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You can read the newest version of the first four chapters in book format.

Revised Chapter 1- Carson Bradley (Get to know him better)

Chapter 1

Carson

     These damn drinks are never stiff enough when I need them to be.  The fucked-up corner I forced myself into is now leaving me trapped. I’m hours away from marrying a woman I don’t love. What the hell was I thinking? I wasn’t…that’s the problem. I slide my empty glass towards the bartender and he attentively asks, “Would you like another one, sir?”

     “Yes, but this time, make it neat instead of up.” I firmly request. The damn ice will only dilute my buzz.

     “So you like it neat?” A beautiful brunette woman sitting three bar stools to the right of me flirts with her raspy voice. She's seductively dressed and obviously on the prowl for a man to fuck. I noticed her sending sexy body signals my way earlier, but I purposely ignored them. In my state of mind, nothing appeals to me, but this drink in my hand. I slam the clear vodka down my throat and relish the burn one last time. My body turns to face her, and I unexpectedly flirt back.

     “Yes, I do and what’s your preference, Ms.?” I finally offer her the attention she's been begging for, even though I really don't have the time or patience for it.

     “I like it up and dirty.” She replies with an implying wink.

     I don't pick up women at bars. I have more willing women throwing themselves at me than I can handle. However, tonight is her lucky night. I'm emotionally fucked and my nerves are raw. She'll be a good distraction from my anxiety. I know it makes me an asshole for using her this way, but I’ll deal with the guilt along with my regrets afterwards.

     First, I'll have to delay my flight to St. Maarten. I pull my phone out of my pants pocket and make a call to my assistant.

      “Owen, I need more time in Boston. Have Captain Franco reschedule our flight for later this evening.” I hesitantly change our plans as I scribble on a paper napkin. I’m angry with myself. Why did I let it go this far? I should’ve never fallen for my mother’s power of persuasion.

     I’m thankful Owen isn’t able to visually witness my volatility. I take pride in concealing my personal emotions from the world. Sometimes I do it so well, I fool myself.

      “Mr. Bradley, the forecast for this evening isn't favorable. We should leave as soon as possible to avoid the predicted storm. The groom should not be late for his own wedding.” He lucidly replies.

       Owen’s main priority is to ensure all aspects of my business and personal life run perfectly smooth, and he’s damn proficient at it. But for once in my life, I don’t give a shit about punctuality or staying on schedule. In fact, I wouldn't mind not showing up at all. I ignore his warning and firmly ask him to carry out my request.

     “I have one of the best pilots in the nation. I’m not apprehensive about a tropical storm. Call Ms. Sorte and tell her not to expect me until sometime tomorrow. I will not leave the premises until I'm absolutely convinced my executives are confident covering my position for the next five days.” I fabricate an unlikely ploy to convince him that its work I’m uncertain about, not my wedding. He knows it’s implausible. My executives are paid an exorbitant amount for their unquestioned capabilities. I’m relieved that he obliges and doesn’t challenge me again.  

     “Ms. Sorte will be informed, the flight will be delayed and pickup will now be 9:00 p.m. this evening instead. See you then, Mr. Bradley.” Owen replies in his monotone voice.

      I swipe the phone screen to end the call and write, ‘Ritz Carlton’ on the same napkin I’ve been scribbling on.  I settle both our bills with the bartender, tuck the napkin underneath her drink and walk away.

________________________________________

     I check into the Ritz Carlton alone. With my instruction, concierge discretely escorts her to my room fifteen minutes after my arrival and leaves her in my company. I'm lounging on a leather sofa in my dark gray Gucci suit, as she confidently makes her way towards me with her hot, curvaceous body. Her clothing peels away, piece by piece, as she gets closer. I’m positive this isn't her first time. She takes one last step and is now standing completely nude in front of me boasting her pendulous, perky breasts. I’m unaffected by them because my mind is somewhere else and so is my erection.

      “An hour, possibly two is all I have. No kissing.” I impassively tell her. I'm normally not this cold or heartless, but I'm struggling tonight. She allusively smiles in response.

      She lowers herself to her knees and spreads my legs apart. I hear my zipper and then immediately feel her warm, moist lips around my semi-hard cock. I throw my head back and close my eyes. She does all she can to excite me, but I fail to respond. What the fuck am I doing? My brain slaps me back to reality. I gently grab her wrists and push her off me. I zip my pants up and raise my body up and over hers. I look down into her confused eyes and apologize. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this. It’s not you. It’s me. Please take advantage of the room and any services you want. It’s all paid for.” I strut out of the room and leave her sitting naked on the floor, speechless…

      What’s wrong with me? Even though I don’t love Bianca, she deserves better than this. How did I fuck up my already shitty situation so badly? It doesn’t matter now. I need to make it right. Meaning, I will fly to St. Maarten and marry the woman my mother believes is perfect for me.

                   ______________________________________

         

     As I ride the elevator down to the main lobby, I try to regain my composure. I almost fucked a woman, whose name I don’t know, to prove to myself that I don’t love Bianca and that I shouldn’t marry her. Who does that? And where did it get me? I’m still on my way to St. Maarten and now, I also have guilt and regret to deal with. The elevator doors open, I step out and march towards the exit. The doorman hails a cab for me. “Bradley Pharmaceutical Enterprise” I tell the driver and step in. Owen will be coming for me in about an hour so I have to mentally prepare myself.

