The same could not be said for the other man when our gazes locked. One hand in his pants pocket, a subtle smirk playing around his lips, he shamelessly let his gaze roam over my body while he approached. His steps the distinct prowl of an unassuming predator and I, the belligerent prey. Something told me this man would play with his food before he ate it.
Pun intended.
Obviously aware of the reason for my barely restrained docility, his lips kicked up in a hint of a smile. Our initial meeting had been too brief for me to get a defined look at him, now I wasn’t sure I wanted to.
He’d changed his earlier white shirt to a dark one and the black on black seemed to mold his muscular frame, attracting further scrutiny he didn’t deserve. If that wasn’t enough to suggest I was eye-fucking the man, my gaze stayed too long on a thin silver ring pierced over the middle of his bottom lip that you’d only notice if you looked closely, strangely complemented by the three small rings pierced into the lobe of one ear.
“Ishika Sharma meet Remo Rossi,” Dr Carlo introduced us, pulling my attention.
Seven billion people on the planet and of course said asshole would be a special friend to a man I held in high regard, a man I’d learned a great deal from and a man who I wouldn’t say no to.
I stood stiffly to accept the outstretched hand, my insides doing a sudden dirty tango with the skin-on-skin encounter.
Shut up, I silently admonished my lady bits. This man didn’t deserve any form of reaction from the top or the bottom half of my body.
“Nice to meet you, Ishika Sharma,” my name was purred with a husky decadence as though he savored every letter.
“Mr. Rossi.” I tried to pull back my hand, but his grip tightened, his thumb slowly stroking my skin.
Eyes, a color yet to be define, roved over my features as though he were committing every single inch of me to memory. However, it was their stark emptiness I found more baffling. Either he hid his emotions well or he felt nothing. If I were honest, his features, with that thick hair slicked back on the top and shorter sides, slightly crooked nose and square jaw perfected by full lips, were sinfully beautiful, yet he looked like someone you wouldn’t want to encounter in a dark alley, not if you cherished your soul.
I jerked my hand out of his hold, my gaze dropping to his as I did so. That tattoo, forming a spiderweb from the digits on his knuckles, creeping along a thick veined forearm to disappear under his rolled-up sleeves and reappearing on his neck, added a hardened edge to his attractiveness most woman would die to be in my spot right now.
Even beneath the inked skin, corded veins tainted with his blood spoke of their strength. The thought of what those hands would do to a man that wronged him, let alone a wanton woman, brought goosebumps to my flesh. Nor could I stop the shudder that snuck up on me when I noticed him watching me with unconcealed interest.
“I have rounds to finish, you can use my room to treat him, Ishika.” Dr Carlo’s sudden words reminded me he was still there and that I had nothing to fear. Then his words registered.
“You’re leaving,” I whined, kicking myself for sounding weak. A soft chuckle had my gaze snapping to the other man. I scowled at him.
Such lady-like behavior, Ish.
Unfortunately, Dr Carlo didn’t notice my reluctance. He picked up his stethoscope and with a quick nod to me and Remo,left. I stood there for a full minute debating whether I wanted to upset Dr Carlo by not helping the other man.
C’mon, girl, you can do this and be quick about it.
Swallowing my nerves, I inhaled deeply then finger-brushed my hair into a ponytail.
“Leave it down.” About to secure the tie to my hair, his soft request stilled my fingers. Surprised, I glanced at him. “It’s prettier open,” he added when I said nothing.
Defiant, I made point of securing my hair while he watched. His eyes darkened, his hawkish stare unrelenting. Clearly, he didn’t like to be challenged.
Well screw you, Mr. Rossi.
Despite the false bravado, a heavy weight of foreboding sagged my shoulders, telling me I shouldn’t be alone with him. Ignoring it, I trudged into the private treatment room attached to Dr Carlo’s office. There, I proceeded to sanitize my hands.
My back to the entrance, I was drying off my hands when I heard the tap of Remo’s shoes enter the room followed by the door closing. The soft click had me praying for strength. I’d encountered every kind of man since I began studying medicine, why was I so rattled by this one?
You can do this.
Just as I counted to three, a strong arm wrapped around my waist and tugged me back against a hard chest, stealing the breath from my lungs in a sharp exhale. Adrenaline kicked in a second later. Fists clenched, I elbowed him, first left then right, pushing all my strength into the action. Any normal man would’ve reacted by releasing his hold and doubling over with a groan.
All Remo did was chuckle. “Your fight has my cock real fucking hard.” Annoyed, I bit his arm until my teeth hurt. “Harder,” he hissed, amused.
I saw red. My elbow slamming into his ribs, I stomped on his foot. His grip loosened just enough for me twist free. I didn’t run. Swinging around to face him, my fist connected with his jaw, pain shooting up my arm. I gritted my teeth.
He staggered back half a step. “Feisty,” he sniggered, lunging forward.
I tried to sidestep him, but he was fast. Grabbing my wrists, he pinned them above me, his body crowding me, his weight a threat all on its own. Anxiety slamming against my ribs, I didn’t give in. Instead, I kneed him as hard as I could, catching his thigh. The impact jolted down my leg, bone to muscle, a sharp, ugly shock that stole his breath, sending a savage thrill of relief through me.
