From me to you.

Hello all.

If my username seems familiar, it is because I have posted here in the past. That story was removed because I lost time and a connection with the characters. However, this story seemed to hit me pretty much out of nowhere. And 2020 seems like the type of year to get back into writing again. I've missed it like an old friend.

That being said, If anyone Is looking to edit a story, please reach out.

I'm still learning how to navigate literotica. I always think that I write far more then what appears In the chapters on the sight. So I'm going to do this slow and steady to try to make each chapter a mouthful.

I hope you enjoy the world that I am bringing to life.



Isn't it strange how the body can sense things before the mind can even comprehend what's happening? This guttural feeling that lays dormant inside of us until it feels like it needs to be woken up again. Because something is off. Something is wrong. Even if we don't know it yet.

That's what I feel when I step out from behind the nurses station. I can feel eyes zeroing in on me. My whole entire body feels it. When I turn to look down the hall to survey the person who is throwing off my whole equilibrium there is a slight pause in my step that I hope goes unnoticed.

It obviously doesn't. Because standing at the end of the hallway with another, older and exhausted looking, officer is a monster of a man wearing the beige clothing of a prisoner. And when my feet beneath me stumble I watch his dark eyes dance with amusement.

As I walk closer to the pair of them, I do what I am trained to, I assess the man who looks to be doing the same right back to me. He stands high, hovering several inches taller than six feet, with a body sculpted lean and covered in muscle. His left arm is decorated in some sort of black tattoo that starts with an intricate swirl on the back of his hand and disappears somewhere beyond the beige of his shirt.

"Let us know if you need help with anything," I hear Maya's voice say from right behind me.

I turn to look at her and smile from behind my mask, "Should be a quick and easy admission but I'll press the call light if I need any help."

Grabbing a vitals machine, I follow the inmate and the older CO into the room and stand with my back against the wall as the officer clips one of the handcuffs to the structure of the bed and leaves the other on the patient.

"I'm going to stand right there," the CO says as he points right outside of the door, "just keep the door open. We need eyes on him the entire time."

"Of course," I reply, nodding my head as the two officers stand at their post outside the room, talking to each other quietly.

When I turn back to look at my new patient, I allow myself to take him in now that we are close and facing one another. He has a strong jawline that is peppered with a shadow of hair, and a sharp defined nose. His eyes are molten brown and they're unsteadying as they pierce into me.

"My name is Alexia, and I'm going to be your nurse until 7pm. I'm going to grab a blood pressure on you and then ask you a bunch of questions that you've already answered today," These sentences come out of my lips too easily, because I've said them hundreds of times before in that exact same order. What I don't expect is his response.

"I don't do quick or easy," his voice is deep and completely throws me off.


"I. Don't. Do. Quick. Or. Easy." He says this slowly, as if speaking to a child.

"Yeah, I. Get. What. You're. Saying," I narrow my eyes at him and mock his tone of voice, "but what I don't understand is why you're saying it."

"You told your friend this would be quick and easy, and I just want you to understand that I don't partake in either of those."

Even though my whole body is on alert because of this man, I can't help but roll my eyes. I step closer to him and roll up the left sleeve of his beige shirt, allowing my eyes to drink in more of the tattoo and the thick muscles of his arm. The muscles on him are intimidating enough, but the black swirl of the tattoo makes me want to explore further, with shaky fingers.

Instead I run the machine to get a blood pressure on him.

The tattoo must stretch to at least his shoulders. Is it on his back too?

A soft, thoughtful hum escapes from me as I stare at the intricate loops of the tattoo. He moves impossibly quick for a man of his size, but before I know it he plucks the mask off of my face and flicks it carelessly onto the ground.

"What the-," I begin but stop immediately when I see his dark eyes grow impossibly darker, practically black, as he studies my face.

I stare back at him incredulously and my eyes dart to the COs outside the door who are still talking quietly to one another.

"You should be mine, kitten," he says, his voice deep and raw, and I can feel the warmth of his breath on my neck before I pull myself away and take a large step back.

My heart is hammering in my chest but I try to remain unfazed, "Of all the things to say, that might take the cake on possibly being one of the weirdest."

His lips pull back into a smirk and his eyes continue to melt into me.

"You say that now, but I'd wager just about anything that if I had you here, purring on your back, maybe with some of these," he pulls on his own handcuff attaching him to the bed, "that you would beg me to make you mine."

I throw my head back and let out a dry, humorless laugh, because seriously? How did my day go from compressions to this?

My laugh seems to catch him off guard for a brief moment, and I'm glad it does.

"From where I stand, it doesn't look like you have a whole lot to wager," I snort, before writing down the vital signs on the assessment sheet.

"Come a little closer then, kitten, and I'll happily teach you a thing or two of what I have," he cocks his head to the side before continuing, "and what I can do with it."

