The Doctor's Damsel (Men of the Capital Book 3)

by Cara Nelson

  “Yes,” she whispered against his mouth, eyes wide with surprise.

  Becca braced her hands on the wall for leverage and started to move against him. Their hips ground together, finding their rhythm easily.

  She gasped “yes” at every thrust, her cries growing louder and louder. She shouted his name at the moment of crisis, her hair falling over them both as they kissed. He pumped inside of her, holding her so close he could feel her heartbeat against his chest, kissing her, saying things he hadn’t meant to say aloud. Fortunately, she was screaming so loudly that it was unlikely she had registered any of the promises he’d blurted out, any of the true things he’d rather she didn’t know.

  Abe rolled her onto her back and kissed her languorously, his hand trailing along her side and enjoying the shiver that ran through her at his touch.

  “I think I need something out of that bag,” he said, his mouth curving into a wicked smile. He reached over the side of the bed and brought up the feathered riding crop, the one he’d used to send such a jolt through her in the coffee shop. She got a lump in her throat just thinking about that touch.

  Abe ran the length of the crop up her leg from ankle to hip, very lightly, dragging it across her stomach and teasing one nipple with the feather. He caught her hands in one of his and pushed them up over her head, pinning them there loosely enough that if she didn’t want to play, she could get free. But Becca definitely wanted to play. She was shuddering with desire as he flicked the feathered crop across her chest and down her stomach, the feather barely brushing her sensitive skin.

  “Oh, Abe!” Becca cried out, pushing the feathered crop away and reaching for him, wanting him again, her heated flesh pulsing for him already. “Abe!” she cried again as she wound her arms around his neck, his hands seeking the spot that would make her shatter again. “Please—” she broke off, climbing into his lap, his hand between her thighs as she kissed his mouth.

  Within seconds, her response to his insistent stroking thundered through her body and she screamed, her head thrown back with abandon. Together, they sank back onto the bed and he drew the sheet up over them both, gathering her into his arms like something precious.

  Becca started crying. She couldn’t help herself. The tears wouldn’t be held back. Abe had been so kind, so patient with her and then touched her so intimately, shaking her to the very core. She had never experienced pleasure like this with anyone else and it was all she could do to stifle her sobs. Abe stroked her hair back from her temple and kissed her forehead.

  “I’m sorry,” she said shakily. “I guess I’m just overwhelmed.”

  “It’s a common reaction. I’m just that good.” He joked.

  She giggled, kissing him. “Yeah, it’s your skills, egomaniac,” she teased him, snuggling into his arms. “I love you, Abe. I just think you should know that,” Becca said bravely, kissing him once on the mouth for emphasis. She nestled back against his shoulder, drifting off to sleep with tears still damp on her face.

  What he thought was, oh crap. Sure, Abe thought she was adorable, smart, challenging, and almost impossibly sweet. That didn’t mean he wanted a lifetime commitment, and it sure as hell didn’t mean that he wanted her to set him up as a hero. He’d done everything he could to keep her from investing in him emotionally.

  He’d told her he was a workaholic, that he didn’t have much time for a personal life, that his relationship with his family was complicated (well, maybe he’d left that part out). If she insisted on loving him anyway, it was going to get ugly. Soon she’d expect him to remember little inconsequential anniversaries and what her favorite flower was and show up for her aunt’s birthday dinner and all the other trappings of a relationship. Those were really nothing more than a snare, another way to capture a man and set him up to be a major disappointment. Abe knew he was bound to disappoint her—he’d successfully frustrated and upset everyone who’d ever cared about him before.

  He loved her sleeping face, the droop of her lower lip that was almost a pout, the peaceful way she just gave herself up to sleep in his arms,. He’d been humbled by the way she confided in him about that agent. Even now, probably seven years after it had happened, nothing would give Abe more satisfaction than to track the guy down and beat him within an inch of his contemptible life. Maybe, he thought wildly, he could stick that agent in a room with Deonte Richmond’s father and let them tear each other apart.

