Me: How’s this? Good? Bad? More or less?
Tate: You look hot! And you’ll totally get some if you want it tonight. Have fun! Text me tomorrow!
Me: I will. Thank you. Love you. Bye.
I set my phone down and step into my bathroom, spraying myself with a fine mist of body spray that smells like a flowery, sandalwood-infused hug wrapped itself around me.
He should be here any minute now. I utilized my thirty minutes well and Tate came through for me like a best friend always does. Dinner should be here in twenty minutes—pasta, an appetizer, and dessert—and I stopped by the liquor store earlier too. I have beer and wine in case he wants either.
I think I’ve covered everything. I even made my bed while I was cleaning up.
With a fortifying breath, I head back out into my front room and sit down on my couch, looking around the room with a sense of pride and accomplishment. I don’t have a ton here, but it looks nice. It looks good. He may have shown himself around last night after I passed out, for all I know, but if he did then he’ll just get the cleaner, more open tour tonight.
There’s a gentle tap in a fun rhythm on the door and I move to answer it, smoothing my hands down my shirt and body one last time before I pull the door open.
The second he’s revealed, my heart thuds to a halt and my mouth goes instantly dry. I’ve seen him dressed casually, I’ve seen him in scrubs, I’ve seen him in jeans and a button-down shirt, but I’ve never gotten the suit look. His coat is gone, top button undone revealing the smooth skin beneath. His sleeves are rolled up his forearms, and the charcoal gray slacks are tailored to fit his strong legs like a glove.
“Hey, Gorgeous.” He eyes me from head to toe and back up again. “Thank you for inviting me over.”
“I thought a quiet night in would be better. I’m still wrung out from last night.” I stand back and let him in. “Italian is on the way. I hope you don’t mind spaghetti and the works?”
He walks into the kitchen and looks around before he addresses me again. “I love Italian. And now that I’m getting to really see your place, I love it too. The space in here is pretty good.”
“Thanks. It’s more than I imagined it would be when I first came out here.” I take in my apartment as though it’s my first time really seeing it, too, and I have to admit, it does look good. The décor is minimal, but has a feminine touch. Everything is laid out in a way that lends itself to a more spacious look. And with the windows open, shades pulled up, and the sun starting to cast a warm setting glow, the colors in here reflect deep oranges and subtle purples.
“Real estate out here can be tricky to decide on. I struggled after I graduated and was placed at Memorial.” He looks around, appraising every inch, and his lips tug up into the most adorable look of approval.
“Where did you go to med school?”
“Brown. It was a great school, prestigious program. It made me appreciate Rhode Island as my second home.” He spins to face me and grins. “How about you? Where did you get your PhD from?”
“Colorado, in the Springs. You may not know it.” I step over to my fridge and open it, feeling his eyes following my every step. “Do you want wine? Beer? Water?”
“I’d love a beer, thank you. And I know UCCS. I may be a Denver boy, I know my home state well though.”
I whirl around with his beer in my hand to face him. “You’re from Colorado?” I think my voice is a few octaves higher than it should be, but I genuinely had no idea. “No way.”
“Yes, way.” He chuckles and slides onto a barstool at my countertop, reaching out for his beer. “Born and raised there. Same with both my brothers.”
“I mean, I obviously knew Xavier was there now… I had no idea he or you are from there though.” How did I not know he was from the same place as me? I can’t believe the coincidence, two Coloradans living on the other side of the country, in Rhode Island, working in the exact same hospital. What are the odds?
“Yeah, I do a great job keeping my life private, as you know I strive for. I was born in Denver, raised in Broomfield. Xavier lives downtown, and Jackson is in the process of moving. He was in Broomfield, not far from our parents, but he’s moving farther south for work now.”
Every place he mentions is like a balm over my homesick heart. I grew up there. I know Denver, I know Broomfield, and I know the entire expanse of Interstate 25 from Denver to Colorado Springs. It’s home. “Wow. I’m actually really glad you’re from there, I miss it.” I turn back to the opposite counter to grab a wine glass for me and pull the Moscato out of the refrigerator, pouring me half a glass.
