“That your blood or his?”
Bastian glanced at his groin. Smears of crimson lined his paper gown and had soaked through to his left thigh and crotch. He hadn’t realized he still wore his latex gloves and yanked them off. He balled them in the protective gown and tossed them into the bio-box with a whoosh. “His.”
Rav bit his bottom lip and then used a chart to tap him on the arm. “Stand up and drop ’em.”
Bastian shook his head. “You’re not playing with my balls, Rav. I’ll be fine.”
“Size thirteen work boots with steel toes. Direct hit. You went down like a brick shithouse. I’m not proposing here, Romeo. Pants off.”
“Up yours.”
“Not even with lube.” Rav sent him a work-with-me look. “You want to get married, right? It’s a quick check just to make sure the plumbing’s okay so in a few years you can play daddy.”
Bastian forced his eyes not to drop. “Not possible. I was diagnosed as sterile several years ago. I’ve had enough doctors squeezing my nuts.”
Rav’s eyes widened briefly then a conscious blankness washed over him.
Not wanting to hear the careful words couched in sympathy, he held up his hand. “Look, I need to take a leak and change. If there’s blood in my urine, then you can play squirrel, all right?”
Rav nodded but wasn’t letting it go. He followed Bastian’s limping path to the linen room for clean scrubs and into the men’s room. Bastian bypassed the urinals and headed for the stall seeking a modicum of privacy. He kicked off his shoes, yanked the soiled scrub pants off and pitched them over the door in Rav’s general direction. It took a moment of concentration but he was finally able to release his bladder and then stared in fear at the toilet bowl swirling with pink.
Shit
.
He did a quick self-check, teeth gritted against the twinges. His breath hissed out. Damn, he was swollen. But he found no lumps, twists or bulges that shouldn’t be there. No sign of testicular torsion or rupture. There was no burning sensation with urination. Good enough. It had been a hard kick but nothing he couldn’t handle. The pain was manageable now.
He smacked the flush handle, snagged his shoes and exited the stall. “All clear.”
The lie slipped out easily but Rav’s eyes never lost their narrowed speculation. Bastian ripped the clean scrubs from his hands and shoved his legs into them before putting on his shoes.
“You’re still green. You n—”
“Jesus, Rav.” Bastian snapped the faucet to hot. “Let me nail you in the crotch and see how fast your color bounces back.”
Rav crossed his arms and used his best medical-god look. “You’re out. I’ll call Naru in. You go lie flat with a lap sling.”
The faint wail of another ambulance leaked through the tiled room. Bastian scrubbed his hands. “I’m fine. Besides, we’re getting slammed.”
The echo of rushing feet in the hall, someone blue-coding and the PA system calling for Dr. Talbot tightened Rav’s mouth. “At least take fifteen and—” The beeping pager in his pocket made Rav roll his eyes. “Fuck it, fine, stay then. But park it in the lounge if you start hurting too much. And you know what to do when the swelling goes down, right?”
“Yeah.” Bastian dried his hands and avoided Rav’s face. Silence hung until he looked in the mirror over his shoulder.
“I’m trusting you here, Talbot. I don’t often get to prescribe jerking off. Get Charlie to help, to make it more fun.” The gibe lifted his lip before it thinned into a severe line. “And if anything’s off, get your ass up to urology, got it?”
“I will.” Eager to shift the focus of conversation from his aching balls, Bastian clapped him on the shoulder. “Now, let’s go play doctor.”
A forced stillness sang through the empty olive-green halls as heavily as the stench of disinfectant. Pulling the strap of her tote higher on her shoulder, Charlie leaned over the high nurses’ counter. Jennifer, now wearing a top with tiny rainbows, glanced up and smiled.
“Hey, back again?”
“Yeah, he was busy last night so I thought I’d try and sneak him breakfast. Where is he?”
The busty nurse frowned and jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “Trying to catch a nap. They got hit bad last shift—a multiple stabbing, couple car crashes and at least three ODs. I’m trying to hold down the fort. Go snuggle up a minute.”
“Thanks.” Charlie sidled around the counter. The hinges creaked softly but Bastian never budged. Flat on his stomach, his shod feet hung over the edge of the cot as if he’d literally fallen facedown and not moved. Across the chair, his white coat glared in the light spilling in.
Shutting the door with a hushed click, Charlie dropped her bag quietly and crept closer. He stirred when she straddled his hips and ran her hands up his back.
