Rebound, Boundless Series, Book 1

Chapter Six

Regret made me dizzy. As I walked back to my friends, I was numb with fear that he would take home another woman. Women had shamelessly ogled him whenever he was near. Even my girls were left stricken by him. He was so devastatingly handsome and sexy that I was afraid to lose him before I even had him. And he was interested in me, boosting my fluctuating self-esteem. I couldn't get over his reveal that he had wanted to ask me out on a date. Never in my wildest dreams had I believed I had a chance with this handsome doctor.

But no one was going to take me away from Chelsea.

I looked back at him a couple of times and he just stood there watching as I walked away from him. I'd bet the few dollars in my wallet that women had never turned him down. When Chelz saw the grim look on my face, she poured me another shot. I knocked it back and didn't dare look for him again.

After what felt like a million minutes, I scanned the room for him. He had arrived at his lounge. With a shake of his head, Dashing sat down. He raised his leg and rested it on his lap. He leaned back and put an arm on top of the sofa back. Glowering at me, his foot fidgeted and his lips formed a thin line. Each time I glanced at him, I found him staring back at me with an intensity that made my bones shiver. He was analyzing me, seemingly plotting on ways to overturn my rejection.

I was sure I left him with quite the blue balls.

Brooding eyes pierced through me, and I looked away to talk to the girls. It was so loud in the club, but, knowing he was there, I felt a deafening silence.

Out of all the nights to encounter him, did it have to be this night?

Chelsea, sensing my sadness, urged me to dance. Darby pulled me up from the couch. She held onto my shoulders and led the dance routine. I laughed and loosened up.

The server came back to our table with more mixed drinks. I hadn't ordered anything, but Darby handed me the cocktail. I took a sip and put it down on the glass coffee table. "He can't take his eyes off of you," Darby informed.

I casually looked over and sure enough, he was watching me. "He's hot isn't he?" I asked and she vigorously nodded her head in agreement. "He wanted to take me home, but I declined. Did I make a huge mistake?" Darby wasn't a proponent of one-night stands.

I wasn't a prude, but I'd also never considered myself highly fuckable.

"I would've," she said then sipped her drink while looking at him lustfully.

"Back off, bitch. He's mine." I said in mock anger. We laughed. I hugged her, finding some solace that I'd made the right choice in staying with my friends.

The latest Reggaeton song played, Keta and I looked at each other and squealed. It was in our dance mix for our classes. I walked over to the other end of the couch where she sat next to Marta. Keta stood up, and we did a combination of Salsa and Hip Hop moves. When the song mixed into another, I couldn't help but look over at Dr. Dashing. I thought I saw him smile.

Full of hope that we could see each other again, I smiled back at him.

Keta led me into a few Salsa moves, twirling me. When she tried to dip me, I felt myself falling down. As I stumbled backward, my leg rose up and my left shin hit the bottom edge of the glass part of the table. I fell onto the low couch, feeling a sharp pain. Gasping, I instantly put my hand on my shin. My palm was wet. I lifted my hand toward my face and saw streaks of blood. Once Keta saw the blood, she grabbed damp napkins from the table, placing pressure on my leg.

The girls surrounded us, checking to see if I was okay. A large forearm parted them, and Dashing appeared. On bended knee, he picked up my leg placing it on his thigh. He peeled my hand holding the napkins. The blood pooled from the wound. With fresh napkins, he covered the tear and applied pressure. "Keep this on here. You're going to need stitches." He looked at me reassuringly and gave me his curt smile.

I realized he was in doctor mode.

"Do I have to go to the hospital?" My voice quivered with concern. It would cost me a fortune. I couldn't afford to keep getting injured.

He softened, giving me a reassuring smile. "No. This one is on the house." He gently squeezed my hand. "I'll go get my kit. It will clot soon and the bleeding will stop, but I need you to keep the pressure on." He turned to the girls and yelled out, "I'll be right back."

Chelsea sat next to me, taking my free hand. "You're fine, sweetie. It's a small cut. Probably a couple of stitches. Dr. Dashing will be right back." She said with a smile.

I started to cry, "I ruined your night. This is your party, and I'm here bleeding. I'm a disaster." I pulled my hand free and dabbed my eyes, trying to wipe the welled-up tears. "I just wanted you to have a great time. And I wanted to enjoy this with you." The racked sobs made my voice crack. The alcohol and pain caused me to blubber. "He even asked me to go home with him, but I told him no because you're important to me. You're my best friend."

"Perla, you mean to tell me that hunk of deliciousness asked you to go home with him and you told him no because of me?" She asked.

"Yeah." I sobbed. "I wasn't going to walk out on your big day," I responded.

"My big day is my wedding. Your big day is going home with him. You haven't gotten him out of your mind. He's asked you to spend the night with him, go for it." She wiped the tears from my face.

In my tipsy state, I couldn't even fathom what I looked like—mascara running and streaking concealer.

"I wish you could've seen yourselves dancing. It was like an inferno out there." After dipping the napkin in the ice bucket, she continued to wipe my face clean. "When he comes back, let him stitch you up, take you home for a good fuck. You've been a sex-deprived, whiney bitch for a couple of years." She tried to pat down my cowlick, but the frown on her face let me know she failed. "Here he comes." She patted my chin.

Chelz moved, giving him room to sit beside me on the couch.

Once again, he pulled my lower leg onto his lap, removed my hand, and slowly peeled the napkins. The blood had stopped flowing, but the cut was deep enough to see the meaty tissue inside. He reached into his bag and pulled out a small flashlight, passing it to Chelz for her to hold. She illuminated the wound while he dug into his bag again, retrieving a package.

As he slipped his large hands into latex gloves, I inappropriately wondered if his long fingers indicated the length of his penis. Even injured, I was fixated on sex. Chelsea was right—I was sex-deprived. And Dashing was the only one to scratch the itch. He reached for another white packet.

When he pulled out a sterile needle, I passed out.