Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 48187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 241(@200wpm)___ 193(@250wpm)___ 161(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 241(@200wpm)___ 193(@250wpm)___ 161(@300wpm)
Landon’s fingers fly over his phone as he texts and I focus on the softly murmured words of the EMT as he checks my vitals. By the time we arrive at the hospital and they pull me out, I feel good enough I could just leave.
But no one is letting me leave. The EMT wears a concerned frown as he pushes the stretcher into the ER. He says some things to a couple of nurses and instructs Landon where he can wait for me.
I’m pushed into the same room I visited when I got sick a couple of weeks ago. Great. History is repeating itself. Hopefully I don’t have to deal with the same doctor. Heat floods through me. He was so hot and it was so freaking embarrassing.
The nurses take over once they get me transferred to a bed and a familiar Asian nurse worries over my head. She cleans it but doesn’t stitch it up.
“Dr. Venable will want to take a look at this. Sit tight. He’ll be right in.”
I groan as I wait for the good-looking doctor who made me feel like crap last time. He’ll pressure me into more tests—tests I don’t want to have done.
The curtain is wrenched open, revealing Mr. Sex in Scrubs. My thighs clench because he’s too hot to be a doctor. It’s unfair. Upon seeing me, his neutral expression darkens. His brows furl over his intense green eyes and his full lips press into a firm line.
“You’re back,” he says. His deep, gravelly voice flitters over my nerve endings, making me squirm.
“Thought you’d be bored and would need something to do,” I sass, irritated that he seems irritated.
His jaw clenches as he approaches. Like before, his gaze scrutinizes my features. When his finger reaches up to push away a strand of hair from my eyes, I tense. He mistakes it for pain because he frowns.
“Your head hurts where you hit it?” he asks as his gloved hands ghost over the cut flesh.
“It’s okay.”
“Either you have a high pain tolerance or you’re skilled at evading,” he grumbles.
My eyebrows lift in surprise at his gruff tone. “Do I need stitches?”
“You do. But don’t worry, I’ve been doing this for a long time. It won’t leave a scar.”
His confidence has me relaxing. This seems to soften his edge because he flashes me a small smile. “Don’t go running off yet, Cinderella.” He starts to leave.
“I’m sure you’d just chase me and wrangle me back into this bed,” I say with a pout.
He jerks his head my way and scowls. It isn’t until he leaves that I realize my words could be misconstrued. Images of the sexy doctor pinning me down in bed and taking my virginity are too hot and inappropriate for the ER.
When he returns, his features are impassive. He’s quiet as he sets up his supplies to stitch me up. Any time Landon went to the emergency room over football injuries, the nurses always stitched him up. Getting special treatment from the hot doctor sends a thrill shooting through me.
“Fainting is one way to skip out of class,” he murmurs as he begins stitching my wound closed. I sense he’s trying to distract me, so I take the bait.
“Mr. Hanks is my dad’s friend. No one wants to hang out with their dad’s best friend and talk about archetypes in literature.”
Dr. Venable smiles at me, revealing bright white teeth. He’s handsome enough to be in one of those dental commercials. I wonder if I licked his teeth if they’d taste minty. Biting on my bottom lip, I try to hush the dirty thoughts I have running through my head.
“I guess hanging out in triage arguing with me is much more entertaining,” he says with a chuckle. The sound of it—deep and throaty—vibrates down to my core.
“Are you flirting with me, Doc?”
He stiffens and the scowl from earlier is back. “Tell me how you fainted,” he orders, all playfulness gone from his features. “What led up to it? How did you feel?”
“I probably just fell asleep because it was so boring,” I grumble. “Or maybe it’s an April Fool’s joke for my teacher.”
This man doesn’t buy my lies for a second. He continues his task, his hot glare burning me into the bed. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. I wonder what the yummy doctor tastes like. His dark brown hair is tousled like he rolled out of bed that way. The gel in it screams that he was going for the effortless look in the first place. I want to reach my fingers up and ruffle through it, messing it up. The scruff on his cheeks is trimmed low and I wonder what it’d feel like to kiss someone with facial hair. Every guy I’ve kissed has been baby-faced and smelled like Red Bull.