She picks her panties up from the floor and hops into them. Then she crosses her arms over her bare tits and glares at me. “Do you have plans tomorrow morning?”
My whole body tightens up. I’m not sure I heard her correctly. “You want to get breakfast?”
She snorts as if that’s ridiculous. “I want you to meet me at the hospital after morning rounds so I can suck your cock again.”
Ah. Just sex. “Sure, I’m free. Whenever you want.”
She frowns. “This shouldn’t become a routine for us.”
“Because orgasms are terrible.”
“Because we broke up.”
“Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten.” But there’s a huge difference betweenshouldn’tandwon’t.After two incredibly hot hookups, and her already wanting a repeat in the morning, I’m pretty confident that I’ll be getting another text from Rory before toolong.
Whether that’s healthy, though…. That’s another question.
She’s clearly thinking the same thoughts. “I’m just saying, we need to fully get it out of our systems. Completely. So there’s no more….”
I raise my eyebrows. “No more what?”
“Never mind.” Right on schedule, Rory shuts down, like spending time with me is exhausting. And maybe it is. Maybe I asked too much of her when we were together.
Lesson learned.
If she just wants a hookup, that’s all I’ll be for her.
Of course I make myself available the next morning. She’s waiting outside the hospital when I pull up, and after hopping in, she directs me to a parking lot not far from the hospital.
“I got you a breakfast sandwich,” I say as I pull away from the curb. “And coffee.”
“That wasn’t necessary.”
She grabs it, though, doesn’t she? “Better than a vending machine.”
“No commentary required.”
“Name one hot meal you’ve had this week.”
“We’re not doing this.”
“Doing what? Talking about basic self-care?” I hold up my hand, cutting off her protest. “Fine. The only help I’m allowed to offer is orgasmic. Got it.”
“Garrett—”
I pull into the thankfully empty parking lot. We mightnot even have ninety minutes this morning, so I better make what time we do have count.
She takes one last bite of her sandwich, then shoves it in the brown paper bag as I undo her seatbelt.
I fucking love scrubs. They’re so easy to slide my hand into.
I get her off first, my lips against her ear alternating between dirty talk and reminders that we could get caught—which, for Rory this morning, counts as dirty talk, too.
“Don’t close your eyes. If you close your eyes, who’s going to tell me to stop if someone pulls in next to us?”
All she has for that is a weak moan, because I’ve got my fingers on her pulsing clit and I can feel how close she is.
“Why’d you pick this spot?” I nip at her ear when she doesn’t reply. “Want to get caught?”
