Page 121 of Doctorshipped
“I might. Hypothetically.”
“I hypothetically love the idea of you picturing me when I’m not around.”
She attempts to walk past me into the house. I want to let her walk right in, to take my time, to go slowly with her. I should. We can eat. Then we can chat over dessert. And then I’ll kiss her. Later, I’ll walk her to her car, give her another kiss—that one chaste, but full of affection—and then I’ll watch her drive away.
As tempting and solid as that plan sounds, I can’t follow through with it. I’m like a kid with a pillowcase full of candy during Trick-or-Treating. All that sweetness is right at my fingertips, and I need a taste.
I lean in, pulling her around into my arms.
Jayme gasps, “Oh.”
She blinks and looks up at me through her lashes. They are more pronounced tonight. “Well, hello there.”
I hum. “Mmmm. Hello.”
“Were we going to …”
She doesn’t get the sentence out of her mouth before I’m bending down to kiss her. She grips onto my sides, her fingers pressing in with the same intensity I feel. She returns my kiss, opening for me, and melting into my arms. She pulls me nearer. My hands move to cup her face. Our mouths dance, eager to restore the connection we’ve been missing in the hours we’ve been apart.
I’m hungry for her, for this tension and release we find together. It’s her—all her. I’m finding and losing myself in the intimacy of what only the two of us share together.
The way Jayme challenges me, and yet fully accepts me as I am, emboldens me. Only two other people in my life have given me this feeling of utter safety—my mother and my daughter. All thoughts of them vanish from my mind when Jayme moves her hands up my arms, helping herself to a full exploration of the ridges and dips of my muscles. Her hands travel to my hair, and she’s tugging, smoothing, combing her fingers through, and then gripping onto me as she moans softly.
I grumble and hum into her mouth, pulling her closer, stroking my hands through her hair and rubbing my palms across her back.
Jayme pulls away gently, placing a soft kiss on my lips, and then another. Her eyes slowly rove over my features, pausing to flit between my eyes. A soft, satisfied grin makes her look almost angelic.
We hold one another, staring into each other’s eyes. Is this real? I hear the question as if we both asked it out loud. And Jayme’s grin spreads a little wider as if to answer us both. This unexpected gift we’ve found feels like coming home. My chest fills with warmth, expanding and buzzing with emotion for her.
If this isn’t love, I don’t think I could handle the real thing. I think I love her.
No. I know I do.
I love Jayme.
She’s everything I needed and didn’t think I wanted—slightly chaotic, outspoken, and challenging. But soft, gentle, and forgiving. She’s this paradox of childlike generosity and trust, combined with her own unique feminine allure. And if I don’t put some distance between us, I’ll act on the tremendous desire I feel for her.
I pull away, allowing my hand to linger on her back.
“Whew,” she says, running a hand through her hair to tame it. “I could get used to you meeting me at the door like that.”
“I’m not sure I would ever get anything done if I spent my days greeting you at the door like that.”
“Never?”
“You’re proving to be a grave distraction.”
“And that’s a bad thing?”
“Tonight, no. Tonight it’s perfect. But, at some point I do have to focus on something other than the feel of you in my arms and the way I miss you when you’re further than twenty feet away from me.”
Jayme looks up at me and smiles warmly.
“Who knew you were capable of saying such sweet things? If you’re not careful, you’re going to ruin your reputation.”
“Are you saying I’m not sweet?”
“You’re like the best Chinese meal. Sweet and sour.”
