Chapter 7
Wyatt
Pride welled in him at the sight of how well Donnelly moved through his morning, his shoulder pain undetectable from what Wyatt could see. And he couldn’t stop the small victory smile whenever he noticed it, whenever he noticed him.
After that moment of raw vulnerability from Donnelly in the bathroom stall yesterday, Wyatt felt like he was falling rapidly without a parachute.
His mind went back to that moment again and again, the way Donnelly’s body released, relaxing and surrendering—finally—under his touch.
But when he had tilted his head into his stomach, relief etched on his features rather than pain, entirely at his mercy, vulnerable and needy, Wyatt had rushed to greet him.
He had thrown himself headlong over the cliff and into his own canyon, labeled: John Fucking Donnelly.
When Donnelly’s arm had wrapped around his waist, tugging him in closer, he dug in, knowing that it wouldn’t last long, and he’d have to take what he could before his captain slammed the door in his face again.
He kissed him like the ship was sinking, battling him with tongue and lips, kissing the hell out of him. And fuck, every time he thought about it, he nearly got hard again.
There were kisses, and then there were kisses.
That one left him edgy and desperate for more.
More. More. Goddammit, more, please, Dr. Fuckin’ MD.
So, when he saw Donnelly alone in the hallway by the lockers, and he actually greeted him instead of ignoring him as he had been, Wyatt pounced like a hungry lion.
And his prey let him take. He knew when he told Donnelly to come to the break room, he would.
He knew in his bones and blood that the older doctor wasn’t done with him yet, either.
Breathless with anticipation, Wyatt finally managed to sneak off around 2:45, while the ED seemed calmer, and headed for the break room.
The staff avoided the break room like the plague, saying it was haunted by the tears of fallen med students who couldn’t quite hack it.
It also had the worst coffee maker, producing liquid sludge instead of coffee.
He opened the door and froze.
Dr. Ava Taschen was passed out on the small kitchenette table, drooling into the crook of her arm. Her unruly brown ponytail flopped over her shoulder, and her scrubs were wrinkled.
Wyatt glowered.
Ava had yet to earn his respect as a fellow resident.
She slacked off, showed up late and left early, and, worst of all, pretended to be competent in critical moments, sometimes harming patients in the process, which luckily for the patients, Donnelly or Samuels always caught.
He couldn’t wait for her day of reckoning.
But until then, he had to tolerate her like the wart she was.
He made himself busy washing out the leftover coffee sludge, prepping the coffee maker, and clearing his throat loudly.
Ava jerked awake, her pale, pasty face crinkled in disgust as she wiped the saliva off her lip. “Shit, I must have dozed off.”
He noisily washed the cups in the sink while the water heated for the coffee maker. “Rough night?”
“Yeah,” she muttered, getting to her feet and tugging at her dirty scrubs. “My roommate decided to host a party in our apartment last night without telling me. I maybe got an hour of sleep and grabbed the wrong scrubs.”
“Sucks,” he said, trying hard not to sound that indifferent. “Coffee?”
“Christ, no. I’d rather be stuck in the eye with a needle than drink that.”
“Suit yourself.” He placed a clean mug on the counter and poured the first bit of coffee, watching it splash thickly into his cup.
“How can you drink that?” Ava asked, cringing.
“Grew up on a horse ranch. I’ve endured far worse.”
Ava quickly retied her hair into a fresh ponytail and headed for the door, which almost opened onto her face as Donnelly stepped in.
“Aw, Taschen, I was wondering where you were,” Donnelly said smoothly, slipping his reading glasses off and sliding them onto the hem of his scrubs.
“Sorry, Dr. Donnelly. I—uh—” She glanced imploringly at Wyatt as though he’d save her. He merely leaned against the kitchen counter indifferently. She rolled her eyes. “Just needed a minute. Sorry.”
“It’s alright. Next time, just let me know if you need some extra rest, I’ll be happy to send you home early… again.” His tone was impeccably polite, making Wyatt laugh, which he unsuccessfully covered with a cough.
She flushed, gave them both a bland smile, and hurried out the door.
Donnelly pivoted on his heel, shooting Wyatt a knowing look. “That wasn’t very nice.”
“She’s not very nice,” Wyatt drawled. “Coffee?”
“Absolutely not. That stuff tastes like tar.”
“You’d think a hospital this good would have a nicer coffee maker.”
