The One Real Thing
Page 4

My door burst open as Fatima and Shayla, an inmate I was familiar with, came in. Shayla was hanging on to Fatima and clutching her stomach. “Fucking bitch!” she screeched. “I’m gonna fucking kill that motherfucking bitch!”
Fatima rolled her eyes at me as if to say, Is this our life? Really?
“Outstanding,” Andrew grunted out as he came.
I had a little giggle to myself as he rolled off of me and collapsed on his back.
Every time Andrew climaxed he grunted out the word “outstanding.” It was a nice compliment, but the longer our casual arrangement of sleeping together went on, the funnier I was beginning to find it.
And comedy wasn’t really high up on my list of dirty talk that worked for me. Although I did remind myself it was way better than the guy who kept referring to his dick as his rocket. Finally, while we were in the middle of sex, he told me that if I didn’t do something quick his rocket was going to launch and detonate. I started laughing before I could stop myself and he had no choice but to pull out of me. I tried to apologize, because it really wasn’t nice of me to laugh, but he stormed off in a huff. I never saw him again. I think that was for the best.
Andrew turned his head on the pillow and grinned at me.
I smiled back and he bounced up off the bed with the kind of energy a surgeon needed. Once he’d disappeared into the bathroom to dispose of the condom, I got up out of the bed. Inside my pants pocket I found my pager and checked it, even though I was pretty sure I hadn’t heard it go off. Sure enough, it was quiet.
“You are so sexy.”
I glanced up at Andrew. He was leaning against the bathroom door with his arms crossed over his chest, completely at ease with his nakedness. I felt the same way about being naked in front of him and grinned at him. “You’re kind of sexy yourself.” And it was true. The man worked out at the gym in his fancy-ass hospital between patients. He had a sleek, hard, athletic body that was a delight to explore in bed.
As for me, I normally wasn’t this sexually confident woman who walked around naked with ease. It was just that Andrew and I had been at this whole fuck-buddy thing for about three years now on and off. About a year after we’d started sleeping together, he met a woman and started dating her seriously, so we stopped. They broke up after about nine months, and Andrew realized he was just too much like me and we started our casual relationship back up again. Once you’d been naked with a guy that many times and he kept coming back for more, you were pretty confident that he liked your body, so I didn’t feel self-conscious around him.
“Just kind of?” He guffawed.
I didn’t say any more. The man had enough of an ego to fill the entire state of Delaware. It was best to keep him on his toes so it didn’t get even more out of hand than it already was.
“What are you doing?” he said as I began pulling my pants on.
“Going home.”
He pushed off the door frame, frowning as he strode toward me. He picked up my shirt and held it out of my reach. “We just started. I put aside two hours for you.”
I tried not to roll my eyes at him. Andrew liked to think everything should be done on his schedule since he was the big important cardiothoracic surgeon. And in the interest of saving lives it probably should, but that didn’t mean I had to stick around when I didn’t want to. “I can’t stay. I’m sorry.”
Pouting—yes, pouting—he continued to withhold my shirt.
I stared him down. When we weren’t having sex it only reminded me of what a jackass he could be. Which was one of the reasons it would only ever be sex between us. His arrogance and self-involved sense of importance would drive me up the wall.
He thrust the shirt at me when he realized I wouldn’t back down. “So what is so important that it’s worth messing up my schedule?”
“I said I’d cover Dr. Whitaker’s shift at the prison,” I lied. In truth I was desperate to get home so I could finally open the letters I’d found. They had been on my mind my entire shift. For a moment I’d considered canceling my sex date with Andrew so I could read them, but I remembered he said he had a conference in Sweden coming up. Our sex dates were weekly and I’d gotten used to getting myself a little something-something on a regular basis so I figured I’d better get it while he was around to give it.
I watched his delicious ass as Andrew stomped across his bedroom to grab his neatly folded pants off a chair. “Why on earth do you insist on working in that shithole?”
My blood turned instantly hot at his condescending attitude toward my job. I swore to God, if the man didn’t know what to do with those hands of his I’d have wiped my own clean of him long since. “Quit it,” I bit out.
“No.” He spun around, his hands on his hips. “Jessica, you’re a fantastic, talented doctor. It’s a crying shame that you’re locked up in some dingy prison doctor’s office when you should be a surgical resident.” He donned his shirt, a look of disgust on his face. “I still can’t believe you left your residency and gave up the chance of a fellowship at the hospital. No one can.”
“Can we not do this again?” I snapped. We’d been having this argument for two years.
“Maybe if you’d tell me what the allure of the prison is, then yes. Why do you insist on staying there?”
Instead of answering I sighed, grabbed my bag, and walked over to him. I brushed my fingertips over the frown line between his brows and leaned in to press a soft kiss to his mouth. “Good night, Andrew.”