  Rage flooded him at the thought of some creep forcing himself on Becca, on his Becca who believed the best of everyone. Abe felt feral, compelled. He wanted to protect her from everything, even himself and his losing Sisyphean battle to save his patients and dodge his family. The weight of her head on his shoulder was too much for him. He couldn’t take this on; take on the burden of a woman who needed him. He knew he’d let her down, just as he’d disappointed his family, failed Deonte, Jr. and every other patient he’d let go home with their abusers. She deserved better than him, and she’d have to learn it the hard way.

  He slid out from under her arm, eased her head onto the pillow and kissed her temple with a tinge of regret.

  “I’m sorry, Bec. I can’t do this,” he said aloud, the sound of his voice startling him in the pervasive silence of the studio.

  Abe dressed quickly and left while she was still sleeping.

  Chapter 6

  Abe was almost relieved to have such a terrible schedule for the next week—he’d be working opposite shifts from Becca, so it would have been impossible for him to see her anyway. He had to break it off. Even if it meant he’d be just another jerk who’d used her and thrown her away—the thought made him ache, but he knew it would never work. He could let her down now or wait for her to be more invested, more committed. When she was completely disillusioned with him and shook her head at him, heartbroken that he wasn’t the man she’d hoped he’d be, he’d regret even letting her get chose. It was cleaner this way, he told himself resolutely.

  So, of course, when she texted, he tried to ignore it. He dumped his phone in his locker at work and promised himself he wouldn’t even read her message. Then when he got a break, he went and checked his phone, convincing himself something might be wrong, she might need his help. So he opened the message and read it:

  Missed you this morning. How’s your week look? XOXO Bec

  Shaking his head, he punched in Terrible and sent it, tossing the phone back in his locker and slamming the door extra hard as though it might escape and chase him with recriminations. He felt like a heel, a complete bastard. No better than that agent who’d coerced her into bed and pronounced her not good enough.

  He had trouble keeping his mind on his work and had almost decided to text her that they could never see each other again when he got a call from his mother. Wincing at the very sight of her number, he answered.

  “Harrison, it’s your mother. I’m in Germany with your father and his latest wife because your Opa asked to see me. It turns out he wanted to appeal to me to use my influence with you. He wants to say goodbye, Harrison.”

  “Mom, really, you went to Germany?” he asked, worry flooding him.

  “Yes. And it’s a mark of my devotion to you and your grandparents...anyhow, the old man is dying. They tell me it is respiratory failure, but his kidneys are shutting down as well. It’s time.”

  “I didn’t know he was so bad—Onkle Knut said—well, he’s always been a doomsayer, you know that—” he stammered, trying to defend his neglect of Opa and Oma.

  “Never mind that, Harrison. Buy yourself a plane ticket and get here as quickly as you can. If it weren’t serious, I wouldn’t have called. You know that.”

  He nodded “Yes, I’ll do that. Will you still be there?”

  “I’ll stay to see my own son, of course,” she huffed.

  “See you soon, then, Mom,” he said faintly and clicked off. Abe went immediately to the office to fill out personal leave papers. He explained the situation to three different levels of management and returned to the f
loor to complete his shift.

  When he went on break, he knew he’d have to start calling airlines. He sutured wounds and ordered fluids and anti-emetics for patients, all the while abstracted by worry and regret. He emerged from a cubicle, making a note on a chart, when he looked up and saw Becca waiting for him. She was beaming, carrying a bag of food and two cups of coffee.

  “I hear you have a break coming,” she said flirtatiously. He accepted the cup of coffee she’d brought him, noting from the taste that she’d paid attention on their one and only coffee date. It was just how he liked it—scalding hot and sweet.

  The very last thing he felt capable of dealing with was Becca and all her strong feelings and expectations of him. Yet he didn’t want her to leave. They went down to the break room and he collapsed into a plastic chair, head in his hands.

  “What’s wrong?” Becca asked, her hand on his shoulder, her voice soft with concern.

  “It’s a family thing,” he said shortly, unwrapping a sandwich and taking a huge bite just to avoid the conversation.