“I know those hands.” Sleep-laced, his words were gruff and deep, a cello with a smooth bow draw.
“You should.”
The cot creaked as he rolled beneath her. “Easy.” His hands clutched her hips and gingerly lowered her to his thighs. “I got kicked in the balls by a drunk.”
Her grin was audible in a voice that tickled her throat. “Can I kiss and make them better?”
“No, you cannot. Just don’t bounce, all right? Not if you ever want me to be able to use the equipment again.” His lids stayed closed but his mouth reached for her lips and she gave them to him. “What are you doing here?”
She propped her elbows on either side of his head. “I brought you breakfast since dinner didn’t work.”
“Dinner was stolen out of the refrigerator so I had an energy bar that expired last December then puked it up. What’d you bring me?”
“Fried chicken.” She dropped a light kiss across his mouth.
Golden brows rose over sleep-fused eyes. “Your mom’s?”
“Nope. I cooked. I brought you cornbread, too. It should still be warm.”
“You cooked already? What time is it?”
“About eleven. I couldn’t sleep when I got home. It’s still the middle of the night for me, too. How long have you been asleep?”
A long sigh warmed her chin before he grinned, eyes opening just a bit. “About forty minutes, I guess. You made fried chicken this morning, just for me? Charlie, better be careful, that sounds almost…wifely.”
She smiled. “Yeah, well, I’m having some moments.”
Her words forced his eyes completely open. Along her thighs, his hands slid up, gripping her hips. “Really?”
“Don’t bank on it too much. I’m just toying with it,” she warned. “And I burned the first three pieces.”
Light blazed across his face in a harsh slice. In the doorway, Jennifer grimaced. “Sorry. Two-car collision on Grant, one priority two, two number threes, ETA of four.”
Head tilted, listening even though his face went slack, he nodded. “Where’s Rav?”
“His shift ended. Craig’s in Six with vomiting and diarrhea in triplets. Figured you’d want the trauma over the baby shits so you’re up.”
“Be there in three.” The door slid closed and he squeezed her thigh. “You better go.”
“Yeah, guess I better. Think you’ll get to sleep any more?”
“I don’t know. Depends. Remind me again why I did this?”
Charlie dropped a peck to his lips. “Because you’re going to tell me what my surprise is.”
Curving against hers, his lips never stilled. “Yeah, nice try. Kiss me goodbye.”
“I am.”
“More.”
Lips fell to lips again, slumber flavoring each taste. His tongue teased hers, coaxing her deeper inside. Heat flared when her tongue stroked his. Trying to cram as many kisses into one as she could, she flicked over his lower lip then allowed his to follow. His hands slid from her hips to her back, pulling her closer.
Time slowed. Against her breast, his heart beat steady and low. His jaw tickled her palm with the rasp of growing whiskers.
“Are you coming?” Firmer than before, Jennifer’s voice snapped through the opened doorway.
“Not if you keep interrupting!” Bastian shot back before dropping his head onto the pillow. “Sorry, Jen. Getting up.”
The nurse sniggered. “I can see that. Let go of her ass and move yours, Dr. T.”
The light faded back to gloom. Blond hair whispered on the pillow as he shook his head. “I’m going to miss her. She’s like a drill sergeant with breasts.” Charlie slid to the side, letting him rise without clinging. “Do me a favor. Put my breakfast in the fridge and write
Fecal Specimens
on it.”
“Ew, why?”
“So no one will take it.” He shrugged into his white coat and dusted her mouth with a kiss before walking to the door. “See you tonight.”
“Bye.” He hadn’t heard her. The door had already shut. Climbing from thin sheets still warm from his body, Charlie hugged her stomach. She’d barely stolen five minutes, and letting him go hurt. How could she ever manage to do it for real?
She fought a yawn and walked through the mostly empty waiting room. Warm spring wind kissed her face as she stepped through the automatic doors, under the overhang. Sunlight knifed into her eyes and she scrambled for her sunglasses. The last thing she needed right now was another migraine. She kept her eyes pinched tight until she lowered the shades into place.
Someone bumped into her shoulder. “’Scuse me. Charlie! Hey, how are you?”
“Good.” She smiled in genuine happiness. Karen Polinski was a general surgeon friend of Bastian’s and they’d hung out a few times. “How’s Doug?”
At the mention of her husband, Karen’s grin faded. “We’re separated.”