     As I blankly stare out of the cab window, I begin to recall the events that led me to this not so happy ending…

     For over ten years, I’ve dedicated much of my time to my pharmaceutical enterprise. I discovered the cure for early stage cancers and it kept me very busy. I didn’t know how to balance work and play, so my mother took it upon herself to make it her part-time job. She sought out eligible bachelorettes for me through her many social functions. I dated a few of them just to show her my appreciation for her efforts, but none of them offered me a connection I felt deep enough to pursue. It wasn’t entirely the women’s faults.  I can admit that I have an emotional handicap.  I refuse to allow anyone into my life, even Bianca, the woman I’m supposed to be marrying tomorrow.

     My mother had witnessed my years of self-torment. It broke her heart to see me debilitated because I had lost the one person who meant more to me than all the wealth I accumulated after her death. I mourned Emily for years. In fact, I probably never stopped mourning for her. I isolated myself from society. I basically had no life. The only two things I committed to were school and cancer research. I became obsessed with trying to find a way I could’ve saved Emily from that vile disease. My obsession led me to stumble upon a targeted cure for all early stage cancers. The success only made my situation worse. It isolated me even more because I spent all of my time trying to find the ultimate cure for cancer. Then to make matters go from bad to worse, I lost the one friend I made after Emily’s death to cancer, also. Professor Steward reached out to me when I was a freshman in college. He believed in my determination and guided me under his wings. Together we developed the drug that has made me one of the wealthiest men in the world. Unfortunately, Professor didn’t live long enough to reap the reward of our success. He lost his battle with pancreatic cancer. After his death, my obsession to find a cure for cancer sprung out of control.

     My obsession did not settle well with my mother nor would it for any mother. She became really concerned for my mental health. My mother intervened by creating a distraction for me. She helped me plan my first Lymphoma Yacht Function. It worked! I was completely excited about contributing to a fundraiser that benefitted cancer research and services. This little baby step led to bigger steps, like dating. After I got over my anxiety of the first date, eventually I felt more comfortable and sought the company of more women. I didn’t mind having my choice of beautiful women willingly offer themselves to me.

     Dating was one thing, but commitment was off limits for me. Again, my mother intervened. She couldn’t handle the idea of me not settling down and having children. I was approaching thirty at the time. She relentlessly pleaded with me every opportunity she had. She justified that she wasn’t getting any younger and that all her friends inconsiderately boasted about their beautiful grandbabies when she had none. Her brainwashing worked. I started to believe that she deserved happiness and grandbabies.

     My mother introduced me to Bianca a little over two years ago. She met her at some cancer fundraiser and fell in love with her for me. Bianca is no ordinary woman. She screams sex-appeal. She’s a beautiful platinum blonde, blue eyes with large supple breasts. She turns both men’s and women’s heads when she enters a room. Just like any typical man, I was not immune to her sensuality, at first. We had an amazing physical attraction. She knew how to satisfy me like no other woman could. She was also very accommodating.  Bianca did everything right to please me except for touching my heart. She didn’t know how to or maybe I didn’t allow her to. Regardless, I just couldn’t make myself love her, no matter how hard I tried. Several times I wanted to break off our engagement, but somehow, someway, my mother convinced me to stay with her. I guess I can blame my mother for loving me too much, but not for the shitty predicament I’m in. This is my fault for not being a man and ending it when I should’ve.

     The cab driver drops me off in front of my building. I give him my usual over the top tip and he thanks me for my generosity with a huge smile. The cool evening air feels nice. My tensed body and mind welcomes it as I walk into my building. I enter through a private side door and ride the elevator up to my office to wait for Owen to pick me up for our flight to St. Maarten. Tomorrow, I’ll be unhappily married to Bianca…

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A little teaser from Chapter 17

“Do you find my accent or me sexy, Lily?”  

He smiles with his lips loosely pressed together and with one eyebrow arched.  His incessant erotic kissing seduces the area behind my ears and along my jaw, a very sensitive zone for me.  He knows my weakness, and he’s going for the kill.  It tickles and sends my neurons into an explosive electrical shock, arousing my entire body.

 

“I find everything about you sexy.”  I breathlessly confess what he’s been longing to hear. 

“C’est bon!  I want you to have eyes for only me, mon Amour, and no one else.  Qui, Mademoiselle Ly?”

 

“Keep this up and my faint vision of Amelia’s host will forever be erased.”  I taunt him while refraining from laughing.

 

He sensually grazes the length of my jawline with his lips and tongue, nips the delicate lobe of my ear with his teeth and slowly pulls away from my extremely aroused and willing body.  He leaves me yearning, almost shamefully begging for more.

 

“Carson, please don’t play hard to get with me.  I need you.”  I give him a sour pout for not getting my way.

 

His expression is subdued.  “You need to be punished for being naughty, for toying with my emotions, little Vixen.”  A playful smirk overtakes his frown as he fights hard to hide it.  