  “You don’t have to tell me,” she said kindly. “We haven’t known each other that long, I know.”

  He caught the hurt in her voice, saw what a good sport she was being, how she wasn’t pushing him. Warmth curled in his chest and he coughed to disguise what might have been a sob. Tears burned the back of his eyes.

  “Bec—my Opa’s dying,” he said brokenly. She came around to his side, dropping to her knees and holding him close.

  “Oh, Abe,” she breathed. “I’m so sorry. How can I help you?”

  “I have to go to see him, to say goodbye. I’ll be gone a few days,” he managed, sniffing manfully and holding onto her hard.

  “I love you,” she told him again, her voice solemn. “I’ll do anything I can to make this—more okay for you.”

  Becca framed his face with her hands and looked into his eyes seriously and kissed him, slow and deep and lingering. Abe felt a jolt of lust, warring with his sadness. Without saying another word, he took her hand and led her down the hall to the residents’ room, a darkened chamber lined with bunk beds. She nodded, stepping into his arms as the door closed behind them. Becca grabbed his hand and pulled him to the bunk beds at the far end of the room, climbing to the top bunk and beckoning him to follow her. Abe climbed the short ladder and joined her on the narrow bed.

  Kneeling on the bed, they undressed each other slowly, with infinite care and tenderness. Becca leaned forward and kissed Abe’s shoulder, his neck, the spot on his chest right over his heart. He stretched out on the bed with Becca above him. She took his hands and placed them on her bare breasts, exhaling loudly as he rubbed and pinched her nipples to hardness. She rose up, and gripping his shaft in her hand, guided him between her legs. She lowered herself inch by slow torturous inch until she’d captured him. His last coherent thought was that if this was a snare, he was happy to be caught. Rocking up into her with the force of his fear, his sadness, his regret, Abe shouted in his completion, her mouth covering his to block his cries. As she rolled off of him, Abe reached for her, his lips closing over her nipple, his fingers curling between her legs, pressing and dipping within her until she shuddered under his touch and he had to swallow her cries as she had done for him. Sated, they lay in each other’s arms for a few moments before they heard his pager go off and hurried back into their clothes. With a quick kiss, she climbed down the ladder and left the hospital.

  Oo00oO

  Becca slept late the next morning. When she got up; she started preparations for that night’s bachelorette party. While she went to the bakery to retrieve the cupcakes with nipples on them, Hannah arrived at the apartment. By the time Becca returned, Hannah was waiting for her, arms crossed, with the exact furious expression she used to have when Becca got into her makeup and messed it up when they were kids.

  “Please tell me you aren’t playing Mary Todd Lincoln in some messed-up historical porno, Becca.” Hannah demanded. Becca snorted with laughter.

  “No. Of course not. What gave you that idea?”

  “Oh, I don’t know, the audio track of you screaming OH ABE over and over again, interspersed with the unmistakable sound of someone simulating sexual activity.” Hannah pointed toward the studio.

  “No one was simulating anything. I must have hit a button. Oh my lord, Hannah, I’m sorry. This is so humiliating.”

  “Who is Abe?”

  “The ER doctor. I swear, I won’t touch your recording equipment.”

  “Do you KNOW what that control board cost? I just got it paid off about a month ago. And you’re—fornicating up against a costly and delicate piece of electronic equipment. The bed goes. Now,” Hannah said, seizing a corner of the mattress and dragging it toward the door. Becca grabbed the mattress and helped her sister drag it back to the bed frame in the living room with a sigh.

  “I didn’t fornicate on your equipment. I guess my cowboy hat landed on a switch.”

  “You were wearing a—wait, never mind, and do not tell me. I already have a picture in my head I don’t want there. I mean, I knew you were theatrical, being an actress, but all that over the top, melodramatic screaming you did—“

  “Oh, I wasn’t faking a damn thing. For once.” Becca smiled like a cat that’d got the cream, and Hannah flushed.

  The sisters settled the mattress back onto the frame and agreed never to speak of the incident again.

  “Promise you’ll erase the recording?” Becca begged.

