Ryle was correct. It only took a few days for my ankle to feel good
enough that I could walk on it again. I waited a full week before
attempting to leave my apartment, though. The last thing I need is to
reinjure it.
through the front doors is an understatement. It looked like a totally
different building than the one I bought. There’s still a ton of work
that needs to be done, but she and Marshall had gotten rid of all the
stuff we marked as trash. Everything else had been organized into
piles. The windows had been washed, the floors had been mopped.
She even had the area where I plan to put an office cleaned out.
I helped her for a few hours today, but she wouldn’t let me do
much that required walking at first, so I mostly drew out plans for the
store. We picked out paint colors and set a goal date to open the store
that’s approximately fifty-four days from now. After she left, I spent
the next few hours doing all the stuff she wouldn’t let me do while she
was there. It felt good to be back. But Jesus Christ, I’m tired.
Which is why I’m debating on whether or not to get up from the
couch and answer the knock at my front door. Lucy is at Alex’s again
tonight and I just spoke to my mother five minutes ago on the phone,
so I know it isn’t either of them.
I walk to the door and check the peephole before opening it. I
don’t recognize him at first, because his head is down, but then he
looks up and to the right and my heart freaks the hell out! What is
he doing here?
Ryle knocks again, and I try to brush my hair out of my face and
smooth it down with my hands, but it’s a lost cause. I worked my ass
off today and I look like shit, so unless I have half an hour to take a
shower, put on makeup, and throw on clothes before I open the door,
he’ll pretty much have to deal with me as is.
I open the door and his immediate reaction confuses me.
“Jesus Christ,” he says, dropping his head against my door frame.
He’s panting like he’s been working out, and that’s when I notice that
he doesn’t look to be any more rested or clean than I am. He’s got a
couple of days’ worth of stubble on his face—something I’ve never
seen on him before—and his hair isn’t styled like it usually is. It’s a
little erratic, like the look in his eye. “Do you have any idea how
many doors I’ve knocked on to find you?”
I shake my head, because I don’t. But now that he mentions it—how in
the hell does he know where I live?
“Twenty-nine,” he says. Then he holds up his hands and repeats the
numbers with his fingers while he whispers, “Two... nine.”
I let my gaze drop down to his clothes. He’s in scrubs, and I
absolutely hate that he’s in scrubs right now. Holy hell. So much better
than the onesie and way better than the Burberry.
“Why did you knock on twenty-nine doors?” I ask with a tilt of my
head.
“You never told me which apartment was yours,” he says, matter-of-factly.
“And for the record, I almost started with the third floor. I would
have been here an hour ago if I went with my gut instinct.”
“Why are you here?”
He runs his hands down his face and then points over my shoulder.
“Can I come in?”
I glance over my shoulder and then open the door farther. “I guess.
If you tell me what you want.”
He walks inside and I close the door behind us. He glances around,
wearing his stupid hot scrubs, and puts his hands on his hips as he
faces me. He looks a little disappointed, but I’m not sure if it’s in me
or himself.
“There’s a really big naked truth coming, okay?” he says. “Brace
yourself.”
I fold my arms over my chest and watch as he inhales a breath,
preparing to speak.
“These next couple of months are the most important months in my
entire career. I have to be focused. I’m closing in on the end of my
residency, and then I’ll have to sit for my exams.” He’s pacing my
living room, talking frantically with his hands. “But for the past week,
I haven’t been able to get you out of my head. I don’t know why. At
work, at home. All I can think about is how crazy it feels when I’m
near you, and I need you to make it stop, Lily.” He stops pacing and
faces me. “Please make it stop. Just once—that’s all it’ll take. I
swear.”
My fingers are digging into the skin of my arms as I watch him.
He’s still panting a little, and his eyes are still frantic, but he’s
looking at me pleadingly.
“When is the last time you’ve had sleep?” I ask him.
He rolls his eyes like he’s frustrated that I’m not getting it. “I
just got off a forty-eight-hour shift,” he says dismissively. “Focus,
Lily.”
I nod and replay his words in my head. If I didn’t know better.
I’d almost think he was.
I inhale a calming breath. “Ryle,” I say carefully. “Did you seriously
just knock on twenty-nine doors so you could tell me that the thought
of me is making your life hell and I should have sex with you so that
you’ll never have to think of me again? Are you kidding me right now?”
He folds his lips together and, after about five seconds of thought,
he slowly nods his head. “Well... yeah, but... it sounds way worse when
you say it.”
I release an exasperated laugh. “That’s because it’s ridiculous, Ryle.”
He bites his bottom lip and looks around the room, like he wants to
escape. I open the door and motion for him to walk out. He doesn’t.
His eyes fall to my foot. “Your ankle looks good,” he says. “How does it
feel?”
I roll my eyes. “Better. I was able to help Allysa at the store for the
first time today.”
He nods and then makes like he’s walking toward the door to leave.
