Chapter 6
SIX
SOFEE
The hospital where I work is one of the smallest in New Orleans. It's located away from the hustle and bustle of the city. Typically, only non-emergent patients come through these doors. But sometimes, on rare nights, we get unusually busy.
And that was just the type of shift I was having up until about forty-five minutes ago. Though, it was just as well that I had something to take my mind off what happened with Declan last week.
I’m currently stuffing my arms full in the supply closet with all the things the attending physician has asked for. Dr. Haley is a great doctor who takes his job very seriously, but he’s also old-fashioned and doesn’t allow his nurses to have much of a break. It’s just my luck that I was labeled charge nurse for tonight's shift. That means I’m responsible for ensuring all my nurses and aides have an adequate break when the doctor is out of sight.
Since we were slammed, all my nurses had been running themselves ragged for the last ten hours. As soon as it looked like we were getting a break in the flow of patients and Dr. Haley snuck off to the on-call room, I sent all my nurses on break.
As of now, only three out of my fifteen beds are currently occupied, awaiting lab results. Earlier, all beds were full, and the waiting room was crowded. However, as time passed, the influx of sick patients coming through the doors slowed, and those being treated were either transferred to larger hospitals for surgeries or admitted to our main hospital for observation. Some patients were even discharged fairly quickly.
Now, I've taken on the responsibility of filling rooms while my orderlies take a well-deserved break. I don’t mind waiting until my shift is over before I can sit down and eat something. I’m used to attending to everyone else's needs and neglecting my own.
Suture kits, IV bags, cannulas, gauze, you name it, and I’m grabbing it off the shelves. Anything that I don’t need a prescription for is getting refilled while I have the time.
I was fine when my ER was full, keeping myself busy to the point where there was no spare room inside my mind for anything other than work. But now that it’s quiet, my brain is trying to make me remember what happened a week ago.
What did happen?
I’ve asked myself that question at least fifty different times within the last eight days. I nearly convinced myself that I was just having a fever dream and nothing actually happened. But then I prod the spot behind my lip with my tongue where a small split used to be and remember that it was all painstakingly real. Out of all the times I’ve gone toe-to-toe with Declan, he has never once touched me. And until last Thursday evening, I never thought he would.
When I first walked into the bar, I was hot and annoyed. Not only from replaying Liam’s words over and over again in my head, but also because my shitty car’s A/C is busted, and I had to drive home in the sweltering June heat with only the windows down to cool me off. I honestly don’t know who in their right mind likes this hot fucking weather. I hate it.
I noticed he looked different that night, more tense, as if he was looking for a fight with me. But for the life of me, I can't understand why. What has changed so drastically that would cause him to lose his tightly reigned self-control and... do what he did?
I feel a hot flush start crawling up my neck at the memory of his rough hands on me. The way he gripped me around my throat and bent me to his will. The feel of his calloused fingers against my scalp before he pulled my hair had me nearly melting into a puddle at his feet. But even those things were nothing compared to when he made me drink from his mouth, only to lick me clean afterward.
The sensation of his hot tongue against my mouth was almost enough to make me beg him to use it elsewhere. As if I can still feel his teeth on it, I suck my lower lip into my mouth and briefly close my eyes. What would have happened if he hadn’t stopped?
Would he have ripped my top down and exposed my breasts to his ravenous gaze? Maybe knelt in front of me before dragging that wicked mouth all over my tightened peaks. I know he would have sucked my nipples past those soft lips just to give me a sharp bite. I can practically feel his rough beard scraping against the tender flesh there. I still feel the burn his hands left behind, and I can’t stop myself from picturing that same sensation elsewhere.
But the real question is, would I have let him do all of these things and more?
Rational thought has me saying no, not a chance in hell. But some other part, the whimpering pile of lust that I’ve become, that part screams yes. Yes , I would have let him spin me around and pin me down against the bar. Yes , I would’ve whimpered as he jerked my scrubs down roughly, leaving a chafe in their wake. Fuck yes , I would have thrust my ass out for him as he slammed his hard cock into my weeping pussy.
I suck in a sharp breath at the image I’ve painted within my mind and shake my head. “Stop it,” I scold myself and continue to grab things off of shelves, not really seeing what I’m taking. Too deep in thought to care.