  “I swear. I never want to hear anything like that again. It was audio porn of my sister.” Hannah grimaced. She managed to delete the files, but had yet to figure out a way to purge her auditory canal of any trace of the polluting noises.

  Oo00oO

  Becca read and reread the text from Abe with all the fervor of an Old Hollywood leading lady poring over a love letter. She was stopping in the middle of applying black glitter eyeliner to read it again.

  Thanks for being there for me this morning. I couldn’t get a flight out until tomorrow at ten. May I see you before I go? Abe

  He wanted to see her. For a man as gun-shy as he, it was tantamount to a declaration, and she’d been dumped enough to know the difference. She’d already texted back YES and felt like she had an ace up her sleeve now, the promise of seeing Abe after the bachelorette party. For now, she’d focus on giving her sister as great a send-off as possible. Since Hannah had never liked the club scene and said it made her feel old, Becca had gone a different route for the bachelorette night.

  She smiled at her reflection and slicked on some neon fuchsia lipstick to match her dress. She’d chosen an 80’s theme for her ten-years-older sister’s bachelorette party, and she was having fun teasing her hair in its side ponytail. Once her look was complete—frosted jeans pegged at the ankles with the hot pink dress over it and a pair of Hannah’s old lavender-and-white Nikes—she stacked on the wide plastic bracelets and emerged.

  Hannah, who she’d expected to protest to anything so juvenile as dressing up in costumes to go to a drag club, had hopped on board with the spirit of fun. She’d decked herself out in a loud yellow and red striped raglan sleeve pullover, a pair of thrift store jeans that looked like they’d survived a couple of Madonna tours, and all the plastic bead necklaces she found in her old jewelry box, mainly in purple and green. She’d even ventured to climb into a pair of shiny yellow jellies, which had never been meant for adults. She was cranking Culture Club on her phone out in the living room/bedroom/kitchen and getting into the spirit.

  They met everyone at Pinkie’s, the wall-to-wall pink velvet drag bar. Joanie, Hannah’s roommate from college, had a family emergency and couldn’t make it, so it was the sisters, an unwanted cousin, the groom’s secretaries, and the bride’s ex-sister in law. Shannon, Jasper’s long-suffering secretary, was resting a plate of chips on her pregnant belly, scooping salsa and batting electric blue false eyelashes. Annelise had cornrowed her light brown hair and wore jeans and a tank top in protest. She hated
all themed events as a matter of principle and didn’t have much love for Hannah after planning the engagement party. Annelise’s every gesture communicated that she had already done enough without feigning festivity at a drag joint. The cousin, Katie, wore leggings, an oversized Hello Kitty t-shirt tied up on one side, and purple scrunch socks, surprisingly in the spirit of the event—so much so that Becca swooped her up in a hug. Cynthia, the ex-sister-in-law, had on what had to be a vintage Halston disco dress and a curling silver cuff on her tanned bicep. She looked like a party girl from Studio 54 and Becca was instantly jealous.

  A couple of rounds of margaritas into the surprisingly brilliant drag show (Becca stood on her chair and sang along...and Hannah joined in), it was time to pass out the party favors. Becca handed adorable gift bags to each woman and they were challenged to come up with an innocent household use for the item within.

  Hannah volunteered to go first and pulled the massive flesh tone vibrator out of her bag. With only momentary hesitation, she nodded.

  “Perfect for cleaning the toilet. Just squirt a little cleanser on the tip, stick it in the bowl, and switch it on for vibrant scrubbing action.” The women, even Annelise, laughed.

  On Annelise’s turn, she fashioned the nipple clamps into hair clips, securing a wad of braids as if it were a tasseled barrette proudly, to the applause of the table. Shannon mostly ate chips and guzzled club soda, but she did bestir herself to declare the butt plugs to be shot glasses for dwarven guests. Becca had tucked the feathered crop away for herself in the apartment, so she drew the musical dildo. Cuing up its cowboy song, she waved it like a lighter to the music.

  “No way. Has to have a real use, and it doesn’t even light up!” Hannah protested. Becca set it down on the table with a scowl.