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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"Urghhh!!"
I hear a throaty groan escape my lips, as I awake to a nauseating headache.
I slowly open my eyes, trying desperately to find my bearings, eyes burning, ears ringing and when rolling over, a searing pain spreads along my chest wall, instantly feeling sick to my stomach.
"Fuuuuck! I'm never drinking again." I groan, all too familiarly. It's like this on every rare occasion that I over-indulge, and it's usually followed by lengthy, years-long hiatuses before the next reboot. The last time... let's just say it involved a Mexican, a scorpion and a bottle of tequila.
I smother my face into the pillow next to mine, and I instantly catch a whiff of Eau de James.
"Urrggh!"
I suddenly realize I'm naked, and in a bed and room I have no recollection of getting into. Squinting around, I find my glasses next to the bed; James must have found them in my bag.
I scramble out of bed as fast as my bruised ribs allow, in dire need of a pee and once relieved I start looking for my phone to no avail and for clothes, again to no avail. But I see the grey shirt James was wearing last night, on the floor and slip that on, ignoring how the butterflies surge as I'm shrouded in his scent.
I'm trying desperately to get my bearings, slightly panicked by the foreign setting but somewhat soothed by Jamie's T-shirt. Walking over to the big windows, I flick the wooden shutters open to find a view of sprawling groomed, green lawns and forestry. It's picturesque despite the abysmal, consistent downpour of rain.
I have no idea where I am or what time it is. Tiptoeing down the hall of the first landing, I discover more en-suite bedrooms, a study and a quaint upstairs pajama lounge, some familiar faces decorating the walls of the hallway, before an elaborate staircase takes me downstairs and I'm met with the waft of food. I find myself floating through the air like a deranged cartoon character... fuck, I think I'm still drunk!
I see James standing in a pair of shorts... sans top, cooking while whistling along to Tom Misch.
It makes sense now. The modern country theme throughout the house. The pictures lining the hallways of his family. This must be his home in Surrey.
My eyes travel down his lean, toned back and I love how he's so different from the other guy.
He must have sensed my presence as he turns and does a double take.
I know I look as terrible as I feel!
He smirks and shakes his head, "My my my. Good morning Sleeping Beauty." He teases, and I tug at his shirt, knowing full well that he's aware that I'm completely starkers beneath it.
"It looks good on you. Your clothes are in the dryer already but I went out and got you some fresh clothes. I didn't want to wake you." He kisses my cheek and leads me to the small wooden dining area in the kitchen. "I actually had to make sure you were breathing when I got back."
