by Nikki Sloane
A door closed, and two pairs of footsteps drifted in from the kitchen. I reached for the doorknob, but hesitated when I heard her voice, full of righteousness.
“Her car’s in the driveway.”
Greg’s tone was pointed. “And?”
There came a sound like she was flustered. “Well, when no one answered the door, I thought she’d spent the night with Preston while you weren’t home. I assumed you’re a good father who doesn’t allow that sort of thing.”
“What ‘sort of thing?’” Greg’s words were sharp, and I pictured his expression matching his voice.
“You know what I mean. Letting your son’s teenage girlfriend sleep over.” She said the word teenage the same way I imagined prim and conservative Judy would say atheist democrat.
A long and very male sigh rang out. “First of all, Cassidy isn’t Preston’s girlfriend—”
“Well, I’d certainly hope not.”
“And she’s an adult. Second, how I raise my son isn’t really your business. Did I ask you to come into my yard and look through my windows?”
The pitch and volume of her voice climbed. “I was doing you a favor! I thought you’d want to know how that girl spent the night, because it’s so inappropriate.” Judy drew in a deep breath. “Lordy, I had no idea just how inappropriate it really was.”
“Judy—”
“She’s a child. What are you doing with her?”
I slumped against the wall.
“That’s definitely none of your business,” he answered, maintaining an even keel, but I heard the edge beneath. He was close to losing his patience.
“This is why you’re not interested?” she spat out. “I’m not young enough for you.”
I sucked in a sharp breath.
“No,” Greg snapped. “I’m not interested in you, because of you. I’ve tried to be polite, believe me, but that ended the second you decided to trespass on my lawn and invade my privacy. No more visits, Judy. Unless it’s an emergency, you stay on your side of the property line. Understood?”
She gasped so loudly, I could practically see the indignation on her face. “You’re unbelievable. Does Preston know what you’re doing?”
His voice wasn’t threatening, but it was plenty serious. “Come over here again and it’ll be harassment.”
“Oh, don’t you worry. You won’t be seeing me again.” Footsteps moved at a clipped pace, then stopped abruptly. “Her? Really, Greg? You’re taking advantage of that girl and should be ashamed of yourself.”
“I think we’re done here, and I’d like you to leave.”
The patio door slammed shut and was followed by a long, aching silence. I swallowed the lump in my throat, grabbed my overnight bag, and trudged toward the kitchen. I stopped just inside to spy him facing away from me, his hands spread on the counter and his head hung. He looked deep in thought.
I wanted to stay and yet needed to run. Anything to avoid the difficult stuff. My voice was a ghost. “I should go.”
He straightened and turned, casting a glance at me over his shoulder, and just the profile of his torn expression made my heart hurt.
“How much of that did you hear?” he asked.
I tilted my head to the side and shrugged a shoulder. “You’re not taking advantage of me,” I said quietly.
He turned all the way to face me, crossed his arms over his chest, and leaned back against the counter, studying me. “Don’t listen to her. She’s just pissed, that’s all.”
Was he telling me, or himself? At least what he was saying made sense. She’d pursued him but been rejected. Maybe her anger had been a defense mechanism, but it was hard not to see a sliver of truth.
Greg looked resigned. “We need to tell Preston about us.”
I sighed. “He’s in North Carolina.”
“I meant when he gets back.”
Dread lined my stomach like lead, weighing me down. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
He raised an eyebrow, signaling annoyance. “You think he should hear it from Judy instead?”
“Of course not.” I scowled. “How’s he going to hear it from her? You told her to stay away.”
His irritation grew. “I did, but—”
“No. We talked about this.” The anxiety left over from Judy’s interruption lingered and churned, making me feel awful. “We said we’d tell him once we were ready.”
His mood was worse than mine, and for the first time, he directed a gaze at me like I was an insolent little girl. “I know you don’t want to, but we can’t avoid this.”
“I’m not ready.”
He sighed. “You’re acting like a child—”
The word died on his tongue, but it was too late. Anger and embarrassment welled inside me, rising like a bubbling caldron. “Oh, I’m a child now? I thought you told Judy I was an adult.”
“I said you’re acting like one. There’s a difference.”
I tightened my grip on my overnight bag. “I have to go.”
He threw his hands up, then set them on his hips. “You know what? Fine. I think that’s a good idea.”
It wasn’t what I expected. Wasn’t he supposed to fight me on this? Tell me all the ways I was being wrong? Even though it was what I’d asked for, it felt like he was giving up, and suddenly it was the last thing I wanted.
His expression softened. “Last night was great, and I don’t want to ruin that. She rattled us. Let’s cool off for now, and we can talk later. Okay?”
Stunned wasn’t a strong enough word for me. He was right. The unannounced guest had set me on edge, and getting some space and a clear head was the best idea. And he was right too about last night. I didn’t want the confrontation with Judy to tarnish my time with him any more than she already had.
So, I nodded and agreed with an uneven voice. “Okay.”
We’d said we were going to talk about it, but Greg didn’t bring it up that evening when he texted to see how my day was. And he didn’t mention it the next night, either. We pretended both the Judy and Preston issues didn’t exist. Like they weren't looming over us, and we weren’t on borrowed time.
