She smiles sweetly and folds her arms over her chest which automatically draws my gaze downward to her breasts.
Veryfullbreasts that remind me how much she’s changed.
Don’t be an old creep, Clay.
“You would be correct. And I broke in because you didn’t answer my question when I asked whether you had someone here to check on you. If you had a concussion, and with the amount of pain medicine the hospital gave you, it really wasn’t safe for you to stay the night alone.”
I shake my head. It’s just like Maggie to be thinking of everyone else but herself. “So... you just got here?
“No, I’ve been here since I got off my shift.”
I load my fork with the scrambled eggs next and pop it into my mouth. They are extra buttery and salted to perfect. I resist letting out a groan at just how good it tastes. “And what time wasthat?”
She turns her back to me to mess with the coffee maker that’s already finished brewing. I instantly recognize the motion as her intentionally avoiding my gaze, “Around three.”
I hum softly thinking about her sleeping in my apartment a few feet away from me all night. The food is delicious, but completely unexpected and unnecessary. Despite everything, I pride myself on being a gentleman, and I know all too well how uncomfortable my couch is—having crashed on it more than a few times after long nights out. The thought of her sleeping on it all night without me knowing bothers me.
My mind wanders, wondering if she’d checked on me while I slept to make sure that I was okay. I’d slept naked, as I always do. My cock twitches underneath the counter thinking about whether she’s not as innocent as she comes across and had got an eyeful last night, or if she’d stayed outside in the living room like a good girl.
The way she slides the mug of coffee across the counter without making eye contact makes me suspect she’s checked on me, and I hate how much my body responds positively to that thought.
“Well, thank you, for making me breakfast, and for being concerned enough to break into my apartment,” I shoot her a smile as she laughs, sipping from her own mug.
She crosses her hand over her heart dramatically, “I took an oath to do no harm. You’re not special, Clay. I’d break into any of my patient’s apartments to spend the night, check to make sure they’re still breathing every hour, and make them breakfast in the morning.”
I choke on my coffee, and pound on my chest, trying to clear the hot liquid as I shake my head imagining her tiny body stealthily tiptoeing into my room at night, leaning over my naked frame and checking my pulse every hour.
She giggles again, completely oblivious to what she’s justadmitted to and the images I’m picturing now.
“The doctor said it was just a couple of bruised ribs.”
“I know, I checked your chart after you were discharged.”
“Isn’t that a breach of HIPAA?” I ask, taking another gulp of the coffee to distract myself from lingering on her face.
She’s added something to it—cinnamon or some shit that isn’t how I make it normally—but it makes the coffee better than I’ve ever tasted. As the warmth hits my tongue again, I can’t help but feel a shiver of pleasure spread down my spine at the unexpected flavor.
She leans forward on the counter, watching me closely, a small smile creeping across her face as if she’s caught my reaction.
“I knew you’d like it,” she deflects my question before turning back to the sink and beginning to wash the dishes. Suddenly, something about this entire scene fills me with dread.
I don’t need anyone taking care of me—I’ve lived alone since Savannah’s accident and her betrayal, and I prefer it that way. I don’t want to be looked after, especially not by someone as kind, tender-hearted, andinnocentas Maggie.
I had made this clear to her a year ago when she’d complimented me. Although she claimed she would do this for any of her patients, and I wanted to be special to her, I know that I need to put a stop to this playful banter, and comfortable attempt at playing house right now.
I suck back the rest of the coffee and push my empty plate away.
“Leave the dishes, Maggie. I’ll do them after my shift. I should probably hop in the shower and get down to the station now anyways...do you need a ride home?”
I check my watch. Even though I still have two hours before my shift starts, I feel increasingly claustrophobic with her in my home and need her to get out of hereimmediately.
She turns around, all innocent brown eyes and soft chestnuthair that’s now falling out of her clip into waves around her slim shoulders. She doesn’t seem fazed by my sudden shift in mood but more concerned for my wellbeing. And that makes me feel even worse about what I’m about to do.
My cock twitches, brushing painfully in the loose fighting shorts I’d slipped back over my body with no boxers underneath. I palm myself under the counter, adjusting as best I can so that she doesn’t get an eye full when I stand up to leave.
I fuckinghatethis feeling.
I’m not a mean guy, and I’m trying to be a jerk to her, but she needs to go.Now.And I’m not sure how else to make that clear.
