Untouchable (Unexpected Love Book 1)

by Isabel Love

  Her arms wrap around me, anchoring me.

  This woman.

  Fucking hell.

  She has ruined me for all other women.

  I’m sure I’m crushing her, but I can’t move. We kiss and kiss and kiss. My cock is still buried inside her and I feel the aftershocks flutter around me. This connection is so intimate; my chest tightens with emotion.

  “You’re amazing,” I tell her, pulling back to look into her eyes. “Thank you.”

  A brilliant smile stretches across her face. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

  The condom needs to be taken care of. “Be right back.” Reluctantly, I pull out and walk to the bathroom. After tossing the condom, I grab a washcloth and wet it with warm water. In my bedroom, Monica lies where I left her, her hair a messy tangle on my pillows, her face flushed.

  I go to her, leaning down to kiss her lips. “Let me clean you up.” Her pussy is a dark pink, almost red, and swollen. “Did I hurt you?” I frown up at her.

  “You were perfect. I may be sore tomorrow, but you didn’t hurt me.”

  I wipe her gently with the washcloth then I kiss her pussy tenderly. Mmmm. I never got to taste her earlier. She sighs sweetly, letting her legs drop open a little wider. I can’t resist licking her with one light swipe. She bucks when I reach her clit, too sensitive from her orgasm.

  Just as I’m about to start licking her again, the timer on my oven goes off.

  “Shit! I forgot about dinner!” I run to the kitchen, turn off the timer, and take the pan out of the oven. The lasagna smells great.

  I lean my hands on the counter and take a deep breath, trying to get my bearings. Sex-induced euphoria makes it difficult to think.

  The kitchen table set for two mocks me. I had planned such a nice dinner and what did I do? The second she was in my arms, I let my dick take over. The last thing I want is for her to think I only invited her here to have sex with her.

  Soft footsteps approach, then I feel cold hands on my abdomen as she wraps her arms around my waist from behind. She kisses my back softly.

  “Sorry if I ruined dinner,” she says.

  “What?” I turn around and find her dressed in my t-shirt. I hug her close and lean down to kiss her forehead. “You didn’t ruin anything. I’m sorry I mauled you two seconds after you walked through my door.”

  She laughs. “It was me who mauled you if I remember correctly.” A blush pinks her cheeks and she buries her face in my chest. Her embarrassment immediately puts me at ease; she isn’t upset with me.

  “Well, I am pretty irresistible,” I joke. Her stomach rumbles loudly, making us laugh. “Let me feed you.”

  She’s pretty cool.

  Monica

  How is this my life? I think to myself as I run down the street. Exercise is a rare occurrence with my busy schedule, but I’m off today and the weather is perfect. Running also allows me to decompress and get my thoughts in order. With my earbuds in, music playing, and wind blowing in my face, I think about my life.

  I am…happy.

  Like really happy.

  Max and I fit together so well. It’s easy to be around him, and he isn’t from money, so that frustrating sense of entitlement and pretentiousness is missing. It’s a breath of fresh air. I can be around him with no makeup, flip-flops, and a t-shirt and feel as comfortable as I do dressed nicely. He’s just as happy staying in and cooking us dinner as he is going out, not to mention he is skilled in the kitchen—that lasagna rivaled my mom’s recipe. It may even be better than the lasagna they serve at Piazza.

  The sex is beyond amazing. My body feels alive, well used, and hungry for more. I fear I’m addicted to him. His mouth. His cock. His touch. Those bright blue eyes that smolder when he’s looking at me. Hell, even his forearms turn me on—they’re so masculine. I love the combination of gentle and rough, the way he talks dirty to me while giving me more pleasure than anyone ever has before.

  Working with him has become comfortable, too. I trust that he isn’t going to tell anyone at work about our relationship, and nothing is circulating on the rumor mill. Other than wishing I could touch him when I see him, I like working with him. His presence is comforting. Orientation is over and he is one of the best nurses in the ER. Even the other doctors have commented on how much they like working with him because he’s calm and efficient. I’m so proud of him.

