Page 31 of Butterfly

Alex pats my shoulder before standing up and uncoiling his warrior body. “I’ll be quick.”

While he is taking a shower and changing, I prepare the bottles of medications Dart will need. Antibiotics, painkillers, and something for the nausea in case he gets it, since every animal responds differently to anaesthesia. Dart staggers up, but his legs buckle and he drops onto the quilt again.

“Take it easy.” I sink my hand into his fur before finishing preparing the list of drugs.

Alex pads into the room, his fabulous scent preceding him. His once crisp suit is all wrinkled, courtesy of the clothes dryer, but the effect on him is still devastatingly charming. He’s dispensed with the tie, and his crumpled shirt leaves gaps on the front, showing his golden skin. The first buttons are undone. The trousers hang low on his hips, and with his damp hair, he’s ready for an Armani photo shoot. Dash it all.

“Just in time.” I straighten, proud of the collection of drugs I put together. “I prepared Dart’s medications. Antibiotics twice a day.” I touch the bottle with the blue lid. “Painkillers once a day, but more if required. If you see he has low energy and refuses food, he’s in pain.” I point at a yellow tube. “This cream needs to be applied to the wound to avoid infection, and this is something against nausea. I’ve written down specific instructions in case you get confused. Also, Dart might have problems swallowing solid food for a while. We have a few cans of semi-liquid food, specifically made for when a dog can’t swallow.” I grab a few cans from the shelf behind me and place them on the desk. “He should be all right with these.”

He nods and listens, sunlight gilding his profile and the dark stubble on his chin. “That’s great. How much do I owe you?”

I stop shuffling the bottles. “Excuse me?”

“The surgery and the drugs.” He takes out his wallet.

“Nothing.” I stick my chin out. “I won’t charge you.”

He dips his head so our gazes meet. “You operated on him, stayed here with him all night, and now the drugs. You should be paid.”

I hold his stare, even though a shiver—and not of the good type—trails down my back. “You didn’t choose me as your vet. It happened. I was your only option at that moment, and I volunteered to help Dart. So I don’t want money for the surgery. And all these drugs”—I gesture at the heavy bag—“are free samples the pharmaceutical houses send us. So, no money. I’m happy Dart is well and that I could help. That’s all.”

His sculpted lips press in a hard line that only adds a new layer of charm to him. “I don’t think it’s fair.”

I shrug. “I won’t take your money.”

He puts his wallet away without breaking eye contact. “Let’s do this. Let me take you out to dinner, as a thank you.”

An awful, half snort, half chuckle noise rips out of my lips. “That won’t be necessary either. I don’t want you to feel obliged to take me to dinner.”

“No obligation. Only pleasure.” He uses that deep baritone that makes me weak at the knees.

Instant self-combustion. I’m flushing so hard, I’m sure I’m bursting a blood vessel somewhere. God, the way he says pleasure is almost an orgasm. “As I said. It’s not…I’m …”

He leans closer, offering me a view of his open shirt and a few dark hairs on his chest. “I want to take you out to dinner because I like spending time with you.”

Was I burning before? Now an inferno is unleashed inside me, although I freeze on the spot. “Well…”

“And if you keep blushing like that”—his voice drops further to a low, husky tone—“I’m going to kiss you right now.”

Cue my further blush. Because I want to be kissed, and because I’m burning from the inside out. A moment of tension so thick that I could slice through it with my scalpel solidifies between us. My heart gives a kick as he takes my face in his hands. The rough pad of his thumb strokes my jaw in gentle circles. He draws in a deep breath, as if nervous about kissing me. Then his soft lips are on mine in a shock of tenderness and desire, and I lose myself in that simple contact.

A storm of sensation washes over me. I want to drag him closer, to tangle my fingers in his hair, and pull it. I want to kiss him hard until I’m breathless. I want to taste him. But at the same time, I’m standing still, worried that if I do the wrong thing, I’ll break the spell.

The tip of his tongue runs along the seam of my lips, prying them open. I welcome him into my mouth, tasting toothpaste and something sweet and spicy. His stubble scratches my skin, and I wonder how it would feel on my breasts, or between my legs. He deepens the kiss, his lips more urgent, more demanding, more possessive. I open my mouth and suck on his tongue gently as our lips move over each other. He groans, a masculine sound deep in his throat that stirs heat in my lower belly. His fingers tangle in my hair, cradling my head. He pulls me closer while our tongues dance together.

The kiss turns hard. His teeth graze my lips. His hands hold me in place as he takes possession of my mouth. With each shaky breath I take, my scrubs chafe my nipples. As if sensing my body’s reaction, his hand trails lower along my neck. I caress his jaw and—The doorbell ringing causes me to jolt away from him.

My breath comes out in hard pants. His chest is heaving under the wrinkled shirt. We stare at each other, like two thieves caught red-handed. The bell rings again.

“Damn,” he mutters under his breath, his lips an inch from mine.

Gazing at the floor, I walk around the desk and head to the front door. My skin is tingling. The tiredness is gone. What a jolly good way to start a day.

“Sienna?” Martin waves from the other side of the glass door. “How are you doing?”

Heavenly. I clear my throat and pull the door open, wondering if he can guess what I was doing a moment ago. My face is on fire, my lips itch, and my hair is a mess of wayward tendrils. “Fine. What are you doing here?”

“Brought you your car.” He hands me the key I left in his house. “I guessed you were here.”

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