Pressure (Valley Hospital Series Book 1) (2 page)

My head is pounding, and the sting in my right thigh is just unbearable enough that I allow myself to lift my head from the pillow to take a look. I groan as I toss the sheets off my legs. There it is—eight stitches. It wasn’t a dream. I really did fall while trying to dance to Ellie Goulding. I’m still in the ridiculously expensive silk top Trace let me borrow last night. My head swims as the light from the open window hits my eyes.

My mouth feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton balls, and as I try to stand, I stumble over the offending pair of heels and the black skirt that offered my precious skin little protection from the shard of glass that sliced me open last night.

“Nice way to celebrate your success, Bailey,” I mumble to myself as I make my way to the bathroom.

I quickly shed my clothes and walk into the shower. The hot water runs along my skin and the relief is almost instant. The throbbing behind my temples is faint, and I close my eyes. The night before comes to me in flashes. Trace, Becca, and Sam dancing like idiots with those frat guys, and then my stupid ass falling over like a drunken moron. No one would have ever suspected that I graduated with honors two-months-ago from Valley University. I’d recently passed my state boards, as well, and was about to start my new job as a nurse in the very hospital my intoxicated ass ended up in last night.

My eyes pop open. Dr. Larson? Larkin?
Shit
. I can’t remember. I do remember he was handsome, though. Oh my God, I hope he doesn’t remember me. I’d remove my own stitches before I’d ever let him see me again.
Shit.
At least I don’t start my job for another week and a half. By then, if I do ever see him, he’ll never remember me. Valley Hospital is affiliated with the university, and the fact that it’s smack dab in the middle of downtown makes it one of the busiest in the state. I hold onto that fact as I step out of the shower.

My apartment is still pretty bare. I’d recently moved in about a month ago, right after graduation. I wanted to feel more like an adult, so I moved out of my parents’ home. They live thirty minutes south. My father is a doctor, as is my mother. Being an only child had its perks, but my parents weren’t like normal parents. Everything had its place, had its order. It was like living in a sterile environment. My pale, little life was lonely, so when I moved out, I promised myself I would live.
“Living Life”
Bailey seems to already be failing miserably. Getting drunk, living out of boxes, and practically severing my own leg isn’t the best way to start out on my
“new adventure.”

I slip on some shorts and a faded T-shirt, then comb out my hair and place it in a top knot. Chancing a look around, it’s then I decide that even though my head is still slightly pounding, it’s time to actually get my shit together.

It’s hot, and the desert sun is beating down on my bare shoulders as I stand outside in the parking lot. My internal argument is becoming juvenile. I could wait three more days, and when I come to my first day of orientation I could easily swing by the ER, grab a suture removal kit, and take care of these annoying as hell things. Or, I could just man up and walk into this hospital right now and get them out as ordered by Dr. Larkin… Larson… whatever. I take a big breath.

Lady balls in place—
check.

I head for the door. Worst case scenario… he recognizes me. Who cares? I’m going to be working three floors above him, so might as well get this over with Bailey.

The sliding glass doors of the ER open, and the air conditioning sends goose bumps along my arms and legs, causing the stitches to pull. Seven days… they really do need to come out. Hopefully, he won’t be working. I walk to the triage desk where the cute blonde nurse smiles at me.

“What are we seeing you for, honey?” Her smile is a bit too big, and her voice is as fake as her boobs.

“I had stitches placed seven days ago. I need to have them removed.”

“Were they placed here?” she asks.

I take a quick peek at her name badge as she stands. Jennifer. “Yes, by a Dr. Larson?”

“Oh, you mean Dr. Larkin, He’s here today, so—”

“Oh! I don’t need to see him. Can’t one of the nurses take them out?” I ask with just enough panic that I seem like a crazy person.

She narrows her sculpted brows at me. “He’ll want to check for infection. Go have a seat. I’ll bring you to a room in just a moment.”

“Okay.”

Shit. Shit. Shit
.

First impressions are a bitch… I just pray he’s like all the other doctors and couldn’t care less about names… and faces. Hopefully, I’m just another diagnosis, patient X. For some reason, I don’t want him thinking I’m some dumb sorority princess who can’t hold her liquor. Maybe it’s because I’m always trying to prove myself to my parents, and yet, here I am starting a new job, and I already poked a hole in the very ship that could finally give me my freedom from their constant judgment.

Before I have a chance to wallow in that heavy self-deprecation, nurse perfect tits finally comes around the corner. “He’ll see you in room four. Follow me.”

Well, shit.

The patient tracking board is full. We are fucking crazy busy today, and all I can think about is her. It’s day seven. Will she come back today? Will she wait the full ten days?
Shit.
From the moment I laid eyes on her, I couldn’t stop thinking about how I wanted her. It’s insane; she’s just a girl. But, Bailey Evans was all I thought about for the past seven days. She’s burrowed deep into my subconscious, and nothing I do helps to rid myself of her memory. It’s this drive… this force, pulling me to her. I’m not stupid… it’s mostly my dick talking. I haven’t gotten laid in three months, and two days ago I almost took that nurse Jennifer over the goddamn exam table in room seven. I’m so pent up, and I’m not sure what to do with it.

