by Max Monroe
Preconditioned to respond to her voice, I looked up immediately.
This time, though, she had her hand on a bleeding chest and a demand that I get the fuck over there immediately in her eyes.
Quick as a flash, I dropped my phone in my pocket and did just that.
“We, the city of New York, pride ourselves on being the best in every category, every profession, every park and skyscraper…”
I rolled my eyes as Brent, the mayor, prattled on about what a goddamn messiah New York City was a week later at the ceremony for my farce of an award.
Harlow was in a meeting. Thank God. Otherwise, she’d have been forced to be here covering it for Gossip, and I was already distracted enough without seeking her out in the audience every five seconds and wondering if Brent was doing the same.
He’d thanked no less than twenty people for their so-called roles in urban greatness, but make no mistake, he’d thanked not one single fucking individual more than he thanked himself.
“…And with me at the helm…”
See?
“And leaders like Dr. Scott Shepard at St. Luke’s, I know we can take everything we’ve achieved and elevate it to the next level.”
Christ, this guy was a real crock of shit. I’m sure my opinion has nothing to do with the fact that Harlow used to bang him.
But seriously. He sounded like a douche—at least to my ears.
“Today, I’d like to present Scott, and all of St. Luke’s Emergency Department, with this commendation of excellence, with specific respect to efficiency and overall treatment experience. Step up here, Scott.”
I did as I was told, rising to my feet and trying not to blink too rapidly as the cameras went off in my face. As a public event of the city, the press corner was already bursting with legitimate news outlets, including all of the major networks. But thanks to my current stint on The Doctor Is In, it was overfilled, packed to the motherfucking brim by every bloodsucking leech and paparazzi in the city. Though, I guessed the publicity from something like this could really only be good—theoretically, anyway.
Brent reached for my hand with his right and extended a glass statue in the other, all the while smiling in the direction of the cameras instead of making eye contact with me. He was a natural at this whole dog and pony show. Being in the public eye now, I decided to use him as an example of what not to do. Not for public opinion—he had that in spades—but for my opinion of myself.
The more I paid attention to all of that fake warmth, all I felt inside was cold.
“On behalf of the city of New York, thank you,” he boomed, and I just stopped myself from rolling my eyes all the way when they hit the bottom.
Down in front of me, Pam sat with a smile on her face and applause echoing off of her hands as she looked at me and only me. I looked away as quickly as possible.
Brent squeezed my hand meaningfully.
I cleared my throat. “Uh, thank you,” I managed.
His smile deepened, the asshole.
I tried to step away, but he clasped a hand on my shoulder and turned me back.
“Hold on, Scott. Before you run off to save more lives,” he said, laying it on thick, “I’d like to take this opportunity to brag a little bit.”
Oh, wow. Something new.
“Scott and I have actually already been working together on something that is really close to my heart. I’ve followed the policy of health and public safety in this city closely for years, and in an effort to make this city even better, stronger, safer, I’ve appointed Scott as the head of my team for reworking the policies that need work and scrapping the ones that are lacking completely.”
Following closely? Appointed me? I approached him!
“I’m looking forward to working together, Scott,” he said as the crowd broke out in applause.
Goddamn, he was good. He’d trapped me, and now, thanks to the lives of innocent people being at stake and all, I had no choice but to agree.
“Can’t fucking wait.”
“Knock. Knock!”
Scott’s voice echoed off of the walls of my entryway even though the door still separated us. The bastard could definitely boom like no other. I hopped off the couch and headed toward the door to let him in. Just before turning the knob, I caught sight of my nearly blinding smile in the reflection of the large mirror my mother had insisted on placing near the door. I sighed. Boy, I guess I really did like him, huh?
“Hello? Frances?” he teased, impatient as ever, and I rolled my eyes.
Fucking Frances. It would only be thirty-five more years or so before my given name was age-appropriate.
Without humoring him with a response, I took the time to peek at the smartass through my peephole. The longer I spied, the more enjoyment I got. It wasn’t until I’d sat motionless for nearly thirty seconds, entranced by the thrumming vein in his corded neck, that I realized what a creeper I was being.
A totally smitten creeper…
Yeah. Even I couldn’t deny I was pretty damn smitten over Scott Shepard. The fact that his presence outside my door urged my stupid smile to grow to record-breaking lengths was proof of that.
Damn, he looks good. As handsome as ever, Scott was dressed down in jeans and a white Henley shirt with the perfect amount of scruff covering his strong jaw—the now-growing beard making a much-approved reappearance. And with a pizza from Boca’s in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other, he came bearing gifts. Obviously, he wasn’t just a pretty face. The man was intelligent to boot. The full fucking package.
After one more impatient rap of his knuckles, I put him out of his misery and opened the door.
“Well, hello.” Scott smirked, not bothering to hide his blatant perusal of my body. I was dressed less than casual in a tank top sans bra—because fuck bras—and a pair of little sleep shorts, but I didn’t miss the little glint of approval shining from his brown eyes.
His hungry gaze ran the circuit from my legs to my face twice, and when he started round three, an amused smile kissed my lips.
