Chapter 6-Ono
D ay two after being shot was worse than day one.
I barely stayed awake for more than a few minutes at a time, and I couldn’t eat a thing.
Day three was much the same.
But by day four, I was truly starting to mend.
The sexy little doctor had patched me up, and after I got Gio, my top guy, to fetch the supplies she needed, plus a few personal belongings for me, I was healing faster than expected.
So fast, I wondered how long till I could play a different kind of doctor with the gorgeous as fuck woman.
“Hey, I brought you some solid food,” the object of my desires said as she entered the bedroom with a tray in hand.
I felt like a fucking jerk, lying there while she did so much extra work. I hated being weak around her, but I was touched by the attention and the care she took for my well-being.
Michelle told me she didn’t want money. But I couldn’t not pay her. It just wasn’t going to happen.
I’d had Gio send her info to my accountants. Then, I instructed them to pay off all outstanding loans or debts in her name.
I could more than afford it, and she damn well deserved it.
“Don’t look so scared, I didn’t make it,” she joked, taking my silence for something else as she neared with a tray holding what looked like a bowl of thick stew and some sliced French bread.
“Huh?”
“Nothing. I just meant, I don’t cook.”
“No, you just save people’s lives,” I scoffed as she got closer.
“It was nothing.”
“It was everything,” I corrected. “Hey, I truly am sorry for all the trouble, Bellezza.”
I sat up with a slight frown as my stitches pulled tight. But I was more than ready to eat a little and maybe get washed when I was done.
More than that, I wanted to hold this woman in my arms. To taste her sweet lips and get some of that peace I’d felt the other times I’d managed to steal kisses from her.
“Wait. I’ll help,” she said.
I stilled as she grabbed a pillow from the side and tucked it behind my back, helping me get more comfortable.
Okay, so I was a prick for letting her do that when I was perfectly capable. But the fact was, I wasn’t about to pass up a chance to have her anywhere near me.
She always smelled so fucking good.
Fresh and clean like she just stepped out of the shower after using some fancy woman soap. The kind they advertised with shea butter and wild Scottish oats or some shit.
I hated strong perfume, and she didn’t seem to like it much either, which was nice.
I mean, in my experience women loved to soak themselves in whatever cost more money, but not her.
Doc was classy.
Smart as fuck.
Gorgeous, too.
She didn’t need smoke and mirrors to make herself more appealing. She simply was all those things wrapped up in one perfectly desirable package.
“You gonna eat with me, Doc?” I asked, wanting to spend as much time with her as possible.
“Um, yeah, sure. Hang on,” she said, and did a little jog out of the room as she went to gather her food from inside.
Holy fuck.
The sight she made, wiggling and jiggling in the loose pajamas she wore. Her curves were undeniable, and so damn sexy, I was drooling over them.
I hummed appreciatively when she brought in a similar looking bowl for herself.
I cleared a space on the tray, tapping the bed beside me in quiet invitation. I hid my smile behind a calm expression when she hesitated, uncertainty flickering in her eyes.
She was skittish—I could see that as plainly as the sunrise. The way her gaze darted, the subtle tension in her shoulders.
Was it all men she was nervous around? Or just me? I couldn’t tell.
Part of me liked the thought that she didn’t have much experience with men. That she wasn’t used to anyone sitting close, reaching out, making her feel seen.
But the darker part of me—the one that stirred restlessly—seethed at the idea that the men she had known hadn’t treated her right.
That they hadn’t cherished her.
Hadn’t made damn sure she knew exactly how fucking perfect she was in every way that mattered.
So, I stayed perfectly still, every muscle locked in place, giving her the space to choose to come to me on her own terms.
No pressure.
No rush.
Just quiet patience.
For a few long seconds, she hovered between uncertainty and decision, her internal debate playing out in the smallest shifts of her body.
Then, finally, she moved.
The mattress dipped slightly as she sat down beside me, and the warmth of her presence felt like a quiet triumph.