Chapter 3- Part 3

Lillian

An unexplained epidemic of local sick children pours into the hospital, causing chaotic panic among the staff.  Every room is completely occupied but the number of ill children continues to grow.  They’re vomiting and dry heaving unremittingly without any relief.  The awful smells and sounds are foul enough to make me gag my insides out.  But there is no time for weak stomachs.  I run around frantically attending to the ones who are helplessly waiting for assistance.  It brings overwhelming tears to my eyes seeing so many young babies and children crying in pain and discomfort.  The agonizing expressions on their faces are unbearable to witness.  I hate to see anyone cry in pain, especially children.  I want to gather every one of them into my arms and heal them immediately, take their suffering away.  I pick up a feeble infant boy who struggles to give out dim whimpering sounds.  Both of his parents are sobbing.  Their hearts are heavy with concern.  I hug him tightly in my arms and say a silent prayer while holding back my own tears.  “God, please help me cure all these innocent babies.”  I open my eyes, gather my strength and lead them down a congested hallway.
    

To my astonishment and disbelief, I see Mr. Bradley among a crowd of wailing people with his IV pole kindly assisting a family of three young children.  He generously offers them his private room.  He tenderly kneels down to one of the little girl and wipes her tears.  She grants him an uplifting smile, reaches for his hand and holds onto it.  He receives her gesture with delight.

Why is this arrogant, self-centered man being compassionate?  I’m confused.  My heart is even more confused.  The only thing I’m certain about is I can no longer deny my feelings for him.  Coincidentally at that very moment, he affectionately looks directly into my tearful eyes.  His expression is warm and sympathetic.  He sees right through my hard armor and directly into my heart.  I break our intense gaze and mouth, “Thank you!”  He rewards me with his heart-wrenching smile and playfully salutes me with his right hand. 

I call Amelia and Richard, who are both assigned to the same hospital thirty minutes from here, for reinforcement.  They came as soon as they completed their scheduled shifts.   I’m ecstatic and relieved to see them.  I need all the help I can gather.  I briefly introduce them to Mr. Bradley.  Richard is reserved and cautious when he shakes his hand, while Amelia is her amicable bubbly self.  We divided into six teams and eventually stabilized all the children by late evening.

It has been a long and exhausting evening.  We’re all completely drained and ready to crash.  I want nothing else but to fall into my bed and sleep for the next twenty-four hours.  The idea is pampering but impossible.  I could never afford the luxury of wasting that many hours on sleep.  I’m constantly committed to classes, studying and hospital rotations.  

As we walk around the corner to the main hospital entrance, I spot Mr. Bradley wearing ceil blue hospital scrubs speaking to someone on the phone.  He has a troubled expression on his face.  I jealously wonder who he’s talking to…maybe a girlfriend.  And why am I jealous?  Argh...I'm frustrated with myself.  I wave him over to our direction once he finished his call.  His expression lightens up. 

“Mr. Bradley, do you have a place to stay for the night since you kindly gave up your room?  You’re more than welcome to come back with us.  Even though you’re stable, it wouldn’t hurt to have medical staff at an arm’s reach.” I unexpectedly offer him.  I see both Richard and Amelia’s faces in complete shock. 

“Thank you for your generous offer, Dr. Ly.  I would really appreciate a place for tonight since my housing arrangements are not ready for this evening.”  The arrogant jerk I talked to several hours ago has seemed to disappear and is replaced with this more agreeable charming man. 

“You can stay with me.” Richard hesitantly offers.  I’m not surprise that he volunteers his place.  He must’ve sensed my attraction to Mr. Bradley and wants to keep the distance between us.  I don’t blame Richard for his ill feelings towards him.  I had assured Richard from the beginning that I have no room for romance and now, I’m obviously lusting over another man in front of him.  I have to admit it’s a better option for him to stay with Richard anyways.  I wouldn’t be able to sleep, knowing Mr. Bradley is merely steps away from me.  I don't trust my irrepressible hormones.

He drives off with Richard and I catch a ride with Amelia back to our dormitory.  Amelia questions me relentlessly about Mr. Bradley.  “What is going on between you and this handsome Mr. Bradley?  I've never seen you this animated around a man before.”  Am I that obvious? 

“I don’t know what you’re implying?  I’m just trying to be gracious to a homeless man.” I unconvincingly deny. 

“I’ll drop it for tonight because we are both dog tired, but I will need answers from you tomorrow, alright?”  She narrows her eyes sideways at me.  I nod my head to appease her.

We all arrived at the dormitory at the same time.  The air in the elevator is unbelievably thick as soon as the doors close and seal the four of us in.  I refrain from looking directly at Mr. Bradley but fail to avoid indulging my eyes at his handsome reflections from the stainless steel doors in front of us.  I see Richard’s impassive expression from the reflection as well.  No one opens their mouth, not even to breathe, it seems.  This is by far my longest elevator ride up to the tenth floor.  The doors finally open.  We single file out.  Women first and then the men follow behind.  Mr. Bradley unconsciously places his palm at my lower back to courteously guide me out.  His brief touch sends an ardent yearning sensation throughout my body but I shake it off promptly.  I can’t lose my control in front of everyone, especially Richard.     

“Good night.”  I softly bid him. 

“Good night, Dr. Ly.”  He responds with searching eyes.  I quickly evade them.  I’ve already made it this far.  I can’t fail now.

Richard leads Mr. Bradley in the direction of his room.  He’s not happy about sharing his place or his girl with this man.  I can clearly see it in his sulking eyes.  I steal several more irresistible glimpses of Mr. Handsome Bradley to add to my mental portfolio of him.  Amelia catches me but she’s too tired to wrestle for answers.  I’m sure she will not let me off the hook this easily tomorrow.  I better prepare myself for her many inquisitions.  But the second I enter my room, I plunge into my bed from extreme exhaustion.  I didn’t even have enough energy to dream about Mr. Bradley.  Well...maybe just a little one...