“Do you want to come in or just stand there and gawk at me?” I asked and leaned against the doorframe. Never mind that I’d just spent the better part of three minutes doing the same through a half-inch-diameter hole.
He grinned. “I’m quite enjoying my gawk.”
“Okay, then,” I said and kicked the door shut a second later. “Just knock again when you want to come inside,” I called through the door, and he laughed.
“Let me in, Frances,” he demanded, but his voice was more amused than anything else. “I promise I’ll behave.”
“Stop calling me Frances, and you’re a total liar.” I hope. Scott’s version of misbehaving generally ended in orgasms for me. Lots and lots of orgasms, mind you.
“Let me in or else I won’t share the pizza.”
“Pepperoni?” I asked with skepticism in my voice.
It better be fucking pepperoni. I only ate pizza with pepperoni and extra cheese. Everything else was a waste of time and toppings.
“Yep.”
“Extra cheese?”
“Yep.”
I opened the door again, and Scott stood on the other side—looking like the only man in the world for me—with a giant smile fixed across his mouth. Before he could say anything, I snatched the pizza box from his hands and sashayed my ass down the entryway and into the kitchen.
Luckily, he followed my determined lead, shutting the door behind himself and smiling like a handsome loon once he reached the kitchen.
God, this man. I really liked him.
More than like…
The mere idea of that thought should have scared the ever-loving shit out of me, but for some reason, my chest didn’t feel tight, and my usual fight-or-flight response seemed to be napping. Which was confusing as hell, but also made sense at the same time.
I liked his mind. And his sexy as fuck body. And the way he could always make me laugh my ass off with effortless, witty sarcasm. And good God, his sexy
smiles and sexy smirks—two markedly different things—and his ability to be charming even in the most stressful of times.
I was a sucker for it—all of him. I wanted to lick every inch of him and everything that made him the man I couldn’t seem to resist like a motherfucking Charms Blow Pop.
But minus the gum in the middle. Just his perfect penis, preferably inside of me…
Yeah. I liked everything about Scott Shepard.
Do I just like him, though? Or is it something more than that? I thought to myself as I grabbed some plates and wineglasses from the cabinet.
Scott didn’t give me any time to delve into that thought process any further. He was always active, fluttering around or twirling my hair or tapping a finger on my leg. It was like he had all of this excess energy when he wasn’t on the emergency room floor, but he was an expert in expelling it and being at ease simultaneously. I’d never seen someone manage such a complicated combination so flawlessly before. Tonight was no different.
He spanked my ass playfully, and I turned to find him standing behind me with a flirtatious grin stamped across his mouth.
“What was that for?”
He shrugged. “I blame the shorts.”
“Really?” A firm hand went to my hip. “And what exactly did my shorts do?”
“They are driving me fucking crazy,” he said and moved toward me in three smooth strides. He wrapped his arms around my waist and lifted me onto the kitchen counter with ease. “I can’t stop thinking about what is underneath this skimpy as fuck material.” He pushed my thighs apart and eased his body in between them. And with one determined index finger, he ran a smooth line up my calf to my knee until he reached my upper thigh.
I bit back a moan as his finger danced across my skin, just below the material of my shorts.
Holy moly, that feels good…
“What’s underneath, Low?” he whispered as he slid his finger underneath my shorts. “Am I going to find a bare cunt?”
Yes. Yes. Yes.
“Maybe,” I said on a half moan, half whimper.
His gaze stayed locked with mine as his finger continued the trail beneath my shorts until it reached the apex of my thighs. He brushed through my arousal and let out a little tsk tsk from his lips.
“I think someone is a little bit of a liar. This is a bare and wet little cunt,” he said with a wicked grin as he slid that persistent finger inside of me.
In and out, in and out, he went, and I moaned out loud.
“Guess what we’re going to do right now?” he asked and increased the rhythm of his finger while his thumb joined the pleasure party and rubbed smooth circles against my clit.
Fucking hell. That’s good.
“W-what?” I whimpered.
“We’re going to eat pizza.”
“Huh?”
“Yep,” he said and pressed a smacking kiss to my lips. His hand was out of my shorts a second later.
What the fuck?
Had he really just gotten me all riled up so that we could eat pizza?
My eyes popped wide open. “Are you serious?”
He nodded and leaned forward to brush his mouth across my lips and then my jaw until he stopped at my ear. “I’m going to eat pizza for dinner, and then, I’m going to have this delicious little cunt for dessert,” he whispered, and his warm breath brushing across my neck pebbled my hypersensitive skin. “Sound good?”
Pizza for dinner and orgasms for dessert? I thought it over for all of two seconds and decided that I could live with that game plan. But no doubt, I’d make sure dinner lasted no longer than ten minutes, tops.
“Sounds good,” I agreed and hopped off the counter. I grabbed the pizza and plates and bottle of wine off the counter and marched into the living room as quickly as I possibly could, leaving Scott behind in the kitchen with an amused smirk on his lips.
“In a rush?” he asked as he sat down beside me on the couch.
“You know my favorite part of a meal is always dessert.”
“Is that so?”
“Yep,” I said and plopped two slices of pizza onto plates. I handed one to Scott and grinned. “Eat up, buddy. You’ve only got ten minutes.”
