Page 31 of Doc's Decision

"Hey, you are an amazing father, Doc. Anyone can see how much that baby boy loves the ever loving shit outta you," I insist earnestly, giving his fingers a squeeze. "Don't ever doubt that."

He looks at me, something undefined but potent simmering in his eyes. "What did I ever do to deserve you, darlin'?"

I duck my head shyly, a goofy smile curving my lips, unsure how to respond to the seemingly innocent question that feels loaded with meaning.

"Dance with me," he says suddenly, tugging me off my stool and leading me to the little scuffed up dancefloor where a few other couples sway to a sexy southern rock ballad.

Doc's hands settle on my hips, pulling me flush against his hard body as he finds the rhythm.

I loop my arms around his neck, everything else fading away except his clean scent, the heat of his skin through the thin cotton of his shirt, the rasp of denim against denim.

We move together, my body molding to his like we were made for this and I forget how to breathe when his fingertips slip under my shirt to graze the bare skin of my lower back.

This suddenly feels more intimate than anything I've ever filmed.

Raw.

Real.

Overwhelming.

The song ends but we stay wrapped up in each other, his darkened blue eyes boring into mine.

The air feels too thick, crackling with a live current that has my heart galloping against my ribs.

"Mandy..." he rumbles, my name a gravelly prayer on his lips.

I surge up on my tiptoes before I lose my nerve, capturing his mouth in a searing kiss that obliterates any lingering doubts.

He responds instantly, his arms banding around me tight as his tongue delves past my parted lips to stroke against mine.

I moan into the kiss, my fingers sinking into his hair, totally uncaring that we're in the middle of a crowded bar.

All that matters is his taste, his touch, the way he consumes me so completely.

We finally break apart, both breathing hard.

Doc rests his forehead against mine, his thumb stroking along my jaw. "Been wanting to do that for a while now," he murmurs, his voice rough with desire.

"Me too," I admit softly, still reeling from the intensity of that kiss.

It was like a live wire directly to my core.

"Babe, you're gonna be the death of me," he says, a mix of lust and amusement in his voice. "But fuck if I care."

I confess, “Neither do I.”

He chuckles, deep and throaty. “Come on, let’s go get another round.”

We head back over to the bar and Doc drapes an arm across the back of my stool, his fingertips drawing idle patterns on my shoulder.

It's a seemingly casual gesture, but I know better.

He's marking his territory, warning off any would-be suitors with a single glance.

As we sip our whiskey sours, the conversation flows effortlessly.

We talk about everything and nothing, laughter punctuating the comfortable silences.

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