Chapter 2

LARA

I stood under the water for twenty minutes. Not because I needed to wash off dirt, but because I was trying to wash off the feeling of Elijah Roosevelt's eyes on me. It didn't work. I kept seeing his face in my mind. That strong jaw. Those big hands. The way he looked at me like I was interesting.

That bulge in his pants.

Oh God that bulge.

I pressed my forehead against the tile and let the water hit my back. My skin was red from the heat. I didn't care.

“You're being stupid,” I whispered to myself. I reminded myself that Elijah Roosevelt was a patient. He was the enemy. He was the rival of my husband.

My body didn't care about any of that. My body remembered the way his breathing changed when I gave him a shot. My body remembered how his muscles shook. My body remembered the heat that spread through my stomach when I saw how hard he was.

I hadn't felt that heat in two years.

Two years of Delson touching me like I was just a hole he could fuck. Two years of lying and thinking about work while my husband had sex with me. Two years of… nothing.

Then one hour with Elijah Roosevelt and my body woke up like a zombie.

I hated him for it. I hated myself more.

The bedroom was dark when I came out of the shower.

Delson was still awake. He was propped against the headboard on his phone not even looking at me, stark naked with his cock hard. I knew he was waiting. He was always waiting.

"Hurry up " he said without looking up. "I have a meeting. This cock is not gonna go down on its own.”

I dried off slowly and put on the silk nightgown he liked. The one that made me feel like a doll. I brushed my hair and washed my face.

Every step was like a delay, as i was trying to do it slowly. Delay only made it worse. Delson hated waiting.

When I finally got into bed he put down his phone and turned to me. The lamp was still on. He liked the light on. He said he wanted to see what was his.

"You smell different,”  he said.

"I used a different soap. The one I had had finished.”

"No." He leaned closer and sniffed my neck like a dog. "You smell like someone else's skin.”

My heart started beating. "I was at work. I touched a lot of patients."

"You touched Elijah Roosevelt, though.”

"I took care of him. With gloves on."

Delson's hand found my thigh under the sheets and squeezed hard. "Take off the gown." He commanded.

I did. I always did.

He didn't kiss me. He never really kissed me. Sometimes he would press his mouth against my neck while he was inside me. It wasn't a kiss. It was always like a bite. A mark. A way of saying "mine" without using words.

Tonight he didn't even do that.

He pushed me onto my back and cljmbed on top of me. He spread my legs with his knees. He didn't bother touching me where I might feel good. Just him, pushing inside me while I was still dry. The pain was sharp and quick and… something I had gotten used to.

I knew how to do this.

I closed my eyes and thought about the hospital.

Not Elijah. Never Elijah. That would be wrong in my head. I thought about the ER lights. The beeping of machines. The smell of antiseptic. I recited surgery techniques in my head. Interrupted sutures. Continuous sutures. Mattress sutures. Subcuticular—

Delson slapped my face.

Not hard. Just hard enough to bring me back.

"Are you hearing me, bitch? Look at me.”  he said.

I opened my eyes. His face was only a few inches from mine. It was sweaty and his eyes were focused. His hips kept moving, pushing into me with a rhythm that had nothing to do with my pleasure.

"Who do you belong to?" he asked, panting.

"You," I said without any emotion.

"Say it again."

"I belong to you, Delson."

"Good girl."

He finished seconds later, pulled out and rolled off me. He didn't ask if I was done. And he didn't care.

I lay there staring at the ceiling while my muscles relaxed and the ache between my legs turned into a throb.

"That's it?" I asked. Quietly amd stupidly.

Delson was already reaching for his phone. "I told you. Early meeting."

He turned off the lamp. I lay in the dark still wet between my legs. I felt nothing.

Not sadness. Not anger. Just... Nothing. A hollow space where my feelings used to be.

This was my life. This was my marriage. This was what my father sold me for.

I turned on my side faced the wall and waited for sleep that wouldn't come.

I was back at the hospital by seven a.m.

Not because I had to be. My shift didn't start until nine… I couldn't stay in that house another minute. Delson was already gone. He had left without waking me which was a kindness I didn't trust. And the empty bedroom smelled like him. Like sweat and sex and something sour… that was him.