Miles was right, I need to get laid. And after what happened last week, I seriously considered unwrapping my birthday gift and taking it for a test drive. It’s sad, but I truly can’t remember the last time I felt the intimate touch of a lover. I know who it was with, but for the life of me, I can’t recall a single moment that made my blood sing and my brain go mushy. Not like how I imagined it would be with Declan. Even if he does hate me, the feel of his hardened length against my belly was enough to convince me that the hate fucking he’d give me would send me into orbit.
But it doesn’t matter if it would be the best sex of your life, this is Declan we’re talking about. My inner voice scolds.
Would the sex be hot? Hell yes . But would he want anything to do with me the day after? I honestly don’t know the answer to that question. In fact, I really don’t even know much about him besides the fact that he’s my brother's best friend. It’s not like he’s ever shared anything about himself with me. That would require him to be able to spend more than five minutes in the same room as me.
I don’t remember how we got this way. When I first met him, I thought he was a nice enough guy. I remember thinking he was the most attractive man I’d ever laid my eyes on. His obsidian-colored hair was always messy, but his violet eyes were always sharp. They were the kind of eyes that seemed to perceive more than what you were willing to reveal. When he looked at me, it felt like he was peering into my very soul, seeing the person I am beneath all the impossible standards I’ve always been held to.
Do the right thing, look after your brothers, be a good girl.
These principles have been drilled into my head for so long that I wouldn’t even know how to be anything other than what I am right now. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a good person with a strong moral ground to stand on. I like who I am and what I believe in. It's just that sometimes… sometimes I’d like to be something more. I wish I could release my inhibitions and just do what feels good for once.
I’ve never called into work just because I wanted a “me” day. I was raised to take pride in what I do and never let down those who depend on me. Never disappoint anyone or take up space for myself at another's expense.
I’ve never had a one-night stand before. The morals instilled in me since childhood wouldn't allow it. I was always taught that I needed to be in a committed relationship before choosing to give my body to someone.
Hell, I’ve never even broken one tiny law. I’ve never even had a damn parking ticket.
And I know what most people think. How could Liam and I be raised in the same household and be so completely opposite from one another? Well, it’s because girls are held to different fucking standards than boys. From a shockingly young age, we are taught that the only reason we are put on this earth is to make everyone else comfortable. Forget about your own wants, dreams, and wishes. We only live to serve someone else.
Just once, I’d like someone to recognize my needs. For them to pay attention to the little things that make me happy and help me achieve my dreams and desires. I hunger to do whatever I choose to do and not constantly worry about how it affects other people. To not worry about the consequences of having sex with someone I’m not in a committed relationship with. I want to fuck just because it feels good, not because society tells me when it's acceptable.
But is Declan really the man to do that with?
I pull myself from my thoughts of worlds I’d like to explore and get back to my task at hand. In the end, it doesn’t matter if I want to do these things with Declan. If he hates me as much as he lets on, it’ll never happen.
Besides, apart from his impromptu drinking lesson, I hadn't seen or heard from him since the incident. Initially, I tried my best to make myself scarce, unsure of how to act around him. But when it became apparent that he was also avoiding me, I figured it was his way of saying he wasn't interested. Even if his body stated otherwise.
Reaching up to the top shelf, I stretch as far as I can and grab the last remaining IV bag. “Should have brought a cart,” I murmur to myself. My arms are absolutely stuffed full, to the point where I'm not sure how I’m going to get back to the ER bay without dropping anything.
After gathering as much as I possibly can, I turn and head for the door. Blowing a stray ringlet of hair that has escaped my short ponytail away from my eyes with a loud breath, I push open the door with my hip. It swings wide, and soon I’m stepping back out into the hallway. I walk briskly toward the emergency bay, following the rhythmic beeping from the nurses' station, telling me my three patients are doing just fine, resting.
I carry my supplies to the first trauma room near the bay entrance and start to carefully place everything on the clean bed. Once I have set down all my items, I start to grab the IV bags. So focused on balancing the five of them in my hands, I don’t even realize someone has snuck up on me until they speak.
“Excuse me, Miss?”
The deep voice startles me, and I stumble, dropping three of the full bags of saline as I do. “Shit!” I yelp as I scramble to stop the other two from falling as well. Embarrassment washes over me as I get on my knees to pick up the ones that fell. “I’m so sorry,” I rush to say as I look up at the intruder.
