Page 66 of Body Check

Harrison: All I hear are lies.

Me: I’ve seen better asses. Beaumont’s isn’t even in the top 20.

Holly: I’m willing to bet that I have the best ass in this entire group thread.

And just like that, my cock stiffens against the seam of my zipper at the mere mention of Holly’s heart-shaped backside.

Well, at the mention and the accompanying visual.

Sweet-fucking-cheeks doesn’t even cover it.

Swallowing roughly, I hit the keypad on my phone, prepared to text her directlyexactlywhat I think about her ass—only to note that the service bars at the top of the screen have dropped to nil.

I type out the text anyway. Hit send.

My phonepings!with ERROR scrawled across the screen in red font.

Stepping back, to where I had service a moment ago, I try another time.

Ping!

Error.

I move to the right, a single step that has my shoulder brushing up against the wall as I hold my phone up toward the ceiling.C’mon, c’mon, c’mon.

Ping!

Error.

“Fuck me.”

“Mr. Carter,” murmurs a masculine voice, “I’m not sure if I should be more startled by your language or the fact that you’re attempting to tango—poorly, I might add—right in front of my office.”

My head snaps up.

“I was just—” I wave my phone a little desperately. “No service, Dr. Mebowitz.”

The corners of his brown eyes crinkle with humor. “An important missive?”

Just trying to tell my ex-wife how her ass is pure perfection.

I smile weakly. “Nothing that can’t wait another hour.”

“Perfect.” Swooping an arm before him, he gestures for me to enter his office. “Let’s get to it, shall we?”

I’d rather we not, but I step past the elderly doctor anyway and do my best to fight down the nerves while I take a seat.

The office is decorated in muted colors, pastel yellow on the walls and beige laminate flooring. Bookshelves line the wall to my right, and the one to my left is completely covered in framed awards and certificates and licenses. The grand window behind Dr. Mebowitz’s desk, however, makes up for everything else with its view of the Museum of Science and the Charles River.

It’s a specific view I’ve seen only once before.

Something that the good doctor makes note of when he rounds his desk to sit in his plush leather office chair. “I’ll be frank with you, Mr. Carter. I didn’t expect to see you here again—not after how our first meeting transpired.”

Another hard swallow, and my gaze flicks from the man’s face to his blank-screened computer and then back again. “It’s been a wild year.”

Propping his elbow on the armrest, he rests his chin on his upturned fist. “I hear the hockey season is officially underway.”

I nod, once. “It is.”

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