Page 33 of Craving Cooper

“Of course. If she’d been right for you, you wouldn’t have spent so much time looking at other women.”

“It wasn’t that much time,” I say, feeling uncomfortable.

“Yes, it was. It was certainly more time than should be devoted to other women when you’re supposed to be in a relationship.”

I can’t deny that, but I’m not sure I like having my life choices scrutinized by someone who works for me.

“What’s your point, Greta?”

“My point is that Mallory deserves better.”

“Better than me?”

“Better than the way you’ve always behaved around women.” She shakes her head, like a disapproving school mistress, who’s just caught her favorite student cheating, and she goes over toward the storeroom, before she turns and looks back at me. “Don’t hurt her, Cooper.”

I want to say I won’t, but with all the uncertainties rolling around my head, I can’t be sure of anything…

I can’t even be sure I won’t hurt her.

But I know if I do, I’ll never forgive myself.

My last patient of the day is a complicated extraction. It should have been straightforward, but as with most things in my life right now, it hasn’t run to plan, and by the time Mr. Reynolds is ready to leave, it’s nearly six-fifteen. We should have been finished forty-five minutes ago, and he’s as relieved to get out of here as the rest of us.

Greta leads him out to the reception, with a leaflet of follow-up instructions, which she’s repeating to him almost verbatim, while I start clearing up. There’s quite a lot to do, but when Greta returns, I’m most of the way through it.

“Is he booked in to come back?” I ask.

“Yes.” She doesn’t tell me when, and just gets on with helping. Part of me wants to tell her not to bother, but I’m tired and don’t feel like finishing all this by myself.

With two of us, it takes a lot less time, and before long, she’s ready to go.

“I don’t think I told you, but I’ll need to leave early next Friday,” she says as I follow her out.

“Oh?”

“I have a doctor’s appointment.”

I know better than to ask for details, and wait while she fetches her things from the lunchroom, locking the front door after she’s gone.

As I walk back past, I glance down at Mallory’s desk. She’s already gone for the day, but I know she’ll only be up in her apartment, and I can’t help wondering if I should go up there and withdraw my invitation to the festival. I still don’t know why I made it. I’m her boss, and I’d hate for anyone – particularly Mallory – to think I’m taking advantage of her… especially as I know that my thoughts about her aren’t entirely innocent. They’re far from it. They’re about as sordid as it gets.

I switch off the lights and climb the stairs, by-passing my door and heading for the next flight, up to Mallory’s place. Putting my foot on the first step, I stop, taking a deep breath. What will I say to her? I mean, Greta might have thought it was unfair of me to invite her, but would it be kinder to go back on that?

No. No, it wouldn’t.

I step back and retreat to my own front door, opening it and letting myself in.

As I flop onto the couch, I wonder if it would be easier if I didn’t want Mallory so much. Obviously, there’s every chance I wouldn’t have asked her to the festival with me, if that were the case. But if I had, would it be simpler not to want her? Would it be less complicated if I could allow my feelings for her to grow, rather than starting off at the deep end, like this? Or is that merely a part of what makes it so confusing? Is it more difficult because she’s been a regular feature in my life for the last three months, and yet I’ve only really noticed her – only really wanted her – since last weekend?

Why are there so many questions?

I close my eyes, although they pop open again almost immediately, fixing on the ceiling above my head. There it is… that same sound I heard last Sunday night. I haven’t heard it since, but I know exactly what it is. It’s Mallory. And now I know she doesn’t have a boyfriend, I know exactly what she’s doing.

Instinctively, I lower my pants, freeing my bone-hard cock and wrapping my hand around it.

“Oh, yeah, babe…” I whisper the words, imagining her sprawled on my bed, gazing up at me, as she fingers herself. Her mouth is open, and while I’m tempted by that, I find it hard to resist everything else that’s on offer. I want to taste her. I want to feel her come on my tongue right before I bury myself deep inside her. More than anything, though, I want to claim her ass. Oh, shit… that’s gonna make me come already. I open my eyes, just to erase that thought… to delay things, but I can’t, and I stifle a cry as my body convulses into yet another almighty orgasm.

I want her so fucking much, but even as I’m drifting back down to earth, my senses returning to something like normal, I hear a cry from above, and although I have to strain, I can definitely make out the words, “More… give me more…” between Mallory’s gasps and sighs.

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