A Gambling Heart: A BWWM Billionaire Romance Read Online Free PDF Page B

replied airily.
    Of course I knew it was a bedpan. But what did she expect me to do with it? Take a bath in it?
    “Miss, I need you to help me get out of bed so I can go to the bathroom and pee.” She looked skeptical. I wasn’t going to pee in a metal tin can for all the money in the world.
    “You can’t get out of bed,” she replied.
    “Of course I can,” I argued. I was on the verge of losing it. A few seconds more and I was going to wet my pants.
    “No!” She cried in alarm as I attempted to rise.
    “Miss…whether you like it or not, I’m going to pee in the goddamn toilet. Either you help me up or I swear to god I’m going to piss my pants and that means more trouble for both of us.”
    The thought of her cleaning me up was…erotic.
    “Alright,” she agreed hesitantly, “but please don’t faint on me. I don’t think I have the strength to catch you.” Her honesty was refreshing.
    She came near and slid an arm around my neck. With her other arm, she grabbed hold of my shoulder and lifted me up slowly. Her nearness was intoxicating. Her breasts were inches away from my face.
    The blood rushed to my head and I swayed by the edge of the bed. She held me tightly with both arms around my chest to keep me from falling. The sensation of her arms around me was something I never felt before.
    “Put an arm around my shoulder,” she said. I needed no second prompting.
    We hobbled to the bathroom door, where she hesitated momentarily. “Can you manage?”
    I was tempted to say I couldn’t manage just to feel her hand on my cock but decided that might push her over the edge.
    My pee tinkled on the ceramic of the toilet bowl as I shivered in delight. That felt good as my hair stood on ends.
    I must have peed for ages when I heard her call out, “Mr. Smith, are you alright?” Who the hell was Mr. Smith? I decided to ignore her.
    I checked my reflection in the mirror over the wash bowl to check for any bruises. There were none. I decided to splash some water on my face when she called out again. “Mr. Smith, I’m coming in.”
    “I’m fine…I’m fine,” I replied as I opened the door.
    She was standing there with a worried look on her face. We repeated the same procession going back to the bed, she with her arms around my waist. I wished the bed was farther away in the next room or somewhere down the hall, so she could hold me longer.
    She fussed over me as we got back to bed, fluffing the pillows and tucking the sheets tightly. She took hold of my wrist and took my pulse. “Erratic,” she said under her breath. Hell yeah.
    “Do you know why you’re here in the hospital?” Suddenly she was all business.
    “I was in a car crash,” I replied.
    “Do you remember who brought you here?”
    “Probably my manager, Steve Truman.” Twenty questions? Or she was checking me for insanity.
    “I need to leave you and tell the doctor you’re awake,” she said.
    The thought of her leaving brought a strange pang.
    I was a macho kind of guy, never clingy, but the thought of her leaving was unsettling.
    Without thinking I grabbed her hand and said, “Please…not yet. I-I would love to have some water.”
    I saw her hesitate. Would there be repercussions if she gave me water. I hoped not. I didn’t want to get her into trouble. But she obliged and filled a glass with tepid water from a jug nearby.
    “Just take small sips,” she instructed, propping my head up.
    “Thanks,” I replied as I gave my urbane smile, the one I normally reserved for the paparazzi.
    I saw the intake of breath. Good. At least she wasn’t immune to my charms. I pressed my advantage and added, “Thanks for sitting with me, I appreciate it.”
    “I should have left ages ago. You were my last patient, Mr. Smith. But I was out last night with my friend in this bar and barely had any sleep. I’m sorry I fell asleep on your couch.”
    She was refreshingly candid. Probably had a few drinks too.
    “It’s quite alright, Nurse…?” I