***Pictures are not mine.  They're shared via Pinterest.  The actor/model is NOT affiliated with this book.  The characters are fictional.***

This is the last chapter I will share with all of you.  I hope  that you've enjoyed reading the unedited version and will want to continue reading the remaining story when it becomes available via e-book.  I'm aiming for July 2013.  I will keep you posted via this blog.

Continue following this blog for sexy excerpts from further chapters.  The suspense at the end will make you want to read book 2 ;) 

Thank you for reading and supporting my first writing venture!!!!!

Lan LP 

Chapter 3- Part 2

Lillian

I nervously walk towards him…the man I’ve been having illicit dreams about is now staring deeply into my paralyzed eyes with his own enslaving hazel green eyes.  He looks confident, stern and controlled.  His mind seems preoccupied.  I think he’s studying me and determining if I’m professionally capable of managing his care.  Maybe he thinks I’m too young and inexperienced.  I give him one confident smile and avoid his inquiring eyes.  The last thing I want is for him to validate my attraction to him.  My eyes would undoubtedly deceive me. 

He doesn’t embrace me with a smile.  But for some odd reason, this makes him even more incredibly attractive to me, in a distinguished way.  I notice his bountiful undulating dark brown hair is now neatly groomed and his flawless chiseled face is also freshly shaven.  I visually trace the length of his masculine jaw line to his charming boyish one-sided dimple.  God, he’s hot!  I obliviously bite on my thumb nail without thinking.  He follows my finger with his severe eyes.  I’m caught.  I nervously remove it and bite on my lower lip.  I evade his meticulous eyes and focus on his full luscious lips which are pressed firmly together.  Deja-vu thoughts of him licking his lower lips flash through my mind.  I’m reminded of our ambulance ride and how lustful he made me feel then as well as now.  “Cut it out!”  I caution myself.

Mr. Bradley is much taller sitting upright.  I speculate he’s probably over six feet…dominantly towering over me.  He is undeniably one of the sexiest men I've ever seen.  Of course, I already secretly know how tone and perfectly muscular his body is underneath that hospital gown.  Holy shit, I’m losing it again.  What’s the matter with me?  I have to shake these craving thoughts out of my idiotic head.  He needs to see me as a professional medical resident not some ogling admirer.  Unfortunately, the weight of his continuous stare hinders my focus even further.  I encourage myself to quickly peruse his medical chart and gather the information I need to provide a quick assessment.  Mystery man now has a real name.  Carson Bradley, born May 31, 1980…how coincidental, we have the same birth day but he’s ten years my senior. 

“Hello Mr. Bradley, I’m Dr. Ly, your assistant medical resident.  I will be working under the guidance of Dr. Stanford to help accelerate your recovery here at this hospital.  Besides for a few minor bruises and mild dehydration, you are fortunate to have survived your mishap in that frightful storm.  Do you have any questions or concerns for me?”
 

I inform him in my most authoritative voice.  His confidence in my professional abilities is invaluable to me.  I expect him to look beyond my youth and not equate it with inexperience.  He takes my hand and shakes it firmly as if he’s sealing a business transaction.  His touch stimulates all my senses and confirms my desires for him are indisputably real.  Our hands remain together for longer than a customary handshake so I regretfully remove mine before my uncontrollable hormones expose me. The tingling sensation from our touch still lingers on my hand. 
    

“First of all, thank you for saving me and for your professional care.  I will be forever in your debt, Dr. Ly.” 

His penetrating eyes command my attention, but I’m afraid to look into them.  They remain fixed on me regardless.  Oh shit, his deep manly voice is as sexy as the rest of him.  I’m utterly doomed. 

“Mr. Bradley, it’s my duty to care for all wounded and sick people.  You don’t owe me anything.”  I pray my confident voice will not disappoint me as I respond. 

“Then will you please tell me how much longer I will be detained here?  I’m a busy man.  It’s imperative for me to leave as soon as possible to handle pressing business matters back home.”  He continues to stare at me with studious eyes.  “I have people waiting for me.  I can’t waste any more time being stuck here.”  His considerate tone is now completely arrogant and demanding.  He transforms into a conceited asshole within minutes. 
  

Initially, I am taken back by his haughty response and attitude.  However, I’m relieved to see this unattractive side of him.  I was completely accurate about my stereotyping of his kind.  The lustful trance he has over me sizzles out instantly, yielding overflowing steam from my simmering anger.  I have an urgent need to run out of this room and leave him behind as quickly as possible.  I glare at him with my eyes sideways and slightly narrowed. 

“I do not detain anyone here against their will.  As soon as I complete your vitals and if they are satisfactory, I will release you by the end of today.  You can tend to your pressing and personal needs then, Mr. Bradley.”  I reply harshly through gritted teeth. 

He’s stunned from my abrasiveness but also seems amused at the same time.  There’s a visible smirk on his face even though he fails miserably to conceal it.  Does he think this is funny?  I don’t find anything amusing about his arrogance.  I’m fuming with irritation.  I assume he’s unfamiliar with women being this forthright and challenging with him.  He’s probably accustomed to them surrendering to his every beckoning needs and commands.  In other words, kiss his egotistical ass.  I am not that type of woman.  I don’t kiss anyone’s ass.