"Are you having any chest pain now?" I shake my head as I try to get this conversation back into familiar nurse-patient territory.

An exaggerated frown pulls at his face as he studies me. He touches his chest lightly as if checking to see if his sternum is still intact or if the bones are crushed beneath his fingers entirely.

"I'm not quite sure."

Holding back a sigh, I step forward and press my stethoscope to his broad muscular chest. Standing this close to a patient is a normal. Pressing my stethoscope to the chest of a patient is normal.

What isn't normal is how my stupid body reacts. I can hear my own heart beating rapidly in my ears and my body feels as if it's gotten 20 degrees hotter when I inhale the spicy and warm smell of him.

Irritated, I close my eyes and focus on the lub-dub sound coming from the patient's chest through my Littman. His heart rate is around 92 beats per minute, which is pretty fast for a fit man like him. I find some sick joy in knowing that I'm having some sort of affect on him as well.

"Normal rate and rhythm. No gallops, no murmers." I mutter to myself as I write it down on my sheet.

"Are you experiencing any shortness of breath?" I ask and immediately regret it when I watch his face break out into a shit-eating grin.

"No, but I'd very much like to be if you're offering, kitten."

And I'm not sure if it's because I'm on my third shift in a row, or that I almost lost a patient today, or that I really need a drink and this asshole is testing my last nerve. But it's got to be one of those reasons that gives me the nerve to wrap my fingers around the handcuff on his right hand and tighten it a single click tighter.

What I expect from the inmate is a look of anger, or maybe even some surprise. But instead I'm met with a cocky smirk and eyes that are glittering in mischief.

"What a pleasant surprise, that the little kitten has claws."

It starts somewhere deep within my stomach, that burning feeling, and I feel it blossom throughout my body like buds on a tree in springtime and escape through my eyes. Bringing my green eyes level to his, I reach out and grab onto the cuff on his wrist and tighten it another notch and let out a soft, mocking "meow" before storming out of his room.

Sadie is leaning against the hall talking to the younger CO and sends me a quick wink as I walk back to the nurse's station.

I can't even hold back my groan when I see Dr. Bolton, sitting in my chair flipping through the inmate's chart.

"I was just about to go into the new patient's room," he tells me while scanning over each detail in the file, "Grab some tubes for blood. If he is here for chest pain, we might as well do the full cardiac work up. Even though he's only 34 years old and obviously takes care of himself, we don't want to let anything slip through our fingers. Let's finish what the ED started so we can get him back to maximum by tomorrow."

Sighing, I drag myself into the supply room to collect everything I need. I move much slower then I typically would, wanting to put more time between me and going back into that room.

When I walk into the hallway, Dr. Bolton is standing right outside the door of the supply room waiting for me.

"You doing alright?" He asks me, as we fall into stride and walk to the end of the hallway.

Dr. Bolton is hands down my favorite doctor we work with. He is so amazing with patients and has a brilliant mind. He has every reason to gloat and be cocky, but he never is. Always humble and kind. And damn handsome on top of it.

"These last few shifts have been extra long," I tell him as we walk past both Maya and Sadie who are openly flirting with the muscular, young CO.

"I'm guessing that you girls are heading to The Tavern after work tonight?" Dr Bolton asks me as we turn into the room.

"You already know it," Maya's shouts.

"We gonna draaaaaank drank today," Sadie sings.

Dr. Bolton and I burst into laughter and he reaches out to gently touch my shoulder, "You girls deserve some good fun after these last few shifts."

"What about me Doc," his deep voice is playful, and it cuts into me and I turn towards the bed to face it, "don't I deserve some fun too?"

It's strange how sometimes the face and the body can portray two completely different emotions. His voice is teasing and his body is relaxed, as he lays back on the bed. His left forearm tucked under his head.

But his eyes, those nearly black pits are burning into Dr. Bolton's hand that's on my shoulder. When the inmate's eyes cut to mine, they're possessive and burning like coals under a fire. I feel uneasy and shift my weight from one leg to the other.

"Paxton Sharpe," Dr. Bolton greets as he steps forward and uses a stethoscope to listen to the inmate's chest, "Are you having any chest pain currently?"

Paxton Sharpe. The skin between my eyebrows scrunch together in concentration as I try to figure out a reason as to why that name sounds familiar. I've definitely heard it before, somehow, somewhere. But why?

Paxton's eyes are pinning me in place and his fingertips trace his sternum once again, "None right now. I think my little nurse here fixed me all up."

Dr. Bolton turns his head in my direction with a frown as he straightens up. "Alexia is one of the very best. We are very lucky to have her."

I smile over at Dr. Bolton as he clears his throat and explains the testing done on Paxton in the Emergency Room. He goes over his EKG and the first set of blood work taken downstairs. Everything looks within normal limits and no abnormalities noted. Heart sounds sound normal.

Paxton Sharpe. Paxton Sharpe. Paxton Sharpe.

