It’s 9:00 PM, not exactly time for sleep, but I am eager to be done with the day. We’ve covered the small glass window on the exam room door with a drape to block out the light from the hallway.
“Hey! Whoa! Slow down there, stripasaurus rex,” I bellow.
He turns over his shoulder. “Sorry. Can’t sleep with jeans on.”
“Oh come on.”
“Why would I lie about that?”
I don’t have time to answer because he’s already unzipping his pants and sliding them down his legs. I turn away, but not before catching sight of his ass, clad in tight black boxer briefs. His shirt goes next and I’m met by an expanse of naked flesh. Broad shoulders. A smooth, tan back that tapers down near his waist. I look away. Then chance another quick peek. I shouldn’t have. Suddenly, I think they’ve cut off the air supply to our room. I suck in a deep breath then release it slowly, so he doesn’t notice.
I turn to face the ceiling and pull my CDC-issued blanket a little higher. In truth, I don’t want to sleep in my jean shorts either. As soon as Lucas closes his eyes, I’ll hop off the exam table and slip them off surreptitiously.
When I hear Lucas situate himself on the cot, I turn just enough that I can see his naked chest and shoulders over the top of the bristly army green blanket. From my perch on the exam table, I have a perfect view of him. Growing up, I saw his bare chest a hundred times at cross country practices, swimming parties. It never bothered me before, but this version of Lucas where he could be a stunt double for Henry Cavill really makes it hard to focus elsewhere. I really want to touch him, to run my hand across his tan skin.
I brush the thought away and silence another deep breath.
I won’t be able to sleep. I sit up and decide that if I change, I’ll feel better. I take a blue medical gown into the bathroom and when I walk back out, Lucas is staring at the ceiling with his hands behind his head. I stand at the end of his cot and slowly, his gaze drops to me. He smiles as he sees my makeshift pajamas.
“Cute.”
I inch closer to his cot and finger the scratchy material of my gown. He sits up and the blanket falls to his waist. In the dim light he looks like a wicked dream. Sharp jaw. Ruffled brown hair. Toned chest. The air sizzles and we’re not in an exam room anymore. We’re in a dream, one where I’m not at war with Lucas Thatcher.
No.
No. No. No.
I shake away every intrusive thought springing to mind. Step closer. Bend low and straddle him on that cot—
“Daisy…”
Lucas says my name and my eyes flick up to his. My thoughts are written across my cheeks. They burn with a blush I’m helpless to contain. His eyes narrow like he’s trying to read me. Of course he can. To him, I’m an open book.
I want you so bad, my body says.
I shake my head and try to move past the cot, but then Lucas’ hand catches mine. His fingers tighten around my wrist. He doesn’t say a word, but he doesn’t have to. The second his skin touches mine, I’m his.
And then I’m having an out-of-body experience, because my head is telling me to keep walking, to climb onto the exam table, and go to sleep…and yet, my body is doing something different. My intrusive thoughts have finally become intrusive actions.
I’m not sure who moves first. His hand is there, wrapping around my forearm and tugging me down, but I am already on my way.
My knees fall on either side of his hips so I straddle him, just like I so desperately wanted them to. Together, we barely fit, but he keeps ahold of my hips and I know he’s got me.
For so long, I don’t move. Petrified. He squeezes my hips and tries to meet my eyes, but I’m staring at his chest. My non-casted hand reaches out and drags across the bare skin. It’s hard, a wall of muscle, but I can feel his heart beating a wild rhythm beneath my palm. I linger there, amazed by the effect I have on him, but he’s growing impatient. His hands twist circles on my lower back, working the material of my gown into a jumbled mess near my hips.
I retaliate by brushing his blanket lower, exposing his abs. He is a truly superhuman. Divine. My hands are there, brushing across every inch of him. Soon I will come to my senses and leap off the cot, but for now, I’m suspended in a dream.
He’s done with the patient game though. His hand trails up my spine and he nudges me forward until my chest falls to his. We fit perfectly and I’m so glad I took my bra off when I changed into the gown. We’re naked, separated by a thin gown, and the sensation is so sensual that warmth blooms low between my legs. I brush my chest against his with my eyes closed, greedy for more. I am behind enemy lines and I feel alive. Just how turned on can he make me? I want to find out.