“I hadn’t heard,” Charlie murmured. He and Karen had seemed completely consumed with each other. “Sorry to hear that.”
Doug was a fantastic mechanic and had found her a killer deal on a refurbished fuel system for her Firebird. He’d been her and Bastian’s go-to guy when they got lost under the hood during the rebuild. Several Saturdays had been spent grilling burgers, tinkering with the engine and the four of them goofing off. She’d loved listening to his tales of the bikers he hung with. She’d even tried to con Bastian into learning how to drive Doug’s Harley, but he’d just laughed and said “no way.”
“Thanks. We were just too different, you know? You have to have something in common outside the bedroom.” Karen’s face lapsed into sorrow then she plastered a forced smile on. “Speaking of, I hear Bastian finally wised up and popped the question. So, you going to do it?”
Bluster hid her unsettled worries. “I’ll
do it
whenever and wherever. He’s the one with a ring fetish.”
Karen laughed then squeezed her arm and told her stay in touch. Charlie watched her melt into the swarm of the hospital workforce and worried her lip. Panic ran through her veins with a nauseating speed. She tried to recall any other medical professional with a mismatched marriage. She came up blank.
Chapter Nine
“And you’re back with Doc and Honey on
Let’s Talk about Sex.
We’ve been discussing the intimate act of oral pleasure. Just a reminder, as on all our shows, we have a three-second delay to help us smooth out anything that might ruffle the FCC’s feathers. So be nice, don’t make me bleep you. Caller, you’re on the air. Welcome, lover, do you have a question?”
“Yeah, can you…you know…do that if you wear braces? I just got them and my husband is scared.”
Over red-rimmed eyes, Bastian’s brows shot upward. He shook his head before leaning into the mike.
“Can’t say as I blame him. Is it possible? Sure, just go slow, be easy and keep it light. The more metal there is, the more it’s going to bother
you.
Opening your mouth wide enough for…certain things may be painful. Just remember that metal and flesh together mean proceed with extreme caution.”
“More Popsicle, less bobbing for apples, if you get my meaning,” Charlie piped in. “And word of warning, pubic hair in your braces is never a good look. Carry floss.”
Bastian groaned. “Now there’s a fashion tip you’ll never see in
Vogue.
”
“Hey, I provide a service no one else can, Doc. Ready for another caller?”
“Sure. Let’s hear it.”
“Hello, caller. You’re on the air with
Let’s Talk about Sex.
What can we do for you tonight?”
Across the partition, Justine held up a coffee cup and arched her eyebrows. Bastian nodded, holding up two fingers. Double strong, he needed the caffeine. Although he’d fallen asleep for an hour on her couch after work, Charlie ached for how tired he looked. But still, he listened intently to the stammering male voice on the open phone line.
“My girl and me…I mean, she wants it…wants me to…I can’t. I just can’t. I don’t want to make her feel bad, but I don’t like it. Is that wrong?”
Charlie hopped in to cover Bastian’s silent yawn. “What’s your name, lover?”
“Sam.”
“Okay, Sam, there’s never anything wrong with saying no to something you’re not comfortable with. Got that? No is fine, for men as well as women. But you shouldn’t chuck the whole idea without trying different things. What don’t you like about it? Can you tell me?”
“I don’t know…it…I mean…when she…”
“Sam,” Bastian said gently. “Did you like your first sip of liquor? The very first one?”
“Nah, it tasted like sh—I mean—crap, but, you know, my dad drank it so I thought…”
“It’s kind of like that, an acquired taste you have to grow into sometimes. And every woman is different. If that’s the problem, there are flavored gels and oils that make things more appetizing, catch my drift?”
“Yeah, I see what you’re saying but that isn’t really it.” A loud sigh blasted the airwaves. “I don’t like raw oysters either, get it, Doc? Texture, that’s it.”
“Ah.” Charlie arched her brow at Bastian in silent question. He nodded. Blowing out a soundless breath, he locked his eyes on the microphone.
“Okay, Sam, try this. Get in the shower with her. Lean her back against the wall. Go down on your knees. Make sure the water is hitting you in the back of the head. Put her leg over your shoulder and go for it. If things start getting too…slippery, congratulations, you’re doing something right. Move your head to the side for a few seconds and let the water…rinse things off…then go back to a clean slate. Understand, Sam?”
“Yeah. Yeah, that might work. I could try that.”