How to Knock Up Your Nurse: A Billionaire Secret Baby Romantic Comedy

  How to Knock Up Your Nurse

  Melinda Minx

  Darkstar Press

  Contents

  1. Emily

  2. Silas

  3. Emily

  4. Silas

  5. Emily

  6. Silas

  7. Emily

  8. Silas

  9. Emily

  10. Silas

  11. Emily

  12. Silas

  13. Emily

  14. Silas

  15. Emily

  16. Silas

  17. Emily

  18. Silas

  19. Emily

  20. Emily

  21. Happily Ever After

  Free Preview of How to Wife Your Nanny

  1. Lacey

  1

  Emily

  "I want Emily to empty my bed pan! Not that male nurse!" Mr. Wilburs grumbled.

  I smiled at him, but I was near the end of my rope. "Mr. Wilburs, did you pee already?"

  "Not yet, sweetheart, but I'm trying my best just for you."

  Dylan—the “male nurse”—rolled his eyes at me. "Emily has other patients to see, Mr. Wilburs, why don't you let her get to it? I'll be here when you finally piss in the pot."

  Mr. Wilburs started going on a rant to Dylan about how back in his day, he used to be able to piss on command, but now it took him at least ten minutes to get things flowing, and Dylan was going to end up in the same spot before he even knew what hit him.

  I slipped out before I had to hear any more details.

  Dr. Ayers, the attending for the afternoon, caught sight of me and stopped me before I could get to the next room of patients. "Emily, I need you in room 112."

  "I have a whole room of patients I'm checking in on, Dr. Ayers. Is it very urgent?"

  "I'll check your patients for you. We've got a real 'VIP' on our hands in 112, and you're always best with those types."

  I closed my eyes and took in a deep breath, then I let it all out in a big sigh. "Yes, Dr. Ayers. You really know how to punish me for what I'm good at."

  He winked at me and grinned, and then he disappeared behind the privacy curtain. Now I was on my own with this self-proclaimed "VIP."

  I took my time going toward room 112. It's called the "emergency room," but the fact of the matter was, when there was a real emergency, it was very obvious. When Dr. Ayers was poking fun at a patient and offering to take over my rounds of people who were just sitting in bed for observation, I knew it was a slow day.

  I stopped and filled up my mug with some coffee, and then I finally strolled over to room 112 with my coffee in hand.

  Before I even arrived, I heard someone groaning that he had been left alone for ten whole minutes. I took a big sip of coffee and braced myself for a rough afternoon. Today was a 12-hour shift, and I had a full four hours left until I could go home. If this VIP was difficult enough, it could end up that I needed to stay even longer.

  I opened the door and stepped inside. For whatever reason, I expected to see some old guy with a big belly. Instead, I gasped audibly when I saw the man in room 112. He was one of the most strikingly handsome men I’d ever laid eyes on. Just as I was about to force my hanging jaw shut, he looked up and smirked. At me.

  He was tall. He was dark. He was beyond handsome. He ran a hand through his jet-black hair and licked his lips as his piercing blue eyes wandered down from my face to my chest, and then to my hips.

  "Hello, nurse," he said, his voice deep and silky smooth.

  He was shirtless too, and my own eyes started wandering down his body. He didn't just have a six-pack, he had extra muscles packed in there somehow. "Statuesque" might have been a good word, but no statue's muscles ever bulged like that as it straightened its back and stroked its chin.

  My eyes wandered further up his body, and finally I remembered that I was actually a nurse, and that this breathtaking man was a patient. I needed to be professional, I couldn't just gawk at him with my mouth hanging wide open.

  "Nurse?" he asked. "I can't read your name tag from here. Come closer. I don't bite. At least not unless you want me to."

  He winked at me, and I nearly dropped my coffee. We are not supposed to flirt with our patients, then again, in my defense, I hadn't said a single word. I'd just stared at him like a big dumb idiot as he'd flirted with me. Or maybe “flirted at me” was more accurate. “With me” implied I’d done anything other than stare in stunned silence.