I shake my head. The sound of the ER’s constant static surrounds me. My heart beats heavily in my chest as I try to focus. This isn’t me. I’m order, I’m synchronized perfection. I check the tracking board one more time… nothing.

“Dr. Larkin, did you order that bag of potassium? It’s not in the patient's chart?” The small nurse, who works only on Mondays, stares at me with curiosity.

I take a quick look at her badge. Melanie. “It should be.” It isn’t, I forgot to write the damn order. Bailey… her name shouldn’t cause such a physical reaction, shouldn’t cloud my thoughts like it has. “I’ll double check. But go ahead, hang the potassium. If it’s not in her chart, I’ll write it.” The nurse walks away, and I scrub my palm down my face.

I decide in that moment it’s done. Bailey is done. I can’t do this to myself. I don’t even know her. I have no clue who she is. Who cares if she has the fullest lips I’ve ever seen and all I want is to have them wrapped around my cock and on my lips. I want to taste everything she has to offer. Her sweet dimples appearing just for me. Those tight thighs spread open, her pussy wet and ready. The ache I felt just thinking about how it would feel to have my dick deep down her throat—her eyes watering and her moans… Damn, I’d take each one as mine. My pulse is pounding with just the thought of her. I clear my throat and rinse my brain of her memory. I recite my favorite line of the Hippocratic Oath in my head. When I became a doctor, I had it tattooed on my ribcage so I’d always remember.

“In purity and according to divine law will I carry out my life and my art… nil nocere"
Do no harm
.

Lusting after a patient isn’t part of the plan. It’s wrong on so many levels.

Walking back to the nurses station, I grab the chart I should’ve written the order in earlier. The efficient nurse’s handwriting is scrawled across the paper. I sign my name underneath the order and read it twice to make sure the dosage is correct. I check my watch. My shift ends in thirty minutes, and I debate leaving early.

Miles walks past me and laughs at something on his phone. “Hey, you care if I get started on my dictation so I can get out of here a bit early?” I ask. He shouldn’t care. I’m here late all the time for this asshole.

“Not at all.” He barely takes a second to look up from his phone as he answers me. His fingers type furiously on the screen.

As I place the chart in the rack, I glance around the room. A calm fills my lungs as I remember why I work as hard as I do. This is what I’ve always wanted. At the end of the day, I’m my own man, my own keeper… everything I have is mine. I heal. I control the outcome of certain destinies. I’m my own personal god.

“Dr. Larkin. A Ms. Evans is here to see you? She said you placed her stitches. I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to just remove—”

“Bring her to room four.” I interrupt Jennifer before she has a chance to finish. My mouth goes dry, and everything I just thought of doing to Bailey goes through my head like a freight train.

“Do no harm.”

“Fine.” Her tone is curt.

Taking off my white coat, I hang it on the coat hook by my computer. I amble to the supply cabinet, my mind racing, my lungs pulling in air at record speed, as I try, without success, to calm the fuck down. I grab a suture removal kit, gauze, and some antibiotic ointment just in case it hasn’t healed. My filthy brain is churning out scenario after scenario as I walk with hurried steps to room four. Outside the door, I take three huge breaths. “Do no harm, Cole. Carry out your life, your art… I’m my own god,” I whisper these words four times before I knock on the door. One… two… three… Each time the flesh of my knuckle hits the door, my breathing eases.

“Ms. Evans?” My tone is professional… even.

“That’s me.” Her voice is full of warmth. I won’t let my eyes meet those gorgeous green gems. I lay the supplies on the metal work tray. I nod in her direction, not giving her eye contact.

“I’m just going to say this now…” I can hear her smile. My back, still facing her, stiffens. “I’m so embarrassed. I don’t usually drink that much… or fall for that matter, especially on sharp objects. Dancing in heels while intoxicated, should be illegal… ” She laughs a short nervous giggle, and I can’t help the smile on my face. Her rambling is fucking adorable. “…what I’m trying to say, sir, is that I’m quite responsible really, and—”

Sir
…

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me. You’re lucky… I’m not very judgmental, Bailey.” Her name falls easily from my mouth. My body, too eager to turn, does so of its own accord.

“Not too judgmental? Is that so, Dr. Larkin?” She smiles as my eyes meet hers. They’re just as green as I remember. She’s wearing a low-cut tank top, her ample cleavage on full display. It takes everything in my power not to let my gaze linger there. Her hair falls over one shoulder in dark brown waves. My jaw clenches as I take in her spectacular tanned legs. They dangle over the exam table, and her skirt looks soft and sits just above her knees. I bite my cheek, suppressing my chuckle as I take in her overly worn converse.

“Please call me Cole.” I gulp as Bailey’s smile widens.

“Okay.” Her lips spread even wider and her dimples deepen. “So… I would’ve done this myself, but I didn’t have the equipment.”

“I’m glad you didn’t. It’s important to make sure it’s healed first. I’m going to take a look.”

