Page 40 of Doctor I Do

I want to say too much information, but I’m too busy laughing.

“Enough about me. How are you going? Living with Alex?”

I told Alice and Blake about the arrangement after I spoke to Maddison. They were very understanding and totally supportive. I did, however, have to beg Alice not to tell Mike, and let Alex tell his brother. She reluctantly agreed.

To answer Alice’s question three words come to me.

Hard. Good. Hot.

I don’t say that. Instead, I end up saying what’s been on my mind for the last half an hour. “Alice, I don’t think the guy knows how to wear a shirt.”

A giggle sounds down the line. “Why?”

“He’s constantly without one,” I mumble.

“And? He’s at home. Is it a nice body?”

I screw up my face. “Alice, he’s your brother-in-law.”

“I’m not asking for me…”

The image of him earlier plays in front of me. It’s more than a nice body. It’s one I want to get lost in.

I won’t admit that. Instead, I swallow hard and say, “I’m not going there with Alex.”

“I didn’t ask that question. I asked if his body is nice. So, is it?”

I smile at her words, and I can’t help but answer. “Yes. It’s very nice.”

“I say enjoy the show. But maybe you could tease him back.”

“I’m not walking around shirtless, Alice,” I say deadpan, ignoring the way my nipples stiffen at the thought of teasing him.

She chuckles, and it turns to a snort. “You idiot. I don’t mean naked but tease him a little. Give him a little taste of his own medicine. It’ll drive him wild.”

It would be nice to have him on edge like I’ve been for him. “Not before he drives me crazy.”

“You’re in deep shit.”

“I’m not,” I say, trying to sound convincing. “I have control.”

I think…

Chapter 13

Tahlia

The next day we’ve just finished dinner in the dining room. I noticed he picked Italian takeout, knowing it’s my favorite food. He even asked what specific items I normally order, so that next time, he can order that. He’s being a lot more attentive than I thought he’d be. With my belly full, another big work day is finally catching up to me. I’m exhausted. And so ready to shower and fall asleep.

“I’m going to go shower and crawl into bed. Goodnight and thanks for dinner.”

“Wait up,” he says, walking over. A second later, he swoops me off my feet, and I squeal. I’m alert now.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Practicing carrying you for our wedding night,” he replies nonchalantly.

Like a husband carries his wife on their wedding night. Only, we aren’t a real couple, and we are going to separate beds. Why does that sudden realization leave me on chokehold?

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