.”