She nods in agreement as I move toward her. She slowly lifts her skirt, and my heart is a sledgehammer again. She spreads her legs to give me a better view of the sutures, and I pray to whoever could possibly be listening that I can focus. I can tell right away that the wound has healed enough. “Looks really good.” I swallow as I turn to grab the equipment.

“I’m glad, they were starting to bug me. I still can’t believe this even happened,” she says as I turn and smile at her again. “Should I lay down or just—”

“No, stay just as you are.” The command in my tone makes her blush. Her chest begins to rise and fall as I roll my chair to the table. Sitting between those fucking tempting legs, I get to work. I need to hear her voice again. Her breathing is the only thing filling the small space between us, and the nervous energy sets my jaw on edge. Her skin is puckered with goose bumps, and I can smell her arousal. It’s making my mouth water as I work.

“Do you like being a doctor, Cole?”

Her question sounds timid. I pause and look up at her. Her smirk is small and she bites the inside of her cheek.

“I do.” I like how my name sounds in her voice. That blush I’m so desperate for is there, as I let the heat of my gaze linger longer than I should. Releasing her from my stare, I snip the last stitch and let my fingertips trace the newly healed skin. “Do you like—” I stop and laugh, realizing I don’t know what she does for a living.

Bailey’s smile wavers, and her eyes cast down. “I actually just got my RN. It’s funny, really…” She takes a deep breath and lets her eyes search my face—she seems nervous. “…I actually start my new job, here, on the Women and Newborn Unit in three days.” Her gaze locks on mine, pinning me in place as she speaks.

Holy shit
… there’s no way in hell this can be happening.

I’ve been killing myself, obsessing over this chick, this patient, for a week… and now she’ll be here… in this hospital… working.

I don’t fuck patients or co-workers for that matter, but there’s something about Bailey. My physical reaction to her—the way her body gives me subtle hints that she wants me too—it’s driving me to the brink. I wet my lips in order to speak. “That’s quite an achievement, congratulations.”

“Thank you.” The quiet power she holds over me builds. “Do you generally remove stitches without gloves, or is that just for me?”

My pulse rushes through my body, filling me with heat as my hand rests on her thigh. I know I should move it. I know my thumb shouldn’t be moving in slow circles along her plush skin, but her lips part with a needy exhale, giving me permission. I don’t speak as I push the fabric of her skirt further up her thighs. Testing her. She bites the side of her plump as fuck bottom lip, and it’s all the permission I need. My dick strains against the zipper of my slacks as I stand.

Her breathing increases with mine, my hands now resting on either side of her bare thighs. Our eyes watch each other, holding the stare, feeling that fucking torturous pull. My fingers trail along her inner thighs, and my thumb dips just under the seam of her black lace panties. “Do you always wear these, or just for me?”

She gasps as my thumb passes over her clit. She’s soaking wet, and all I want to do is taste her—her mouth, her skin, this perfectly primed pussy. “Cole.” The plea is a whisper that hangs in the air between us causing it to spark and burn.

“Fuck,” I groan as my hands find purchase on her waist and pull her body flush with mine. Her legs wrap around me as our mouths crash and meld together. Bailey’s hands move eagerly up my chest until her arms are around my neck. Seven days of pent up fucking frustration is pouring into this kiss. She moans into my mouth as my tongue licks across the seam of her lips. She tastes like cinnamon, and I can’t find the will to stop. Her teeth drag across my bottom lip and I growl. I need more. She rolls her hips, seeking friction as she rubs her pussy against me. My hand cups her breast, kneading the flesh, and my thumb brushes against her nipple as I move my way up her body. Without hesitation, I pull the strap of her tank top down, savoring her skin, before finally letting my fingers fist in her hair as I claim her mouth again. Her sighs ignite me further, each sound pulling me farther away from that precious control I crave.

The overhead intercom blares as the operator calls a Code Cardiac Alert. The announcement bringing me back to reality, and I hurriedly push away from this decadent sin.

Her face is full-blown
rosé
; a small smirk lazily pulls across her face. “That was—”

“A mistake.” Everything I do, every bit of who I am is screaming at me, calling me a damn idiot. Dry humping a patient… a fucking co-worker on an exam table.

What the fuck, Cole?

“A mistake?” Her grin falls as she pushes the fabric of her skirt down and pulls the strap of her tank top back over her shoulder. “You’re an asshole.” Her eyes meet mine, the glassy green barely holding back her emotion. My stomach turns, but this is for the best. I can’t do shit like this, this isn’t okay.

“This… should not have happened. I apologize. I mean I—”

“Don’t even say it.” She grabs her bag in a rush and hops down from the table.

“Bailey, listen—”

“It’s Ms. Evans.” She turns on her heel and opens the exam room door, but pauses in the doorway. For a split second, I want to tell her to wait. I want to let her know I messed up, that I want her… that I need her, but I know it’s not right. Everything that happened was against every rule I’ve made for myself. No matter how good she felt or how much I wanted to be buried deep between those thighs, it’s wrong, and I can’t… shouldn’t crave this… her.