Page 40 of Doctor Charmer

“Not one sharing their shine with me. Not one deeming me worthy enough to stand next to them. By the time I realized what they were doing, it was too late for me and my reputation.”

“So, you embraced it?” Reggie’s words do for me what my story didn’t. It extracts a reaction. I twist to face him, tears in my eyes. I bat my eyelashes and wait for the blur to clear. He’s staring at me with a look of admiration that causes the tears to return. “I get it.”

Three words. Words I never thought I’d ever hear from someone after hearing my story. Especially from a man.I get it.He sees me. He sees behind the bluster, past the sexy retorts, past the surface to see the complicated woman beneath.

“We all try to shield our scars from the world. Exposing our vulnerabilities is an act of bravery. Thank you for trusting me. I see you.”

He pulls me into a tight hug, his words of reassurance validating my instinct to speak. “We are taught from a young age that we need to be perfect to be loved. It’s not true. It’s our imperfections that make us unique. It’s the wounds we carry that make us beautiful. You are beautiful. All of you.”

I take the lead this time. My lips on his. My hand in his hair. I shove him on his chest, forcing him backward, and climb across his lap, straddling him. The next wave of kisses is a reward. Hungry pants fill the heated air between us, and my heart races to a speed it’s not reached in years.

Foreheads pressed together, ragged breathing in my ear, I lean back and hook a thumb behind me. “Carry me to your bed,” I order, and he stands. Strong arms hold me up, his hands squeezing my rear. He turns and lowers me to the couch.

His gaze locks with mine, freezing me in place. A look of care and sincerity floods my senses. “I’m not ready.” He delivers the declaration with an earnestness as pure as a child’s first promise.

I settle into the couch and give him the space to explain. “Every fiber of me wants to do that.” He juts his chin toward the bedroom doorway. “But I can’t. Not tonight.” He plops his rear onto the coffee table in front of me, hands in mine, eyes locked. I breathlessly wait, forcing myself not to jump to conclusions.

“I don’t want to rush something so special based on us getting caught up in emotions. You’re not the only one with a reputation. I don’t want you waking in the morning and wondering if my words were used to charm you into my bed.”

“I don’t,” I protest. The thought never crossed my mind.

“Good. Because I meant every one of them.” He lifts our hands to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the back of my hand. “But I’m still not going to sleep with you. Tonight.” His eyes return to mine as he lets his words marinade. I’m not the only one with insecurities, whose reputation has messed with their head so much they have trouble separating the man from the myth. “You take the bed; I’ll sleep on the pull-out.”

He’s serious.

While part of me wants to jump his bones, a bigger part of me recognizes this for what it is. My lips purse as I speak. “I understand.” I squeeze his hands, the weight of this moment sitting heavy in the air. “What if I slip on the pink silk two-piece lingerie I brought from my hotel room?” I paint on a smirk to lighten the mood.

He hangs his head, shaking it. “You trying to kill me?”

“I know CPR. A requirement for coaching.”

He snickers. “That will have to be a hard pass. I’ll take the pull-out.”

I stand, pulling him up by the hand. “Reggie, I’m a grown woman with some level of self-control. We can share a bed without anything happening.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about—it’s me.” He runs a hand through his hair before continuing. “I know myself. I knew I couldn’t trust myself to be in your small hotel room together without pressing you against the wall and claiming you. And I know if we shared a bed tonight, there is no power on this earth that will keep my hands off you. From crossing that line.”

Passion radiates off him like a strong ocean current. It would be so easy to give in and get pulled away. Even if it was something I wanted, it’s not what he wants. Not what he needs. I must respect his wordsI’m not ready.Words I wished I had learned to use back in college. “Should I lock the bedroom door?” I tease. It’s what I do. It’s how I disarm and diffuse situations. “Maybe prop the dresser against it too?”

The heat in his eyes doesn’t dissipate. They continue to burn bright enough to melt all the snow in the forest below us. “No power on earth.” He repeats his words from before, and this time, I believe him. My lips separate, but no sound escapes.

He steps around me, tossing a comment over his shoulder. “I’ll gonna go pull out my flannel pajamas for you to wear and will toss your lingerie down the garbage chute.”

I spin on my heels and watch him march into his bedroom and feel the pull of my lips curling into a smile. I’ve broken through his charming exterior. I see him for who he truly is. There is a true gentleman underneath all that charm.

I see him.

And it’s beautiful.

Chapter Twenty-One

Reggie

“You really didn’t have to give up your bed.” Ivy steps out of my bedroom into the open-design living room dressed in a college T-shirt that barely reaches her upper thighs. She must’ve gotten too warm in my oversized flannel pajamas I forced her to wear last evening. I’m standing in the kitchen behind the counter. My eyes snap to her long, bare legs, an enticement I can’t believe I was able to resist last evening.

“Wouldn’t be much of a gentleman if I let you sleep on the sofa or the crappy pull-out bed.”

She steps around the counter and pulls me into a warm good-morning kiss.

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