  Seeing him nearly every day, either at work or outside of work, has not become stifling, either. I was afraid he would get sick of me or I would be too busy, but that is definitely not the case. I can’t seem to get enough of him, and he can’t seem to get enough of me, either.

  Even the head of the board of directors, Dr. Finley, is coming around on my latest project idea. I want to do rounds on the shelter that is not far from us. It serves women and children who leave abusive relationships but don’t have any place to go, and they can stay there for up to six months to allow them time to find a job and secure housing. Often they can’t afford healthcare but they almost always need it. Dr. Finley said if I can get some staff to show interest in being on a regular rotation, he will give me the green light.

  Things seem too good to be true, and it’s starting to freak me out.

  Don’t go looking for problems, I hear Quinn’s voice in my head.

  My music is interrupted by an incoming call, and the caller ID flashes my father’s name so I start to slow my pace. If I don’t answer now, he’ll just keep calling.

  “Hello?”

  “Monica.” His voice is formal and businesslike.

  “Yes, Dad.” Talking to my dad is so awkward. He usually only calls when he wants something, and I’d rather him just tell me what he wants than dance around it with empty small talk.

  “I’m flying in for the fundraiser next month.” Is September really next month? Wow, how did that happen? My father is involved with a fundraiser to support victims of drunk driving accidents and the loved ones that survive the loss of a family member. It is the way he has continued to honor my mother, as she was hit by a drunk driver. “Caleb has agreed to be your date for the evening.”

  Uggghhh. I hate it when my father does this. He assumes I won’t have a date and arranges for one of his colleagues’ sons to be my date. If my father could arrange for me to marry Caleb, I’m sure he would.

  Caleb is not so bad. He’s 35, very intelligent, very wealthy, and practices cardiology, like my father—he’s just not the one for me. Though he is kind, he’s also a bit on the pretentious side, as my father’s friends typically are. We attended the fundraiser together last year and he made a generous donation, which I appreciated, but I gathered that my father had led him to believe I was interested in dating him after the fundraiser, which I was not. Telling him as much was awkward and uncomfortable.

  “Dad, I don’t need you to arrange my dates, thank you. Please tell Caleb I don’t need a date.”

  “Do you have a date?” I hesitate. Max would come with me in a heartbeat, but a lot of the people we work with will be there. Is this how we want them to find out about us? I’m not sure it’s time to go public at work.

  Not to mention the ordeal that will come with introducing Max to my father. He will not approve. For one, Max isn’t from a wealthy family, and he is a nurse—my father would never understand that choice for a man. He’s also younger than me, which my dad won’t like. I don’t want to subject Max to my father’s venom.

  “No, but I want to go alone. I don’t need a date for the fundraiser and you gave Caleb the wrong impression last year. I am not romantically interested in him, Dad.”

  He scoffs. “You don’t need to be romantically interested in someone to date them, Monica.”

  “What are you talking about? Of course, I do.” This man. Ugh.

  “Long-lasting marriages start with friendship and commonalities. You and Caleb are compatible.”

  “Is that how it was with you and Mom?” Though I’m not quite sure what my mother saw in my father, my father was enamore
d with my mom. They had nothing in common, other than love.

  “I would think if you wanted a romantic match you would have found someone by now, Monica. I’m just trying to help.” This conversation just keeps getting better and better.

  “Please refrain in the future. I don’t need or want your help finding a date or a husband. Please tell Caleb.” My blood pressure is rising.

  “He has already purchased a ticket and plans to attend. What difference does it make if you sit next to him or not?”

  UGH! I’ll just speak with Caleb myself before the fundraiser to make sure he knows it’s not a date. “Is there anything else?” I need to end this conversation.

  “Do you need me to have Florence send a gown?” Florence is his personal shopper.

  My vision is turning red. Does he want to dress me now, too? I struggle to control my rising temper; yelling at him never accomplishes anything either.

