Page 105 of Wicked Proposal

I take in the sight of the EMTs rolling stretchers in. So many people wounded. So many patients in need.

“I’ll help,” I tell her.

“You don’t have to?—”

“We’re short-staffed again tonight, aren’t we?” One glance at Gwen’s tight brow tells me I’ve hit the nail on the head. “C’mon. It’ll be easier if there’s two of us.”

With a grim sigh, she nods.

We triage the last handful of patients from the pile-up with quick, silent efficiency. By the time I’m rushing out the doors, I have twelve missed calls from Yulian.

I immediately dial back. “I’m so sorry,” I pant, “there was an emergency and I’m?—”

“Still at work,” his voice says, much closer than I’d expected it. “I can see that.”

My stomach drops.

It’s been two weeks since we saw each other. The last time we did, I was naked, wrapped in Yulian’s sheets and Yulian’s scent. I was wrung out, reeling from more orgasms than I’d ever had in my life, the sweet ache of him still pulsing inside me.

Now, as I collide with his firm cheese grater abs, his cologne hits me with full force, yanking me back into those memories. Back into the feeling of his body on mine, his arms around me, his?—

“You’re warm.” Suddenly, his hand is on my cheek. “If you caught something there?—”

“I’m fine!” I squeak, a little too shrill. “I, um—I’m okay. Shift just ran long is all.”

“An hour and a half long,” His gray eyes pierce me, cold, unreadable. “You’re late.”

Any other day, I’d be getting right back into his face, snapping about priorities. But if there’s something the past two weeks taught me, it’s how badly I need this job.

So I hang my head and say, “I’m sorry.”

He seems surprised by that. “What, no backtalk? No excuses?”

“Would it make a difference?”

“No,” he muses. “No, it wouldn’t.”

I look up into his eyes. My fingers are twisting his shirt, but I’m only distantly aware of it. Not nearly enough to stop.

“Please,” I rasp, “don’t fire me.”

He falls silent. For the longest time, he doesn’t say anything at all.

This is bad,I realize, my heart sinking into my stomach.He’s going to fire me, isn’t he? I’ve fucked this up beyond repair, I?—

“You were saving lives.” His deep, husky voice snaps me out of it, bringing me back to the present. Back to him, still pressedagainst me, as close as that night. “You don’t have to apologize for that.”

I’m stunned. I stare at Yulian’s face and try to figure out if this is his idea of a joke, if his lips are going to quirk up at the edges, flashing that handsome dimple one last time before he kicks me to the curb.

But he doesn’t do that.

Instead, he turns to his Maybach. “Maks,” he calls. “Go to Mia’s place and pick up her dress. You can take her car. Then meet back up with us at the venue.”

“W-what?” I stammer.

“You don’t trust Maksim with your precious Honda?”

“That’s not the issue!” I look between the two men, utterly lost, but neither of them seems to be batting an eye at this. To make matters worse, Yulian is already heading for his Maybach again, expecting me to follow blindly. “I need to get ready, I—where am I even gonna shower?!”