Page 53 of Misery and Ecstasy

The doc’s eyes are still sparkling when she looks at me. I hold her gaze, waiting for her mood to deteriorate. Waiting for the irritation to set in. For her to let me know this was yet another mistake and she needs to get out of here.

But when Saxon utters some nonsense about duck and dive, kettle and hob, and mince pies, she slaps her palm over her face as her body shakes in silent laughter. It’s contagious, so I bite my bottom lip to keep my own from escaping me.

“The Hammers must have played like shit tonight.” Pressing my mouth close to McKinsey’s ear, I whisper to her.

“Who the hell are the Hammers?” She laughs quietly.

When Saxon passes the front of the vehicles and walks into the back room of the garage, I quickly grab McKinsey’s hand.

“His favorite soccer team. Come on…” When we sprint out into the darkness I think about running back toward the house, but it’s too far for us to go in this state of undress.

Deciding to lead her to my old place in the barracks, I open the door quickly and help shuffle her through before enduring another close call with any of my other brothers. Locking the doorknob, I turn the light on before facing her. She’s leaning against the back of the sofa in the living room, breathing hard with her hand on her chest.

Her pants are in a ball on the floor at her feet. Her ruined shirt is haphazardly wrapped around her, barely covering the place where my cock was just nestled. I wait for her to decide where we go from here–whether it’s to get dressed and leave or to finish what we’ve started.

I don’t move. My clothes are balled up in my hands, pressed in front of me to cover my still aching cock. We were so close.

Damn you, Saxon.

When the doc finally looks at me, there is a war raging in her stare. I stifle a groan as her hand trails from her chest up to her throat, rubbing at her porcelain skin as her eyes move back-and-forth between me and the floor.

“What is it?” I’m dying to know what she’s thinking.

“You know…” She drags her tongue along her bottom lip. “There’s a part of me that wants to shield myself from you. To maintain professionalism as well as keep myself from getting further involved in this club for my own safety.”

I try not to get hung up on ‘there’s a part of me.’ Does it mean there is another part of her that feels differently? Perhaps feelings that are in favor of doing the opposite?

Fuck, I don’t understand my hope of having more with her.

As she continues, my answer becomes clear.

“But there is a whole other part of me… A part that I don’t often give in to. Someone I could have been today, had my life played out a little differently than it has.”

Once my mind finishes sifting through all of the possibilities and implications of her statement, I’m itching to hunt down everyone who has ever wronged her and gut them.

“Someone who wants to toss fear and trauma aside and take a leap into the unknown.” Pushing off the sofa, she wraps her arms around her body and faces me with a quivering lip. “I’m afraid, Draven.”

I close the distance between us in three steps. Dropping my clothes, I grab her and pull her into a hug.

“I don’t want you to be scared with me, McKinsey.”

She lets me hold her for a moment before she pulls back just enough so she can see my face.

“I like helping people. I feel called to do it. I want to help you, but I also wantthis.I feel scared and selfish for wanting both.”

My heart speeds up the more she speaks. It’s not what I expected from her at all. Fingering a strand of her hair, I shake my head in disbelief. Before I can respond, she continues.

“I’m not perfect, Draven. And I’m a lot of work. Trust me when I say that I need just as much help as any of my patients do.”

“I would never expect you to be perfect. Fuck knows I’mfarfrom it. And I would be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous about getting close to you. But there’s a reason why I’ve never felt guilty for the thoughts I’ve had about you … or when I’m with you.”

She said it the other day… I didn’t love Eva, so that could be why I felt guilty when we had sex.

Does that mean I love the doc?

Woah. Okay. Too much, too fast.

It may not necessarily translate to love or mean that the doc isthe one.

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