Except Preston made that difficult. During my lunch break, my phone buzzed with a text message.
Preston: I miss you.
I clicked the button on the side of my phone to make the screen go black, wishing it’d take the message out of existence just as quickly. What did he mean, he missed me? I’d been around for months and he didn’t care.
I groaned as I realized what was probably going on. He was lonely in North Carolina right now, away from his friends. It was the only reason he’d be thinking of me.
After a long day at the animal hospital, I passed on grabbing dinner with Lilith, needing to go home and take a shower. Not because I was feeling gross from work, but because standing in the tub under a stream of hot water was my safe space to release my emotions.
I loved my job. I wanted with all my heart to be a veterinarian. But some days were incredibly tough, and this morning I’d had to watch a family say goodbye to their beloved German shorthair pointer. I was almost as wrecked as they were but did my best to keep it together.
As the hot water beat down on me, it all came out in a cleansing cry.
And I felt better when my shower was over, but as I wrapped the towel around my body, there was still a craving for release itching inside me.
Cassidy: Hey! What are you doing tonight?
I dried my hair while I eagerly waited for his response, and then got dressed in skinny jeans and the t-shirt I’d bought at the Joven concert.
Greg: Rounds. One more patient and then I’m done.
My mind flashed back to him in the hospital scrubs, and my breath quickened.
Cassidy: Are you wearing a white doctor’s coat?
Greg: Yes. Why?
I mustered up the courage to type what I wanted.
Cassidy: I just wanted to picture my fantas
y right, Dr. Lowe.
Dots blinked across the screen, then disappeared. It twisted my nerves into a tight coil. Was he trying to find the right way to tell me my fantasy of him as my naughty doctor was wrong?
Greg: Come to the hospital.
“What?” I shrieked, alone in my room where thankfully no one could hear.
Greg: Park in the lot. We’ll go back to my place and you can see the doctor coat in action.
The wave of lust was so strong, it nearly knocked me down. I latched a hand onto the counter to steady myself. As it slowly subsided, I considered the rest of his statement. If I left my car in the hospital parking lot, nosy Judy wouldn’t be able to see that Greg had invited me over.
Cassidy: I’ll be there in 20.
TWENTY-TWO
I rode the enormous hospital elevator to the fourth floor and crossed my arms over my chest as I stepped into the chilly hallway. It was hot and humid outside, but in the hospital, it was arctic.
The hallway was lined with windows, and the sun was sinking in the sky, glaring off windshields of cars in the parking lot below. Had Greg even seen the sun today? He’d been on call since four a.m.
It was quiet as I walked along the empty hallway. There was a space to my left with a few rows of chairs, but no one was seated there waiting. I pulled out my phone and stared at the text I’d received from him a few minutes ago.
Greg: Go to the desk and tell the receptionist you’re here to see me.
My heart tripped along at double-speed. The idea of role-playing as a patient of his? God, it turned me on. I was filled with anticipation for later tonight, excited to do this. But I also had anxiety about pretending now with strangers. Not just strangers, but his co-workers. It was dangerous, and maybe a little exciting too.
The desk was basically a wall with a sliding glass window, which was open, and when I approached, the woman seated behind it barely looked up.
“Hi. I’m here for Dr. Lowe,” I said. Could she hear how unsteady my voice was?
If she did, she didn’t seem to think anything of it. “Your name?”
“Cassidy Shepard.”
She plucked a Post-It note off her desk with my name scribbled on it and nodded toward the waiting room chairs. “Have a seat. He’ll be with you shortly.”
I was tight and edgy as I slipped into one of the chairs and ran my sweaty palms along the side seams of my jeans. There was a clock on the far wall, and every loud tick from its second hand reverberated through my body. The wait was both uncomfortable and . . . pleasurable. My mind ran through different fantasies. How far would he let me go in the role play? Could I be the bold, naughty patient I wanted to be for him?
I practically yelped and leapt from the chair when the door swung open and Greg leaned out. “Cassidy? Come on back.”
I didn’t get a full look at him because he stood behind the door, holding it open for me. I shuffled along the carpet, and as soon as I stepped through the door into a new hallway, I was ushered to a room on my left.
There was a nice couch on one side, a coffee table with magazines, and two oversized chairs on the other. It was a nicer waiting room than where I’d just been, but much smaller. Only enough room for six people or so.
This had to be the place where doctors delivered their post-op summary to families. I turned to face him, and all the air whooshed from my lungs.
Greg was essentially wearing a suit. He wore black dress pants, a white collared shirt and a cobalt-colored tie. His suitcoat was fitted and white, and he completed the look with a turquoise stethoscope slung around his neck. My gaze traced the blue lettering over his right breast.
Gregory Lowe, MD
Trauma Surgery
It didn’t matter that he had faint lines around his eyes hinting at his fatigue, or that his normally perfect hair looked disheveled, as if he’d run a hand through it one too many times. It didn’t matter because he looked fucking perfect. My dirty doctor fantasy come to life.
And he gazed back at me like he wanted to eat me whole, which was more than fine with me. He sauntered over, and his confidence seemed to build with each step, widening his wicked smile.