The man standing in front of me is tall, exceptionally tall. His medium-length, dark brown hair is well-kept, swept away from his face in a masculine style. His dark eyes watch me as he looms over me, never blinking. I lower my gaze to his hooked nose and then to his sharp jaw, lightly covered with stubble.
Handsome .
Looking past his features, I notice he’s wearing a very expensive-looking vest covering a crisp white button-down shirt. The vest hugs him snugly, allowing me to see how lean he is. His matching trousers have been heat-pressed, and his shiny black loafers look as though they have never walked outside.
“No, I’m sorry, I startled you. I should have waited in the waiting room, but when nobody came to the desk I…” the man says, not finishing his thought as he leans down to help me pick up my mess. He grabs a bag in his hand before I wave him away. I quickly snatch the remaining ones from the floor and stand to my full height, with him right along with me. I place them back onto the bed before facing him.
Goddamn , if I thought he was handsome before, it's nothing compared to his masculine beauty as I stand facing him now. He’s easily over a foot taller than me. I’m close enough now that I can make out the full color of his eyes. Light brown with dark speckles throughout them, they shimmer with humor as he smirks at me.
I return his smile and tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear. He’s even prettier close-up. I watch as his grin broadens into a full smile, revealing his pearly white, straight teeth. Twin dimples deepen on both sides of his mouth, making me want to hear him laugh. I just know it would be a deep, infectious sound that I would become entranced by.
I let my gaze trail down past his broad shoulders to his impressive chest. This man clearly works out, and I find myself wondering what he looks like with his shirt off.
Would he be as muscular as Declan? Does he have any tattoos? It would seem like a shame if he didn’t. You love all the dark ink and swirls of vibrant color that cover Declan's chest and arms.
Then he looks at me almost expectantly, bringing me out of my rambling thoughts. He reaches out to me and I get confused until I see the IV bag he holds in his hand.
“Oh,” I breathe, rushing to grab the bag from his outstretched hand. “Here, let me take that,” I say as I grab it, accidentally brushing my fingers briefly against his. I feel a deep heat climb to my face as I pull the bag from him and place it on the bed before facing him again.
He places his hand in his pocket and maintains that charming smile. And as if I’ve forgotten how to speak, I stumble over my words like an idiot.
“Can— can I help you with something?” I ask, feeling foolish. You're a professional damnit, act like it.
The strange, tall man shakes his head as though clearing his thoughts before replying. “Yeah, sorry, it’s— ah, well, I was wondering if you have any space available?” He seems nervous, the act only adding to his charm.
“Oh, yeah, yes, of course. Do you have someone who needs to be seen out in your car?” I ask and start walking back toward the nurses' station. Mr. tall, dark, and mysteriously handsome follows closely behind. I can practically feel the heat from his gaze as he watches me.
“Actually,” he pauses with a quiet chuckle. “I did something foolish and, well,” he cringes as he nods his head toward his left shoulder. That's when I notice it’s sagging quite a bit more than the other and he’s visibly favoring it. “I think I’ve dislocated my shoulder pretty badly. I need a bed for myself, unfortunately.” A self-deprecating smile forms on his lips.
“Oh!” I say too loudly and then blush. Get it together, Nurse Santos. “Yes,” I clear my throat and shake my head. “Yes. Come with me, and I’ll show you my bed.” What! “No, not my bed, your bed. Let me show you to your bed.”
Mystery man chuckles and flashes those adorable dimples again, making me increasingly flustered by the second.
“I mean, obviously I wasn’t talking about my bed,” I laugh, unable to stop speaking at this point. “I don’t even have a bed here. My bed is definitely not a hospital bed. Not that yours is either, I’m sure your bed is much nicer than a hospital bed.” Oh my God, stop talking about beds! Just stop talking! I cringe as I realize I’m rambling to a perfect stranger.
A perfectly handsome stranger that thinks you’re a fucking lunatic. My inner voice mocks.
But then he shocks me by tilting his head back and laughing. His utter joy at my embarrassment has me covering my grin as a giggle of my own escapes. I scrunch my nose up as I smile at him.
“Clearly, I’ve forgotten how to speak to handsome strangers,” I mutter.
His eyes are glassy as his laughter finally subsides, and he speaks. “It’s quite alright,” His gaze leisurely travels down the length of my body, and when he finally meets my eyes again, I feel as though the temperature in the room just catapulted a few degrees. “This is honestly the highlight of my night.”
