Page 31 of Dr. Stone
“Is this something you picked up in college, Dr. Stone?” I teased.
“Cute, but no. I’ve been sailing since I was a teenager. It’s the only place I don’t feel like I’m performing.”
I glanced at the canvas. “The trim’s loose on that sailboat. Whoever’s on that boat didn’t read the wind right, so I doubt that person would feel like you do when you look at the painting.”
He turned to me, brow raised. “That’s an interesting catch. I didn’t take you for a critic of boat dynamics.”
I smiled. “Well, we had a rule not to talk about anything personal that night, remember?”
His smile faltered, but not in a bad way, more like he suddenly realized there was more to the girl he thought he’d already figured out.
“I remember everything about that night,” he said, more direct and in charge of where he and I would go next. “Forgive me for being forward, but you’ve fascinated me once again,” he smirked his cocky and sexy grin, “and since you’re a woman who knows her sailboats, I’d love to bring you out on mine.”
“Is that so?”
He stepped forward, and I fell under the spell of his fine cologne, ocean-blue eyes, and the memory of how effortlessly he’d brought out the best in me in the bedroom.
Honestly, there wasn’t a day that had gone by that I’d forgotten his skill with my body. This encounter was something I’d fantasized about more than once—us meeting at random, taking another night for ourselves, and indulging in something we should never have to finish.
“I have no idea what the hell you did to me that night,” he said. “I swear to God, I thought I would’ve forgotten all about you by now.” His eyes studied mine, lips just a breath away, “Let me take you out again. Let me take you on the boat. I want to know more about this woman who’s captured my mind and won’t allow me to have thoughts without her in them these days.”
If I wasn’t so caught up in this moment—every passionate cell in my body alight, my skin practically on fire as if he were already touching me, kissing me, fucking me all over again—I might’ve been intimidated by how close he suddenly was.
But the strangest part was the pull inside me. It was an invisible force keeping me rooted here, unable to move or resist him despite convincing myself the past few nights that I’d shut him down the second he tried to compete with another man for my attention—or whatever he thought he was doing.
“You feel it too, don’t you?” he questioned with a tone that seemed he was looking for answers.
“Maybe we’re just remembering how amazing that night was?”
He smiled that damn wolf grin because he knew I was lying. Hell yeah, I felt this shit. I felt like our bodies were made of magnetic bolts of energy, undeniably drawn to each other, and from his question, he must’ve felt the same.
“I’ll go, but if you want to do the personal shit, too, getting into our real lives, then there will be no fucking,” I said.
He arched an eyebrow. “Something tells me that neither you nor I could resist that...not with what we’re feeling right now.” Then, he paused, leaned in, and gently kissed my cheek before stepping back with a smile. “Have Ash charge my card for the painting,” he said, turning to leave. “I’ll get your number from Jake. I’ve got dinner at my parents’ place tonight, and I’ve already taken up too much of your time.”
I stood there, watching him breeze out of the gallery like some scene out of a storybook. He didn’t look back, but it didn’t feel dramatic. It felt necessary like he needed to compose himself just as much as I did. I swear there was still electricity crackling in the air between us, the kind of spark that makes your skin remember, your body ache and your mind wander to all the possibilities.
If he couldn’t forget our night, and I couldn’t either, then maybe this was more than a couple of men fighting for my attention. Perhaps this was the beginning of something I wasn’t ready for.
FIFTEEN
Jace
I turnedoff Via Marina onto Strand Street, the city’s noise fading with every block. The road narrowed, the air cooled, and the ocean took over. By the time I reached my place, the driveway was lined with towering palms, framing the house like a private retreat.
Glass and stone rose ahead—a modern fortress, clean lines catching the last slant of sunlight. At the far end of the block, the sand began its quiet takeover, and the horizon opened into endless blue.
The black iron gate slid open with a whisper. I eased the Aston past the main entrance, down the side where the garage stayed hidden from street view. The front might’ve been designed to impress, but the real indulgence was underneath.
Motion sensors flicked on as the underground garage opened, bathing polished concrete in warm light. My cars sat in neat formation like an exhibition: the Ferrari 296 GTB, a vintageblack Porsche 911, a McLaren that could outrun a heartbeat. The Aston slipped back into its spot like it belonged there.
A little over the top? Sure. But after spending my days cutting open chests and racing death in the OR, I needed my own brand of therapy—fast cars, open water, anything that reminded me I was still alive. And when I wanted peace instead of adrenaline, I turned to the ocean.Via Her—my sailboat—was my one constant, named as a quiet nod to the only lady I’d ever truly commit to.
I stepped out into the salt-heavy air. Waves rolled just beyond the dune, steady and unhurried, nothing like the pace of my days. I was finally home.
And my next move? Call Andie.
I’d let a week pass since inviting her out on my boat—long enough, I figured, for her to get Titus out of her system. Truth was, I’d never really done the wholedatingthing. And I sure as hell had never found myself in a pissing contest with Hawk. If I was being honest, it felt a lot like setting myself up to lose, maybe even on purpose. Like I wasn’t sure I deserved to win.
