At the pinnacle of her career, orthopedic surgeon Ava King conquers the lucrative medical field of London.
A wild and intimate night with competitive Formula One driver James Ellis ends with Ava being stood up. The rejection leads her straight into...
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Being in James's arms cocoons me in a sense of peace, calmness washing over me. But the second I'm away from him, I'm left cold and empty, a prickling feeling of discomfort and fear that makes the hairs at the back of neck stand up; a feeling I encounter when I'm finally alone for the first time since yesterday's office incident.
Readjusting the seat of my car, trying hard not to recollect our sexy encounter last night, I can smell his cologne on my seatbelt as it rests across my chest and it somewhat gives me a greater sense of safety and comfort than the intended manufactured use of the traditional seatbelt.
Shit, I'm an idiot for letting him go.
And I fear it's too late for anything more than friendship. Despite our night together and his hospitality this morning, I can tell he's holding back.
I was so convinced that James was a fuck boy, that he'd hurt me as he said he was afraid he would.
And now I've got a set of bruised ribs to thank for my ego and pride.
How in the hell did I convince myself that Gabriel was the next best thing?
Was I that easy to manipulate and control?
"I'd never sell you, baby," I coo, rubbing the dashboard affectionately as the car idles and windows de-mist. "Stupid, silly man said I needed a responsible car."
Dick.
I mean of all the red flags, that one flies highest.
Jamie insisted on following me, and I impatiently hoot before I hear the distinct sound of a Harley Davidson.
I watch him slowly reverse-walk his Harley out of the garage, before he pulls up next to my window.
"Someone's impatient." He huffs as I admire the sleek, sexy black beauty vibrating obscenely loudly between his legs. James smirks, clearly aware of my mouth hanging open, practically drooling. "You like?"
"Love." I gulp silently, taking in a ragged breathe as my eyes fall over him, too. Jamie's wearing boots, dark blue jeans and a white t-shirt beneath a leather biker jacket, which he zips up.
Oh, to be straddled and ridden fast and hard by James Ellis.
Shit. This is what my life has come to.
I am jealous of a motorcycle.
"Let's hope the rain stays away. Lead the way, milady," he winks before dropping the visor of his matte black helmet and tweaks the throttle, making my entire car (and being) vibrate.
Kill me now.
The Universe is feeling particularly bitchy today. As if the searing pain in my chest wall every time I turn my steering wheel wasn't enough, I've now got to contend with ol' sex on wheels riding his motorcycle behind me.