His voice was deep and sinful. “What seems to be the problem?”
“Problem?” I whispered.
“You’re flushed. Breathing hard.” He seized my wrist, pressed his index finger to my pulse point, and peered down at his watch, counting the seconds. “Your pulse is elevated.”
I had no idea my wrist was an erogenous zone, but in Greg’s hands, every inch of my skin felt that way. I swallowed a breath. “I’m having a reaction to something.”
God, his expression was corrupt and victorious as he walked me backward toward a wall. He feigned concern. “Any idea what’s causing it?”
He wasn’t playing fair, but I liked it. “No . . . Doctor.”
The second the words left my mouth, we burst into flames. His lips slammed against mine at the same instant my back hit the wall. His hands were on my waist, then under my shirt, sliding over my belly and skimming upward. I clenched the lapels of his coat as our tongues tangled with each other, battling for control. He won, of course.
It made sense that our kiss was electric because I was a live wire tonight. His broad chest flattened against me, his hands molding to my bra-covered breasts while he pushed me against the wall. I tore my mouth from his and turned my head to the side so I could drag air into my lungs, and his hot, wet mouth latched onto the sensitive spot below my ear, biting and sucking until I let out a moan.
It was wild what we were doing, and how fast we attacked each other, but the where we were doing this was craziest part of it. He didn’t seem to have any concerns though. “Undo your pants,” he rasped into my ear. “I want to check and see how severe this reaction is.”
“Oh my God,” I gasped. Without thinking, my hands moved to follow his command. He pulled his lower body away from mine, just enough to allow me to do it. The snap of my jeans popped open, and I couldn’t get my zipper down fast enough. Should I be worried about someone catching us?
I wasn’t. I trusted him. Greg wouldn’t put either of us in a position for that to happen, and his calm, focused expression reinforced it. He looked absolutely in control, both of me and the situation.
His dark eyes sharpened on mine, studying my response while he slid his hand down the front of my panties. My lips parted as his fingers found me hot and wet for him. What did I look like, clutching his arms right above his elbows as his fingers twitched on my swollen clit? I shuddered with pleasure. Had my pupils dilated? Could he tell my heart rate was racing through the roof?
His lips peeled back in a smug smile. “That is quite the reaction.” Those skilled fingers stirred me further, and I tightened my grip on his arms, biting off a louder moan. Shit, his touch was magic. It lit me up. He could tell too, because his eyes burned with enjoyment. “And you’re still not sure what’s causing it?”
He liked this scene as much as I did. Maybe more. It gave him both power and the opportunity to fulfill my fantasy.
I couldn’t answer his question. It was taking everything I had to stay quiet against the steady slide of his fingertips over my skin, each stroke bringing me closer to losing control.
“Hmm,” he continued, leaning into me and murmuring it against my lips. “I have a diagnosis, but we’ll have to delay treatment."
“Why?” I gasped. My greedy body moved against his hand. I was close. So fucking close.
“I need to administer it at my house.” The kiss he gave me was erotic. “In my bed.” His tongue slashed against mine. “Preferably with my mouth.”
He showed me the way he planned to use it, fucking my mouth with his indecent kiss.
My bones went hollow, and for a split second I reverted to a spoiled child who didn’t want delayed gratification. I had zero patience. I wanted the pleasure his hand had promised with every ministration, and I wanted it right goddamn now.
> “Please,” I pleaded. When his fingers began to retreat, I wrapped my hand around his wrist and stopped him. “Please,” I whined again on a broken breath, grinding against his fingertips.
Conflict flashed in his eyes and then disappeared. “Soon, Cassidy. I don’t want you to have to be quiet. I need to hear all those sexy sounds you make.” He looked down at his hand still lodged in my panties and how I gyrated against it. “Although, I’m not going to lie, what you’re doing right now is really fucking hot.”
It was like he’d poured lava on my body. I sagged against the wall as he slowly dragged his hand out, caressing my skin as he went, and then attempted to do up my jeans. I shoved away from the wall and pushed his hands out of my way, because I could do them up much faster than he could.
“Okay, let’s go,” I said, my tone clipped and needy.
His grin was enormous.
Greg had pressed the keyring to his BMW into my hand and told me where he was parked in the doctors’ lot, and said he’d meet me at the car in a few minutes.
The damp, aching throb between my legs was persistent. I was annoyed he’d left me right on the edge, but also liked it . . . a little. We both knew he could get me there, so when he’d made the decision not to, it was a way for him to flex his power. The more he did that, the further I fell under his spell.
The lights on the sleek black sedan flashed in the dusky, fading sunlight as I unlocked the doors, and I climbed inside the passenger seat. I’d ridden in his car a few times before, but never in the front seat, and I ran a hand over the smooth, premium leather. The car smelled like him.
I pictured him behind the wheel, day after day, driving this expensive car to the hospital and parking it in the doctors’ lot beside the Audis and Range Rovers and Porsches. He worked so much, he barely had a life. All it consisted of was this car, his house . . . and his son.
Would there ever be space in there for me? And would Preston allow that?
