Page 4 of Resist Me Not (Bloody Desires #4)

Chapter two

WALKER

D octor in distress . This guy is smooth.

He has short brown hair without a strand out of place like he’s never gone a week without a trim, and his eyes are so dark, they look more black than brown.

He’s paler than me, but not like he never sees the sun.

He’s also tall, trim, and flawlessly put together as if he just left some summer photoshoot for young professionals.

Who wears a white blazer in this city? The smog alone should have tinted it gray by now, but it looks pristine on him. It’s still early in the day, but he gives off this vibe of dirt beware —or else.

“Or you might come to regret it,” like he said to Curtis.

Curtis, who probably scarred me if this cut is as bad as it feels.

I should go to the hospital. I shouldn’t trust some stranger with fixing up a cut likely to be jagged and ripe for infection.

But as much as I might be entertaining myself with the idea of dust not daring to go against my knight in shining armor, I don’t want to go against him either.

He has this low, even-toned voice that just hits differently, like a narration from Sam Elliott.

Plus, he introduced himself by breaking my ex’s wrist. This kind of guy is supposed to stroll up looking like Swayze from Roadhouse , not 007 without the bowtie.

The juxtaposition is such an especially potent turn on, I am actually going up to this guy’s hotel room at nine in the morning.

Speaking of Roadhouse , Sam Elliott was in that too. A classic over-the-top story about a powerhouse in tight 80s jeans coming to people’s rescue like a superhero, which even in the nice blazer and tailored slacks is definitely Trey.

“I didn’t realize this was a hotel. It’s nice,” I say when Trey opens his door for me, and I find myself entering a suite on the top floor. There’s a door for the bathroom and another for a separate bedroom from the living room and office space, almost like an apartment.

“Basic in amenities, but a suite for this price can’t be beaten in most cities.” Trey closes the door behind us, because of course he does, but when I notice a camera on a tripod pointed out the window, I feel a sudden upsurge of anxiety.

It’s just a camera. That’s not weird, right? A camera…

Pointed at my ex’s apartment building, and this guy just happened to come to my rescue.

“I’ll get the first aid kit,” Trey says, setting his messenger bag beside the coffee table. “Have a seat, Walker. Relax.”

“Y-yeah. Thanks.” I take a deep breath and sit on the sofa.

Everything has the usual sterile hotel charm, complete with neutral colors and mass-produced cityscape shots on the walls, sporting random splotches of color to make it “art.” There’s the coffee table, a TV, a minibar with space for making coffee or even mixing drinks on top—and a camera pointed out the window at my ex’s apartment building.

Half my instincts are screaming at me that there are red flags all over the place and I should not be alone with this person, but the other half really wants to keep hearing him talk.

When Trey comes back out of the bedroom with a first aid kit and not a huge knife or axe like Patrick Bateman, I remind myself that not every stranger is a secret serial killer.

Calm down, Walker. This guy saved you, remember?

He also brought a dry towel he has draped over his arm, and a wet washcloth.

He sits on the coffee table so he’s facing me and places everything beside him.

Since he set his messenger bag aside, I get with the program and set mine aside too.

When Trey starts by bringing the washcloth to my face, I can smell the faint scent of soap, and it’s warm water that he squeezes from the cloth to flush the wound before he dabs it.

It feels really nice besides the slight sting.

“Let me know if my pressure is too firm. I can always go more gently.”

Every potential double entendre spoken in his velvet voice makes my gut tingle more than the cut on my face. Lower too. “That’s perfect. You actually know what you’re doing, huh?”

“I try.”

I really want to ask about the camera.

“So, doctor,” Trey speaks again before I can, flipping the washcloth so he can dab the cut with the non-soapy side, “what’s your specialization since you’ve finished your residency?”

“Immunology. My fellowship is coming up soon. I’ll be at the same hospital.”

“Isn’t it rare to do your residency and fellowship in the same location?”

Wow. Most people didn’t even know what a fellowship was.

“Usually. They want us out there, getting as much experience and mentorship from different sources as we can, but it’s a big hospital.

St. Vincent’s. Lots of areas to work in and, well, it’s my dream job to stay there, so I sort of begged.

” I chuckle as Trey moves on from cleaning the cut to gently patting it dry.

Someone with hands this gentle is definitely not going to suddenly stab me.

I’m still curious about the camera. I can work up to asking about it.

“I, um, have certification exams coming up. It’s sort of a never-ending cycle in the medical field.

I could take more time off, but I really want to dive right in.

Our program encourages four weeks off for exam prep and down time.

I’m half a week in and already stir crazy. I’ll be in pediatrics to start.”

“That is a commendable field.” Trey sets the towel down and grabs the antiseptic. “What drew you to immunology?”

“I was born with pretty bad asthma. Overactive immune system. So it’s always fascinated me.

