Claiming His Firecracker Read online

  With one final, ringing shriek, fingernails digging into the floor, Fiona’s back arched, pressing her mound further into my mouth as her whole body shuddered with an orgasm, breasts bouncing up and down as she shivered with the energy.

  Just when I thought she was finished, she buckled again, crying, “I’m coming again! Oh God, Jagger, I can’t stop, I can’t stop!”

  Something about her words, her desperation and fear and raw excitement, made me explode.

  I covered the floor in my cream as she came down from her high, shaking, sweaty and deliriously happy.

  “Fuck, Jagger,” she murmured, placing a hand on my face. “I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  And then we kissed, making our promise of eternal love once more.

  ***

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  Claiming His Easter Bunny

  This surgeon doesn’t do relationships until she hops into my life

  She’s dressed as the Easter bunny bringing joy to the sick children.

  Even in the costume her curves are obvious.

  All I can think about is ripping off the bunny suit and giving her some joy.

  I do women, not relationships. Besides it’s forbidden.

  But she makes me feel ways I’ve never felt.

  I’m the doctor but somehow she’s healing me.

  I’m going to break all my rules for her – she’s mine

  *** A steamy STANDALONE contemporary romance with a smoking hot hero. No cliffhanger, no cheating and a guaranteed happily-ever-after.***

  Chapter 1

  INGRID

  “CAN YOU HEAR me in there?” Lauren asked.

  She’d been the one to convince me to volunteer at Children’s Hospital Los Angeles. Since being randomly assigned as roommates in college, we’d been best friends, and she’d just helped me work through a difficult time.

  “Just a few more minutes,” she said, trying to muffle her laughter.

  I couldn’t fault her. I was dressed in an oversized bunny costume and I had no one to blame but myself. After volunteering for the past three weekends, I was appalled to learn the hospital had no plans for an Easter celebration.

  Almost two decades had passed since I spent my sixth birthday in a hospital room, watching my parents try to pretend it wasn’t as bad as I knew it was. No other children in my class had to miss half of the school year for checkups, hospitalizations, tests and appointments, but there I was, in the place that had become like a second home.

  Severe childhood asthma had riddled my early years with more misery than any child should witness, let alone endure. From tests to surgeries, there was always a good reason for me to stay overnight for observation.

  Strangely, I don’t remember the sadness hospitals are known for as much as the joy that still warms my heart thinking of the regular celebrations and performances organized by the staff of volunteers. They seemed to make up holidays, always giving the children a reason to celebrate.

  It was an opportunity to get out of your dull hospital room, parade through the eggshell-painted hallways, and forget about your diagnosis or upcoming treatments. We would laugh and dance like regular healthy children, even if only for a few hours.

  When I joined Lauren’s support group for the children, she told me she wanted me to help them better serve the patients, and making a big deal out of every holiday was the best way to do that.

  I can’t say I would have been as adamant about the need for a giant bunny costume to be rented if I had known I’d be the one wearing it.

  “Ingrid? Are you okay in there?” Lauren shouted this time, the humor quickly draining from her face.

  “I’m fine!” I yelled back, hearing my voice strain to make its way through the coarse netting around the mouth of the costume.

  Lauren, nodded, always the worrier, before leading me into the conference room. We’d spent three hours transforming the stuffy room into a pastel-colored festival. The kids had already had their faces painted, created cute greeting cards and snapped photos by the time I waddled in, waving my arms from side to side beneath the costume.

  The slightest movement was exhausting in the heavy and hot fur. Glancing around the room, I tried to focus on the laughter and smiles of the children to keep myself from passing out.

  “Can I make a wish?” A voice squealed from the right. Glancing down, I noticed little Emily – she was the sweetest patient, one of my favorites. Her latest round of chemotherapy had taken most of her blonde hair, but she still lit up the room with her smile.

  “What can I do for you?” I knelt, taking her small hand in the oversized paws covering my own.

  “I want my hair to grow back as fast as possible,” her blue eyes staring so fiercely I feared she could see me through the costume.

  “Oh, that’s no problem at all. But I have to tell you, you are so beautiful just as you are,” I assured her, watching the dimples appear in each of her rosy cheeks.

  “You think so?” She squirmed bashfully.

  “Oh, I know so,” I wrapped her into a hug before awkwardly hopping over to the next child. The room was alive with excitement, and my hop seemed to excite everyone even further as loud bouts of laughter rang out like a chorus.

