“What are you doing here?” he asks.
Blinking at him, I mutter, “I live here.”
“Since when?”
“This whole time.”
He laughs, but it’s not gentle or nice, and the reasons why twist at my stomach. “This whole time,” he repeats. Standing up, he adds, “I think I need to get naked. . .” He winks at me, and I fight my cheeks’ predisposition to blush. “Have a shower, that is. Should we get one of those nurses to help me or will my beautiful doctor be doing it?”
“Cute.” The word slips out, an incarnation of a sixteen-year-old girl. A girl who loved him as if the last eleven years never happened. As if we didn’t rip each other bare, shredding our hearts, our future, our promises, in that goddamn park.
“You always did think so.” He pulls off his robe, dropping it onto the floor, baring his masculine body to me. More tattoos than I’ve ever seen on a man before wrapping themselves around muscles in a perfect way - weaving over defined curves, their colours vibrant and expressive just like him. A smirk plays on his lips when I drop my gaze to his thick tattooed thighs and the long semi-hard shaft hanging between them.
Jesus fucking Christ.
Nudity is a part of my job, but most people shuffle with nerves or cover their privates.
Bronson isn’t most people.
I fight the urge to react. “I’ll get Brian to help you shower if you’d like? He’s strong enough to handle anything you need. . .washed.”
“Brian?” Bronson’s eyes light up, and my heart breaks over that cool, affable grin. Another thing I couldn’t draw from my memories. Not after the look of betrayal he left me with. He takes a step towards me, and I take a step back. “Is he hot?”
My lips twitch with a smile that has no place being there. “I’m not sure I ever noticed.”
He takes another step towards me, and I crane my neck to hold his gaze. “You were always such a perv,” he says. “I find that hard to believe.”
“I’m a perv?” I say, my cheeks burning with the urge to let that smile set into my face. To let the good memories in and maybe, maybe finally get closure.
“Yeah. You couldn’t keep your little hands off me, if I remember correctly.”
“I don’t think you remember correctly.”
“Oh, Doc. I remember.Everything.”
The thread holding my heart together tears a little. He is so close to me now, I can feel his potent, masculine energy like a pulse against my skin. I lift a shaky hand and press my palm flat against his rock-hard abdominals, against a tattooed hourglass. Fighting the overwhelming desire to run my fingers over it, to feel the muscles it paints trembling against my touch, I ball my hand into a fist.
“Stop.” I press back against his advances with my knuckles. “I work here. Don’t do this.”
His tone drops further, his smile in his voice, along with something else, something dangerous and him. “How do you want me to act, Shoshanna? Like I don’t know the colour of your pussy? Like I don’t know the way your sweat smells and tastes? Like I don’t know you have a bite? Where’s my crazy girl in there?” His dirty words flush through me like pure arousal being injected into my core. His strong arms hang by his sides, but his fingers rub the skin of his palms. I know he wants to use them. To grab me. “Who is this wound-up young lady I see in front of me?”
With that, I step backwards. “Don’t talk to me like that here.”
“Okay. Where then?”
I blink at him, trying not to look at his impressive physique, his smooth skin, tattoos, thick cock- “What?”
“Where are you taking me so I can talk to you like that? And I’m not a cheap date. I want romance, baby. Or I’m not putting out.”
I let out a small laugh, and it’s such a foreign sound, I barely recognise it, the bad memories fading for a slither of a moment. “You’re incorrigible.”
“It’s been years,” he says. “I’d like to know what you’ve been doing.”
“Put some clothes on. I can’t do this with you right now, Bronson.” I turn towards the door, taking slow steps away from him. My body and heart duel, my heart clearly eager to stay and talk. . . To have that chance to say I’m sorryagain.But he seems to have moved on? And he looks unaffected? Did he meet someone, maybe? Has she taken away his pain? Taken awayme?But all I say is, “I’m working. Get some clothes on. I’ll send someone in to fix your giving set.”
“I can’t stay, baby. You know that. I have places to be,” he states with a serious tone. Duty. It’s his ‘I have duties to uphold’ voice. The words and tone still me. Because while my heart is breaking in two all over again, he’s just eager to leave.
Growling, I whirl around and bark at him. “You stubborn dickhead. You have to stay! You just had a goddamn blood transfusion. Now get into the goddamn bed.”