Where the hell have I heard of that name before?

"Lexia will take a vial of blood from you again so we can compare them to the last drawn labs. If the levels have stayed the same that's good news." Dr. Bolton places his hand on my shoulder once more but keeps his eyes on Paxton, "Let us know if you feel any changes, Mr. Sharpe. The night team will be coming in at 7pm."

Dr. Bolton squeezes my shoulder softly before walking out of the room.

"Alexia," Paxton says my name like a command and I find myself stepping closer to him, even though the alarms in my head are telling me to do otherwise.

I look down at his right wrist, to where the handcuff fits snugly onto it and feel a moment of regret. How did I let this man get under my skin so easily? It usually takes a whole lot more for me to have any sort of negative reaction to a patient. Regardless if the person's a prisoner or what.

"I'm going to draw some blood."

Folding up the sleeve of his beige shirt, I tie the tourniquet to his left bicep. His veins pop up easily and quickly, unfolding beneath his tattoo like the streets of a busy city. My fingers trail across his skin, feeling for them. In all honestly, he has great veins, but I allow myself this moment of exploring his tattoo a little more deeply.

"Can't find anything good?" He teases, because at this point his veins are even prominent to his untrained eye.

The needle is in his arm before he can say another word and the vial fills with some blood. I look up from his arm and untie the band applying pressure with gauze as I retract the needle.

"Quick and easy and done," I tell him, as if proving a point from our current conversation. Turning my back from him, I slip the blood into a bag and begin to clean off the bedside table.

The clock on the wall reads 1837.

Almost done, thank God.

I'm about to walk out the door and away from Paxton Sharpe's life when I feel a strong hand grab onto my hip and turns me to face that smug, rugged man. He practically pulls me onto him, but I use my arm to brace myself. My right and is right next to his head and I am leaning over his casually relaxed body as he stares up at me.

"You already know my stance on quick and easy," his voice traps me in and I feel like it's only the two of us in this entire hospital, "but I can also assure you this. We are so far from done."

His thumb glides over my bottom lip and pushes into my mouth just slightly before dragging across my lower lip again.

"I'll be seeing you again soon, kitten." He says it so nonchalantly, as if there is no doubt at all in his mind that it's true.

As if the trance is broken, I straighten and take a step back away from him with a frown. His eyes follow me easily and I can feel them on my back as I exit his room.

Stepping out of the room feels as like stepping out into the chill of the night after being submerged in a hot tub. Like I can finally fill my lungs with air.

"I feel like that was the fastest admission ever," Sadie says as she follows me to the nurses station.

"Well duh," Maya says and I can feel her eye roll as I shake my head, "because you were trying to get booed up to that CO."

Sadie and Maya both start giggling and I try to smile but I still can feel his thumb on my lips.

The next twenty minutes of the shift go by both incredibly fast and slow at the same time. And when night shift begins to come onto the unit I feel my body relaxing.

After report and some chatting between the shift workers, the three of us walk down into the locker room to freshen up and change out of our scrubs. Replacing high pony tails with loose curls and croc shoes with black heels.

"I'm ready to draank," Sadie sings out, swinging her arm across my and Maya's shoulders as we make our way to the front of the hospital.

"How about we start with shots?" Maya asks, and they both look to me to see if I'll reject their idea of shots, because I usually do. But not tonight.

"Tequila please, with extra lime," I agree with a laugh, "It's going to go down tonight. And by 'It' I obviously mean us."

Sadie and Maya both let out a cheer as we step into the main lobby and work our way to the front doors.

The main lobby of Aurora Medical was funded by a local millionaire, and it shows. Hundreds of small lights hang from the ceiling and reflect beautifully against the expensive marble floors. A massive electric fireplace is carved into the far wall. The most beautiful part Aurora Medical, however, is the never ending windows that stretch along the entire height of the lobby. Giant windows that peer out over the city.

As we make our way out of the front doors, I watch as several men in expensive looking suits exit a large SUV that has made its way to the front of the hospital. I can't gauge the emotions of these men, but I can feel something heavy in the air.

The front passenger door to another dark colored SUV opens and a beautiful woman, dressed in an all red suit, exits the car with a large folder in her arms. Her lips are painted in the same red of her suit and they carry a smug smile.

"Boys," her voice is sultry but powerful, as she nods her head to the men before marching into the hospital. Her expensive shoes clicking loudly against the pavement.

We make eye contact, the lady in red and I, as we walk past one another. Her walking into the hospital and us walking out. The men in suits follow behind her with nervous energy.

That feeling from earlier is back and is hardening in my stomach. That unsettling feeling.

However, I don't have time to dwell on it for too long because Maya and Sadie have their arms linked through mine and are singing and laughing as we walk down the block away from Aurora Medical.

Tequila. Maybe I just need some tequila to help me forget these past few shifts. Especially todays.

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