Page 124 of Doctor I Do

I lower my bottle to the coffee table and lay my hands on her shoulders. Her body jumps a little with shock from my sudden touch. I move my thumbs in deep, sweeping movements.

As she eases back, I watch her eyes flutter closed, and I can’t help but move my lips to her ear. “You’re missing the show.”

She grumbles and waves me off. Her shampoo hits me at full force, and I bite back a groan.

“Does this feel good?” I ask, my voice deep with arousal.

“Yes,” she says as she eases farther into my touch.

“Good. Now just relax.”

She takes a big intake of breath, and she tries to open her eyes. But fails.

I grin and move my hands to either side of her neck. Stroking up and down and finding her pulse. I love how hard and fast it goes underneath me. The rhythm matches my own. As I draw my touch in harder and slower, a whimper escapes her lips. My sole focus is on her and to make her feel good.

Her breathing picks up as she mumbles, “You really are a doctor, aren’t you?”

Chuckling from above her, I tease, “Didn’t believe me before?”

Her eyes snap open. “I did, I just...I’ve never been your patient before.”

My hands freeze. I’m unable to massage for the moment. Thinking of her as my patient wouldn’t be good. “I don’t want you as my patient. Ever.”

I curse at my tone. It’s too clipped; I sound almost angry. And I instantly regret it. It’s just the dread of a loved one getting ill scares me. “I didn’t mean to be rude to you, but the patients I treat are not healthy. And I can’t bear—” I swallow past the lump in my throat from my thoughts.

She tries to turn, and it snaps me back to reality. My hands hold her still so she can’t turn around and see the pain I know that's etched into my face. I return to the massage, trying to distract her.

“Sorry,” she whispers.

“Don’t be sorry.”

She opens her mouth to add something, but when she closes it, I’m kind of relieved.

Tahlia and my kids are my whole universe. I don’t want to imagine anything ever happening to them.

She stays silent as my fingers dig into her knots and ease the tension that’s built.

“Your hands are seriously magic, Doc.”

“Magic?” I repeat, chuckling at her analogy.

I shake my head. “And you calling me Doc?” I smirk.

“Can I call you that?” She looks away, returning to watch the TV.

I lean down to whisper, and it comes out huskier than I mean for it to. I blame her intoxicating scent for being inches away from her skin.

“You can call me anything you want. I love all the nicknames you give me.”

She nods her head, but I can’t read her expression. My mouth doesn’t move from her ear. My finger twitches to touch her, and on instinct, I do. Moving my finger along the front of her neck, I stroke it delicately, feeling her pulse ricochet up and then her swallow.

And I imagine her swallowing me, my dick coming to life just from the imagery. It’s one hell of a vision I wouldn't mind having for real right now. But I don’t want to ruin this sweet moment.

“All right, Doc,” she whispers hoarsely, licking her lips, and my dick twitches at the sight.

I can’t help but lean in and kiss her temple slowly before pulling back.

I don’t know what’s coming over me. I’d like to think I know exactly what I’m doing, yet my body isn’t syncing with my brain. But she didn’t say to stop it, so I inch closer.

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