“You’re bossy,” he said through a laugh and took the slice of pizza into his hands.
“No,” I corrected. “I’m horny. And when someone is a fucking tease and makes me horny and then doesn’t do anything about it, I get bossy.”
He grinned. “A fucking tease?”
“Yep. You’re a fucking tease.”
“You should talk,” he retorted. “No bra. No panties. The shortest fucking pair of shorts I’ve ever seen. You might as well be walking around here naked.”
“Would we have boned on the kitchen counter if I would’ve been naked?” I asked with far too much hope in my voice. I also made a mental note to answer the door naked the next time Scott came over.
He grinned but didn’t offer a response.
“Would we have?” I asked again, but he just laughed it off. “You’re not going to tell me?”
“Gentlemen don’t kiss and tell.”
“Pfft,” I scoffed. “That saying doesn’t even apply to this situation.”
“Eat your dinner, Low,” he demanded. “I’m getting hungry for dessert.”
He didn’t have to tell me twice.
I shoved a bite of pizza into my mouth and got to work.
“Attagirl,” he teased, and I rolled my eyes.
“Don’t get too cocky,” I retorted as I picked up the remote for the television. “I’m only doing it because I’m greedy and selfish when it comes to orgasms.”
He smirked. “Good God, I love that greedy little cunt of yours.”
“Prove it,” I mocked, flipping haphazardly through the channels. Before Scott could offer a retort, his face stared back at us on the television. It was a news station’s recap of the press conference Scott had attended earlier in the day to receive an award from the mayor.
“Hey, look! You’re on TV!” I stated the obvious, and he groaned around a mouthful of pepperoni and cheese.
“Oh God. Please, turn it off.”
“Hell no.” I grinned. “It’s your big, shining moment! And since I didn’t get to cover it live, it’s my second-best option. We’re watching it, buddy.”
“There is nothing big or shining about this moment,” he muttered.
And while Scott continued groaning his annoyance, I avidly watched his face on screen. God, he’s handsome. And mine.
Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. And mine?
God, my thoughts sounded a bit territorial, like I was two seconds away from pissing a circle around him or something.
It’s because you l-o-v-e him…
“Fuck, here’s the worst part of the whole thing,” he announced and subsequently pulled my attention back to the present. I glanced at him in confusion.
“You mean besides the fact that Brent just keeps talking about how amazing he is?”
“Yep,” he said with a sigh. “Even worse than that.”
I turned my attention back to the television, and that’s when the words, “Can’t fucking wait,” left Scott’s lips. Thanks to regulations, they’d bleeped out the fucking part, but yeah, it was more than apparent what he’d said before the edit.
Holy hell, he’d dropped the f-bomb at a press conference with the mayor!
Completely losing it, I snorted and coughed on my own phlegm as I tried to get control of my laughter. “You…cursed…on…stage…with the mayor.” Scott rolled his eyes. “At a press conference!” My voice turned nearly shrill. “While you were mic’ed!”
“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. And here I thought receiving an award couldn’t end in bad press. Plus, I’m now an official consultant to the mayor. Your fucking ex, of all people. I even have to go to a big municipal event next week.”
Any and all waning laughter was renewed tenfold. I wasn’t exactly comfortable with all the togetherness he’d be spending with Brent, but holy hell
, his own discomfort was amusing.
Suddenly, Scott set his plate on the coffee table and hooked his hands on the line of my jaw. “Go with me.”
That made me stop laughing. “What?”
“To the event. Please?”
“Are you nuts?”
“Please?” he asked again. “I want you by my side, Harlow. Nothing feels right without you anymore.”
I hated the idea of spending an evening in such proximity to Brent, but Jesus Christ, how could I say no to that?
“Okay.”
“Scott!”
“Dr. Erotic!”
“Over here, Scott!”
Several paparazzi yelled as I stepped out of the town car I’d hired for the night, buttoned my suit jacket, and turned to hold a hand out for Harlow.
But if I’d thought they were loud or persistent before her fingers—with bright red manicured nails done special for the occasion—settled into the hollow of mine, I was a fucking idiot.
The quiet roar of paparazzi wind turned into a tornado in the span of an instant.
Harlow paused on her exit, but I squeezed her hand affectionately in both support and apology, and she started moving again.
She hadn’t told anyone about tonight, not even her boss. I’d wondered to myself if that was a good move for her career, but after the talk we’d had about her life and medical school, it was pretty clear Gossip and Harlow Paige weren’t a match made in celebrity heaven.
She wanted more out of life, and I wanted it for her. I just had to figure out how to be supportive without pressuring her. Things like emotional support and walking a balanced line for the benefit of someone else weren’t exactly my forte.
With her safely to her feet and her long, shimmering silver gown out of the way, I shut the door on the car and took her hand again to step forward. When I linked our hands, interlacing our fingers, and the two of us stepped up onto the curb together, side by side, so obviously a couple in the eyes of the media, everything went white.
At first, I thought maybe I was dying—the moment was surreal—but as Harlow’s hand clenched harder and harder in mine, tethering me to reality and her, I knew it was just the cloud of camera flashes assailing us from every angle.