by Kendall Ryan
After making up our plates, we carried them into the dining half of the main room. Luckily, the empty silence was soon filled with Paige’s questions about med school, a topic I could talk about for hours.
“Do you have classes during the day, and then internships at night? That seems like an awful lot.” She looked down at her plate. “Sorry, I don’t know how this stuff works.”
I waved her off. “Not at all. I finished my classroom time during my first two years. The next two years of med school are spent in rotations. Basically, I’m like a doctor without the medical license. I’ve delivered babies, assisted with surgery, tended to gunshot victims in the ER. It’s a little bit of everything.”
“Wow. That sounds intense.”
I shrugged. “My stepdad once said you’re not a real doctor unless you can handle traumas. Kind of a weird statement, but something about it resonated with me. I’m glad I got to experience that firsthand in my emergency-medicine rotation. Basically, if you’re ever stabbed or have a flesh-eating virus, I’m your man.”
She laughed as she took another bite of her fajita. Salsa landed on her cheek, and she quickly wiped it away.
“It’s smart the way they structure it,” I said, “because you’re forced to learn everything before you can declare your specialty. And then after that, you apply for residencies.”
“Right . . . your residency. Allie said you’d be moving in about two months.”
I nodded. “That’s the idea.” I just had to figure out where in the hell I wanted to go. Part of me wanted to whisk off on an adventure, maybe go and live overseas, do humanitarian aid in India or Africa for a few years. But I knew Mom and Allie would freak if I did that, so I was torn.
“So you liked working with trauma patients? Is that what you want to specialize in?” Paige placed her napkin back in her lap and looked at me expectantly.
I let out a deep sigh. “Honestly? I don’t have a fucking clue. Emergency medicine is what I’ve been telling everyone for the past two years, but the truth is, I don’t know. I deferred the decision, and the final deadline is approaching in a couple of weeks. I need to just pick something, but so far I haven’t been able to narrow it down.”
“Ah, I see.” She rubbed her chin. “You’re a fear-of-commitment type.”
At that, I chuckled. She didn’t even know the half of it. “Something like that.”
“What’s your current rotation? Do you like it?”
Oh, this was going to be fun. I couldn’t wait to see the blush on her cheeks when I told her. “Obstetrics and gynecology. And yeah, it’s been . . . enlightening. But if I’m going to have my hand inside a woman’s honeypot, I’d much rather it be for pleasure than for work.”
She choked on her margarita, coughing to clear her airway. “Fuck.” Coughing loudly several more times into her napkin, she grinned at me. “That was not fair.”
I merely shrugged. “Never said I played fair, princess.”
“You shouldn’t piss off the woman who so graciously offered you a roof over your head. I’ll tell Allie you’ve been making trouble.” Paige waved her fork at me. The menace was spoiled by the tiny smile that tugged at the corner of her mouth. “So you only enjoy vaginas recreationally. Got it. What rotations did you like? Any favorites?”
I chewed slowly as I pondered. “Hmm . . . maybe cardiology?”
“What appeals to you about it?”
“I don’t know.”
I did know, but it would sound stupid if I explained it out loud. After Dad left, Mom was so sad and crying all the time. When I’d asked her what was wrong, she told me that her heart was broken . . . and it scared the shit out of me. I’d been too young to understand that the literal, physical heart wasn’t the same thing as what people meant when they talked about emotions. So I’d thought she was going to die.
It made sense to me that the heart pumped emotions along with blood. I, too, had felt things in my chest—a painful squeeze whenever I thought about Dad, a solid warmth when I resolved to protect Mom and Allie no matter what. But even after I learned otherwise, I remained fascinated with the heart, both its symbolism and its reality. It was the only organ in the body that never tired or took a break. Steady and faithful. Ironic, given that I seemed to be cursed when it came to relationships, that I was more interested in matters of the heart than the physiology of it.
After a few more bites of her food, Paige looked up. “Why did you decide to go into medicine?”
I rubbed the back of my neck. “You already know my sister and I were dealt a crap hand.”
She looked down into her margarita. “Yeah, I do . . . I was there. It wasn’t always easy.”
Being raised by a single mom with only a high-school education wasn’t glamorous. We moved more times I cared to remember. It seemed like every time my mom lost her job or broke up with her latest boyfriend, we were uprooted. She made sure we stayed in the same school district, but finding a place with rent she could afford wasn’t easy. Without a father figure in our lives, the responsibility of being the man of the house fell on me.
“Growing up the way I did, I guess it shaped my goals. Now I’m just perfecting the art of making lemonade.”
She smiled at me as if she liked that answer. “Making lemonade. I like that. So, what are your goals?”
“Being low-income meant I qualified for free tutoring and a bunch of scholarships. I won plenty of those, based on both merit and need, enough to cover the cost of my tuition at Yale. And then later, med school.”
“So you turned a bad situation into a good one.”
“I certainly tried like hell to.”
I was lucky in some regards. Most of my peers would graduate with student-loan debt up to their eyeballs. Working harder than everyone else had landed me scholarships that probably saved my ass.
“But that still doesn’t tell me why medicine.” Paige placed her elbows on the table, leaning closer.