  Still, I felt some obligation to shut him down. I didn't want to shut him down too much, but just enough that it couldn't be construed that I was encouraging him or being otherwise unprofessional.

  Focus, Emily. Focus. I forced myself to look at him as a patient, as—

  "What happened?" I asked, finally taking a step toward him and setting my coffee down on an end table.

  He had a gauze strip on his chest, which covered his right nipple. His chest was broad, and his shoulders were massive. Focus, Emily. "You hurt your chest?"

  He smiled up at me, his teeth were white and gleaming, and perfect dimples formed in his cheeks. He had a boyish—yet still intensely devilish charm to him.

  "My nipple, to be precise," he said. "I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that either I let someone into my bed who likes to bite even more than I do, or that I was trying to get it pierced and got too excited. Maybe I jumped up and the needle tore a chunk out of me. You'd be wrong on both guesses."

  He reached for the gauze pad, but I grabbed his wrist.

  "Sir—"

  "Silas," he said, "Silas Winters."

  His eyes met mine, and I felt my lips part involuntarily. My blood went cold for a few heartbeats, but then the adrenaline started pumping. Men this good-looking did not look at me like this. Ever. His eyes fell down to my nametag, which helped my ears and cheeks to not burn so hot.

  "Emily," he said, "that's a pretty name. Prettier face though, and from what I can see through those frumpy scrubs, a prettier body too."

  I laughed and giggled nervously like a stupid little high school girl whose crush had just told a bad joke. I realized then that I was still holding his wrist. It was muscular and warm, and my thumb was pressing into a bulging vein.

  "Mr. Winters," I said, voice croaking, "I'm the nurse. Let me take that off."

  "Take off anything you'd like, Ms. Nurse."

  "The gauze pad," I said.

  "I suppose you do already have my shirt off."

  I smiled and looked at him as if I were about to scold a child. "Your shirt was already off when I came in, Mr. Winters."

  He shrugged. "Maybe I knew you were coming?"

  "Or maybe you hurt your nipple and can't wear a shirt until we get it fixed up?"

  I peeled gently on the gauze and peeked inside. There wasn't nearly as much blood as I was expecting to see. Some blood was dried up on the gauze pad, but I really had to lean in closer and pull the gauze off entirely to see what actually had happened to him.

  I squinted, and I saw a tiny little gleaming piece of metal sticking out just on the edge of his areola.

  "Get as close as you need to, Nurse Emily."

  "Nurse isn't a title," I said absently. "You can just call me Emily. Mr. Winters, is that..."

  "A fishing hook?" he asked, "it sure is. That's how you know I'm a good catch."

  I couldn't help but laugh. "How many kids do you have, Mr. Winters?"

  "Kids?" he asked, sitting up straight and looking from side to side, as if the mere mention of children made his blood run cold. "No kids here, why?"

  "Because that was the most
'dad' dad joke I've ever heard."

  "If you had a fishing hook in your nipple, Nurse Emily—"

  "Emily."

  "If you had a fishing hook in your nipple," he looked down at my chest, not even trying to be sneaky about it, "would you pass up a chance to make that joke?"

  "I will never have a fishing hook in any part of my body, Mr. Winters. I hate fishing."

  "I do too," he said, "I was fishing because a client wanted me to. I told him it was a bad idea, now at least I've proven him wrong."

  "Did you at least catch anything other than yourself?"

  He laughed. "At least I caught my nipple instead of my—"

  I coughed to cut him off. "Mr. Winters, can you please lie down. I need to get a better look at the point of penetration."

  "Shouldn't you lie down for that, Nurse Emily?"

  I shoved his shoulders, forcing him down onto the hospital bed.

  "Why do they always put this butcher paper on here? Just to make patients uncomfortable?"

  "Yes, Mr. Winters. That's exactly why, now lie down. Please."

