Page 37 of Burned By the Broken Doctor

“That sounds amazing,” I say, genuinely happy for them. “You guys are going to have the best time.”

“We can’t wait,” Damon adds, wrapping an arm around June’s shoulders. “It’s going to be the perfect start to our married life.”

I glance at Liam again, knowing what he really thinks about all this talk of love and marriage. He catches my eye and gives me a small smile, and my belly does a little flip. Yeah, lust—that’s what he knows quite well, not love. At a point in time, I would have sworn I wasn’t the kind to be moved by the needs of my body when it didn’t involve my heart, but that Emma is long gone.

She died slowly over the last couple of years, but she was finally buried in that apartment eighteen months ago after Liam Miller treated me to bout after bout of earth-shattering orgasms.

As the afternoon wears on, we finish our drinks and continue chatting. The easy camaraderie between us feels nice, and I find myself relaxing more. Despite the complicated dynamics, there’s something comforting about being surrounded by friends and loved ones.

Later, as the sun begins to set, Liam announces that he has to leave for his shift. Damon and June also announce that they have to pick Ethan from his sleepover. All four of us walk out together before the couple climb into Damon’s truck and waves at us as they drive off.

Liam and I find ourselves alone on the porch. The sky is painted with shades of orange and pink, and the cool evening breeze feels refreshing.

“You did well today,” I start, breaking the silence. “It was nice to just hang out and not worry about you trying to sabotage their wedding for a while.”

Liam grins, leaning against the railing. “I guess this whole fake relationship thing isn’t so bad after all.”

I laugh softly. “No, it’s not.”

“Tell me about it,” he mumbles with a wry smile. “So, what do I get for being a good boy?”

I stare at him, feeling a strange mix of thick craving. I grab his shirt collar and rise on my tiptoes.

“You get this.”

I pull his lower lip into my mouth, close my eyes, and then brush my mouth all over his. Liam freezes for a split second, and then suddenly takes control. He groans against my mouth as he pushes his tongue in, flicking mine, tugging at my lips as his mouth moves back and forth in circles all over mine.

I gasp, my legs suddenly shaky. I feel one hand slide around me, holding me tight against his chest. The other cradles my head, angling my mouth for him to dip his tongue even further into my mouth. Good Lord. My memories don’t do him justice. No memory can taste this good.

My entire body reacts to the kiss. I can feel my nipples stiffen, and I know if he looks down a couple of inches, he’ll see the outline against my chest. Below full, sensitive breasts is a heart that’s racing, and right there, between my thighs, a wet heat is building rapidly.

My body is ready for him, but I suddenly push him back and stagger a few steps away.

“Emma—” There’s wild, undisguised lust burning in his eyes as he searches my face.

“You need to get back to the hospital, Liam.”

“But—”

“Keep being a good boy and you might just get to have the whole thing.”

He blinks once, twice, and then he shakes his head. “Does your brother know a bad wild girl lies behind his sister’s ‘Mother Teresa’ facade?”

I laugh. I can see that he’s barely holding himself back. It feels good having this much power over him, knowing I can push this man to the edge. Now I just have to use it to my advantage.

“You’re not gonna tell him, are you?”

With that, I turn around, sashaying as much as possible as I walk off. I can feel the heat of his gaze on my butt, and it takes all my self-control to not run back and jump into his arms and beg him to take me right here on the porch.

This whole situation is messy, but maybe, just maybe, messy is what I need right now. It’s certainly what I crave.

11

LIAM

The sterile white walls of the hospital fade behind me as I step out into the crisp evening air. The park next door, a haven of green amid the urban sprawl, beckons with the promise of a quiet moment to myself. Pushing my hands into the pockets of my scrubs, I inhale deeply, the scent of freshly cut grass and blooming wildflowers filling my lungs.

On a nearby bench sits a lone figure, a familiar brown bottle glinting in the waning sunlight. Damon. A smile tugs at my lips as I approach him. “Living the life, I see,” I murmur, stopping a few feet away.

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