I calm my raging hormones enough to get dressed for our date. He takes me to Toulouse Petit, a great little New Orleans-style creole restaurant. Neither of us have trouble finding something we love on the menu. By the time we finish, I’m a little buzzed from the wine and the thrill of Weston’s eyes devouring me all through dinner.
We step out of the restaurant into a pleasantly cool evening.
“That shrimp was amazing, but I ate at least twice as much as I should have,” I say.
“Should we walk it off?” Weston asks. “It’s nice out.”
“Sure.”
We wander a few blocks toward Seattle Center, where the huge central fountain sprays high into the air, the bursts of water coordinated with music. Lights glow around the edges, illuminating the spray. We pause and watch for a few minutes, standing near other couples and small groups enjoying the show.
A man’s voice comes from behind us. “Weston?”
Weston’s expression hardens and he turns. A man in a sleek button-down shirt and slacks walks over to us. Weston tightens his grip on my hand. “Ian. What are you doing out here?”
Ian points his thumb at the building behind him. “My oldest has a school thing in the exhibition center.” His gaze flicks to me, then down to Weston’s hand holding mine. “Are you going to introduce me to your… friend, here?”
“Kendra, this is my business partner, Ian. Ian, this is my girlfriend, Kendra.”
A zing of electricity races through me. Holy shit, did he just call me his girlfriend?
“Really?” Ian says and I don’t like his tone. It’s almost like he’s trying not to laugh. “Huh. Okay, I’ll let you two get back to your night, I suppose.” He glances at me again, and it’s hard to tell if the expression on his face is confusion or annoyance. “See you at work.”
“Yeah,” Weston says.
Ian walks away and Weston tugs gently on my arm, leading me in the opposite direction.
“So, that’s Ian,” I say. Weston has mentioned his business partner a few times, but he’s never told me much about him.
“Yeah, Ian is…” He hesitates, like he’s not sure what to say. “He’s a good surgeon, but he’s basically a douche.”
“Must suck to have to work with him, then.”
“It does. It sucks having my career tied to a guy like that,” he says.
“How did you end up opening a practice with him in the first place?” I ask.
“It was his to begin with,” Weston says. “Ian hired me straight out of med school. He knows my father. When the practice started having some financial trouble, my dad and I bailed him out. I bought in as a managing partner. My dad bought in as an investor.”
“Wow,” I say. “Have you thought about moving on?”
“Lately, yeah,” he says. “He mostly stays out of my way, so I ignored what he’s like for a long time. But, I don’t know… it’s getting harder to ignore.”
“He’s a good surgeon, though?” I ask. “It’s not like he’s putting his patients at risk or anything, right?”
“He’s good, yeah,” he says. “Although he’ll take on any case, even when he shouldn’t.”
“You turn people away?”
“Sometimes we have to. The patient isn’t healthy enough for surgery, for example. But sometimes I’ll get a patient who won’t benefit from the procedure. It will make her look worse, not better. I won’t operate on someone like that, but Ian will.”
There’s something else I didn’t know. That asshole armor Weston wears doesn’t go nearly as deep as I thought it did. “It’s good at least one of you has some integrity.”
He glances at me with a little smile. “Yeah. I guess it is.”
“So, are we going to talk about the other thing?” I ask.
“What other thing?”
I roll my eyes and nudge him with my arm. “What you said when you introduced me.”
“What did I say?”
From the corner of my eye, I can see him trying not to smile. “Stop it.”
“Was I wrong?” he asks.
I stop walking, and he turns to face me. “Is that what you want?” I ask.
He touches my chin with a gentle hand and rubs his thumb over my lips. “Yes. Honestly, I think you’ve been my girlfriend for a while now. It just took us both a little bit to realize it.”
He looks down at me with those mesmerizing gray eyes and I want to melt into a puddle at his feet.
“I guess you’re right,” I say.
He brushes the hair back from my face and kisses me, his mouth warm and soft against mine. Desire pools, the heat of it spreading through me.
But before the kiss turns into something slightly obscene—considering we’re standing near the street with people walking by and I was about to jump up and wrap my legs around his waist—he pulls away and takes my hand again, leading me toward his car.
We drive home, and just like last time, he stops in front of the door. “How did I do?”
“You were perfect,” I say.
He looks me up and down and bites his lower lip. “No, I think perfect is reserved for you.”
I tilt my chin up to meet his kiss. My body is on fire for him before our lips even meet. He kisses me softly—a slow, measured kiss. A second date kiss. A the-kiss-is-where-tonight-ends kiss.
But I don’t want tonight to end.
“So…” I tilt my head and trace a finger down the line of buttons on his shirt. “Do you want to come in? I know you live here, so you’re coming inside, but… do you want to come in?”
He raises his eyebrows. “You mean, come in? With you?”
“Yeah,” I say.
“I thought you said three dates.”
“Well, I didn’t mean it as a hard and fast rule,” I say. “Besides, this is three.”
“This is two. You said dinner at your dad’s didn’t count.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I say, running my finger back up his buttons. “Maybe it didn’t start out as one, but it ended as a date, don’t you think?”
