A Prescription for Love

Chapter Twenty-One

This is different from the norm. In all of the stories that I've read or that I've seen, all of the characters are disgustingly perfect unless they are written with very clear flaws. This story is about love (um, duh! Look who's writing it. I'm the queen of romance), and finding it in the least likely place with the least likely person.

Now, this story is based in a hospital. My medical training comes from...WebMD. I'm not a doctor, nor do I claim to be. I'm a music teacher who has a wild imagination and a penchant for all things Twilight (and with this story, added in a mix of ER! I loved Luca Kovac...) Which brings me to my disclaimer: None of this is mine. I'm not, nor ever will be, Stephenie Meyer. If was, I'd be rolling in the dough from her insane imagination that gave us Bella and Edward. No copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter Twenty-One

BPOV

"You suck, Rosie," Edward growled playfully.

"You won't be thinking that when Bella's done with you," she cackled, shutting the door.

"What?" Edward squeaked. I giggled at the sound that came from his mouth. However, I shook it off and tried to look alluring on the bed. Not an easy feat when you're trying to suck things in and hide imperfections. I heard Edward's feet shuffle up the stairs. In a last minute decision, I shook out my hair and plastered on a seductive smile. "Bella?"

"In here," I replied breathily. I sound like a moron. Edward walked into the bedroom and he looked around. His eyes were darting at the candles, the lights, the sheets and finally, me. I smiled slowly. "Take off your clothes, Dr. Sexward. You're in for the ride of your life. Are you truly ready for your birthday surprise?"

"Uh," Edward muttered intelligently. His eyes were trained on my body as he stood unmoving in his bedroom doorway. He blinked a few times but seemed to be shell-shocked.

"Perhaps I wasn't clear," I said sternly, easing off the bed, putting my hands on my hips. "Take. Off. Your. Clothes."

Faster than a blink of an eye, he began fumbling with his clothes. Edward's hat was tossed onto the ground. He was toeing off his shoes while he pulled off his jersey and undershirt. I bit back a giggle as Edward got caught in his shirts. His muffled curses rang through the quiet house. Once he got his shirts off, he threw them onto the ground with a scowl. "I love that jersey but damn...it was attacking me, sweet girl."

I arched a brow. "I said take off your clothes. Not to speak. Not one word until I tell you can talk, Edward. Do you understand me? Nod if you do."

His mouth fell open and he stared at me like I was crazy. Perhaps I was. I was trying to be all domineering but it wasn't working as well as I'd hoped. Edward was testing my patience and I was not feeling confident about this at all. After a moment of his blank, shocked stare and began to fidget nervously. Edward walked over to me, capturing my chin with his fingers. His green eyes stared into mine and he nodded; one forceful, definitive nod. He was willing to play along.

"You're still dressed, Edward. The clock is ticking," I said as I sat down on his bed, crossing my legs demurely in front of me. He smirked, reaching for the belt on his shorts. Soon, his shorts along with boxer briefs were added to the pile of growing clothes on the floor. He smirked at me, standing proudly in his naked glory. His hands wrested casually on his hips as if he was waiting for a bus or talking with a coworker, not standing in his bedroom without a stitch of clothing on his perfect body. "Hmmmm," I purred as I got up from my perch on the bed. I walked toward him, lightly running my fingers along his muscled arms. "It's like your chiseled from the finest Italian marble, Edward. You're so beautiful."