“I knew from an early age that one day I’d be taking care of my mom. It was the only thing I was sure of. She’d sacrificed so much for us, did the best she could. Since before I can remember, I’ve felt like, as her only son, I have a responsibility. I guess subconsciously I chose a field where taking care of others was the focus.”
Smiling at me fondly, Paige twirled a piece of her shiny blond hair between her fingers. “You were always such a good kid, a serious student.”
“Don’t patronize me. I was a nerd.” I set my napkin beside my now empty plate.
She laughed, and I couldn’t help but smile. “I didn’t say that.”
“That’s only because you were trying to be nice.”
She shrugged. “It’s rare to be so disciplined about studying and goal-setting at such a young age. You’re actually kind of amazing, Cannon. And now you’re going to be a doctor in a few short months.”
Her compliment radiated through me. I rarely took the time to examine my way of life. I just did the work that was in front of me and kept going.
Of course, things had changed in the past handful of years. My mom had remarried and now my stepdad provided for her, so she technically didn’t need me to support her anymore. But she was immensely proud of what I’d accomplished, so I just continued on making lemonade, living the only way I knew how.
We finished dinner and carried our dishes to the kitchen. Standing side by side, she rinsed while I loaded the dishwasher. We made a pretty good team. Our new living arrangement should have felt strange, with all our old history and this new sexual tension crackling between us, yet it felt natural in a way I didn’t anticipate.
“Any big plans for tonight?” Paige asked, handing me the last dish.
I shook my head. “Not really. I may go out with some friends later, grab a beer. You’re welcome to come along.” I wondered what she’d make of Peter and his husband, Azan.
“No, that’s okay. I brought my laptop home. There’s a couple of work things I need to ge
t done.”
“Work on a Friday night?”
I made a low sound of disapproval in my throat, but the truth was, her presence would cramp my plans if I was going to pick someone up. And something told me that alcohol plus Paige was a bad combination. All of our inhibitions would be lowered. Not that I was going to fall into bed with her—I had enough self-control to prevent that. Well, probably. But who knew what I might say? I couldn’t go admitting that the fifteen-year-old me used to jack off to her yearbook photo every night. I’d have my man card revoked.
“Did Allie mention that charity event to you tomorrow?” she asked, chewing on her lower lip.
I wiped my hands on a dishtowel. “I told her I’d go. You?”
She nodded. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Have fun tonight.” She grabbed her laptop bag from the floor of the dining room and disappeared to her room, like she was desperate to get away from me.
But what had I expected? We’d drink tequila and reminiscence about the past? Actually, yeah, I’d been kind of hoping we would. I guessed there was always tomorrow.
After a nice dinner together and easy conversation, I was pleased to see that perhaps our new living arrangement would work. Yes, I was sexually attracted to her, but that didn’t mean I’d ever act on it.
I headed to my room since I still had an hour before I was to meet up with the other interns from my program and a few friends from the hospital. Collapsing onto my horribly uncomfortable futon bed, I stuffed a pillow under my head and let out a heavy sigh.
Paige had been a surprise tonight. She was down to earth and easy to talk to. Optimistic and sweet. I knew I was cramping her style being here, but she handled it all with such grace. Of course, I wished she hadn’t felt the need to sneak off to her bedroom under the guise of having to work, but whatever. Everyone needed alone time occasionally. I was the same way. After a busy shift at the hospital, I craved silence.
Fishing my phone from my jeans pocket, I opened a social media app I seldom used. For some reason, I found myself typing Paige’s name into the search bar, clicking Enter, and then waiting while it pulled up her photo.
I clicked through the few photos she had shared, noting that most of them were either selfies or pictures of her and my sister. There didn’t seem to be a boyfriend in any of the shots, which was odd. She was gorgeous, and most of all normal. I didn’t know why I couldn’t seem to attract a nice, normal girl.
After tossing the phone onto the mattress beside me, I pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes and took a deep breath. Just looking at her had my cock rising. Knowing she was in the next room and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about my attraction to her was a bitch of a combination. I wasn’t used to having to exercise such self-control.
My hand wandered under my jeans, adjusting where my now hard cock was pressing into the zipper. Biting down on my lip, I took the weight of my cock in my hand and began to stroke.
I told myself it was merely cleaning out the pipes before I went out for the evening. It’s not like I could bring a girl home to Paige’s place.
Unbuttoning my jeans, I freed myself from the denim prison. Stroking in hard pulls, I imagined how Paige’s small, soft hand would feel moving up and down my shaft, her delicate fingers massaging my balls. With a swallowed grunt of pleasure, I pumped faster, racing toward my release.
A noise of surprise caught my attention, and I opened my eyes to see Paige standing in my doorway.
Fuck!
Unable to tuck my swollen cock back into my jeans, I pulled a pillow into my lap and gazed up at her. “Are you here to lend a hand, princess?”
Her face turned tomato red and she stammered out an apology before scurrying off down the hall.
After a few deep breaths to get myself under control, I tucked a very unhappy camper back into my pants and went in search of her. Paige was in the living room, standing in front of the window, her shoulders tense.