But as soon as he reaches me, he spins toward me and slaps his palms
against the door on either side of my head. I gasp at both his proximity
and his persistence. “Please?” he says.
I shake my head, even though my body is starting to trade sides and
beg my mind to cave to him.
“I’m really good at it, Lily,” he says with a grin. “You’ll barely even
have to do any work.”
I try not to laugh, but his determination is as endearing as it is
annoying. “Goodnight, Ryle.”
His head drops between his shoulders and he shakes it back and forth.
He pushes off the door and stands up straight. He half-turns, heading for the hallway, but then suddenly drops to his knees in front of me. He wraps his arms around my waist. “Please, Lily,” he says through self-deprecating laughter. “Please have sex with me.” He’s looking up at me with puppy dog eyes and a pathetic, hopeful grin. “I want you so, so bad and I swear, once you have sex with me you’ll never hear from me again. I promise.”
There’s something about a neurosurgeon literally on his knees begging for sex that does me in. That’s pretty pathetic.
“Get up,” I say, pushing his arms away from me. “You’re
embarrassing yourself.”
He slowly stands up, dragging his hands up the door on either side of me until he has me caged in between his arms. “Is that a yes?” His chest is barely touching mine and I hate how good it feels to be wanted this much. I should be turned off by it, but I can hardly breathe when I look at him. Especially when he has this suggestive smile on his face.
I push him away from me and close the door behind us. He follows me to the bedroom and I tell him to wait on the bed for me. Luckily, I cleaned my bedroom last night. Normally I have clothes lying around everywhere, books piled up on my nightstand, shoes and bras that don’t quite make it to my closet. But tonight it’s clean. My bed is even made up, complete with the ugly, quilted throw pillows my grandmother passed down to every person in our family.
I make a quick glance around the room, just to make sure nothing embarrassing will catch his eye. He takes a seat on my bed and I watch as he scans the room. I stand in the doorway to my bathroom and try to give him one last out.
“You say this will make it stop, but I’m warning you right now, Ryle. I’m like a drug. If you have sex with me tonight, it’s only going to make things worse for you. But once is all you’re getting. I refuse to become one of the many girls you use to—how did you word it that night? Satisfy your needs?”
He leans back on his elbows. “You aren’t that kind of girl, Lily. And I’m not the kind of guy who needs someone more than once. We have nothing to worry about.”
I close the door behind me, wondering how in the hell this guy talked me into this.
It’s the scrubs. The scrubs are my weakness. It has nothing to do with him.
I wonder if there’s a way he could leave them on during the sex?
• • •
I can feel his fingers trailing up my arm before I even open my eyes. I
force back a tired smile and pretend I’m still sleeping. His fingers trail
over my shoulder and stop at my collarbone, just before they reach my
neck. I have a small tattoo there that I got in college. It’s a simple outline of a heart that’s slightly open at the top. I can feel his fingers
circle around the tattoo, and then he leans forward and presses his lips against it. I squeeze my eyes shut even tighter.
“Lily,” he whispers, wrapping an arm around my waist. I moan a little, trying to wake up, and then roll onto my back so that I can look up at him. When I open my eyes, he’s staring down at me. I can tell by the way the sunlight shines through my windows and across his face that it’s not even seven a.m. yet.
“I am the most despicable man you’ve ever met. Am I right?”
I laugh, and nod a little. “Pretty damn close.”
He smiles and then brushes my hair off my face. He leans forward and presses his lips to my forehead, and I hate that he just did that.
Now I’ll be the one plagued with sleepless nights, because I want toput this memory on repeat.
“I have to go,” he says. “I’m really late. But one—I’m sorry. Two—I’ll never do this again. This is the last you’ll hear from me, I promise. And three—I’m really sorry. You have no idea.”
I force a smile, but I want to frown because I absolutely hated his number two. I actually don’t mind if he tries this again, but then I remind myself that we want two different things from life. And it’s good that he fell asleep and we never even kissed, because if I would have had sex with him while he was wearing scrubs, I would have been the one showing up at his door on my knees, begging for more.
This is good. Rip the Band-Aid off and let him leave.
“Have a nice life, Ryle. I wish you all the success in the world.”
He doesn’t respond to my goodbye. He silently stares down at me with somewhat of a frown, and then says, “Yeah. You too, Lily.”
Then he rolls away from me and stands up. I can’t even look at him right now, so I roll onto my side so that my back is to him. I listen as he puts his shoes on and then reaches for his phone. There’s a long pause before he moves again, and I know it’s because he was staring at me. I squeeze my eyes shut until I hear the slam of the front door.
My face immediately grows warm, and I refuse to allow myself to mope. I force myself off the bed. I have work to do. I can’t be upset that I’m not enough to make a guy want to remap all of his life goals.
Besides, I have my own life goals to worry about now. And I’m really excited about them. So much so, that I really don’t have time for a guy in my life, anyway.
No time.
Nope.
Busy girl, here.
I am a brave and bold businesswoman with zero fucks to give for men in scrubs.
