Page 76 of The Doctor's Truth

Her eyebrows hike up her forehead. “What…like…with your family?”

“Exactly like that.”

“Will Mr. King be there?”

“He is my dad. So. Yes.”

“No, I know. Of course. I just…” She rakes her fingers through her hair, looking distracted again. “I’ll have to see. Everything is so busy lately. With Otto doing dialysis, I really don’t want to leave him alone for long periods of time…”

“It’ll just be dinner. We can bring you back before your pumpkin rots.” I sit on the edge of her bed so I can better look up at her. “Unless there’s something else on your mind…”

I can’t get over the way her lips thin when she concentrates—she always looks angry when she’s focused, which should not be as charming as it is.

My heart cracks open, and there’s nothing I want to do more than scoop her up in my arms and feel the soft warmth of her against me.

Fuck. I’m such a sucker.

Finally, she drops her arms and says, “It just seems…like a girlfriend activity.”

“I guess.”

“And I think things are good as they are right now, you know? Without putting labels on them.”

She won’t look me in the eyes when she speaks, though. Inwardly, I feel a pinch of fear.

We’re in two different places. I want to move forward. And she wants things to stay exactly where they are. Eventually, this is going to be a problem, and the knowledge is enough to make me start to panic.

I try to see things her way. I try to meet her halfway. “You can come as a friend, then. No pressure.”

Those vibrant green eyes connect with mine. She hesitates, then steps forward close to me. “Look…I lived alone for a really long time. For years, it was just me and Otto. What you’re offering is really sweet, and I want to be open to it. But the truth is, I liked it. I like doing things on my own. I want to do my own laundry and open my own doors and…well…”

“And…?”

“And, sometimes, I want to get myself off. On my own.”

A slow grin draws up my mouth. “So that’s what this is about.”

“It’s not funny!”

“No. It’s not. Sorry. Hey.” I cup her face. “We don’t have to put labels on it. Okay? No sweat.”

“I’m sorry. It was really sweet of you to invite me.”

“I’m a sweet guy.”

“You’re too sweet.”

“Not that sweet.” To prove my point, I catch her bottom lip between my teeth. She gasps.

That noise shoots a jolt straight to my cock. I get an idea.

I kick off my shoes and climb onto the bed. I slip my fingers through her hair, kiss her, and murmur, “Get in my lap.”

“What are you doing?”

“Compromising.”

She does, straddling me. I love the feel of her—her gentle weight.

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