“Dr. Ly, I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful.  I hope I didn’t offend you.”  There’s remorse in his tone.  I blatantly ignore his apologize.
 

His beseeching green eyes may be slightly convincing.  But at this point, I don’t give a crap about what he utters out of his mouth and stomp out hastily.  As soon as I’m far enough away from his room and out of his view, I puff out an irascible breath.  I lean my shaken body against the supportive wall behind me in hope of regaining my balance.  “What an arrogant and ungrateful son of a bitch…I can’t believe I was fantasizing about you!”  I angrily scold myself.  This is why I can’t allow any men into my life.  They’re too complicated.  I reclaim my composure and collectedly continue with the rest of my hospital rounds. 

Carson

Damn, no woman has ever dared to confront me like that.  I was already taken by her beauty and intelligence but her spit fire and strong will makes her even more irresistible to me.  How can I possibly think clearly with that seductive ruffled expression on her stunning face?  If only she would allow me to take her into my arms and seal my eager lips over hers, she would know how much I desire her.  She has a sexy habit of biting her lower lip when she’s crossed as well as nervous.  Christ, she’s making me hard for her without trying or knowing.  I’m forcing every fiber in my body to fight my attraction for her.  It’s driving me insane that I’m unable to control my own emotions.

I’m tired and bored of willing women telling me what I want to hear.  I never know what’s really going through their minds because they’re in constant fear of how I might react to their honesty.  I crave deep conversations with real opinions and sentiments.  I love her brutal emotional honesty.  It initiates an intense purpose for me to want her, in a determined way.  But what the hell am I saying?  I thought I’ve already convinced myself to leave her alone.  This is why I’m deliberately arrogant and curt with her.  I'm intentionally pushing her away from me with my better judgment even though I don’t want to.  I'm torn, especially after seeing her upset because of me.
  

I will only end up breaking her heart because I’m incapable of loving anyone.  “Don’t be a selfish bastard!”  I reprimand myself.  “Let her be!  She deserves better.”  But why is my heart triggered by her?  I’m more alive than I’ve ever been in years.  What should I do?  I have to distance myself from her, the sooner the better.  The tough challenge is to somehow secure my thoughts and desires for her until Owen picks me up.  I’m not sure this is possible for me…



      ***The pictures are NOT mine!  They're shared via Pinterest.  The actor/model are NOT affiliated with this fictional story.***

Chapter 3- Part 1

(Unedited Version-Contents may be inappropriate for readers under 18)

I’m completely spent from my restless night of sleep.  I repose in the comfort of his protective arms utterly sated from our carnal night of lovemaking.  I immediately reminisce about the multiple orgasms we enjoyed together…

 As I fervently lay prone over a decadent down pillow, he leisurely walks his two fingers up the back of my ticklish legs.  I’m wearing nothing but a delicate black lacy thong.  The sensual taps of his fingertips lure dormant cravings deep within my body.  His fingers suddenly stop at my upper inner thighs, purposely coaxing more intense desires for him.  It's effective.  I want and shamelessly beg for more.  He proceeds with wispy feathery kisses along the middle of my lower back.  My body squirms pleasurably underneath him.  He slowly parts my thighs and slides the thin lace material to one side for full access to my velvet lips.  With every slow touch of his fingertips along my sensitive skin, moisture gathers and I desperately yearn for him to take me.  He sensually places his two fingers over my moistened sweet spot and begins a soothing circular massage.  The rhythmic motion sends me almost completely over the edge.  He has an approving expression on his face, watching me fall apart under his control.

It's apparent to him that my body craves more.  He gently rolls me onto my back with the same pillow propping my pelvis up.  He continues his sexual taunting with his skillful tongue as he places his head between my unsteady bent knees.  And at the same time, he also caresses and kneads my breasts with his free hand.  The arousing motion and pressure of his warm tongue and two fingers circling inside me provokes an explosive orgasm.  I moan and pant pleasurably.  He's pleased.
  

I hear my loud voice moaning over and over again…but now it sounds more like buzzing…oh shit, it’s my damn alarm clock!   I fight hard to open my rebellious eyes.  I don’t want my pleasure to end.  But unfortunately, I have to succumb to reality.  And the harsh reality is discovering that I was having an erotic dream of my mystery man, alone in my bed.

 I'm already struggling to stay focused in my first class as snippets of my vivid and lustful dream dominate my unsettled mind.  Nothing can penetrate my sinful obsession.   I can’t stop seeing his handsome face and imagining his delicious lips and hands all over my body.  Ugh…this will be a dreadfully long day for me.  How can I think about pathology at a time like this?  I’m angry with myself for not being able to concentrate and for allowing this mystery man, who I know absolutely nothing about, to dramatically influence me this way.  “This crazy fixation has to end immediately!” I scold myself.  I can’t allow anything or anyone to interfere with my academic goals. 

After I harshly lecture myself over the importance of regaining control of my raging hormones, I was much more productive in my remaining two classes.  I’m thankful Amelia and Richard did not detect my neurotic state of mind.  How can I explain any of this to them when I don’t have a rational explanation for myself?  I temporarily muffle this foolishness.  The question is how long will I be able to repress it?  I’m hoping to hang on until after our first encounter.