  Forgetting about the heaviness of the costume, I smiled as I spoke with the children, even though they could not see my face, allowing their contagious giggles to fuel me. The parents, doctors, nurses and fellow volunteers stood along the edges of the room, watching in delight.

  I remembered my own parents and the great lengths they would go to just to bring a smile to my face during my own childhood sickness. It felt more than rewarding to know that I was returning the favor, even if only in a small way.

  Lauren had prepared small gifts unique to every child’s needs, and she led me around the room to deliver each one as I listened to their wishes, which ranged from a new book to a cure for a sickness they couldn’t even properly pronounce.

  By the time I finished circulating the room, I was grateful for the shield of the mascot costume, because it hid the tears that rolled down my cheeks. Knowing I couldn’t deliver on the more serious requests was heartbreaking.

  Lauren had warned me about the emotional toll volunteering at the hospital would bring, but I didn’t expect it to be so overwhelming so fast. In just a few weekend visits, I’d grown attached to these children and their stories, finding ways to donate more than time as often as possible.

  Unfortunately, my career didn’t allow for much time off. A recent promotion put me in charge of the entire online division at the marketing firm I’d worked for since graduating from UCLA. Social media engagement was my specialty, and as the industry grew, so did my reputation.

  I was constantly sought out for private meetings and consultations to help older brands dive into the new way of doing things, which had many benefits. In a city like Los Angeles, connections go a long way, and I had made some important contacts over the past few years.

  There were very few clubs I hadn’t created a campaign for or restaurants who didn’t know me by name. Reservations were a sure thing, and that was worth more than gold in the city of angels.

  Suddenly, a doctor barged into the room, catching my attention. More than his striking features, I noticed the annoyance on his handsome face. I’d met most of the doctors my first weekend volunteering, but his was a face I doubted I’d ever forget.

  The white coat that distinguished the doctors did little to hide his broad shoulders, and the glare in his eyes brought a weird sens
ation deep in my belly.

  “Ingrid, let’s start with the pictures,” Lauren whispered as she pulled on my arm, jolting me back to reality.

  For a second, I’d forgotten all about the costume and kids surrounding me, lost in the hazel pools of the mystery doctor’s eyes. Being in the costume meant that I could stare without worrying that he would catch me. One by one, Lauren moved the children on and off my lap as we posed for the camera, but my mind was still remembering those piercing eyes.

  “I’m so happy you came to visit us!” Randy beamed as I lifted him onto my lap. He was smaller than most seven-year-olds, due to a rare form of bone cancer. We’d spent many hours coloring in his room during my past visits, but I’d yet to see his smile so big.

  “Me too, Randy. Me too,” I smiled beneath the heavy mask just as the flash of the camera captured his smile.

  Chapter 2

  TRISTAN

  MY EYES SCANNED the room in search of Marie, the resident in charge of prepping my current patient. As I made my rounds through the ward, I found that several rooms were empty, unprepared for my daily visit.

  If there was one thing I hated, it was disorganization. My schedule was important and my time valuable. I’d told my residents more than once that I would not be their babysitter, but this new admission seemed determined to make me prove it.

  For the second time, I was searching for her throughout the hospital, when it should’ve been the other way around. I didn’t need to teach her, she needed to learn from me. I was a premier surgeon, one of the best in the country.

  “Tristan, relax,” Robert grabbed my arm just as I spotted Marie, watching the gathered children without a care in the world.

  “I am relaxed,” I argued despite clenching my jaw so tightly I was sure my temples were protruding.

  “Who are you looking to scold at now?” The amusement in his voice would set me over the edge if he was my subordinate, but Robert was my peer, a fellow pediatric surgeon.

  A smirk curled my lips as I sighed deeply, feeling the tension in my shoulders release. Robert was the best at forcing me to chill out, which was one of his specialties. Although he was a decade my senior, Dr. Robert Gleeson was nowhere near as accomplished as I was. He’d even recently requested a letter of recommendation from me to help get his child into a prestigious private school in the city. Of course, I obliged, but I couldn’t help but imagining how humiliating that must have been for him.

  “Marie is late on the rotation.” I glared across the room to the resident who now saw the fury in my eyes. She quickly made her way to the exit, careful to avoid me as Robert still gripped my arm, refusing to allow me to follow her.

  “Look around, Tristan,” he waved his arm around the room. “You don’t have to be tough as nails in here. It’s an Easter celebration, for crying out loud,” he teased, his shoulders shaking as they always did when he told one of his mediocre jokes.

