Page 41 of Doctor Hot Mess

I lean in, unable to resist the pull between us. My fingers brush a wayward strand of hair from her face, lingering on her soft skin. "Harper," I murmur, my voice rough with need. "I haven't stopped thinking about you, about being with you."

Her reply is barely above a whisper, her warm breath ghosting across my lips. "Then stop talking so much."

I close the distance between us, capturing her lips in a kiss that starts slow and tentative. It's like rediscovering a favorite song, familiar yet thrilling. I cup her face, drawing her closer as the kiss deepens. Harper's hands tangle in my hair, igniting sparks wherever she touches.

My hands find her waist, and I lift her onto my lap, unable to get close enough. The dam of restraint I've built over the past two years crumbles, unleashing a flood of pent-up desire.

I trail heated kisses down Harper's neck, reveling in the soft gasp that escapes her. Her fingers work at my shirt buttons, exposing the tattoos that wind across my skin. The feather-light touch of her fingers tracing the intricate designs sends shivers down my spine.

I pull back, needing to see her face. "Are you sure?" I ask again, my voice a mix of desire and lingering doubt.

Harper's answer comes in the form of her shirt being pulled over her head, revealing her to me completely. I can't help the low groan that escapes me at the sight. My hands roam over her exposed skin, memorizing every curve and plane.

Being with her like this makes me lose time. Now, we're in my bed, tangled in the sheets. Harper's body presses against mine, and her breath is hot on my ear. The room is dark, but the soft lines of her face glow from the backlighting.

Our bodies move in sync, and the heat between us intensifies. Every touch, every kiss is amplified, electric. I can feel her heartbeat against my chest, matching the rhythm of my own. The world outside fades away, leaving only us lost in each other.

Suddenly, the room starts to spin, and the scene begins to blur. I reach out for Harper, but she's slipping away. "Don't go," I call out, but she doesn't respond.

I jolt awake, disoriented. My heart is racing, and I'm alone in my bed, sheets tangled around my legs. The vivid dream clings to me, Harper's phantom touch still tingling on my skin.

I groan, scrubbing a hand over my face. The ache of desire lingers, made worse by the knowledge that it was just a dream. Harper's laugh echoes in my mind, and her imagined moans still ring in my ears.

I lay there, trying to steady my breathing and shake off the remnants of the dream. But Harper's face, flushed with passion, refuses to fade.

My body aches with unfulfilled desire, and I'm left with a throbbing erection that demands attention.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. It was just a dream, but the memories of Harper's touch linger. Whatever shit my brain is playing on me, it was vivid and intense. I can't shake the feeling of her body pressed against mine, or the taste of her lips, or the sound of her breath.

I close my eyes as my hand slides down to finish what the dream started. But even as I find release, I know it's not enough. I want more than just dreams. I want Harper.

X4DowntownBHAM

5:24 AM

The sharp clangof weights hitting the floor echoes through the gym, but it barely registers over the pounding in my head. I grip the barbell tighter, my knuckles turning white, and force myself through another set of squats. The burn in my legs does nothing to chase away the dream—or the heat it left simmering in my chest.

What the hell is going on with me?

I rack the barbell, stepping back and shaking out my legs. Normally, this is my escape. My reset button. The gym has always been where I go to clear my head, to work out whatever’s gnawing at me until it’s nothing but sweat and exhaustion. But not today.

Today, all I see is Harper.

The way she laughed in the dream, that carefree, head-thrown-back kind of laugh. The way her hands gripped my coat, pulling me closer like she couldn’t stand the distance. The way her breath hitched when I?—

“Damn it.” I slam my water bottle down on the bench, earning a sideways glance from the guy curling dumbbells nearby. I wave him off, muttering, “All good,” and grab a towel to wipe my face.

Except it’s not all good. It’s far from it.

I’ve never been this fixated on anyone. What the fuck is wrong with me?!

Sure, I’ve thought about Harper before—who wouldn’t? She’s gorgeous, sharp, and confident in a way that’s both infuriating and magnetic.

But I've never thought about it too hard. She's just always been there. Always Harper.

That’s how I operate. I don’t overthink it, and I don’t let myself get too close, too tangled. Move on, keep it light, don’t risk screwing it up.

But with her, I did screw it up. I treated her like any other woman when she wasn’t. I made it worse with that stupid joke, throwing her in with a category she never belonged.

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