  “No, thank you. I need to go now. Bye, Dad.” I hang up before he has a chance to respond.

  That man drives me insane. Honestly, without my mom here, I have no desire to speak with him. The admission makes me sad, but it’s the truth. All he does is interfere. You’d think he would stop meddling in his adult daughter’s life—I’m 32 years old, for crying out loud! I’m a doctor! The director of the damn department. I own my house. Even so, none of that makes him think I’m self-sufficient. He always has to point out something he doesn’t approve of.

  There goes my good mood.

  The instant Max sees me at work, he knows I’m upset. That man can read me so well.

  “Everything okay?” he asks me quietly.

  His concerned gaze makes me want to tell him all of it, just burrow in his chest and soak up his strength, but at work, surrounded by co-workers and patients is not the place to vent about my father, so I swallow it down.

  “I’m okay.” My brittle smile does little to convince him.

  “Meet me in the supply room in two minutes.” I love that he’s worried about me, but I don’t want someone to see us sneaking off together. Before I get a chance to argue, he walks away and tells Kevin he’s going to get more supplies to stock the rooms.

  Alright then.

  I wait two minutes, then make my way to the supply room. I swipe my badge to unlock the door and step inside. Max is to my left, leaning against the wall, a frown creasing his forehead.

  “What’s the matter, baby?” He holds his arms open and I melt into him. He wraps his body around mine and the contact alone makes me feel better. I inhale him deeply, his scent familiar and soothing.

  “I talked with my dad today,” I start.

  “Is he okay?”

  “Well, he’s not sick, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “So what happened?” Large hands rub up and down my back, comforting me.

  “He just makes me so angry.”

  “What did he do?”

  “There’s this fundraiser he is a part of that is coming up in September.” Now I’m treading on dangerous territory. I don’t want to upset Max by bringing up the date situation.

  “The one at The Grand Ballroom?”

  I nod. “My dad flies in every year to support it and he arranged for me to have a date.”

  His muscles stiffen. “He what?”

  “He’s been trying to set me up with his friend’s son. Caleb was my date for the fundraiser last year, courtesy of my father then too, and my dad made him think I was romantically interested in him.”

  “Are you?”

  I look up at his face and meet his eyes. “Max, I’m not interested in anyone else other than you. I know we haven’t said we’re exclusive”—I swallow, looking down—”but I’m not interested in seeing anyone else.”

  He tips up my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Monica, there’s been no one else. I don’t want anyone else.” He leans down to kiss my lips softly. “I only want you, and to be honest, the thought of some other man being your date, or holding your hand, or even looking at you too long…” He blows out a breath. “It makes me feel…violent.”

  I thread my fingers through his hair and kiss him. His muscles vibrate with tension as he holds me tight against his body.

  I turn my head and lean against his strong, broad chest, feeling his heartbeat against my ear. “You make me feel safe,” I whisper.

  He squeezes me. “You are safe with me, Monica. Tell me what else happened.”

  “Oh, I’m just sick of my dad trying to interfere in my life and tell me what to do, who to see, and even what to wear. When will he just see me?” I sigh. “I miss my mom.”

  “Your mom sounds pretty amazing.”

  “She was.”

  “What would your mom do if she were here right now?” he asks me.

  “She would tell me to ignore him and then distract him with a nice dinner at his favorite restaurant.”

  “Sounds like a good idea. You’re an adult, Monica. You are kicking ass at life. You have nothing to prove to him.”

  I take a deep breath and give him one last kiss before I pull away. “Thank you. I really needed that pep talk. We should get back out there.” I step toward the door but he gently grabs my wrist and keeps me there.

  “So, are you going to the fundraiser with that guy as your date?” His voice is laced with wariness.

  “No.”

  He clenches his jaw. “Is it too soon for us to go public at work?”

  Now I’m wary. “Will you be mad if I say yes?”

