Page 76 of Doctor Second Chance

My hands explore her, sliding over her slick skin, claiming every inch of her as mine. I cup her breasts, teasing her nipples into stiff peaks before moving lower, my fingers slipping between her thighs. She gasps as I find her center, her body arching against mine as I stroke her with practiced precision.

I position myself behind her, the tip of my erection teasing her entrance. With one hand on her hip, I guide myself inside her, both of us moaning as I fill her completely. The sensation is overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and the need to possess her utterly.

I set a demanding and tender rhythm, each thrust a silent plea for connection, for solace in the midst of chaos. Elle braces herself against the wall, her cries of pleasure echoing off the tile, mingling with the sound of the running water.

I can feel her tightening around me, her body coiling like a spring as she nears the edge. I reach around to stroke her clit, the added stimulation pushing her over the precipice. She cries out, her orgasm washing over her in waves as I continue to drive into her, chasing my release.

With a final, desperate thrust, I find my climax, the intensity of it threatening to knock me off my feet. I hold onto Elle as if she's my anchor, the only thing keeping me from being swept away by the storm of emotions raging inside me.

As our breathing slowly returns to normal, I turn Elle back around to face me. I kiss her gently and softly thank her for the sanctuary she's provided me in this moment of vulnerability.

We stand there, holding each other under the steady stream of water, finding comfort in the silent understanding that passes between us.

I know that the road ahead will be difficult and filled with challenges and uncertainties. But in this moment, with Elle in my arms, I feel a glimmer of hope. Together, we've found a connection that transcends the pain and the fear, a bond that might be strong enough to weather any storm.

TWENTY-FOUR

Elle

9:03 pm

I step out of the shower, my entire midsection still tingling from the explosive moment we just shared. The water’s warmth and the moment’s intensity cling to my skin. I remove the waterproof covering I have to use when showering, wondering if it did anything at all after that insanity. The dressing under it is wet, so I have to change it.

Shep's vulnerability in there, the way he broke down in my arms, it's left me shaken. I wrap myself in a fluffy towel, my mind racing.

I'm grateful he felt safe enough to let go with me. I know this isn't about us or our relationship. This is about Opie, about the possibility of losing his mom. And Ari. While she may not be romantically in Shep’s life anymore, she’s still important and a very present person. She's Opie's mother and Shep's co-parent. Losing her would change everything for them.

I sit on the edge of the bed, brushing absentmindedly through my damp hair. My heart aches for both of them. For Opie, who might lose his mom way too young. For Shep, who's facing the prospect of becoming a single parent in the most total sense.

I want to be there for them, to support them however I can. But I'm not sure what that looks like yet. Do I step back and give them space? Do I offer more help? I don't want to overstep or make Shep feel crowded when he's dealing with so much.

Shep walks out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. How does a man in his thirties still look so fit? He is so beautiful, even in his pain. I want to hold him, to make it better.

I take a deep breath, steadying myself. Whatever happens next, whatever Shep needs, I'll be here. Ready to listen, hold him, or sit in silence if that's what he wants. This isn't about me or us right now. It's about being there for Shep and Opie as they navigate this impossible situation.

Shep sits beside me on the bed and puts his arm around me. "Thank you for that. I didn't know I needed that kind of human connection. I really appreciate it."

“I’m here for you, Shep. Tell me how I can support you. Know that no matter what, I will do it."

"Thank you. Would it be okay with you if we skip the wine tonight? I'm not sure I'd be much company. I'd love to lie together in bed and hold you. Would that be okay?"

I nod, understanding Shep's need for quiet comfort. "Of course," I whisper, gently squeezing his hand. "Whatever you need."

We change into our pajamas silently. I slip on a soft cotton t-shirt and shorts, while Shep pulls on a pair of sweatpants and a well-worn Alabama med school shirt. Our hair is still damp from the shower as we climb into bed.

"I have to change the dressing on my hand. I'll be right in."

Shep settles in next to me, and I open my arms. He nestles against me, his head resting on my chest. I wrap my arms around him, holding him close. His body feels heavy, weighed down by the day's emotions.

Within minutes, Shep's breathing evens out. His chest’s steady rise and fall tells me he's fallen asleep. I'm glad he can find some respite, even temporary.

But sleep eludes me. My mind races, thoughts tumbling over each other like clothes in a dryer. I stare at the ceiling, acutely aware of Shep's warmth against me.

What does this mean for us? For Shep and Opie?

I push my selfish thoughts aside as best as I can. This isn't about me right now. It's about being here for Shep and Opie, supporting them through this crisis.

I tighten my arms around Shep as if I could somehow shield him from the pain he's facing. His hair tickles my chin, and I resist the urge to smooth it back. I don't want to risk waking him from this much-needed sleep.

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