Page 14 of Baby for Dr. Damaged

I go home with the hope that a hot shower will wash away any residual feelings of embarrassment. Or even better, that it might wash away any remaining feelings ofinteresttoward the doctor instead.

Chapter seven

Jackson

It’sbeentwodayssince I slept with Amanda, and she’s been the only thing that I can think about. I don’t really know where I’m trying to take any of this. I just know that Iwanther.

So, at the end of our shift, as we’re heading to our cars, I catch her by the arm to stop her. “Amanda, I was thinking—how about that dinner you promised me?”

She seems surprised. “What?”

“You can come to my house, and I’ll help make it,” I say. “That way, it’s not on you to cook something after such a long shift.”

There’s a longer pause than I’m expecting but after a moment, Amanda gives a little nod of her head. “Alright. That sounds great.”

She pulls her phone out and has me punch my address into her GPS. “Do you have something in mind? Should I swing by the store?”

“I’ll get creative with whatever you have in the kitchen,” says Amanda, with a laugh and brighter smile than before. Now that the surprise of my invitation has faded away, she seems far more enthused about it.

Good.

I’m excited for it, too.

Today’s the best day to have Amanda over. Bonnie is out at a friend’s house for the weekend, celebrating her friend’s ninth birthday. That means we’re going to have the house to ourselves. I’m in better spirits than I have been in a while during the drive home. There’s something about pulling up to the house and seeing her van coming behind me that makes me smile.

I park and wave her out. Amanda steps into the front yard and looks over the building, nodding. “Alright,” she says. “I’m impressed.”

“The view, right?”

“That too. I was referring more to the garden,” admits Amanda.

I laugh. “Well, don't be too impressed by that. It’s not like I’m the one who maintains it. Bonnie wanted a garden. She and one of the nannies put it in.”

Amanda nods, following me up the walk to the front of the house. “Is she home?”

I shake my head. “No, she’s not. She’s at a friend’s house until tomorrow,” I say as the door clicks open.

I called on the way here to make sure that everyone had already left for the day; we have the house to ourselves. That means it’s easy, once the front door is closed, to step back into Amanda’s personal space and kiss her.

Fingers brush a stray strand of hair out of her face, and then slide over the side of her neck, wrapping around, to the back. My palm presses to her skin, the barest hints of sweat there. She smells like the hospital. I’m sure that I do, too.

Amanda lets me back her up. She leans against the door as I kiss her breathless, then my mouth moves to the curve of her jaw, the underside of it. Lips press to the line of her neck and work down toward the top of her scrubs. My hands settle on her sides, rucking the fabric up so that my palms can press against her bare skin.

“Tell me if I’m going too fast,” I breathe, between presses of my mouth. My tongue runs over her skin, but I pause, not getting an answer. She doesn’t protest. Instead, her arms wrap around me and pull me in even closer. I get a thigh between her legs, rubbing it up and down, her hips jerking instinctively against me.

“Bed,” she says, shoving at me. “The least you can do is let me get to a real bed this time.”

“Not a fan of the bunks?” I tease, but I pull away, her hand in mine, and lead her through the house and into my room. The bed is large, but it’s nothing fancy. Honestly, it’s the most barren room in the house.

Bonnie isn’t allowed in here as it’s where I keep the expensive and older medical textbooks, and I’m not home often enough to justify spending the time and money on making it look nice. Good thing that Amanda has no interest in judging me on my home decorating skills.

It’s easier here—we don’t have to rush, not this time. I’m able to work her open with my tongue first, and then my fingers. I push Amanda until she’s right there on the edge before crawling up over her, settling between her legs.

She’s on her back beneath me, both arms wrap around my neck and my shoulders, nails biting into the back of my neck as I slide into her.

I like it when things are fast and rough, but I want to savor this moment; the first time that she’s in my actual bed. So I fuck her slow, but hard. Each roll of my hips has her whining, the air knocked from her lungs, the headboard thumping against the wall.

She’s tight and she’s wet and everything that I’ve wanted. I can’t keep my mouth off her. One forearm presses on the mattress, next to her head, and the other one reaches down, sliding under the small of her back, helping lift her up each time I rock forward.

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