  He grumbled about it a bit, but he finally lied down. He put his hands behind his head, as if he were lounging by the pool rather than on a hospital bed.

  I grabbed a lighted magnifier from the drawer and leaned over him. I turned the light on and looked closely at the place where the hook was going into his areola. "It didn't come out."

  He shook his head. "It's got one of those little sharp hooky things on it, otherwise I'd just have torn it out myself. I don't want you to think I'm weak, Nurse Emily. If this hook were on any other part of my body—well, almost any other part—I'd have just torn it out and let the blood gush out. Maybe slap some bandages on it and call it a day. It's my nipple though. I don't want women to know me as the guy with the weird, fucked-up nipple, you know?"

  I nodded as I looked closer. Dr. Ayers really shouldn't have left me to do this alone, but this happened a lot. Nurses were expected more and more to do things that doctors were meant to do. I'd seen the other doctors do this plenty of times, and I'd even removed fishing hooks from patients before. Just never hooks that were completely stuck inside, and never from a nipple.

  "It's called a barb," I said, pressing gently on the skin around his areola, "not a 'sharp hooky thing.'"

  "Don't worry," he said, "I'm never going fishing again, so I don't need to know what it's called."

  I cleared my throat. "You'll need to know what it's called for the explanation of what I'm about to do—"

  He shook his head. "I trust you, Nurse Emily. You don't need to tell me what you're going to do. Just do it." He looked up and away from his nipple, toward the point where the featureless white ceiling met the equally featureless white wall.

  I smiled at him. "Do I detect a little bit of fear?"

  He shrugged, but it was a little too nonchalant. "I always look away when doctors—or nurses—do stuff to me."

  "But you're not scared? Not at all?"

  "I figure it will make you nervous if I'm watching you work. I don't like when people watch me work."

  I smiled. "Ah, so you're just looking out for me. That's great. What kind of work do you do?"

  "Publishing," he said. "I'm very good at it. Heard of Blackwinters Publishing?"

  "Oh, you're that Winters?"

  I'd heard his name before. I definitely had never seen a picture of him before though, because I'd have remembered it. If I recalled correctly, Silas Winters' net worth was somewhere in the billions of dollars, and I'd just always assumed he was some old guy.

  "Ah, so you've heard of me then?"

  I tried to keep my cool. Now I understood why Dr. Ayers was saying he was a VIP. So if I ruined this billionaire's nipple, I would be the one under hot water. No wonder Dr. Ayers punted this to me, that bastard.

  "Mr. Winters," I said, "I'm going to insist that I walk you through what I'm about to do. It's policy, and I need to do things by the book."

  He nodded, but grimaced.

  "The barb, which is what you call the 'sharp hooky thing,' is a few millimeters below your outer-most layer of skin. The skin here is sensitive—"

  "Oh, I know," he said, grinning up at me.

  I tried to shoot him an exasperated look, but I blushed and smiled instead like some kind of big dopey idiot. "There are a lot of nerves here, so it's probably going to hurt."

  "It hurt plenty going in."

  "Yes, well the barb is going to hurt more if I don't get it out correctly. I'll need you to stay very still. If you aren't comfortable looking...or if you don't want to watch me work to make me feel nervous, feel free to look away. I'm going to take hold of the small bit of metal that is exposed here, and I'm going to try to use the shape of the hook to force the barb back up and out of your skin—"

  "Wait," he said, "time out. Aren't you supposed to be getting this thing out of me?"

  "Once I get the barb to pierce back out—and trust me, I'm going to try to make it pop out outside of your areola—"

  "I think you're the first woman who has ever used the word 'areola' in reference to my nipples."

  "I'll get it out here.” I pointed to a spot outside his areola, on his tanned chest. "Once the barb is out, I'll use a wire cutter to remove the barb, and then I'll remove the entire hook. With the barb cut off, there should be little to no permanent damage or scarring to your skin."

