Page 67 of Doctor Mile High
I clearly have no idea what I’m doing.
“This is what I get for trying to be sexy. I have no idea what I’m doing.” I stare at myself, wondering if I’m in over my head.
What if he thinks I’m trying too hard?
“Up. Definitely up.” I tie my hair in place, snagging a few loose strands to frame my face.
I blow out a breath and shake my hands and arms, doing my best to relax. Adding a light coat of red gloss, I rub my lips together, dabbing the sides to gather the extra.
“How do I want to be when he enters the room?” I continue to talk to myself, happy that the only person in this house right now is a newborn who can’t understand what I’m saying.
I stroll over to the doorway, placing my elbow against the trim. Shaking my head, I readjust my stance, thinking it’s too cliché. I press my back against the trim instead, bending my knee, and do my best to pout my lips.
“Oh, this is ridiculous. I’m being ridiculous. Don’t try so hard. He wanted you when you looked your worst, remember that, Dove.” Giving myself a pep talk wasn’t on my list of things to do today, but sometimes it’s needed, especially when nerves are getting the best of me.
I twist my hands together as my heart begins to race. I don’t know why I’m so nervous. I’ve never done anything like this before. Winston is the most serious relationship I have ever had. I’ve never tried to seduce anyone before. My other relationships weren’t as serious, and no other makes my heart skip a beat like Winston does. I want our first time together since Costa Rica to be remembered.
So much has changed in such a short amount of time, and he has shown me time and time again how much he cares about me. This is my way to show how much I care about him.
Stepping away from the door, I decide that maybe the bed is a better option. I lie down on my side, place my hand on my hip, and stare out the doorway, waiting for him to come up the steps so he can see me from down the hall.
I don’t know.
This feels cliché too.
I groan and flop to my back in frustration. Sex has never been this hard. It’s my fault. I’m putting the pressure on myself when I know Winston would love it if I were in a shirt with baby spit on it. He wouldn’t care.
He just wants me.
I roll out of bed, deciding that the lingerie is too much, and my effort to look sexy might come off as desperate.
Something crashes at the end of the hallway, the sound echoing down the hall as if it’s a tunnel. I lift my head to see Winston standing there. The keys are on the floor next to his feet and his arms are stretched out, hands on either side of the wall as he stares at me.
Even from here, I can see the swirl of lust in his green eyes.
“Winston,” I say in a single exhale, trying to figure out a way to explain myself as he charges down the hall.
A stern, fierce expression has his features looking sharper and more defined. As he marches down the hallway, he begins to unbutton his shirt, doing his best to get undressed before entering the room.
He fails.
And I don’t have time to take a breath or explain myself before he takes my face in his hands and kisses me. He effectively steals my breath. Every glide of his lips against mine has me feeling more confident in my own skin.
“The doctor cleared you, I see,” he whispers, leaning away to get a good look at me. His eyes roam up and down my body, and then he slowly twirls me around. “Fuck, Love Dove, you look fucking breathtaking.” He shoves me against the bed so hard, my knees buckle, forcing me to sit on the mattress. “We’re leaving this on,” he growls, toying with the thin strap on my shoulder.
“You like it?” I gasp as his hand skims down my chest, awakening nerve endings I had no idea existed.
“Like it?” He cages me in, leaning forward so much, I have to lie down. He crawls on top of me, brushing my hair off my shoulder. Bending down, he leaves a kiss on the edge of my collarbone. “I love it.” He robs another a kiss from me, his tongue sliding against mine, and we moan in unison, grabbing at one another with the intensity of months and months of sexual tension.
From missing each other, to saving one another, to not being able to give in to our bodies—we’re desperate to feel.
I unbutton the rest of his shirt, needing to see more of him. With harsh tugs, I yank it off his shoulders and he tugs it down his arms, tossing it to the side. My eyes lock onto the salt-and-pepper hair on his chest that travels over his abdomen, forming a skinny trimmed trail that disappears under his waistband.
My fingers become curious and I reach, needing to feel the soft hair against my skin. He’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid eyes on.
And I want to prove that to him.
I drag my fingers down his torso, his stomach flexing with every abdominal muscle I skim over. He gasps, his flesh breaking out in small goose bumps, coming alive from my touch alone. When I reach his belt, I lock eyes with him, undoing the buckle so Ican lower his zipper. Getting off the bed, he allows his pants to drop and I’m left with him standing in front of me with tight gray boxer briefs that hug every inch of his large cock. He’s so hard, the tip pokes out of the waistband and precum slips along his stomach, leaving a clear trail for me to clean.