I have it easy compared to people with something like diabetes or MS. Asthma attacks suck, so growing up, knowing other people were dealing with worse every day made me want to get to the bottom of why and help where I could. ”

“And here I thought I was the hero of the day.” Trey grins, being even gentler somehow with how he applies the antiseptic.

“You still are.”

“Well, don’t study too hard and burn yourself out during your down time. The weeks before a fellowship are your last chances to relax after residency, correct?”

“You seem to really know the field.”

“A little. My mother is a nurse. I considered med school myself, but travel is too much a part of my life. I had to choose a career that better accompanied my wanderlust.”

“Oh. Not sticking around long?”

He pauses, just looking me in the eyes. He is really close to better reach the cut, so our knees are just slightly interlocked. “A week or two, but the benefits of my job are that when I want to return somewhere, I always can.”

Okay, now I have to ask him about the camera and what he does—

His hand catches my attention as he’s bringing it back to my face. He’s wearing a ring. My stomach flips for about ten seconds before I remember facing each other means that is his right hand, not his left.

He notices how hard I was staring at it though, which at a glance looks like a basic band, but there’s this tiny design on it like a compass star.

“I’m not married,” Trey says, reading me as easily as a billboard sign apparently.

“Not seeing anyone either. I just liked the ring and the meaning behind always having a compass close. Nothing is more important than going in the direction one’s life needs to take, even if we’re not always certain of where we’re headed.

Nights out are part of the gig when you do what I do, so I do move the ring to my left hand sometimes when I want to be left alone. ”

“And what you do is… espionage?” I laugh and finally nod at the camera.

Trey laughs too. “I work for Manifest Ventures. It’s a US-based travel and exploration company.

We have a physical publication but primarily rely on online articles these days.

I specialize in frequenting and writing about the most unique and unusual attractions to visit in cities all across the country.

I even do one international article a year, but the idea is to get people to go places and try new things right in their own backyards that they didn’t know existed.

Influencers love me,” he adds with a wink.

I laugh again. “That is actually super cool.” I knew the camera had a sane explanation, but it still makes me wonder if he saw me and Curtis before he saved me.

But when he’s this hot and gentle-handed, does it matter?

“I can see how you’d be good at exploring a city.

You’re pretty observant, given you noticed me checking out the ring.

I also suck at subterfuge, but no getting anything by you, huh? ”

“Not usually. Although I didn’t anticipate breaking up a screaming match this morning.”

“Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be. He’s the one who should be sorry.”

“I’m pretty sure he is with that broken wrist.”

“Good.” Trey sets aside the antiseptic to study my cut. “Now that it’s clean, it’s not looking too bad. I think a little Dermabond should do the trick.”

“You have Dermabond in your first aid kit? That’s not usually standard.”

“I specialize in the unusual, remember? Sometimes it’s necessary, which is why I bring my own kit with me and don’t rely on what a hotel provides.

” He produces a Dermabond pen from the kit and starts applying it to glue my cut sealed like he’s done this before.

I guess he has. He must have a million stories.

“What are some of the strangest places you’ve been?” I ask.

“How about… a psychedelic mirror maze? An enclosed crystal bridge that houses a giant botanical garden? A room lit in neon pink for sound and experience that is the culmination of the works of a visual artist and a musician like living in a waking dream.”

“You made that one up!”

“It was riveting! I have also been to Grumpy Cat’s grave.”

I laugh again , which I really need to stop doing, because Trey has to keep pausing in his glueing. “Just as riveting as the waking dream room?”

“Life changing.”

This time, I purse my lips to avoid laughing. I’ve never had such an instant connection with someone before. It almost feels too good to be true.

“There we are,” Trey says with an appraising look at my cut again. “All finished.”

I kind of wish he wasn’t done yet. I could stare into those black eyes all day, and hear his deep voice describe weird places around the country. “Aren’t you going to kiss it to make it better?” I don’t mean it and feel ridiculous as soon as the words leave my lips.

But Trey smiles, leans forward, and presses his lips so lightly above the cut—since on it might have glued him to my face—that I don’t feel any sting, just another tingle. “How is that? Better?”

“Y-yeah. Thanks, Daddy.”

Oh God! Why did I follow up a bad joke with a worse one?!

“I am so sorry!” I lean back feeling like my face must be burning, and not from nerves trying to recover in my healing cut. “I don’t know why I said that! I am so not into that type of thing!”

Trey tilts his head, like he’s studying me.

Considering whether to kick me out? But he never loses his smile.

“Strangely, I don’t think I mind that endearment from you, doctor.

Will I be seeing you again for one to possibly four dates?

” He reaches into his messenger bag for his phone, unlocks the screen, and passes it to me.

He is really smooth. “I suppose you do have better bedside manner than most of my fellow residents used to. Okay.” I input my number as Doctor Walker. “Let’s start with one and see if I let you get to four.”

“You will,” he says in that panty-dropping voice of his.

All I can think is, despite that mess with Curtis and even if I do end up with a scar from it, this day is proving better than most in a good long while.