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“You enjoy hurting me?” He watches my fingers work. “Not the mood I usually encounter when a woman has her hands on me.”
To keep myself from laughing at his audacity, I tug the next stitch tighter.
“Sounds like those women have poor judgment.”
His deep, rich chuckle rumbles through my fingertips, which are still pressed to his skin. Heat blooms low in my stomach.
Focus.
“Tell me your name.”
I don’t glance up, but my suddenly heightened senses pick up on the warmth of his gaze. “Doctor.”
“Not what I asked.”
“Doctor-patient boundaries.” I tie off another suture. “Learn them.”
His hand whips up in a blink, catching my wrist. He’s controlled but not rough as he draws me close, his jaw two inches from my cheek, his breath warming my collarbone and sending a buzz down my spine.
“Let me go!” I wiggle my hand, but it’s no use in his vise-like grip.
He reads the badge clipped to my scrub top. “Dr. Lucia Romano. Beautiful name for a woman with ice in her veins.”
My gaze flicks to his, and I have to remind myself that I’m a professional in order to keep my tone cold and steady. “And you are?”
He flashes a grin and finally lets go of me. “Marco. Just Marco.”
I snort. “Well, Mr. Just Marco, this is the last time I’ll be—”
“Wait, Marco…Santori?” Jenna gasps from the corner of the room. “The kickboxer?”
He tips his head toward her. “Formerly.”
I glance over at Jenna. “Should I know him?”
Her eyes brighten with excitement. “He was huge. A title contender. Then the doping scandal hit, and he became a public disgrace. The news was everywhere.”
Ah. That explains the confidence.
He hides the shadow that crosses his face with a chuckle. “I’m flattered that you remember my many accomplishments. Unfortunately, my autograph doesn’t hold much weight these days.”
My lip curls. “From sports hero to… Well, what exactly brings you into my ER with a stab wound?”
“Happened on the job. A wrong place, wrong time kind of situation.” He shifts on the bed.
“And your job now is?” I slide another suture through his skin. “What work involves the possibility of being stabbed?”
He stares at me for a long moment before smirking. “A cliché, perhaps, but if I tell you, I might have to kill you.”
Though his tone is simple, there’s no hiding the edge of danger. He might be joking, but this man won’t hesitate to kill if he needs to. I can see that much in his eyes.
That realization crashes over me.
Tonight must be some buy one get one free special on encountering terrifying men.
Of course he’s not a victim. He’s the kind of man my brother went chasing after into the dark, all charm, smug menace, and the assurance that comes with being untouchable.
My hand tenses, and the next stitch into his skin earns me a sharp inhale.