“Are you homesick?”
I nod my head as I put my wine away, and then turn and move around the island to join him on the barstool beside his. “Very much so. I’ve never lived away from Colorado.”
“This is quite the adjustment to that too. They’re vastly different locations.”
I take a sip of the cool, sweet wine and let the taste saturate my mouth and taste buds before I answer him. “It is and they are. I miss seeing the Rockies from basically everywhere. And distinguishing between north, south, east, and west here is not as easy. Yeah, the ocean is east, but you can’t see the ocean from nearly every part of the state.”
He chuckles around the mouth of his bottle and takes a drink. Watching the liquid work its way down his throat with his swallow and the bob of his Adam’s apple is distracting. It draws my attention to the slight growth of stubble starting along his jaw and beneath. “You’ll get used to directions here eventually, but it’s never as natural as home.”
“Do you consider Rhode Island as home more or less than Colorado?”
“That’s tough. I love it here, but I’d go back to Colorado if the right position opened up in a heartbeat. My family is there. My old friends are there.”
“I understand. I feel the same.” We sit in a comfortable silence for a few minutes. I’m not sure what’s on his mind, but I’m thinking of home. My parents, Tate, the girls at the gym, Allie, even Cody—I miss them all so much. It’s hard being away from my family. And they are all family.
“Enough sad talk about home,” he says, breaking me out of my thoughts. “Tell me something else about you I don’t know.”
The first thought springing into my mind is the gym, my girls, and gymnastics. It was such a huge part of my life growing up and even during school while I coached. “I was a gymnast, and after college, I coached young athletes at a gym with my best friend.”
I know he wasn’t expecting me to offer that small fact based on the utter shock present on his face. “You’re a gymnast? Was it a hobby? Or were you competitive?”
“I was competitive. I wasn’t as good as my best friend, she had a genuine shot at nationals before she blew her knee out, but I have my fair share of medals from competitions. I trained and competed at a high level from the time I was roughly ten. I loved it.”
“Holy shit. I never would’ve guessed. That’s really inspiring, the work that goes into being a gymnast is crazy. It takes a lot of dedication.”
“It does. It did. I loved it though. Being a gymnast was so much of my identity. I would be in the gym before school, after school, over the weekend. I lived for the feel of the mats beneath my feet and the apparatuses in my hands. It gave me confidence and showed me if I put my mind to something, I could bust my ass to accomplish it.” I raise and lower a shoulder nonchalantly, then lift the wine glass to my lips.
“You have a ton of confidence. A lot of fire, sarcasm, and determination in you, too.” He winks at me and takes another drink of his own beer.
“Are you trying to tell me something?” I try my best to give him a disapproving look, but bust out laughing instead.
“Oh yeah. I’m saying you’re a gorgeous pain in my ass, who challenges me far more than anyone else ever has, especially at work, but—” He sets his bottle down and leans closer, whispering into my ear so I can feel his warm breath over its shell. “I love it.”
Goosebumps scatter over my skin and my breath hitches at his closeness and the warmth. I turn my head so we are face-to-face, centimeters apart. “You do?”
“Mhmm.”
“So I should keep pushing at work?” I lean in a little closer, eyes darting back and forth between his eyes and his mouth.
“Only if you’re ready to tame the beast you bring out, after work.”
Taming the beast. That sounds like trouble and fun I’d love to be in. “Promise or threat?”
“What?” He leans even closer, making it so every exhale from him is the same air I inhale right after. His bodywash is stronger this close, and it’s nearly as intoxicating as the cologne he wore last night.
“Taming your beast. Is that a promise or a threat?”
****
Nate
Her tongue darts out across her lip, wetting it and leaving it shining beneath the kitchen light. I want to follow its path with my own tongue, taste her again, but I want to keep playing this game we’re starting now, too. “Yes. It’s a promise and a threat.”
