Page 36 of The Doctor's Simple Life

It’s the perfect sound.

I want to make her do that again and again.

“Let me fuck you,” I murmur, my cock hard and wanting again. “Let me make you feel good.”

“Please,” she whispers, nibbling at my ear lobe. “I want that so bad.”

It pains me to be apart from her for even a second, but I crawl across the bed to the nightstand to retrieve a condom. I hadn’t been expecting to use any of them, but a gentleman is always prepared.

I roll one on and turn back to her with a grin. She launches herself at me, kissing me and pushing me down, then straddles me and sinks down, making us both moan. Our hips meet and our fingers twine, and the whole world slips away, leaving only Sienna and me and this pleasure that we’re discovering together.

CHAPTER 18

SIENNA

Iwake up on Monday morning in my own bed, and I’m almost disappointed. Reece and I spent the entire weekend together.

And by together, I mean in bed.

It’s like he’s changed into a whole different person in just a couple of days. He’s sensitive and loving and keeps showering me with compliments that are so nice they’re almost embarrassing.

For the first time since he’s been here, I’m looking forward to seeing him in the morning at work, and I try not to think about what’s going to happen when he goes home. For good.

What’s going to happen to us?

Not that we’re a real thing. I doubt we’ll ever be a real thing.

But he wants me now, and I want him. I guess we’ll have to just see what happens next.

I get dressed and try to stop thinking about it. Instead, I let myself smile as the memories of yesterday wander through my mind. I’m not totally surprised, but by God, Reece knows how to use his tongue, for good as well as evil.

Everything is the same on my morning commute. I get into the car, sit in the traffic, then head through the front door of the hospital. Nothing is different.

Nothing except my heart.

For a change, Reece is early and smiling when I get there. I comment on it, and he shrugs. “I have a professional standard to maintain,” he says.

I raise the most dubious eyebrow I can muster. “Do you now? And how much of that professional standard is coming from seeing me this morning?”

“Hey,” he says teasingly, coming over to place his hand on my shoulder. He gives me that look again — that smolder — and my knees go all weak. “I’m very professional and good at my job, and everyone loves me.”

I raise both eyebrows even harder. “You just keep thinking that, Dr. Westbrook. Whatever makes you happy.”

“All right,” he says and grins. Then he leans in to kiss me, our lips colliding just as they have been all weekend.

I freeze in surprise, and he pulls back straight away. “Sorry, I just thought…” he starts, and I shake my head to cut him off.

“No, no, you’ve got nothing to apologize for.”

“No?”

“No. It might not be the height of professionalism, but… do that again.”

To my delight, he obeys.

We totally should not be doing this in the office. At least nobody is likely to walk in on us here, but it doesn’t stop it from being wrong. Just because we won’t get caught doesn’t mean we should be making out on work time.

Not that that’s ever stopped anyone else before. I hear the gossip all the time: who’s kissing who, who’s been caught in a compromising position, who’s been asked to stop. If all those people can do it, why can’t I?

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