I couldn't breathe there, so I left.

The hospital was quiet at seven. It always was. Nurses were swapping stories at the station. Orderlies were pushing carts down the halls. I grabbed a coffee from the break room  and sat in the corner staring at nothing.

"You look like crap." I heard someone say from beside me. I turned.

Amara. Of course. She finds me everywhere.

"Thanks " I said, sipping my coffee.

"I mean it." She sat across from me her eyes scanning my face like she was reading a chart. "What time did you go home?"

"Three."

"What time did you sleep?"

I didn't answer.

"That bad?" she asked quietly.

I shrugged. "Same as always."

She reached across the table and squeezed my hand. Her fingers were warm. "You know you can leave him right? There are lawyers and shelters... and me. People who would help."

"He would find me."

"Not if you—”

"Amara." I pulled my hand back. "Please. Not today."

She looked at me for a moment. Then she nodded. "Okay. But I'm not going to stop asking."

"I know."

She stood up to leave then paused. "Oh. Your VIP patient from night? Roosevelt? He's still here. Fourth floor. They moved him to a room."

My stomach flipped.

"I don't care " I said. “Why are you telling mw about it? I…uh…totally don't care.”

Did I panic?  

I blinked, looking at her.

Shit, I think I panicked. Fuck.

"Didn't say you did." Amara smiled. A smile that made me want to throw my coffee at her. "Just thought you should know."

She walked away.

I sat there for five minutes telling myself I wasn't going there. He wasn't my patient anymore. Someone else could check his vitals. Someone else could change his dressings. Someone else could stand in that room with his whiskey eyes and his perfect hands. His—

I took the stairs to the fourth floor.

Two at a time.

The private room was at the end of the hall, guarded by two men in suits who looked at me like I was a bug they could squish.

"I'm here to check on the patient " I said, flashing my badge.

One of them made a call on his earpiece. He listened and nodded.

"Go ahead, Doctor."

The door opened.

Elijah Roosevelt was sitting up in bed shirtless, his torso wrapped in fresh bandages. His dark hair was wet. Someone had helped him wash up... He was eating something from a tray. Eggs, maybe and toast.

He looked up when I walked in.

Then he smiled. Not that wolfish smile. The kind that made my knees weak. It wasn't a genuine smile, but then…

"Dr. Lara,” he said. "You came back.

"I'm here to check your wounds."

"My wounds are fine."

"I'll be the judge of that."

He set down his fork and leaned back against the pillows. His chest rose and fell slowly and I watched the movement despite myself. The broadness of him. The dark hair trailing down. The bandages that hid the heart-shaped lacerations I'd seen last night.

"Then come here Doctor " he said softly. "Check them."

I walked to his bedside, begging my legs to stop trembling.

My hands were steady. My face was blank, but inside my head, I was a mess of things I couldn't name.

This is wrong, I told myself. He's dangerous. He's the enemy. Your husband would kill you if he knew.

Delson didn't know.

And now standing next to Elijah Roosevelts bed I didn't care.

I peeled back the bandage on his ribs. The stitches were holding. No infection. No swelling. He was healing like he was supposed to which was annoying because I wanted a reason to be mad at him.

"Looks fine,” I said.

"You sound disappointed."

"I'm not."

The word hung between us. He stared into my eyes and I flinched…before I looked away.

I should have left. I should have walked out. Never come back, but I couldn't move. My hands were on his ribs touching his skin. I couldn't pull away.

"You have a bruise,” he said quietly.

I looked where he was looking. He was staring at my wrist. At the marks Delson left night when he grabbed me.

"I bruise easily," I said. “

"No you don't." His hand came up slow like he was approaching an animal. His fingers circled my wrist. Not hard. His eyss had darkened. “Who did this to you?"

"No one."

"Dr. Lara. Who hurt you?"

I panicked. I was about to say something when the door slammed open.

"Dr. Ford."

I turned around.

A nurse stood in the doorway her face pale. "You need to go. Theres been an accident in the ER. Many people were hurt. They need every surgeon they can get."