Page 55 of Doctor I Do

Tahlia

I’m so frustrated, I could cry. Why didn’t he kiss me passionately last night? I was practically begging him. I even leaned in, but he just…pecked me on the damn lips!

He spun around and strolled into his room as if nothing happened. Leaving me shocked and breathless. When I finally got my legs to work, they were shaky. I barely slept last night, because I couldn’t stop dreaming about him. The way his strong hands massaged my shoulders. Or the way his breath touched my ear when he whispered into it.

I know I shouldn’t want him, but I can’t rein it back in now. And if he didn’t already turn me down, I would have crawled into his bed and begged him to touch me. But I’ve had enough humiliation.

I open my bedroom door, ready to stomp down the stairs, a mix of exhaustion and anger overwhelming me. I didn’t bother changing into the sweats to cover myself. I’m back in my slinky nightie, wearing it proudly to fuck with him. I’m not covering myself up; I want him to walk around with the same amount of ache that I have. A wicked smirk parts my lips as I imagine him hard as a rock, walking around at work in scrubs for me. Yeah…I can’t deny the thrill that thought hits me with.

Of course, he stands outside my bedroom with his hand up like he was ready to knock on my door. “Morning,” he says in his gravelly morning voice.

I catch his eyes roaming up over my naked legs. Instinctively, I cross one foot over the other to squeeze the throb between my thighs. His eyes widen at the movement. I love the way he looks at me. It makes me feel adored…wanted. Yet his actions do the other.

He’s so damn confusing. It hurts my brain to think.

The only sign he gives me, or at least I think I’m seeing, is a deep hunger in his glare. Then there’re his heavy breaths and his Adam’s apple as he tries to swallow when he finishes his inspection.

“Did you sleep well?” he asks through a thick voice.

I want to tell him I’m achy, aroused, and borderline close to begging him to fuck me here in my room. Even taking in his sweats, it’s hard for me to focus.

“Yeah, all right.” It’s the best I can come up with. I try not to show him how affected I am by his looks.

The way his lips twitch and brow lifts, I expect him to call me out. But instead, he watches me closely.

Needing to break the tension, I cross my arms over my chest. I’m trying to calm the noise in my head that’s telling me to step forward and capture his mouth with mine. My body is on fire, and I know he’s watching me.

His hand reaches out to run a finger along my temple and over my lips. They part, desperate for him, just like the rest of me.

His touch on my lips is so delicate, it’s like he’s deliberating.

Do it, my head screams. Kiss me…

“Yes…” I breathe, my voice cracking.

His fingers trail down my neck, over my rapid pulse, before he moves to my shoulder. I watch him, and his brows pull down as his tongue pokes out of his mouth. My breath catches. His hand has moved to the divot in my chest, and his finger trails delicately down the center between my heavy breasts, my nipples tight and ready for his touch. His fingers linger over my wildly beating heart.

“I shouldn’t…” His voice is low and strangled, mirroring my own struggle. But he has some kind of internal fight that he isn’t voicing. His dark eyes stay trained on his finger that’s headed back to the base of my throat, setting my body to shivering.

“Why not?” I push, ignoring my own dark thoughts coming up about how much of a playboy he is, and that he will only break my heart. I’ll be the one left disappointed.

“I don’t do this.”

I frown, not understanding. I try not to focus on his finger caressing up my arm again and how he could see my nipples tight through my nightie. Instead, I force myself to focus on his words.

“Don’t do what?” I whisper softly, trying to get him to let his walls down and allow me in.

He stays silent as he skims his finger over the strap sitting on my shoulder, moving it effortlessly. I close my eyes; my body frozen, hoping he will slide the strap off.

“Alex…” I say, a gentle plea, willing him to take this further.

His finger moves across to the other arm, repeating the same torturous motion. A deep, heavy sigh slips through my lips.

His eyes momentarily flick to mine, blazing with so much heat. A breath catches in my lungs at the sight. And I have to focus on exhaling to calm my erratic body down.

“This. T. I don’t. I can’t do this to you.” His finger stops on my wrist, over my pulse. It’s spilling my secrets without me having to utter a word. I’m desperate for him. I don’t want him to stop. I feel like I could break from the overwhelming need to have him.

But, of course, he fucking stops. My eyes sting, so I squeeze them shut and then re-open them. Steadying myself, I try to get a read of his face. His lips are thin and his face tight. I see the pain, but I don’t get why. I’m offering myself on a silver platter, and he’s denying us…why?

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