Page 26 of Dr. Fellow

A small, victorious smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “Good girl.”

My breath catches in my throat, sure that I heard him wrong. “Walker Chastain,” I say, narrowing my eyes on his slightly amused expression. “Did you read the book I recommended to you?”

After I explained tropes to him a few weeks ago, I jokingly suggested that he read my favorite dark romance. While it’s possible he happens to have a praise kink, the deliberate way he’s staring at me makes me think he used the term on purpose.

“Would that get me another point in the like category?” he asks, taking half a step forward. The smell of his woody cologne floods my senses, rendering me momentarily speechless as my mind races to come up with a witty response.

“Only if you give me a book report.”

“Alright.” He sticks his tongue in his cheek and goes quiet for a moment, pressing his hand to his mouth like he’s thinking hard. “It wasn’t bad. I can understand why you read stuff like that.”

“Not bad?” I gawk, blinking once. Then another time.

I spew bullshit nonstop, so the fact that Walker was paying close enough attention to not only remember my recommendation, but to read it, is genuinely shocking. And annoyingly endearing because it makes me like him even more.

So yeah, he totally gets another point . . . I’m just not going to tell him that.

“I mean, I can’t say I cared for the corrupt mafia surgeon, and a ton of it was factually inaccurate from a medical perspective. You can’t remove that many human organs and have the patient survive.”

I bark out a laugh. “Of course you would focus on that.”

“The other stuff was interesting though,” he says, leaning forward almost imperceptibly. He’s looming over me now, my back against the door and his broad chest inches from mine. “I learned what an anal hook was.”

My heart slams in my chest. “And?”

“Pretty damn hot.”

It takes a full minute for me to find my voice because my mind starts swimming with filthy images of us. I swallow harshly to reset and remind myself of what he said earlier.

“Well, it’s too bad that we’re just friends because ass play happens to be my favorite.”

This time he’s the one caught off guard, except rather than flashing with surprise, his eyes flare with something that looks suspiciously close to arousal.

“Too bad,” Walker echoes, holding my gaze for a second longer than is comfortable before he abruptly turns and walks down the hall. “Gonna grab you a sweatshirt for bed.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I call behind him, making one last attempt to rouse the beast within him. “I always sleep naked.”

Chapter 12

Walker

Iwake up with the most painful boner of my life. Usually a little morning wood isn’t a problem because it goes away once I get on with my day, but this one needs immediate attention. I was right in the middle of a dream that involved Morgan riding my cock in reverse while I pulled her cheeks apart and fingered her tight little hole. I’ve always been an ass man, and the moment she said she was into it also, I knew she could possibly destroy me.

Groaning, I roll onto my back. The last thing I should be thinking about is what gets her off.

It was one thing to open up with her last night, but it’s an entirely separate matter to cross the physical boundary that we’ve been dancing around since the party. That’s why I played the friend card—to remind myself of who I am, no matter how intense the pull is between us.

At the engagement party, I nearly gave in to Morgan’s temptation and acted on impulse. But I reined myself in at the last moment and walked away, knowing I couldn’t be what any woman needs. And ever since then, it’s like every time I’m around her, she tries to challenge me on that belief. It’s like she sees something in me that I don’t, and it takes all of my practiced control to hold back.

But it’s really fucking hard to find the strength to resist her when I know she’s naked in my bed, probably rubbing her sweet scent all over my cotton sheets.

I open my phone to check the clock.

Five in the morning.

I need to get up and relieve this tension in my body.

Pushing myself to a seated position, I hear a creak and can’t decide if it’s my neck or the door to my master bedroom. When soft light suddenly floods the hallway, I quickly tuck my throbbing erection into the waistband of my sweats and grab a pillow from the couch, tossing it over my crotch for good measure.

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