Page 7 of The Doctor's Surprise Family

“And the rain in your hair, like little diamonds. All I could think was, how isn’t she soaked? How isn’t she like the rest of us, wet as drowned rats? And I’ve still never figured out how you’re so perfect.”

My laughter died out. “Perfect? Me?”

“Yeah, you’re so smart, always with the right answers. And you’ve got that sweet voice, like listening to music. Your hair, it’s so soft — well, I never knew that till now.” He ran a careful hand through my thick curls. “But I guessed from the look of it, and your skin’s so soft too. Peaches and cream and those pretty brown eyes. I half thought I’d dreamed you till you showed up in class.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I kissed him again. Blake pushed my hair back from my face.

“I really like you,” he said. “Not just how you look.”

I felt warm. “Me too.”

“And I want you to know…” He took a deep breath. “I want you to know, I’m not out for some hookup. I’d want to see you again, to see where this goes.”

“I’d want that too. But, about that hookup…” I slid my hand down to pinch his tight ass. He laughed.

“Oh, you’re naughty.”

“I don’t hear you complaining.”

He swooped in for a searing kiss, a real toe-curler. I pressed up against him, eager for more. His breathing went rough and I felt my pulse race, and then he was crowding me back down the hall, through the first open door, into the parlor. We tripped over the coffee table and collapsed on the couch, Blake half on top of me, my leg flung out.

“You okay?”

I hooked a leg around him. “I’m fine.”

“Let me grab you a pillow?—”

“I said I’m fine.” I pulled him down by his shirt front for another deep kiss. He cupped my head in one hand while the other wandered, toying with my hair, then the buttons of my blouse. He traced the line of my bra with the pad of his thumb, following the roses woven into the lace. I gasped as he circled around my taut nipple, sucked air through my teeth as he gave it a pinch.

“It’s too dark,” he said. “I want to see you.” He leaned up and over me to flick on the light, and I slid my hands up under his shirt. His chest was well-muscled, dusted with hair. I pressed my face to it, breathing him in.

“You smell good,” I said.

“Yeah? You smell better.” He kissed my lips, then my neck, then down to my shoulder. I unbuttoned his shirt and he let it fall off him. His belt went next, and I pushed down his pants. He had an old scar low on his belly. I touched it.

“Appendix?”

“Yeah.”

“Very rugged.”

We laughed, then he groaned as my fingers trailed lower. A muscle twitched and he shivered. Goosebumps rose, then died down. I kissed my way down his chest, following the hitch of his breathing, over his ribs, then down his belly. I trailed my tongue down the length of his old silver scar, down one tree-trunk leg and up the other. The muscles contracted, rock-hard and solid, then loosened as he let out a shuddering breath. His hands dropped down to play with my hair. I loved the way he did it, careful and sweet, never tugging or twisting or mussing my curls.

“So good,” he sighed.

“Yeah? You like this?” I slid up his body and let out a slow breath, exhaling against the bulge in his shorts. He hissed and bucked up, but didn’t once pull my hair. I traced the line of his cock with butterfly kisses and savored the sounds he made, every soft grunt and sigh.

“Come up here,” he said.

I smiled against him. “Not yet.”

A low sound escaped him, half-groan, half-curse. I tugged at his waistband and his cock sprang free. He was as big there as everywhere else, but he didn’t pull me toward him or push my head down. He just let his hands slide free from my hair and gripped the bedsheets instead as I flicked out my tongue.

“Oh, God. Oh…”

I forced myself to be patient and take my time, teasing him slowly, soft swirls and licks. When I glanced up at him, he was biting his lip.

“You can be loud if you want,” I said. “No one can hear us.”

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