“Are there any other ways to bring your beast out?” Her turn of words and innuendo game is strong, and it’s yet another thing about her I enjoy. She’s quick on her feet and she gives as good as she gets. It makes me think she’ll be the same way in the bedroom, and that’s an incredibly appealing thought.
“Oh yeah. And you have a knack for it without even trying.”
We both lean closer, as though our lips are now magnetized and attracted to each other. It would be harder to pull away than to give in to the urge and temptation now. But I want to win this battle of wills.
“Is that so?” Her lips brush against mine with the softest touch imaginable. It’s just enough to tempt me and tease me, and she knows it if the smile I feel spreading across her lips is any indication.
I can give just as good as she can, and I do. We are close enough I can nip at her lower lip and graze my teeth over her, staying connected just long enough to give her plump, damp flesh a gentle tug. “It absolutely is.”
A small moan slips past her lips and a puff of warm air expels over mine. “Tease.” Her hands reach out and her fingers rest on my thigh and forearm.
“You started it.” This time my tongue swipes out, covering the same area my teeth just grazed. Her fingers dig into my leg and arm, and I feel her using me as leverage to pull herself closer. “Who’s going to finish though, Dee?”
“I jumped first la—” I cut her words off when I take the final leap and kiss her earnestly. Our lips meet and feel before parting to let our tongues dance and taste. The sweetness in her mouth is a nice contrast to the sharp taste of beer in mine. A brush of my tongue over hers is met with a taste of mine on her part.
I reach out and turn her on her stool so her body is facing mine, and pull her closer so I can slide my hand up and along her jaw. The motion forces me to turn and slide off my stool, which gives her the ability to pull me closer. Now I can step between her legs, let our bodies touch and heat with our kiss.
I’m so lost in her; in this insane connection we seem to have I almost miss the knock on her door. Almost. But the second knock is louder than the first, and neither of us misses it.
“Shit.” She pulls back and moves her fingers to her mouth, sliding them over her red, swollen lips. “I should get the door, it’ll be our dinner.”
“Probably is,” I agree and clear my throat, waiting for her to slide off her barstool and walk away before I reach down to adjust myself through my slacks. She packs one helluva punch. After a few moments of deep breathing, I step away from our seats and round the island so I can follow to the door. She is talking to the deliveryman and laughing at something he’s saying. He’s young. Probably in his early twenties, and he takes the moment she’s looking down at her wallet to peruse her in from head to toe.
It doesn’t take a Brainiac to know what he’s thinking, and I find the way he’s looking at her and watching her irritating. She’s too good for his scrawny ass. So I do what any full grown, mature man would do, I step up behind her—standing a good head taller than she is so I can see him—and slide my hand possessively along her hip. “Everything okay with dinner, Gorgeous?”
She looks back at me and slightly raises her eyes in an are you really doing this right now manner, then she answers, “They’re fine. I was just getting cash out for the tip. I should have before he got here.”
I curl my fingers into her hip and smile at her as though nothing is wrong at all. “I can grab it. My wallet is in my pocket.” I glance up at the delivery boy, whose eyes are now wide and haven’t left my face. “Just give us one second.”
“Uh, no, no problem, sir. Take your time.” He shifts his weight from one foot to another and looks uncomfortable under my scrutinizing gaze.
“Got it!” Dee pulls a couple of bills out of her wallet and holds it out to him in exchange for our dinner bag. “Thank you so much.”
“Yes, thank you,” I add.
He takes the money and swallows. “Anytime. You two enjoy. Thank you for choosing Bella Vita’s tonight.” With that he walks away and I know I’m about to get the wrath of Cassidee Parker again.
I take a step back so she can shut the door and cross my arms over my chest. It tends to distract her, at least momentarily, when I do it at the hospital and I’m hopeful it will tonight too.