  He tries to hide the hurt in his eyes, but I see it and it makes my stomach sink.

  He sighs. “I’m trying to be patient about the work thing, but I don’t like pretending you mean as much to me as Dr. Rosetti does.”

  “I know. Can we just continue this way for a while longer? I’m not ready yet,” I plead.

  “Are you ashamed of me?” Those blue eyes spear me. Shit. He looks so vulnerable right now.

  “No, Max. It’s nothing like that. You are the best man I know,” I reassure him. “I’m just not ready to let in all the judgment from the outside world.”

  He nods slowly. “Will you come to happy hour with me on Friday and meet my friends?”

  This is a test—one I can pass. I smile brightly up at him. “Yes, I’d like that.”

  He beams back at me.

  Max

  Work is slow and my mood is flying high after my conversation with Monica in the supply room.

  We are exclusive.

  She. Is. Mine.

  Mine.

  The thought makes me ridiculously happy, beat my chest and throw her over my shoulder like a caveman kind of happy. Of course, I would be happier if we could stop pretending at work. It takes active effort not to touch her when I see her. It’s not like I want to make out in front of everyone, but general physical affection is going to slip out eventually. Baby steps, though. She agreed to meet Charlie and Logan, and that’s a good compromise as far as I’m concerned.

  Both Monica and Dr. Rosetti are working tonight, so I figure it’s about time I get some payback for the prank they pulled on me. The one patient we have right now has given me inspiration. She thinks she has a urinary tract infection, so I have to collect a urine sample to test. On my break, I happened to buy apple juice, and apple juice looks an awful lot like urine. I’m sure it’s been done before, but it will make me chuckle to accidentally drop the patient’s “urine sample” and spill it all over Monica and Rosetti.

  After my patient goes to the bathroom and gives me a real sample, I dip the test strip and record the test results. The sample then gets bagged and sent to the lab for culture. After washing my hands and changing gloves, I take out a new sterile specimen cup, break the seal, pour apple juice all the way to the top of the container, and stick a patient label on the cup. Perfect. It looks exactly like urine.

  I lay the lid on top without screwing it on tight so it will spill if bumped. Peeking at the main workstation, I see Monica and Rosetti talking together, their bodies an
gled toward each other in conversation. I grab a biohazard bag in one hand and the specimen cup in the other, then make my way over to them. One last look around shows only Kevin sitting behind them; no one from upper management is around—well, except for Monica, of course.

  It occurs to me that I’m about to prank the director of the department, exactly what Kevin warned me not to do when I started here, but I’m confident she’ll laugh about this.

  When I’m just a couple steps away, I hold up the sample and say, “Hey guys, do you want to take a look at this sample? It’s super cloudy and has a funny odor. I think she has an infection for sure.” They look my way just in time to see me trip over nothing. I stumble forward and the cup leaves my hands, aiming straight toward the spot where their shoulders are almost touching. The contents pour out, quickly soaking Monica’s chest and Rosetti’s stomach.

  “Oh no! I’m so sorry!” I gasp in mock horror.

  The looks on their faces are priceless.

  “Shit!” Monica shouts, quickly pulling her shirt away from her skin.

  “What the fuck!” Rosetti grumbles, also trying to peel the soaked fabric from his skin.

  “Did you get anything in your eyes? Do we need to go to the eyewash station?” I ask frantically, pointing toward the room that has the special faucet with two spouts that point up, designed to wash eyes after an exposure to something harmful. There is also a nozzle that detaches and extends to wash the body.

  They both rush that way. My laugh is hard to contain as they prepare to douse themselves with water.

  “I think some got on my face!” Monica panics.

  Rosetti leans down for inspection. “What about mine?”

  “I don’t know, maybe there’s a splash on your face, too. Just wash everything to be safe,” Monica tells him.

  She goes to turn on the faucet and I need to stop them before they really make a big mess.

  “Wait!” I shout. They both freeze and look at me. “Did you guys get a whiff of the funny smell?”