I can’t fight the blush that arises once again. What is wrong with me? I’m acting as though I’ve never spoken to an attractive man before. An attractive man who doesn’t scowl at me when I walk into a room.
I nod my head toward an empty room and say nothing more, too afraid I’ll make myself look like more of an ass if I speak. Once we’re past the privacy curtain, I close it and gesture to the made bed. I pull the rolling cart with a laptop on it closer to me and approach it as he sits down. Tapping on the mouse to start up the monitor, I look at my patient.
“Okay, let's start over.” I smile down at him. He glances up at me with just a hint of a grin playing on his lips. “My name is Sofee, and I’ll be your nurse this…” I pause to look down at my watch. “Morning. Can I get your name and date of birth?”
Mystery man doesn’t break eye contact as he answers. “Joel McCoy, July 29th, 1982.”
I almost gape at him until I remember that I’m a professional. There is absolutely no way that this gorgeous piece of manly perfection is almost forty-two years old. He doesn’t look a day over thirty. I don’t even see a single gray hair within the thick brown strands on top of his head.
I type the info before speaking again. “It’s nice to meet you, Joel.”
His eyes shimmer with something I can’t quite decipher as he studies me. “And it’s also nice to meet you, Sofee.” The way he says my name like a soft prayer makes my knees wobble. I quickly shift my focus back to the computer, trying to avoid embarrassing myself further.
Everything about this man, from his classic good looks to his polished exterior, calls to me. I know without him touching me that he is a man who will outshine every other boy from my past, making them all seem like fumbling teenagers.
Well, all of them except the one I need to stay far away from. I’m not sure there’s a man alive who can match the dark temptation that is Declan Morelli.
I ask a few more questions without looking back at Joel. He answers them all until it comes to the point where I ask him what exactly caused the injury.
“Well, it’s the damnedest thing,” he grunts, a pained sound causing me to finally look at him. And then every piece of professional training leaves my being, replaced with a sex-crazed maniac as I see what he’s doing.
While I had my nose buried in the computer, Joel was unbuttoning his vest and shirt. By the time I looked back up at him, he already had his vest and white shirt completely unbuttoned and pulled down over his good arm. He’s currently pulling it down over his dislocated shoulder now, with a grimace written on his features.
Saliva fills my mouth, causing me to audibly gulp. Unlike Declan, Joel has nothing but bare skin under his shirt. Not a single tattoo mars the golden flesh of his torso, but that doesn’t stop me from staring at him. Everything from his impressive pecs to his ripped abdomen has my teeth chattering for just one nibble. My hungry gaze follows each divot and valley that makes up his cut form. My fingers tremble with the need to trace each and every one until they find the edge of his slacks, just to dip below and feel the bulge he’s hiding from me.
And then he’ll sue you and the hospital for sexual assault. My shrill inner voice scolds me.
Suddenly, I hear a group of voices returning to the ER bay. The chatter of the other nurses and aides coming back from their breaks snaps me out of the moment, and I realize I’ve been locked in a staring match with this complete stranger. I shake myself and take a step back from the computer. It’s obviously been a long shift, and I’m about dead on my feet. At the risk of sounding even more foolish, I decide it’s time for me to back out while I still have a shred of dignity.
“Are you comfortable?” I ask, but I don’t give him time to reply as I back up toward the closed curtain. “I’m going to grab the doctor for you. Someone will be in here shortly to get the rest of your information.”
“But—”
I cut off his objection by pulling the curtain open in one quick yank before stepping out and shoving it back into place. As soon as I’m out of the small space, I feel as though I’m finally able to breathe. I think maybe my altercation with Declan last week may have permanently turned my brain into a pile of goo. I can’t even get through a simple patient intake with a handsome stranger without completely fumbling over myself.
I take a deep breath and turn my back to Joel’s room. I know I’m being a shitty nurse, but I need to distance myself before I do something stupid. Like taking my sexual frustration out on a man who is fourteen years older than me.
I spot one of the younger nurses at the desk and half run toward her. “Maria, can you finish the intake for bed seven, please? I’m going to wake Dr. Haley for a possible dislocated shoulder,” I ask. With her nod, I rush from the emergency bay as if my ass is on fire.