  "Alright," he said, "this doesn't sound so bad then."

  "It won't be." I sounded more confident than I felt.

  A number of things could go wrong here. Moving the barb around and trying to get it to pop up away from his nipple wasn't exactly as easy as just twisting and pushing. If I messed around too much, it was going to hurt. The hook and barb were not sterile, and moving it all around was likely to cause infection. Finally, once I cut the barb, I needed to make sure there were no jagged edges or anything that could catch as I pulled the hook back in and then out.

  I wiped his skin with a sterile wipe, and took hold of the exposed end of the hook. There was still a tiny thread of fishing line tied to the end of it, but it had been cut off so it was mostly just the knot. I tried to twist the hook just a little bit, to see it it would move.

  Silas hissed in pain when I put only a tiny bit more pressure on, not close to enough to actually move the barb from beneath his skin.

  "Did that hurt?"

  "Nothing I can't handle," he said.

  "It helps if you tell me the truth."

  "It hurt."

  "Alright, the barb isn't going to move from where it is. I'm going to have to pop it out here." I pointed to his nipple.

  "This isn't what we discussed."

  "You want me to go get a real doctor?"

  He looked up at me and shook his head. "Emily, flirting aside, and also putting aside the fact that I am not just flirting—I'm very much attracted to you for a variety of reasons—but putting all of that aside, I think you seem like a very skilled and competent woman. You have a great bedside manner, and you are very matter-of-fact, even when I'm being a very difficult patient. I've always felt that nurses do the real work anyway, and that doctors tend to be overpaid jackasses. So no, I don't want a real doctor. I want you. Nurse Emily. If you say the sharp hooky thing needs to pop right out of my nipple, then so be it. Just if I ever do get you into bed, you’re not allowed to make fun of me for having a pierced nipple.”

  My cheeks turned blood red as he spoke. He was already getting to me with his aloof billionaire charm, but when he pulled it away just a little bit and spoke sincerely to me, it was another thing entirely.

  "Um, thanks," I stammered. "By the way, you really are not supposed to be flirting with me like this, Mr. Winters—"

  "I know," he said, but then the way he looked up at me told me that he knew he wasn't supposed to, but also that he knew that I liked it and didn't want him to stop.

  "Your nipple won't be 'pierced,' either, so no worries there."

  "Good," he said. "I know some guys c
an pull that kind of look off, but I'm more of a 'clean cut' type."

  "You have a 5 O'Clock shadow."

  "It's nearly 5:00, and I was fishing all day. Cut me some slack."

  I pointed to the cut fishing line on the end of the hook. “It looks like you’ve been cut plenty of slack already, Mr. Winters. Do you want me to count?" I gripped the hook tighter, and placed my thumb and forefinger around his nipple for extra grip. "Or do you prefer I just press the barb through?"

  "Well," he said, "I prefer when you do the thing where you count to ten, but then you just pull it out—or in this case push it through—on some random number before ten. The problem is, I just told you that, so it's not going to surprise me anymore, so maybe—"

  I pushed the barb through as he was talking. It popped right out of his nipple. There was some blood on it, but not much. The bleeding would come later.

  "Oh," he said, "great, you just did it. You can really read me, Nurse Emily."

  I smiled at him, and then at the barb poking right out of his nipple. "See, it didn't hurt so bad."

  I grabbed the wire cutters, and from the way all those muscles on his abs and obliques and chest flexed, I could tell he was not exactly completely at ease with wire cutters coming near his nipple.

  "Like you said, Mr. Winters, at least it's your nipple and not your..."

  2

  Silas

  I squirmed beneath the sheet. I was still wearing a pair of jeans, but I was getting so hard that she'd definitely see my bulge if the sheets weren't still covering my lower half.

  I loved it when women played with my nipples. I liked it when women with long nails dug their nails into my nipples. I liked it when women licked my nipples. And I even liked it when women bit them.