Chapter 5
After tossing and turning for over two hours now, I’m no closer to getting any rest than I was the second I started silently listing football stats in my head.
As a child, I had the worst case of insomnia, so Vi got me hooked on listing things to help my brain quiet down.
So, since ten o’clock, I’ve been listing every goal I’ve scored and I’ve still seen nearly every minute on the bloody clock tick by.
I should be exhausted. It’s almost midnight and it was a rain match today for fuck’s sake. But my mind keeps wandering back to the surgery they want to do on my knee in two days—this supposed career-saving surgery.
When everyone came in with their bright ideas, impressive statistics, and articles about other footballers who have had this brand new surgery, I didn’t react the way I thought I would. I should have been jumping for joy and kissing the good doctor for saving my career.
Instead, a twisting in my gut multiplied. I began to feel weighted down like I do when I run around a muddy pitch wearing ankle weights. Did I lose my shot at a Premier contract? Am I even still a footballer if I can’t play right now? Football is my identity, so what am I without it?
It’s all a bit disconcerting, especially since I’ve been having the season of my life. This Wilson Repair is supposed to get me right back in the game, so why am I so confused about how I feel?
Oh, shut it, Camden. You probably just need to get laid, I think to myself. Instantly, Indie’s angelic face invades my mind.
“Fuck it,” I say while pressing the button on my bed to raise myself up.
I can’t keep lying here—not sleeping—and obsessing.
My brain needs a break from the stress. In the past, whenever I’ve needed a break, women were usually the perfect release.
The perfect distraction to forget and not be needed for something more than just the basic carnal act of sex.
Indie Porter would more than do for me right now.
She’s been invading my thoughts since I first laid eyes on her.
The tremendous urge I have to know more about her is heady.
I think she might be a little nuts and that makes me positively desperate to know more.
Don’t get me wrong. I’ve had encounters with beautiful women from all over the world.
But kissing a doctor in an exam room ranks high on my list of spank-banking material.
Furthermore, when I get right down to the brass tacks of it, it wasn’t the location that made it memorable.
It was her.
She is breathtaking. From her face to her hair, to her body, to her glasses…She gave me chills and at that point all she had done was touch my arm. I need to know what it would be like to actually be inside of her.
I turn on the dim nightlight over my bed and snatch my mobile up off the side table.
Quickly, I find Indie’s name that I saved in my contacts immediately after she left.
She gave me her number, so whether she’s my doctor or not, that act alone told me she is also open to something more than just a doctor/patient relationship.
I’m just not sure she’s ready to fully admit it yet.
She’s probably sleeping and won’t answer, but it’s worth a shot. I don’t usually have to chase girls but I’ll gladly make an exception for her.
Tonight is the perfect opportunity. There’s something about the night that makes things look differently, too.
For example, when you hear a strange noise in your flat and it’s dark out, you’re instantly on defence, ready for battle.
But, in the daytime, if you hear a strange noise, you’re certain it’s just the neighbour’s overweight cat tipping over his litter box again.
You don’t even bother closing your book.
Darkness can make you brave. That’s what I want out of Indie. There’s something about her that I want to break through. Maybe if I can get her up to my room now that she’s not officially working, she’ll drop the wall and let me in.
I press DIAL on my mobile and hear the sexiest sound in the universe. “Mmmm, this is Dr. Porter.”
My groin lurches. “Are you in the middle of something?”
“Mmmm, what’s that? What did you say?” Her voice is moany and scratchy, and all I can think about are the sounds she’d make with me inside of her.
My breath comes out quickly before I resume speaking.
“You sound like you were either in the middle of dreaming about me, or you were in the middle of touching yourself while dreaming about me, or you were wide awake and touching yourself while dreaming about me. All of the above is an acceptable answer.”
Silence.
“Don’t go quiet on me now, Indie.” I reach down and shamelessly cup myself, closing my eyes and imagining her all sleep-tousled and adorable in my bed with me.
“Is this Camden?” Her voice is a bit clearer now.
“Miss me?”
I hear ruffling on the other end, and I envision her sitting up in bed and putting her glasses on. Her voice is alert. “I’m just thinking about how full of yourself you are to assume that the only options of what I’m doing right now include thoughts of you.”