  It was the first time I noticed the festivities, blinded by my fury earlier. While the commotion had drawn me to the conference room, I’d been so focused on spotting Marie, I hadn’t appreciated the cheesy decorations hanging from the walls. A pastel bomb had exploded, bringing much needed color to the dull walls of the hospital.

  Even more bright were the smiles on the faces of my small patients, most with little to be happy about. It was a tough profession, constantly delivering bad news to the most innocent faces. It was a breath of fresh air to see them all laughing, their attention captivated by an oversized bunny dancing at the front of the room.

  “I’m a fan of whoever was willing to dress up in that costume to make these kids smile like this. I haven’t seen them this happy since…” my words faded as I wracked my memory for such a joyous occasion at work, or anywhere, for that matter.

  “Ever?” Robert offered. He was certainly one of the few people who could understand how rare it was to hear such loud laughter at work. He too had to see the look of defeat on their faces with every bout of bad news. “There’s no need to punish Marie. This event was so unexpected, and some of these kids haven’t laughed in months. She just got caught up in the joy.”

  “Yeah, I guess so,” I admitted, crossing my arms as I continued to watch the bunny, who was now leading the children in a short dance routine.

  “Who picked the short stick to be stuck in the costume?” I felt a small laugh climbing from my chest. Whoever was in that ridiculous outfit was doing a great job of entertaining not only the children, but also the adults.

  With a smile, Robert shrugged his shoulders. Watching his amusement, I wondered if I would ever be able to embody the personality that made him such a great doctor. He may not have been as accomplished as me, but Robert’s patients loved him in a way mine never would. He smiled and spent time with the patients and their families. He didn’t need to look at charts to remember names, and he even took the time to celebrate birthdays and holidays with every single patient.

  It was more than I could ever commit, choosing instead to be as disconnected as the overly involved profession allowed. It was what made me great, but a part of me always wanted that connection Robert so easily attained with his patients. I wanted them to know I cared too, just in a different way.

  It was no secret that the nursing staff and residents alike thought I was a dick. With me, it was all business and no praise. As far as I was concerned, curing an illness or saving the life of a patient was all the reward you needed. But Robert had been coaching me about being more personable, making everyone feel welcome on the floor. It wasn’t natural to me, but I knew it was something I needed to do to build morale.

  “I’ll tell you what,” I started, already wanting to back out of the suggestion before the words left my mouth. “Whoever can make these kids smile like this deserves a bit of recognition.”

  Robert’s nod let me know he liked the direction I was going in. It was common for him to praise the staff of volunteers. He even had the nurses create a bulletin board to leave anonymous thank you cards for the growing staff who came in nightly.

  “Tell them dinner is on me,” I continued, rushing the words out before I could come to my senses.

  I knew the group of young undergrads who had volunteered did so with me in mind. They were all pre-med, with dreams of one day working for me. A dinner with me would be more than they deserved, but I knew it would blow their socks off.

  “Really?” Robert looked both amused and shocked, both of which were understandable. What exactly did I have to talk to a twenty-one-year-old student about?

  “Maybe that’s not the right–” I started backtracking, but Robert would have no part of it.

  “No, no! That’s perfect. I’ll bring them by after the celebration is over,” he hurried, leading me out of the conference room before I could withdraw my offer.

  The entire walk back to my office, I wondered if I’d made a poor decision. Certainly, the volunteer would be intimidated by me, as they all were. At times, it felt everyone around me was walking on eggshells, hoping not to disappoint the famous doctor. In the past year, I’d had more write ups in journals, magazines, websites and newspapers than a D-list celebrity.

  Every time the photo crew showed up, I wondered if they were truly impressed with my career, or if I just looked the part of their favorite doctor on TV. It was weird how my looks could influence even the medical journals, but I had the skills to back it up.

  No surgeon in America had completed as many successful pediatric surgeries as me in a calendar year, and I was just getting started – less than a decade into a storied career they would one day write books about. College kids were already studying my journals and procedures, a rarity for someone as young as me.

  “All your patients are ready for you, Dr. Hill,” Marie stood at the door to my office like a scared child.

  “Good. I’ll see them now,” I replied after a brief pause to regain my composure. Robert was right, there was no need to punish Marie for enjoying a rare moment of happiness, one she mi
ght not experience here with these children ever again.

  * * *

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