Page 62 of Dr. Intern

“Funny,” I mutter, unable to hold my tongue.

“What’s funny?” he asks cautiously, as if he knows where I’m heading with my comment.

Beau may be ridiculously intimidating on the outside—the kind of guy you’d never talk to at a bar because you wouldn’t think he would be into you—but I’ve learned that he’s more like a gentle giant than a macho monster. Beau might toss you around and exude pure confidence in the bedroom, but afterward, he’s still going to make your coffee and leave you a friendly note in the morning. Which is why I have no hesitations about what I’m about to say next.

I shrug my shoulders and stifle the smirk that wants to form on my lips. “I just never took you for the guy who doesn’t fight back.”

And with those words, I know I’ve won.

Beau’s brown eyes flash darker as his large hands dig into my hips, pulling me so close that I’m pressed firmly against his impressive bulge. The grind of the fabric against my clit makes me gasp, a quick bolt of desire pulsing through me.

Tangling his fingers through my braid, Beau tugs hard so on my hair that my head is forced to fall against his shoulder.

“I’m going to give you one chance to take back what you just said,” he breathes in my ear, his tone warning. “When it comes to you, I’ve got rounds of fight in me. And if we do this, I’m not stopping, even if you tap out.”

My core clenches as he pulls harder at the nape of my neck.

“Let’s see what you’ve got, big boy.”

Beau’s dangerous eyes flicker with the last drop of his resolve as he takes a single deep inhale and mutters, “Fuck it.”

In an instant, his lips are clashing against mine with a ferocity that surprises me. It’s feral, like a starving wolf that has finally found its prey. It’s a kiss that’s completely at odds with his normally carefree nature, and I can’t get enough.

I moan into him as he sets the pace, taking whatever it is that he needs as his last band of restraint finally snaps.

It turns out that I need the same thing because I’ve never been more aroused in my life. The thrum of tension building between my thighs is beginning to get uncomfortable. I attempt to grind myself against him, but he’s got me locked in place, forcing me to remain exactly where he wants me.

His tongue sweeps into my mouth, almost taking my breath away with its harshness as I taste him. And it’s a taste that I want to remember forever because kissing Beau tastes like letting go. It tastes like completely forgetting about what I should be doing, or how I should be acting, and just simply giving in to what I’m feeling.

After it feels like my lips have been rubbed completely raw, Beau tugs me back by my hair and forces me to look at him. His eyes are smoldering with raw desire, and I can tell it’s taking everything he has to hold himself back.

But I have no idea why.

“What happened?” I ask, trying to catch my breath. “I thought you said when you finally got your hands on me, ‘I would feel it in my entire body’?”

He chuckles, his eyes momentarily falling to the area where our bodies meet. “And you will. But a ten-course meal isn’t served all at once, is it?”

“Uh, not unless you want to eat cold food.”

“Exactly, and I intend on enjoying each course.” Beau slowly rubs his free hand up and down my thigh before settling it right at the apex of my sex. “But I want to make sure you enjoy it too.”

“Pretty sure I’d be happy with anything you had in mind,” I pant as his thumb gently plays with the fabric above my clit.

“Maybe,” he muses, adjusting himself beneath me. “But I want to know what you like.”

“What do you mean?” I mumble breathily, leaning into his touch.

“How do you normally come? I know you like to watch,” he smirks, clearly thinking back to the shower. “But do you like to be watched? Do you use toys or your fingers? Do you come from just penetration, or do you need your clit rubbed too? Nobody knows your body better than you do, Claire.”

I look away, feeling my cheeks heat from embarrassment because, for the first time in his life, he’s wrong. I have no idea what my body likes or doesn’t like. Though whatever he’s doing right now with his thumb feels better than anything I’ve ever experienced before, and I wish he wouldn’t stop.

“Hey,” Beau says gently, his free hand tenderly coaxing my chin as he directs my attention back to him. “Did I say something wrong?”

My eyes close, desperately trying to escape this conversation. I can talk all day about pretty much anything, but when the topic drifts to something intimate or emotional, my brain freezes.

“It’s not you,” I finally admit, forcing my eyes to meet his once more. “I just, um, don’t really know what I like.”

He pauses his fingers between my legs and waits for me to continue.

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