“I’ll work on getting us a new one,” Donnelly replied, and for a moment, they simply stared at one another. Donnelly scrubbed a hand at the back of his neck, looking adorably bashful.
Wyatt stared, thunderstruck. Was Dr. Donnelly nervous? Of him?!
Holy fucking shit.
Heart racing with excitement, Wyatt went to him.
Donnelly shifted slightly, stiffening. He was taller, but Wyatt was slightly more muscular.
He could smell the musky scent of Donnelly and nearly sighed.
He liked his natural scent so much. It was stupid and nonsensical, but there was something oddly arousing about it. Sweet, spicy, male.
“How’s the shoulder?” Wyatt asked quietly.
“Good. Could be better.” He said it in his Dr. Donnelly tone, and Wyatt couldn’t stop the smile.
“So, let’s make it better then.” He reached for him, and Donnelly sucked in a wavering breath.
Facing him, Wyatt began to work the tight muscles, feeling the knot bunch beneath the layers of clothes and skin. He worked his hands and fingers into the tense muscles, and within seconds, Donnelly relaxed, swaying toward him but not into him—not yet.
His head lowered, giving Wyatt easy access to the side of his neck. Access for his lips to take… to suck…
“Better?” Wyatt husked into the shell of Donnelly’s ear.
He answered with that moaning sound again, which was weak, raspy, and so fuckin’ hot he couldn’t stand it.
Wyatt hummed, placing his free hand on the opposite side of Donnelly’s neck, holding him in place as he dragged his knuckles up his neck. It was risky being this close. They both knew it, and yet whenever Wyatt touched him like this, Donnelly became compliant and subdued.
He wondered if he were to drop to his knees right now and take his cock into his mouth, if Donnelly would let him. The mere thought had his dick hardening.
“It’s been two minutes,” Donnelly murmured in a shaky breath.
Wyatt’s fingers inched into his hair at the base of his neck, deliberating on leaning over and licking the taste off the side of his captain’s throat. Instead, he released him, taking a giant step backward and returning to his coffee mug.
Donnelly’s head snapped up, as though waking from a hazy dream, eyes clouded as he blinked rapidly.
“I…” Donnelly started and then stopped, confused. “I, uh—thank you.”
He nodded, sipping the motor oil coffee. “You’re welcome.”
They stared for a long time before Donnelly nervously glanced away and headed for the door.
“Dr. Donnelly,” Wyatt said, halting the doctor in his tracks, his hand on the doorknob.
The tension in Donnelly’s shoulder was already beginning to form upon returning to the ED. Wyatt frowned, and in a reckless impulse he rarely ever experienced, except whenever he was around this man, said, “Give me another night.”
Donnelly’s eyes widened, and his lips parted, about to protest.
Wyatt continued quickly. “Give me as many nights as it takes to heal your shoulder. No strings. No attachment. Just… enough time to rub you down thoroughly. And then we’ll stop.”
“Lawson…”
“It doesn’t have to mean anything. Just relief.”
“And what do you get out of it?”
“The same thing.”
This was true. Wyatt would finally get to have another night with Donnelly, and if he had to present it to him in terms of convenience with no strings attached, maybe the older man would feel more in control about crossing the line—again.
Donnelly scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck and then his jawline. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”
“Agreed. But sometimes the best ideas are the worst ones. Kinda like riding to the edge of the cliff just for the view.”
“Or for a car commercial,” Donnelly’s smile was slow and genuine, filling up the forgotten space in Wyatt’s soul.
“So?” Wyatt asked gruffly, trying hard to hide his need to keep doing this. He needed it far too much, and he knew this was dangerous, considering Donnelly was more interested in following the rules than breaking them. But with the way Donnelly was looking at him now, he didn’t give a flying fuck.
“So…” Donnelly drawled, eyes slipping back to the door and hesitating.
“Think about it.”
“I already have.”
Surprised, Wyatt stood on the balls of his feet, waiting.
“Meet me at the Four Seasons. I’ll text you the room number.”
Excitement thrummed in his veins, heart skipping like he just won the biggest prize at the fair. “You don’t have my number.”
Donnelly put his slutty black rimmed glasses back on, letting them perch low on the bridge of his nose, his eyebrows high. “I have all your pertinent information on file, Lawson. I’ll see you tonight at 9pm sharp. Don’t be late.”