When she heard me approach, she turned to face me. “Oh my God, I am so sorry.” Her expression was pained, and I could tell she genuinely felt terrible. “I didn’t mean to just barge in like that.”
“Then why did you?”
“I thought I heard you say my name.”
Fuck. Had I? I blew out a frustrated breath and pushed my hands into my hair.
Paige crossed the room and sat on the edge of the couch. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think this is going to work.”
Still reeling and on edge, I took another deep breath. Lacing my fingers behind my neck, I stood before her. Her cheeks were still stained pink, and her eyes were glassy.
“I get it. You don’t think we can stay together under one roof without fucking each other’s brains out.”
She made a noise of surprise in her throat. “I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to, princess. Your reactions to me told me everything I needed to know.”
Paige’s blue eyes widened, locking onto mine. I’d given her one hell of a shock. But the look in her eyes was far from disgusted or angry.
Fuck. Playing with her was almost too easy. And fun.
Aside from her physical response to me, I knew she was recalling the first time I’d called her princess all those years ago. I was a rotten ten-year-old, and she and Allie were entering their freshman year of high school. Things had changed between us. I was no longer their cute little sidekick. I was a disease they couldn’t seem to shake. They didn’t want me near them, and since I was too young to understand it, let alone communicate my feelings about it, I’d lashed out.
Paige was the furthest thing from a spoiled princess. She was kind, considerate, and humble. But her family was solidly middle class, and ours was . . . well, not. It was a nickname meant to sting when I hurled it at her. Only it hadn’t stung at all. She’d smirked at me, her mouth lifting in a crooked smile, and ruffled her fingers through my hair. After that, I continued using it because the nickname often earned me a smile.
“You can’t tell me you’re not interested. The way your tight little nipples poke out, begging to be licked, the hammering of your pulse in your throat, the flush of your cheeks, the greedy way your eyes fell to my lap when you walked in.”
She chewed on her lower lip, her gaze darting away from mine.
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of. We have chemistry. Plain and simple,” I continued, my tone soft, alluring.
“I do not . . .” She anchored her hands to her hips, which pressed her breasts out, her beaded nipples still hard and straining.
I suppressed a laugh. She could deny it all she wanted, but I was a fourth-year med student. I’d been studying biology and anatomy for years. She had all the classic signs. She was turned on.
“We’re practically family, Cannon. Allie would—”
“We’re not family. But yeah, Allie would freak the fuck out, which is why we’d never tell her.”
“It’s not going to happen. Ever.” Her voice wavered. It was slight, but it was there.
I shrugged. “Whatever you say. It was just an idea.” And obviously a bad one.
Part of me was relieved she refused my suggestion. If I broke Paige’s heart, not only would my sister kick my ass, but I wouldn’t forgive myself. But toying with her like this, watching her reactions to me . . . that I couldn’t resist.
Pulling a deep breath into her lungs, Paige fought to regain control.
“Listen, if you don’t want me here, if you don’t think we can behave . . .” I lifted my brows suggestively. “I can find somewhere else to crash until the end of the semester.”
After a scoffed grunt, she straightened her spine. “I can behave like an adult if you can. It’s only two months.”
So she admits that misbehaving appeals to her. “Sounds reasonable,” I murmured.
Actually it sounded fucking depressing, but I wouldn’t push her. If she wanted to deny she was interested, there wasn’t much I could do. And given my track
record with women, it was a damn good idea to keep it in my pants.
My career was the one thing in my control. It felt good to set goals and work toward them. Growing up, we moved from one run-down apartment to the next until Mom remarried when I was eighteen, and she moved in with my stepdad when I went off to college. Things stabilized after that, but by then the desire for more was ingrained in me so deeply that nothing could stop me now. I wanted to do better, to prove to my mom that I could make something of myself.
Yes, the need for pussy often forced me into clubs seeking a quick release with a willing partner. One-night stands and the occasional short-term relationship helped squelch the burning need low in my groin. But it never detracted from my mission. And after this last particularly painful breakup, I was done with relationships, even short-term ones. From here on out, I would stick to clinical matters of the heart, and avoid the metaphorical ones that often landed you in a messy breakup.
“I really didn’t mean to interrupt,” Paige said, her voice softening. “Are you mad?”
I shook my head and sat down beside her. “I’m not mad. Horny? Yes. Mad, no.”
She gave me a sweet smile, her blue eyes crinkling in the corners. There was no way I could be mad at her. I just needed to figure out how to survive the next two months.
Chapter Eight
Paige
Cannon got home just after midnight. I hated myself that I’d waited up, listening for him, but I had. He came home alone, used the bathroom—I’d heard his electric toothbrush humming through the thin wall, the water running—and then closed the door to his bedroom.
Our encounter earlier that evening had played through my mind for hours. It was twice now I’d seen him naked, and I knew I’d never erase the images from my brain. I couldn’t believe the man he’d grown into. And that foul mouth on him?
Your tight little nipples are poked out, begging to be licked . . .
Remembering the way his darkly seductive voice rolled over the words sent a fresh wake of goose bumps skittering down my spine.