Carson

Ouch, I feel an unfamiliar sting in my right arm as I push my body up from a reclined position.  “Where the hell am I?”  I look around to search for any clues or answers.  I am hooked up to an IV pump and wearing a damn hospital gown with no boxers.  My ass is bared to all who enters my room. 

The last thing I remembered was apprehensively jumping out of my private jet in the middle of a severe, blinding, tropical rainstorm. Captain Franco announced that we would have to make an emergency landing on the turbulent water.  I frightfully jumped into the dangerous infinite depths of violent waves.  My body immediately surged remotely away from Owen and the inflated raft.  I yelled out in hope of seizing his attention.  There was no response from any direction.  I was on my own.  Initially, I courageously swam for my life but it was pointless.  There was no way to cut through the darkness of that desolate night.  I might as well have been a helpless blind man in a panther’s den.  Eventually, I gave up my useless swimming and played it smart by reserving my energy.  The crashing waves continue to beat forcibly against me as I drifted for many long torturous hours with the help of my life jacket. 

I was fearful of not being discovered before the unknown depths of the water would take my life.  I thought of Bianca, my fiancée of one year, who was anxiously waiting for me to wed her on the island of St. Maarten.  Even in the possible final hours of my life, I still had strong reservations about marrying her.  I had wished for love to enter my loveless life hours before this trip.  This wasn’t exactly how I imagine love would reenter my life.  And then there was the thought of losing all my years of cancer research if I was swallowed up by this vast body of water.  This daunting thought was by far more terrifying than dying.  I had to fight to remain alive for the sake of my work.  I had millions of people's lives riding on my survival.
  

The endless blindness of night finally lifted only to expose to the excruciating heat and scorching sun.  My throat was parched and my lips were painfully chapped with blisters. Though I was completely surrounded by water, I wasn’t able to drink a single salty drop of it.  This was the worst form of torture.  I only survived the horrific night just to suffer the beating heat from above.  I wasn't sure how much longer I would last.  But just when I thought my time here on earth was up, I spotted dry land from a near distance.  I thought I might be hallucinating, but I didn’t care.  I desperately swam towards it with whatever remaining life I had left in me.  I dragged my lifeless body onto the beach and reached out for help, a foot…

          ______________________________________

A blushing young nurse walks into my room and my recollections are abruptly interrupted.  She timidly introduces herself, barely makes any eye contact and begins assessing my vitals.  I remain compliant to allow her to complete her tasks and then fire my questions at her all at once.  She informs me that I was brought to this hospital by a medical resident who found me on the beach unconscious.  She also mentions the hospital has done everything to keep my case confidential which I am very pleased to hear.  The last thing I need is the damn paparazzi coming here to destroy this hospital’s peacefulness and my personal privacy.  I deal with plenty of their shit back in the states.  I decide to keep my anonymous identity for a while longer and give her just the minimal details she needs to complete her medical charting.  I begin with my name and date of birth, “Carson Bradley, 32, born May 31, 1980.”

I don’t want to be anything but lazy today which is abnormal and uncharacteristic of me.  I only want to bask in the radiant sunbeams shining through the far west window.  My recovering body and mind are uninhibitedly immersed in the warmth and glow of the sun.  It’s therapeutic for me.  My mind is free of any stress or obligations.  I’m almost at the center of my tranquility when careful sounds of docile footsteps enter my room and halt me in my mental track. 

I glance over my right shoulder for a glimpse of my new visitor.  I suddenly feel an unfamiliar tug in my chest as my body hardens into marble under her boundless beautiful presence.  Why is my heart racing so rapidly?  I am instantly mesmerized by the delicate, feminine features of her slender and youthful face.  There’s a mysterious hint of exoticness about her, possibly Asian or Hawaiian.  She has the most captivating and distinctive glimmering light russet brown eyes covered with naturally, dark, thick lashes.   I find myself hypnotized by them. Her fair complexion is slightly kissed by the golden sun in all the desirable places, on the tip of her dainty nose and cheek bones.  Only by sheer will power am I able to keep my distance and not reach out to touch her soft glowing skin.  Her silky, dark, chestnut colored hair is neatly tied back in a single long ponytail which enhances her professional appearance.  I can’t resist imagining how sweet her full rosy lips would taste upon my own and her gorgeous smile…what model wouldn’t kill to have that stunning smile.  I think my mind would forsake me if she would’ve granted me more than just one perfect smile.
     

She is well above average height.  Her svelte body is hidden under her over-sized professional white lab jacket.  If I have to guess her age, I would say mid-twenties because of her academic level but she’s obviously younger in appearance.  She seems coy and innocent as I continue to steal glimpses of her unblemished beauty.  I have a burning impulse inside me to study her for longer than the few seconds she grants me to gaze into her deep brown eyes.  Everything about her is extraordinary to me.  

I attempt to memorize every remarkable detail about her without detection.   Her hair is parted to the right.  There’s an adorable tiny mole underneath her left eye.  If you blink, you would miss it because it’s unnoticeable, but not for me.  She bites on her thumb nail or lower lip when she’s nervous.  She’s left handed and wears no rings on any of her fingers.  I’m selfishly pleased with her unmarried status.  I'm smiling on the inside while hiding it on the outside.  Shit, I feel embarrassed for losing myself in her presence.  I hope it’s not apparent.  My unexplainable attraction to her is beyond my usual discipline.  This peeves me because I'm normally in charge of every situation in my life.  How is it possible for me to be this intensely drawn to this young woman?  We’ve only met just a few minutes ago and we haven’t uttered a single word to each other.  Why is she distinctive from all the other women?  Is it gratitude I’m feeling for saving my life or is my heart finally telling me to wake up?

