Page 60 of The Wrong Husband
“I’ve never been one to plan that far out, but if I had a choice—” She looks into the distance. “I hope I can get more experience with trauma situations and keep helping people. I don’t necessarily count growth as rising through the ranks, but more in the richness of experience I get along the way.”
“That’s mature of you.” I can’t help but look at her in a new light.
“You expected me to outline a career path, huh?” She laughs. “I’ve never been the kind attracted to linear advancement. It always felt shallow to mark my progress in that way, you know?”
“So, what satisfies you?”
She chews on her lower lip. I watch, fascinated, wishing I could feel her mouth wrapped around my cock, then force my gaze away. The attraction to her may have started out as physical, but the more I get to know this woman, the more I’m turned on by her intelligence, her quirky personality, her generosity in wanting to help her colleagues, her community. I’ve never met someone so multifaceted.
“This might sound like a cliché but”—she looks up at me from under her eyelashes—“bringing someone back from the verge of death, knowing I’ve helped to give them a new lease on life is the most incredible feeling in this world. It’s also made me aware that I can’t take all the credit for such miracles. There’s a bigger force out there playing a role. Which is the only explanation for some people surviving.”
Our gazes meet and hold. I’m struck by the determination in hers, plus the awe and this absolute captivation. One day, she’s going to look at me in the same way. And it’s going to be for more than an orgasm.
I tug on her hand. She loses her balance, and I pull her into my lap.
“Hey,” she says breathlessly.
“Hey.” I tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
“You made me talk about myself again,” she whispers.
“I love hearing your voice. I want to know everything about you.”
“This was supposed to bemegetting to knowyoubetter.” Her lips part.
I fix my gaze on her plump mouth. “Ask me anything.”
She licks her mouth. “What’s your favorite color?”
“Black.”
“No surprise there.” She snorts. “Favorite movie?”
“Zero Dark Thirty.”
“Good choice.”
“And The Notebook.”
“No,” she gasps.
I chuckle, “You’re right. It’s not. But it was worth saying it to see the look in your eyes.”
“You’re a jerk.” She shoves at my shoulder.
“I’myourjerk,” I correct her.
“Oh.” She draws in a sharp breath.
Once again, the chemistry between us flares. The air thickens. A gentle breeze wafts over us, turning the entire scene into magic. I lean in closer to her as she moves toward me.
When our lips are mere inches apart, she murmurs. “What scares you more—being alone, or being seen?”
“Being seen. Because if someone sees you…Reallysees you… They know where to hurt you.”
Like you can.
She nods, her expression serious. “Very deep answer.”
