Page 32 of Doctor I Do

At his front door, he struggles to open the door.

“I’m awake. Put me down, and I’ll walk in,” I suggest with a light tone.

“It’s okay, I can do it, and hey, think of it as practice for our wedding day.”

I shake my head, trying to ignore his heavenly scent. Being this close makes it stronger.

I wiggle out of his arms, giving him no choice but to lower me. Once my feet are safely cemented on the ground, I expect him to open the door. Yet, his hands stay touching my waist and mine on his shoulders. As if we are both enjoying the touch of each other too much for either of us to stop. It’s as if this is natural.

He’s staring down intently at me before he slowly and seductively gazes over my body. When he meets my eyes again, my blood is pounding in my ears. He leans in, and the emotions around us are melting my resolve.

“Are we going to practice kissing?” he asks in a hoarse voice, licking his lips.

“Do we need to?” My eyes bounce between his. I want him to kiss me. Badly.

“I think it would be good if we do it without an audience, just in case we suck.” His breath dusts my lips, causing a shiver to run up my spine.

I laugh, but then I’m straight back into a lustful state. My brain tells me this is a bad idea and to take a step back and go home, but then the other side of me is saying I need to stop overthinking and just try to enjoy the moment.

It’s just a simple kiss. After that, we can go back to playing pretend. I haven’t kissed a man in a really long time. And I’ve never kissed a man this hot or oozing this much sexual energy.

I don’t answer with words, because my stomach is in a wild swirl of anticipation. When our lips touch, my eyes flutter closed, and I sink deep into it. His strong hand is on the back of my head while the other roams over my back and rests on the crease of my lower back just above my ass. The trail of heat from where his hands are makes me inch closer, closing any distance between us. My hands move from his broad shoulders up his thick neck, and I run my fingers through his hair before curling my grip.

I’d like to think this kiss confirms there is nothing between us, but I feel everything. Our closeness is like a drug, only bringing me closer to euphoria. It’s unhinged and feral and unexpected.

His tongue runs over my bottom lip, seeking entry. I groan from the feeling of his tongue inside my mouth. Sweet and warm and captivating. I want more.

I need more.

The erratic beating of my heart feels like it’s about to come out of my chest. Everything around us drowns out and my earlier sleepy state is now the opposite. I’m wired with desire.

And it’s safe to say he’s feeling the same. The way his hand grips my ass and brings me flush against his hard erection, there is no mistaking the sparks. I grind myself against him, causing him to growl.

Our tongues move in fluid strokes. I lap up his taste, and a whimper leaves my chest. No time to be embarrassed or silent. I can’t hold myself back even if I wanted to.

Every sweep of his tongue I match it with my own in perfect rhythm. He’s a good kisser; it’s borderline going to make me second-guess the fake part.

When we pull apart gasping for oxygen, I bring my eyes to his and hold them, seeing the same struggle and conflict I feel. And I wonder what he’s thinking, but before I get a chance to ask, he pecks my lips with soft slow kisses. Not once, no, not twice, no, three times before he moves his lips to my hair, whispering, “Let’s go inside and have a drink.”

Once we get inside his house, it’s too dark to take everything in other than his large sofa. I walk directly over to it. Sitting down, I sink into the fabric, feeling almost lightheaded from what we just shared.

“I’ll use the bathroom and then fix you a wine or tea?”

Twisting my head, I look over the sofa to meet his gaze with a smile. I ignore how my body still hums with a strong need to kiss him again and focus on the gentleness that’s written across his face. It reminds me why he’s a doctor. How he likes to care for people. Even now with me, in his home. I’ve not had someone. Specifically, a man that I’m attracted to want to do that for me. And right now, I admit, after the hot kiss we shared, it feels nice.

Deciding I need the alcohol to calm me. “Wine sounds good.” I reply, sounding breathless.

His lips twitch. “All right, won’t be long.”

The next morning, I open my eyes and realize I’m in a bed that’s not my own. I last remember being on Alex’s sofa, drinking wine. A lot of it. I must’ve passed out. Looking around, the other side isn’t touched, so I must be in the guest room. It’s light from the sun beaming through the curtains. I glance around at the wooden furniture, large TV, cream and beige bedding.

It's not the bachelor pad I expected. No, this is lovely.

Getting up, I leave the room and head down the light wooden stairs. I find myself near the living room which has the same white walls, beige, and leather furnishings. As I make my way to his kitchen and living area, his voice booms from behind me. “I got you breakfast and a coffee.”

I jerk around to find him holding two coffees and two brown bags.

“Thanks,” I say, taking in his soaked white training top, showing off his toned chest and every ripple of his abs. The dusting of dark hair between his pecs reminds me he’s all man. I know I should stop staring, but I continue my inspection. His black training shorts cling to his thighs, and when I make my way back to his face, beads of sweat drip along his temples, causing some of his dark hair to stick to his forehead. My hand twitches to push it back off his face.

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