In the space of a heartbeat, his whole demeanor changes. His eyes ignite and tension courses through his body. He grabs my wrists and backs me up against the door, pinning my arms over my head.
He leans his face close and brushes his lips down my neck. His voice is a low growl. “Does this mean I get to fuck you tonight, baby?”
“Oh my god, yes.”
I gasp as he presses his body closer, nudging his thigh between my legs. He shifts, putting pressure on my clit, and my eyes roll back.
“Oh fuck, Weston, we’re on the porch,” I say. He moves his leg, just slightly, sending jolts of sensation through my entire body.
His laugh is soft in my ear and he trails kisses down my neck. “Should we go inside?”
“Yes. Now.”
He kisses me again, and this time it’s fierce and demanding. Without leaving my mouth, he lets go of my arms and pulls out his keys. I start unbuttoning his shirt as he fumbles with the lock and pushes the door open.
We stumble inside and he kicks the door closed. He pulls up on my shirt, ripping it over my head, and surges in again after he tosses it to the floor. Cupping my face, he kisses me hard, walking me backward toward the hallway.
“Where?” I manage to get out. The last of his buttons comes free and he yanks his shirt off.
“My bed.”
Somehow, between the stumbling, kissing, and clothes ripping, we make it into Weston’s room. My shirt and pants are already gone. He reaches around to unclasp my bra and I let the straps fall down my arms. His hands are everywhere, large and dexterous, sliding along my skin, like he wants to touch every inch of me.
I hook my thumbs under the waistband of his underwear—those damn boxer briefs he’s been taunting me with since he moved in. He pauses, his face close, his eyes locked with mine. I pull his underwear down, freeing his solid erection. My eyes flick down to his cock. He has the magical combination of being thick and long—something I thoug
ht only existed in dirty fairy tales.
“Holy shit, Weston.”
“You’ve been making me hard for you every fucking day.”
He kicks his underwear off and pulls mine down slowly, kissing down my body as he goes. Leading with his mouth, he comes up again. His lips are hot against my skin, every touch making me throb with need.
I brush my hand across his incision site—a six-inch red line running diagonally just below his left ribs. “Is this okay?”
“Fine.” He grabs my ass, pressing his hard cock against me, and kisses my mouth again. “And if it’s not, I don’t care.”
He pushes me down onto the bed and I scoot backward to give him room. I tip my knees open and he kneels on the bed, his eyes roving over me.
“God, Kendra, look at you,” he says. “You are so fucking sexy.”
I feel a momentary pang of self-consciousness. Working out keeps me lean, but I’ve always hated how small my boobs are. “I’m probably not as, um, curvy as you like.”
“Baby, no.” He crawls on top of me and the look in his eyes leaves me feeling more naked than being undressed. “Your body is so beautiful.” His hand slides from my hip, up my ribs, to cup my breast. “Absolutely perfect.”
He groans, kissing down my chest. His tongue circles my nipple and my eyes flutter closed. He licks and sucks and grazes it with his teeth. I move my hips, trying to get him inside me, desperate for his cock. But he moves to the other side, his mouth unhurried.
As if he can sense my growing desperation, one hand slides between my legs. He sucks on my nipple and strokes my clit—and I’m ready to come unglued.
“Oh god, Weston, please fuck me.”
“I need to taste you first,” he says.
He kisses down my stomach and pushes my thighs open wider. His tongue brushes the sensitive skin outside my opening and my entire body trembles. Heat builds in my core, building with every lap of his tongue. He explores, teasing and testing me, until I’m writhing and clutching the sheets. An orgasm builds in a rush of heat and tension. I’m riding the peak, panting, my toes curling.
His low groan vibrates through me as he gently sucks my clit, his tongue moving in a steady rhythm. I’ve never felt anything like it.
“Weston… oh… that’s… yes… I’m… oh god… gonna come.”
Fingers dig into my thighs and his tongue is relentless. I roll my hips, reaching the summit, and burst apart into a thousand points of light. He doesn’t stop, moving with me. I’m gasping for breath, the sweet agony of his mouth making me come again immediately.
When I finally come down off the high, he moves his way up my body, kissing me as he goes. He reaches into his nightstand for a condom and after tearing open the foil package, rolls it on quickly.
“Holy shit, what did you just do to me?” I ask between breaths.
His smile is intense and seductive as he settles between my legs. “Baby, you taste so good, I could do that all night.”
“I want more,” I say. “I want you inside me. I want all of you.”
He hesitates, his cock pushing against my opening, and kisses my lips. He’s surprisingly tender. “I’ll give you all of me.”
Our eyes lock as he slides his cock in. I gasp at his size, his thickness stretching me open, putting pressure in all the right places. He kisses me again—deep wet kisses while he slowly thrusts his hips.
“I’ll give you everything you want.” He kisses down my jaw, to my neck. “Everything you need.”
He growls into my neck as he moves faster, his cock sliding easily through my wetness. I run my hands over his muscular back and wrap my legs around his waist. His gray eyes hold mine, his brow furrowed. He watches me as if he’s fascinated, and time seems to slow, holding us captive in the heat of this moment.
“Weston.”
He pushes in harder. “I love it when you say my name.”