I lost Emily, my high school sweetheart, to Hodgkin’s Lymphoma at the tender age of seventeen.  With her suffering and death, she took my heart and I haven’t loved or cared for any woman since then.  I know we were young but the love I had for her was real.  My heart hasn’t felt that way for anyone else until now.  Sure, I’ve been with many beautiful women but at the end of the day, I was left feeling empty and alone.  This is probably why they only lasted a few weeks to several months.  I grew tired of trying to find love when it didn’t exist for me.  It was impossible to replace Emily.
 

Bianca served as my longest void companion.  I honestly never loved her.  I was coerced and brainwashed by my mother to settle down.  She couldn't handle the idea of me being unhappy and alone for the rest of my life.  She relentlessly worked on me for two years before I finally surrendered to her wishes.  “Please Carson.  I’m not getting any younger.  I want grand-babies.”  She would plead every opportunity she had with me.  I finally caved in a year ago and agreed to marry Bianca to make my mother happy, not me.

It would be narcissistic of me to expect this rare young beauty to give my vacant heart a chance when so many women have hopelessly tried and failed.  How cruel and selfish of me to even consider subjecting her to my loveless world?  I mustn’t allow myself to pursue her.  I would only end up killing her pureness and innocence if I fail to love her…

***Pictures are NOT mine.  They're shared from Pinterest.  The actors/models are not affiliated with my book.  The story is fictional. 

Chapter 2- Second Part

 Chapter 2- Second Part

My first semester has swiftly flown by.  But I can’t say it has been an easy breeze either.  I’ve had my share of headaches and sleepless nights.  I knew the academic demands would be challenging but when long hours of hospital rotations are added to this mad equation, the pressure is multiplied by tenfold.  I pray that I will be able to endure the remaining long years ahead. 

On my non-hospital rotation weekends, I spoil myself with visits to the local botanical gardens or walks along the fine white sandy beaches.  It doesn’t sound too exciting for most people my age but it’s my ordinary way to cope with stress.  While walking the length of a beach one vacant Saturday, I discovered a secluded spot just a few miles away from the dormitory.  I was destined to stumble upon.  This place is hardly or never occupied by vacationers or locals.  It’s my secret retreat for studying or just relaxing my overstressed mind and body.  The area is cleverly hidden by colossal coral-covered rock boulders with sharp rugged surfaces.  Shady palm trees naturally grow in all the right places, allowing the brilliant sunlight to perfectly strike only certain areas.    

After such a crazy-ass week of finals and extended late hours at the hospital, I’m more than ready to visit my secret hide-away.  I pack a small picnic lunch, my iPod and a cozy flannel beach blanket and head out by myself.  I feel somewhat guilty about not sharing this exclusive spot with Amelia and Richard but I figure they can find their own special place.

I neatly lay my blanket over the soft powdery sand to forge a beach bed under two shady palm trees.  No oversized umbrella is needed.  I shuffle through my iPod’s playlist for Relaxation Music and tap Play.  Enya’s angelic voice is undeniably soothing.  I lazily lower my stressful body down and close my over-fatigued eyes.  “Ah… this is the life.”  My arms and legs stretch out freely, enjoying the cool-humid breeze.  I convince myself to take a quick cat nap first and then study for the rest of the day when I’m replenished with new energy. 

My body eagerly rests like it’s been deprived for weeks, maybe months, savoring every precious minute of it.  It doesn’t take long for me to reach REM state.  I’m in a peaceful sleep coma until an alarming sensation of wet fingers lightly grasping my right ankle seizes my attention.  It suddenly kills my brief snooze into relaxation.  My ears are occupied with faint moaning sounds coming from beneath me, not my earphones.  Am I having a hallucinating dream?  The exhaustion combine with the heat has completely overtaken my drained mind, I think to myself.  It seems and feels real but is really real?  I abruptly open my heavy lids to confirm, squinting and blinking against the glaring sunlight until I could focus my burning watery eyes.  Horrific screaming from within me follows without any control.  “Oh my god, oh my god and holy shit!  Who or what the hell is attached to my ankle?”

 There’s an unconscious man lying prone on his abdomen with his right hand attached to my ankle.  I can’t see his face or chest to determine if he’s still breathing or not.  I’m hoping and praying that he’s not dead.  I quickly pull my quivering right leg away from him and hug both my legs tightly against my chest.  My body is defenselessly rocking back and forth.  “God, why me?  Why now?”  My mind runs for its wits but my body remains stationary and dumfounded. 

“Cool it Lily and put yourself together!”  I mentally slap myself, gather my sanity and immediately crawl to his side to assess his condition.  I flip him over onto his back and remove his lifejacket to release his body from its confine.  His face is covered with sand so I gently finger stroke it off his cheeks and forehead.  My heart unexpectedly flutters with desire from the sight of his alluring face.  Where is this coming from?  I shake my head several times to brush off this ridiculous attraction.  I lift my blanket off the ground, shake the sand loose and prop his head up with it.  Then I exert all my might to roll his heavy body into a recovery position and obtain his pulse rate and vital signs.  “Thank Jesus, he’s alive!”  The man is suffering from dehydration.  I quickly call my assigned hospital to send an ambulance over for his rescue. 

