Page 14 of Aftershock
Awareness bursts through every inch of me, telling me he isn’t home, in the OR, or anywhere else.
He’s here. Within reach.
Swallowing my nerves, I take a step forward. Two. Three.
If someone comes out, I could slip in and?—
“You can’t go in there,” a voice calls out from the nurses’ station.
I flinch at being caught.
Just as fast, my eyes widen. My jaw goes slack.
Because through the narrow glass panel in the door, I see someone in navy-blue scrubs getting closer. Coming straight toward me.
Alaric.
Has to be him.
The silhouette belongs to a tall, broad-shouldered man who moves with confidence. The bloodstains on his scrubs make him look like he’s back from a superhero mission, which he probably is.
My heart’s never beaten so fast in my life.
“Ma’am,” the nurse clips, sounding even more impatient than before.
“Sorry.” I hurry toward one of the corners, where I should’ve been hiding in the first place.
One…
I hold my breath.
Two…
My body is on fire.
Three.
The doors fly open, and it’s him walking through them.
I barely have a moment to register how good his messy hair looks or how wet I get from his presence.
No time to waste. I have a doctor to chase.
Pushing off the wall, I follow him, keeping a maddening six-foot distance between us as I take him in.
Alaric is mouthwatering in every sense of the word. His back shifts with each stride, his muscles moving under thin scrubs. The pants hug his ass like they were made for him. When he drags a hand through his hair, his shirt rides up and the dark line of his boxers peeks above the waistband.
Then there’s the scent of his cologne. Manly without being overwhelming or too spicy.
Though I have no recollection of it from seven years ago, I can’t help but feel like it belongs to him.
My fingers itch to touch him. To stroke, squeeze, caress.
“Dr. Lockwood,” a bulky nurse in teal scrubs says as he approaches Alaric. He has green eyes, and his bald head shines beneath the fluorescent lights. “Long night?”
Alaric stops, and so do I. As if I’m supposed to be here, I perch against the wall, pull out my phone, and turn my back to them.
“It was okay.” Thatvoice. Rich, low, and gravelly.