“Weston… yes… more…”
Faster. Harder. Deeper. He fucks me unlike anyone before. Like he’s desperate. Like his life depends on it.
Intensity builds and he pins my arms above my head, holding me by my wrists. I’m completely in his control, drowning in the feel of him inside me. His taut muscles flex with every thrust.
His cock thickens, pulsing with the tension he needs to release. My pussy is so hot, every move he makes brings me closer to the brink. He kisses me again, dragging his teeth across my lower lip.
He groans, driving into me—hard. His body stiffens, his muscles clenching, and I feel him start to come. My body responds instantly, and that’s when I realize…
The simultaneous orgasm is real.
I grab onto him for dear life, moaning as we come together. Each pulse of his cock makes my pussy clench harder, deep spasms that reverberate through my entire body. He keeps thrusting until my orgasm subsides and I’m left panting beneath him.
He picks himself up enough to look at me and brushes my hair off my forehead. It looks like he might say something, but he just kisses me again—soft strokes of his lips and tongue against mine.
Eventually he stops, and after a gentle kiss on my nose, he gets up to dispose of the condom. I’m so dazed, I can’t move. I stay sprawled out on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He gets back into bed and pulls the sheets up.
I turn onto my side, facing him. I’m not sure what to do next. He doesn’t strike me as a bed-sharer. “Should I go sleep in my room?”
He looks at me, his expression fierce. “No.” He pulls me in close and wraps his arms around me. I settle in with my head resting on his shoulder, my arm across his chest. “Stay with me.”
“Okay,” I whisper, melting into his warm body, drenched in endorphins. “I’ll stay.”
21
Weston
The light shining through a gap in the curtains wakes me. I blink my eyes open. Kendra is a few inches away, lying on her side, facing me. Her hands are tucked beneath her cheek and a tendril of hair is lying across her forehead. I brush it off her face and she takes a deep breath, but doesn’t open her eyes.
I stare at her. I don’t think I’ve ever woken up next to a woman and felt anything but impatience for her to leave. Maybe regret for letting her spend the night. But this? Waking up with this gorgeous woman next to me, her scent on my sheets, her hair fanned out over my pillow? I could get used to this.
My dick stirs at the memory of last night. Fuck, she was incredible. I’m no stranger to good sex—even great sex—but being with Kendra was something else entirely. I was completely immersed in her—in the feel of her body, in her taste, her smell. I’ve never experienced anything like it. Maybe it was simply the build-up—the weeks of wanting her, even before I admitted it to myself.
But I think it’s something more. I actually care about her. And the list of people I can say that about is very short.
I’ve spent most of my adult life avoiding forming real relationships with anyone. I bet a shrink would have a field day with me. Dead mother. Emotionless asshole of a father. I’m sure they’d tell me I push people away before they can get close to me.
They’d be right.
I never thought I was missing anything. What more could I need? I had a reputable career. Plenty of money. I had no issues getting women and used casual sex to blow off steam. A relationship seemed like an unnecessary risk. Relationships end. People get hurt.
But now I’m watching Kendra sleep and the thought of waking up alone tomorrow—or the next day, or next week, or next month—fills me with dread. I want this—I want her—more than I’ve ever wanted anything before.
And it scares the shit out of me.
Kendra’s eyes drift open and meet mine. A slow smile spreads across her face, puckering the tiny dimple near her lips.
“Are you watching me sleep? Creeper.”
I smile at her. “I just like looking at you.”
She reaches out and traces a finger along my lips. “Careful, big guy. Don’t smile too much first thing in the morning. You might
hurt yourself.”
I grab her wrist and pull her on top of me. She giggles and rests her head on my shoulder while I put my arms around her, holding her close.
“You sleep with me now,” I say, low into her ear. “I want you in my bed every night.”
She holds herself up and meets my gaze, her eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Are you telling me what to do?”
“Yes.”
She laughs again and rests her forehead against mine. “You are very persuasive.”
I bring her mouth to mine for a kiss and her lips are like the oxygen I need to live. She shifts her hips, moving against my erection.
“Baby, I have to get to work.” I kiss her again. “I have surgery this morning.”
She groans with disappointment and nuzzles against my neck. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, but you’re making it really hard to give a fuck about the patient who’s going to be waiting for me.”
“Okay, I’ll let you go.” She slides off me and lies on her side, her head propped up on her hand.
I lean in to kiss her one last time before I get up, wishing I could spend the day in bed with her. “I’ll be back tonight.”
My surgery went well. I was worried about fatigue in my right hand, but so far I haven’t had any issues. I spent the rest of the afternoon seeing patients and catching up on charting.
I look over an email from our accountant. I asked her to break down some of the credit card expenses; the balance seems to be running high. Apparently I need to tell Ian to get his spending under control. He’s putting a lot of personal stuff on the practice’s credit card. It’s getting ridiculous.
My phone vibrates and I slide it across the desk to check. It’s a text from Kendra. One corner of my mouth lifts. It’s so weird how just seeing her name on the screen makes me smile.
Kendra: Hey you. When do you think you’ll be home?
Me: Not sure. Pretty swamped here. Need something?
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