Page 96 of Forever Player

“MRI is good, don’t worry,” he says, reading my nerves. “But my ankle has a sprain.”

“I can definitely treat your leg.”

“Is that the only thing you’re willing to treat?” he asks.

This man. He makes me smile.

“Anything you want.” I slide my hand over his abdomen.

A doctor walks into the room.

“Is it okay if we discuss your results now?” the doctor asks Brett.

“Sure, this is my girlfriend, Willow,” Brett introduces me.

I’m not sure when I became his girlfriend. It sounds so official. Isn’t that something we were supposed to discuss?

The doctor tells him to ice his ankle and stay off it the next few days. He’s released from the hospital on crutches. And I drive us home in his SUV.

“So when did I become your girlfriend?” I ask as we head out into traffic.

“Do you not want to be my girlfriend?” he asks.

“I didn’t say that,” I scoff because why is he putting words in my mouth?

“Come on, Honey, you got to know by now that I am in this. I don’t want anyone else. To me, we are exclusive whether we slap a title on it or not.”

Hearing him talk this way relieves a stress inside me. It helps me to be reassured that Brett is really dedicated to us.

Silence falls between us.

“Come on, Honey, answer. Do you want to be my girlfriend?” he asks with such hope in his intoxicating blue eyes and a megawatt smile.

“I do, Brett. I’d love to be your girlfriend.”

“Besides, I’m the only one who can give you orgasms, so you kind of need me.” He laughs.

“You’re so cocky.” I shake my head.

“Speaking of cocks,” he says.

At a red light, I look at him and laugh.

“I didn’t say anything about cocks.”

“Cocky, cock, same thing. Maybe we need to stop in some dark parking lot and make out in the car like a bunch of teenagers. After the night I had, I need you.”

“You can’t be serious,” I retort but when I look at him, I see that he is. “Do you have something with car sex?”

After all, we did have a hot make-out session in my brother’s truck back in Sugar Meadow.

“I think you like the idea of making out in public,” he replies instead.

I squeeze my thighs together. Riding Brett in the front seat of this SUV is an interesting thought.

“Let’s say we did do this. Where should we stop?” I ask.

“Thatta girl,” he says sounding victorious.

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