I sit by his backside to wait for the paramedics while maintaining a vigil watch over his weaken body.  My heart hasn’t stop hammering since I first encounter this stranger.  It’s crucial for me to regain control of my madness.  This man needs my professional care.  This is what I’m trained to do. 

After thirty minutes or so, the paramedics arrive with their emergency kit.  They lay his frail body on the stretcher and quickly start an IV.  They transport him into the ambulance and insist I drive in the back with them to the hospital.  I’ve never ridden in one before.  The ride is jerky, which is to be expected, due to the horrible road conditions as well as incoming traffic.  Several times I almost fall forward because of hasty stops they make for reckless drivers and crazy pedestrians.  The loud siren continuously blares in my ears…I’ll definitely have this annoying ring in my head for several days to come. 

His sun-chapped lips beg for my attention.  I wipe a moist towel over them, pealing his lips apart.  He responds to it by lightly licking the moisten path with his tongue.  I hear him softly mumble something under his breath but it’s incomprehensible.  Is he trying to tell me something?  Why do I have this lustful desire in my gut as I watch him trace his sensual tongue along his lower lip?  Again, I’m guilty of admiring his lean defined face which is heavily covered with dark bristles.  What am I doing?  I force these forbidden thoughts out of my head and continue to monitor him for signs of progress.

We thoroughly inspect all his pockets for any form of identification.  There is nothing but his initials ‘C.B.’ on his platinum cufflinks that distinguishes him.  His costly designer suit is perfectly tailored to conform to his fine body.  I also notice an expensive gold watch on his left wrist.  One of the ambulance guys makes a repulsive comment about his Rolex watch costing over $75,000.00.  Wow, I can’t imagine anyone crazy enough to spend that much money on a small watch.  He has no wedding band on his ring finger.  And why am I checking for his eligibility status?

Right away, I fabricate a quick personal assessment of him, persuading myself to forget these unexplainable desires.  He’s probably arrogant, self-centered and enjoys an affluent lifestyle.  Everything is catered to him.  He’s not married therefore he has commitment issues.  This incident has perhaps sabotaged his plans of meeting one of his many swimsuit model girlfriends.  He has a different flavor for all his needs.  He never lacks the company of a beautiful woman.  I’m willing to put my money on this fact.      

I have a character flaw of judging people based on their materialistic appearances- similar to those who stereotype people with tattoos.  It’s a terrible trait that I’ve inherited from my mother.  I’m not proud of it.  Many unanswered questions flood my mind about this mysterious man as I sit and stare at his languished body and striking face.  Even though he’s not my type, why am I drawn to him?  Not that I have any guidelines for the perfect type.  I think to myself. 

We finally arrive at the hospital and he’s quickly transferred to a private room.  Since his identity is unknown, the hospital has maintained the highest level of confidentiality for him.  Two eager female nurses begin to remove his dampened clothes, first the jacket, then his vest and dress shirt and finally his pants and boxers.  I catch myself examining his gloriously lean, muscular, naked body in an unprofessional manner as I nervously bite my thumb nail.  I secretly yearn to walk over to his side and trace my fingers along his entire body, not sparing any areas.  He is endowed in both length and girth, I shamefully note. 

I’m disappointed when they quickly dress his distracting ripped, athletic-type body with a unisex hospital gown.  Where is all this lust coming from?  Am I finally experiencing my suppressed teenage hormones?  Seriously, I need a good smack to knock some sense back into me.   I eventually convince myself to smother these crazy, erotic, mental thoughts and resume my role of assistant attending resident.

I walk over to his bed and examine him closely.  He is indeed a fine-looking male specimen.  Stop it!  I place my two fingers on his radial artery and obtain his pulse rate, 55.  I assume he works out from his healthy rate and his perfect muscle tone.  There I go again losing my train of thought.  I quickly release his wrist and step away from his bed.  I think I better let the nurse complete his physical assessment.  I’m not thinking straight.  For reasons I can’t understand, this man is slowly breaking down my invincible barrier I’ve worked years to build and reinforce.

Dr. Stanford, the lead physician, orders a comprehensive lab workup for my mystery man after the nurse reported her evaluation.   He responds well with continuous IV fluids.  I decide to keep my distance from him, only observing his condition from his medical chart.  I would hate for Dr. Stanford to witness my unprofessional gawking of our patient.  Besides, I’m not quite ready to face him when he becomes conscious. 

I leave specific orders with the nursing staff.  He is to remain rested in bed and to personally call me if there are any notable changes.  This isn’t standard practice, of course.  But then I’ve never been irrational attracted to any patient or man before.  I’m usually in a hurry to leave the hospital but not this evening.  I long to be near C.B., a nickname I gave this mystery man, obviously from a distance.  But unfortunately, other obligations are waiting for me back at school.  I have three lecture classes to attend, starting early tomorrow morning.  “School must come first.”  I remind myself.

I’ll attend my classes and swing by tomorrow afternoon to visit him.  This will give me an entire day to prepare myself for our first face to face encounter.  I have to be confident and professional.  I cannot allow him to see my weakness for him.  I give myself a 'go team Lily' pep talk.  

And now, the tough challenge is to get through tonight and tomorrow…

***Pictures are shared from Pinterest***