It was a victory I felt deep in my soul.
Like fate had just leaned in and whispered, Well done, Ono. Well done .
“You wanna pick a show?” I asked, handing her the remote.
You could learn a lot about a person just by observing their bedroom. How they arranged their space. The little things they surrounded themselves with.
It was like a roadmap to who they were behind closed doors.
And Doc’s room? It spoke volumes.
Right in front of her bed, a sleek fifty-inch flat screen hung on the wall, perfectly positioned.
It was like a quiet invitation to relax. That wasn’t an afterthought—it was deliberate.
She liked to unwind here, to let herself sink into soft sheets and lose herself in stories that weren’t her own for a while.
Maybe after a long day, it was her way of turning off the noise of reality.
I’d spent some time earlier scrolling through her streaming apps, curious.
I wasn’t snooping—well, not exactly—but I wanted to know what she escaped to.
The rows of titles painted a picture. Crime dramas with complicated antiheroes, medical documentaries, and a few lighter romcoms.
They were the kind of feel-good shows that wrapped you up like a warm blanket.
She had everything from gritty, hard-hitting thrillers to light-hearted comedies that could make you laugh after the roughest day.
It told me something important—not just about her taste, but about her need to recharge in the simplest of ways.
She didn’t go out looking for excitement after a long shift.
She came here, to this room, where the world could quiet down, and she could just be.
That screen wasn’t just for entertainment. It was a survival tool. A buffer between her and everything life threw at her.
And I respected that.
Hell, I understood it more than I wanted to admit.
“Um, sure,” she said, taking the remote.
I closed my eyes at the little bolts of awareness that raced through me when our fingers touched and chided myself for behaving like a boy.
Focusing on the screen, I watched as she scrolled through the choices.
She really seemed to like a little bit of everything from that reality crap to period films.
“How about this one? It’s the Christmas episode, I haven’t seen it yet.”
She turned to me, her dark eyes bright with the question.
“A cooking show?” I asked, surprised.
“Oh yeah. I love these shows. I know it’s weird cause I can’t boil water, but I am addicted,” she admitted and took a bite of French bread.
Fuck.
She was perfect.
“Press play, Doc,” I said, and waited till she was ready, spoon in hand.
“Don’t you have any appetite?” she asked, looking at me after she clicked the little arrow and placed the remote on the tray.
I nodded at her utensils, and she opened her mouth, getting the picture. After she took her first bite, I started to eat.
I had to admit I was enjoying the fragrant stew plenty, but it was the company I liked even better.
I was curious about her.
Attracted like hell.
And I wanted to get to know her better.
First, I needed to heal and go after the motherfuckers who set me up.
Once I had that locked down, I was going to come back for my little Bellezza.
For now, I’d try to content myself with dinner and TV.
T hirty minutes later.
W ho the fuck was I kidding?
I wasn’t a gentleman, and my body was keenly aware of the sexy little doctor who’d remained at my side throughout the Christmas cooking special she wanted to watch.
Who knew slicing vegetables could be so damned sexy? When that fucking dickhead chef with the English accent pulled out a long piece of filet mignon for his famous Beef Wellington recipe, Michelle hummed in delight, and I almost creamed inside my shorts.
We’d finished eating ten minutes ago. After she brought the dishes to the kitchen, she came back to see if I needed anything.
The answer, of course, was yes.
I should have just let her go, but I couldn’t do that. So, I asked her for a favor.
Something I should have known better than to ask for. But I wasn’t a good man. And I had to see if the desire I felt was just one sided.
Could it be? Did she feel it, too?
“Hey Doc, help me, will ya?”
“Sure, what do you need?” she asked.
“A shower. Please,” I added when she hesitated.
“Okay. I understand. Let me get a waterproof dressing, and I’ll change that bandage for you and help you to the bathroom.”
I dipped my chin and thanked her quietly, knowing exactly what I wanted to get out of this.
