Page 18 of Dirty Doctor
And I really don’t want to feel like Luke’s little sister tonight.
I make my way into the kitchen, and there he is, wearing a dark red dress shirt and black slacks. He looks exhausted—and his hair is all mussed up again. He doesn’t look up at me when he sets his phone, keys, and wallet on the counter. The way he sets it down, though—like he’s angry—makes me pause.
“Hi,” I say tentatively.
No response.
I pull my lower lip between my teeth as he opens the fridge and grabs the filtered water, pouring himself a large glass. He doesn’t even shut it as he gulps it all down before he puts the water back in the fridge and slams the door shut. Still avoiding eye contact, he brushes past me for the stairs.
“Luke.”
Nothing.
What the hell?
“Luke!” He continues up the stairs in an angry daze, so I follow him up. “Why are you ignoring me? Are you okay? What happened?” He continues to his bedroom, and I hope he doesn’t realize I was snooping around all morning. He attempts to close the bedroom door in my face, but I catch it and push it open. “What the fuck?”
He turns around and glares at me. “Get out.”
I rear my head back. Did he see me snooping? Is he angry about the shelves?
“Why?”
He sighs, looking down at the floor. “I think you should leave.” His eyes find mine, and something moves behind them—something unspoken and wild. “I can find you a nice hotel to stay at. I’ll even pay for your room. But you need to leave.”
I ignore the disappointment flowing through me, the hurt that makes my eyes sting.
“You want me to leave?” I ask, my voice resolute.
He doesn’t answer for a few seconds, rubbing both his hands across his mouth, then sagging his shoulders a bit.
“No,” he responds, his voice frayed. “I don’t want you to leave. And therein, lies the problem, Langley.”
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
LANGLEY
I let out a tiny gasp,and I feel my skin flush at his words. I don’t even know what to say to that, which is fine, because Luke takes a step forward as he unbuttons the collar of his shirt, distracting me.
Holy hell.
His arms. The corded muscles. The way his fingers work to unbutton his collar. The way he’s walking toward me slowly, like a predator.
“I don’t want you to leave, Langley,” he repeats slowly, his voice low and rough. “And I haven’t stopped thinking about you all fucking day.” I back up a few steps, my back hitting the wall of his bedroom as his eyes pin me to the spot. “I had a woman coding on the table,” he growls, looking down and baring his teeth, “and yet, all I could think about was how youthoughtabout us.” He chuckles darkly, and then his black eyes find mine, and I feel my knees buckle under his gaze as he works another button off.
I swallow. “And?”
We’re in a dangerous territory now. I know that—he knows that. As he takes another step closer, I can see the dark hair peeking through the top of his shirt now.
“And,” he answers, narrowing his eyes, “I might explode if I don’t find outwhatexactly you thought about your dear stepbrother.”
Oh, fuck.
I wipe my hands on my jeans. My mouth is both dry and wet as he prowls toward me, his brows furrowed.
“What do you—”
He’s right in front of me now, and he places one hand on the wall behind me, pinning me to the spot. His chest rises and falls rapidly, and I feel lightheaded and dizzy now that he’s so close.
