Authors: Elle Wylder
“Which one?” I ask when the silence
stretches.
“Oh sorry!” The nurse pauses while recording
the various instrument readings. “Walker.” She flashes another
wicked grin. “And he sounds yummy.”
I force a smile. “He is.”
Hot. Territorial. Possessive. Well, he would
be if I don’t stay very clear about the rules. I don’t delude
myself into thinking that is due to anything but pure dumb luck--I
live in Atlanta and he lives in River City, in southern Alabama. It
will be much harder to resist him when I have to deal with
prolonged exposure. I groan. Damn. He’s coming here. He will
probably go all macho and alpha male on me now. My body tingles and
it isn’t from the morphine injection I just received.
He is definitely yummy, but I feel a trickle
of unease the more I think of him coming, something I’m forgetting,
a reason I need space before dealing with him again. Something that
refuses to rise to the surface of my drug-addled brain. I fight a
great yawn as the nurse slips out the door, try to force the
correct synapses to fire in my head, but can’t fight the slide back
into oblivion.