It was unfair.
It was too soon.
But if there was anything getting shot right after the holidays had taught me, it was that life was short.
There were no bad days, like my tattoo said. Every day was a goddamn gift.
But it was good practice to expect the unexpected. To live life to the fullest.
Fact was, I wanted Michelle Davis, and I wasn’t a very patient man.
I wanted her, and I was gonna have her.
A few minutes later, I was standing in the bathroom with a towel around my waist when Michelle walked in.
I could see I’d shocked her.
But really, who could blame me?
I had to show her I was more healed than she thought. Something in my blood, in my very soul demanded it.
Maybe it was just stupid male hormones. Or something primal that made me want to prove I could take care of her.
Not that she needed me to. She did a damn good job of it on her own.
The woman was brilliant, strong, independent. She was also fine as fuck and yeah, this was cheating.
But if it took showing off my body to get her interested, I’d fucking parade down Washington Street in the nude.
Luckily, I didn’t think I’d have to.
I felt her lingering gaze whenever she walked into the room. Oh, she was professional, alright. But I was a hunter, and this little mouse couldn’t hide her reactions from me.
It amazed me that someone so educated and capable, so goddamn beautiful it hurt to look at her, was nervous around someone like me.
Yeah, I was attractive. And I knew it, too.
Being good looking always gave a person an advantage regardless of the situation.
Whether it was business or pleasure, people just tended to trust people who they found attractive.
I was lucky in that aspect. With my blue eyes, thick, dark hair, and a hard body I worked to achieve, I knew I looked good.
I wasn’t conceited, but I wasn’t dumb either.
If Michelle liked how I looked I was going to use it to my advantage to get what I wanted. And what I wanted was to get inside her hot little pussy.
Yeah, I was a man who liked to win. And sometimes winning meant cheating.
So when Michelle stood in front of me, all her plentiful curves just inches from my itching fingertips, and started dressing my wound, I let the towel slip down my hips and slide to the floor.
“Ooh,” she squeaked.
“What’s the matter, Doc?” I asked, my voice deep and gravelly.
“Oh, um, nothing,” she murmured, clearing her throat and trying valiantly not to look at my thickening cock.
But my cock was big. And she was tempted.
“It’s just a body. You’ve seen plenty of those in your line of work, I bet,” I said, hating that I was probably right.
I couldn’t help it.
The idea of her seeing another man like this made me see red, even though I knew that was a totally ridiculous response.
She was an adult, and she undoubtedly had a life before I broke into her apartment.
I just chose not to think about it. It was safer for everyone that way.
“Of course,” she agreed, but kept her eyes forward.
I grinned.
I always did like a challenge.
Reaching out with my hands, I dropped them to her hips, squeezing just because she was there.
So soft and firm beneath my heated skin. So fucking hot.
Desire roared through me like a runaway train, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. Not that I wanted to.
Precum formed at my tip, my hands dipped lower, brushing the curve of her ass and Michelle froze.
“You mind if I hold on, Doc. I’m feeling a little bit lightheaded,” I lied.
But then again. Not really. Michelle Davis went to my head like the finest wine.
She was the best looking woman I’d seen in a long, long time.
My sweet, sexy siren.
She made me so goddamn hard. Even when I was half dead, I wanted her. But I was on the mend now, and if she was willing, I planned on having her.
“Do you need to sit? Maybe go back to bed?” she whispered.
“I need a shower, but maybe you can stay and help.”
“Because I’m a doctor,” she said, as if she needed to logically explain what was happening.
I didn’t answer. I was no fucking boy scout, but I didn’t think I could get another lie past my lips.
Instead, I reached into the stall and turned the water on, stepping in sideways, waiting while she decided.
And when her trembling hands went to the top button of the shirt she wore, I exhaled, knowing I’d won this round.
The little doctor was going to be mine alright.
She just had no idea I was playing for keeps.