After a brutal night where Dr. Paget came in every hour on the f*****g hour to make sure she could wake him up, after a tech brought in a tray with a breakfast of cereal, juice, and bacon, to be washed down with decaf coffee that looked like piss water, she arrived to examine him, fresh as the proverbial daisy—the witch. She raised an eyebrow when he clutched the sheet tight to his side.
“You’re not going to be difficult, are you? I assure you I’ve seen any number of butts, male and female.”
“That may be, but you haven’t seen mine.”
“Actually, I have, and I’m about to again. That is, if you want to go home.”
That was right, she’d had to have seen his ass when she stitched him up. What had she thought of it? He had a thing about having his ass touched—he didn’t like it. None of his hook