“Excuse you.” She spins on her heel and glares at me. “You realize I’m not yours to take claim and be possessive of, right? We’re still getting to know each other. Establishing trust. Those sorts of actions won’t do you any favors.”
I could argue with her. I could point out the way she leaned back against my chest, after I wrapped my fingers around her hip, shouted otherwise to me. I could push every single button she has. But in all honesty, there’s only one button I want to push right now. “What will, then?”
“I… You… That’s all you have to say?” I can see the conflict in her eyes. Her body is waging a battle between what I’m implying and her wanting to stand her ground and not give in.
I’m more than happy to keep her torn, and to get back to what we started before our scrawny, food-bearing, interrupting friend. “You’re right. I got possessive. You brought out the beast. In fairness, I warned you, you have a knack for it…”
“You kissed me first,” she accuses and steps closer, going toe to toe with me.
Ah, so we are going to battle first. “Wrong.”
“No, I teased, you bit, I teased some more, you licked, I challenged you, and then you kissed me. You. Gave. In. I won.” The dinner bag keeps brushing against my leg, thanks to every step closer she has come toward me, with every pointed word. Her body is close enough now I can feel the rise and fall of her chest against my arms. Her breasts are a taunt of their own, driving me madder with the challenge she is throwing my way. She may have won earlier, but I’ll win now.
“Is that so?” I reach down and take the bag from her hand, letting it fall to the floor beside us with a thud. “Hmm.” I take a step into her, forcing her to step up or fall back. She’s a smart woman though, and her foot drags, putting a little more space between us. “You may have won the first battle tonight, but…” I take another step toward her, forcing her to take another step back.
“But, what?” She isn’t backing down from the fight, even as I force her to continue her retreat. With my height and size advantage, I am able to lean in and over her just enough to surround her.
“But,” I reply, smirking as her back meets the door and she has nowhere else to retreat to, “I’ll win the war.” I brace my hand over the door and lean forward, using my nose to guide the hair from the side of her face and tracing the delicate line of her jaw until I reach her ear. “You’re strong.” I kiss beneath her ear oh-so softly. “You put up a good fight.” I kiss her earlobe and suck the tender skin between my lips, drawing a heady sigh from hers. “But I’m better.”
“You’re. Cocky.” Her breath is ragged and
heavy, and her fingers have made their purchase along my stomach again. I can feel her nails digging in through my shirt, and it gives me more ammunition in my assault on her senses.
“And you’re losing.” I trail the back of my index finger down her slender face, along her upper arm, letting it slip lower so I’m grazing south along her ribs to the waist of her jeans. While I set a slow pace with my finger, my lips start a path of their own. A nip to her jaw here, a kiss of her neck there. No place is safe from my exploration. Not after I slide my hand beneath her shirt and skim over her soft skin with my fingers or after I seek out her lips.
This kiss is harder, more demanding than the last. It’s damn near impossible to not go any further, especially as my cock grows rock-hard in my slacks, but I manage to keep control of myself.
Dee, on the other hand, grows needier. Her hands move lower with her fingers, plucking at my belt, and deep groans of satisfaction reverberate through her throat, ending the moment they reach my mouth and I take them for myself with a caress of my tongue or a taste of hers.
“Nate…” My name is a plea, and a warning. She’s right where I want her, on the cusp of being lost to the frenzy. And it’s right where I’ll leave her hanging… for now.
I step backward, pulling myself free of her grasp and leaving her disheveled and wanton. “We should really eat before our dinner is cold.”
“That’s… You… Oh. My. God. You’re such an asshole. Dinner? You really want dinner right now?”
I simply nod my head, swallowing down my own objection to my stopping and trying to focus on anything but the raging hard-on currently causing me more pain than I knew was possible.
But it’ll be worth it. It’s an unspoken promise I’m making to her in my mind right now.
If looks could kill, though, I’d be dead right where I stand. It’s that anger and passion I want simmering through our meal that will lead her to the best night of fucking she has ever had.
Twenty
Doctor Desirable: A Hero Club Novel Page 14