“Who else would it be?” I ask and move my hand from my dick as frustrating thoughts of that prat, Dr. Prichard, flash in my mind. She better not be thinking of that wanker. “Did you have another someone else manhandle your lips today?”
She huffs incredulously. “What’s going on? What’s the matter?” she yawns.
“I can’t sleep.”
“Is it pain? Have they done final rounds on you already? You need to tell them your pain number and be honest, Cam. And make sure they don’t forget to give you a new dose if it’s been four hours.”
I grin at her calling me Cam again. It sounds so perfectly casual and utterly sexy coming from her kind voice. “It’s not pain.”
“Then what is it?”
“I don’t know exactly. I think you better get up here and check it out.”
“Check what out?” Her voice rises slightly. “Are you having other symptoms? Is something happening with your knee? Are you feeling feverish?”
“I’m definitely hot.”
“I’ll be right there.” The line cuts out and I have a fleeting sense of guilt for misleading her into thinking there is something else wrong with me.
I didn’t expect her to be so trusting of my complaints.
But I’m not really in the position to chase her down, and she said she doesn’t want me to move, right?
More excited than I feel compelled to admit, I decide to ditch my shirt to make a solid impact when she comes through the door. I fling the shirt Tanner had brought me toward my chair and lean back in my bed with my hands behind my head as I await her entrance.
In a matter of minutes, the beautiful redhead comes striding into my room.
The dim yellow light above my head casts a warm hue on her blue scrubs.
I didn’t want to turn on any more lights for our meeting.
I’ve found that turning the lights off when I’m in bed with a woman tends to unleash a whole other side of her that she’s normally too proper to let loose. I want that to happen with Indie.
Indie’s so busy tying her mass of curls up into a bun atop her head, she doesn’t even look at me.
Closing the double doors behind her, she eventually reaches the foot of my bed and snatches up the iPad digital chart that rests in a plastic holder by my feet.
Scrolling through it for a few seconds, she says, “Your vitals were all good when they rounded on you thirty minutes ago.” Her brows are furrowed.
“Normal temp recorded. What’s the problem? ”
She looks up at me and pushes her glasses up on her nose. I’m surprised to see they are teal frames now. Gone are the cheetah ones from earlier. The colour of these make her toffee eyes stand out even more. Toffee eyes that are now taking in my black boxer briefs.
“You changed your glasses,” I state, ignoring her question and smiling at her wandering gaze.
“You’re not wearing your gown,” she replies, frowning. “And I have tons of different glasses. I don’t know what I grabbed. It was dark in the on-call room.”
“I’m sorry if I woke you up,” I say, surprising myself by actually caring. I don’t usually do the thoughtful bloke thing, but Indie Porter is a different calibre of woman.
“It’s fine. You’re a VIP and Dr. Prichard told me to check in on you at some point tonight anyway.”
“So do you sleep in those on-call rooms by yourself?” I ask, morbidly curious. If this hospital is anything like the medical shows on the telly, those on-call rooms are nothing short of a brothel.
“No, there were a couple other doctors in there. I’m more concerned about how you’re feeling. Why did you ask me up here?” She grips the iPad against her chest and furrows her brow at me.
I cock my head. “Why do you think I asked you up here?”
Her face drops into one of unimpressed chastisement. “Are you trying to seduce me when you have a serious injury?”
Scoffing, I reply, “‘Course not. That would be mental, right?”
She drops her chin. “Yes. Completely mental, Mr. Harris.”
I let out a soft chuckle at her tone. “Fine then, Doctor, I think I might have insomnia or something.”
Her brows lift. “That sounds like nerves, but I can give you something to help you sleep.” She swipes the iPad awake again.
“I don’t want drugs and it’s not nerves,” I lie, clenching my jaw over her perceptiveness. I decide to quickly flip the tables back on her. “So when I called, you sounded like you were doing more than just sleeping. Are those on-call rooms that comfortable?” I tweak my brows playfully.
She baulks, “I wasn’t doing any of whatever your mind is wandering off to. That is my sleeping voice you heard, which is a miracle in and of itself. The cots are terrible for getting any decent rest. I’ll be lucky if I am able to fall back asleep.”
“So we both have a sleep problem then.” She eyes me warily as my expression turns hopeful. “I think I have the perfect solution.”
She lets out a haughty laugh. “Oh, do tell.”