Kendra: Hmm, I can think of a few things.
She ends her text with a winky face. Emojis are the stupidest invention. But I do like the implication here.
Me: I’ll hurry home, then. Wear your pajama pants. The striped ones.
My thumb hovers over the emoji button. Should I add a smiley face so she can see I’m teasing? God, when did I turn into a teenage girl? Screw this. I hit send.
Kendra: Oh. Okay.
Damn it. I should have used the fucking emoji. I’m terrible at this.
Me: Kidding, baby.
Kendra: LOL! I was going to say, you hate my pajama pants.
Me: I just hated not being able to rip them off you.
Kendra: In that case, I’ll find my ugliest ones so you’ll really enjoy taking them off.
I laugh. My girl is ridiculous.
My girl. I let out a long breath.
Fuck, I am turning into a teenage girl. I just sighed over a text message.
I put my phone in my pocket and grab my jacket. When I get out into the hall, I glance at Ian’s office. His door is closed. I wonder if he’s still here.
I knock on his door a few times.
“Yeah?”
“Do you have a minute?” I ask. “I’m on my way out.”
There’s muffled talking. Ian’s voice, and a woman’s. Who is he with behind a closed door? He doesn’t see patients in his office. Oh for fuck’s sake, he can’t be—
The door opens and Ginny, one of our nurses, slips through. She bites her lip and smiles at me, her face flushing. “Hi, Dr. Reid.”
I ignore her and push open the door to find Ian taking a seat behind his desk.
“What was that?” I sit across the desk from him. “Having an end of day meeting with one of the nurses?”
“None of your business.”
By the look on his face, I can tell exactly what was going on. “It’s absolutely my business. She’s an employee, Ian. You can’t mess around with the employees. Especially here.”
“It’s nothing,” he says. “Not a big deal, so stop worrying.”
“That makes her a walking lawsuit, asshole,” I say. “You have her blowing you in your office now, but what happens if we need to fire her? You’ll have a disgruntled little nurse on your hands with enough dirt on you to put your license in jeopardy.”
Ian waves a hand, is if he can clear my argument from the air. “I have it under control.”
“Like hell you do.”
“Did you come in here to bust my balls?” he asks. “Because I get plenty of that at home.”
I raise an eyebrow at him. “I can’t imagine why.”
He leans forward. “That is none of your fucking business.”
I put my hands up. “Nope. Never has been. You do whatever the fuck you want.”
“You’re one to judge,” he says. “You let some bitch get her claws into you, and now you get to have an opinion about my life?”
My nostrils flare and I clench my hands into fists. “Do not talk about her.”
He laughs, shaking his head. “This is rich. You, with a girlfriend?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t get it,” he says. “You had it made; you were doing everything right. No ties. No commitments. You got more ass than any man I’ve ever known, and there was nothing stopping you. Why ruin a perfectly good thing?”
“Ian—”
“And for that? Fuck, man, you’ve had women who were ten times hotter than her. At least get her to eat something. Maybe the weight will go to her tits.”
I stand up in a rush, leaning over with my fingers resting on his desk. “Don’t fucking talk about her.”
Ian raises his eyebrows. “Calm down. I didn’t mean anything.”
“The fuck you didn’t.”
He puts up his hands, as if admitting defeat. “Okay, suddenly you’re the protective type. Didn’t see that coming.” He closes his laptop. “I need to get out of here. Do you need something?”
“Yeah.” I sit down. I’d love to break a few of Ian’s teeth, but decide against it. For now. “I was looking at the credit card statements. Have you been going on vacations on the practice’s dime? There’s a shit ton of expenses on there.”
“Oh, right,” he says. “Yeah, sometimes I use the wrong card. I’ll reimburse the practice.”
“You use the wrong credit card?” I ask. “This is a business, not your personal bank account.”
“I realize that,” he says. “I understand how a business works.”
He better not pull his I started this practice when you were still chasing skirts in high school bit.
“Then you should understand that we agreed not to use the business account for personal expenses,” I say. “We aren’t exactly swimming in money here.”
“You don’t have to tell me things are tight,” he says. “But are you blaming me for that? Putting a few dinners on the company credit card isn’t going to bankrupt us.”
“It’s a lot more than a few dinners.”
He crosses his arms. “I’d say your bleeding-heart charity crap is having a bigger impact on our bottom line.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re good at keeping it quiet, but I know about your freebie surgeries,” he says. “You’re leaving tens of thousands of dollars on the table. Would you care to explain that?”
Fuck, I hate this guy. “I can choose to donate some of my time. That’s not costing the practice anything.”
“Like hell it isn’t,” he says. “Your time is worth money, Weston. A lot of money. Every time you scrub in for some pity case who isn’t paying, you’re costing the practice money.”
“They wouldn’t be patients at all if I didn’t do it for free.”
“No, but you could be operating on people who can fucking pay you what you’re worth,” he says.
“Maybe I want to be worth something more,” I say, my voice heated.
Ian stares at me for a long moment. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately. I’m concerned.”
“Concerned about what?” I ask. “That I’m not fucking random women every weekend? Or concerned that maybe I give a shit and want to do something more with my time?”
“Don’t pull that holier-than-thou bullshit on me,” he says.
“You can go fuck yourself.” I stand and head for his door. “Better than letting the nurses do it in your office.”
I don’t wait to see if he replies.
22
Weston
Kendra is on the couch with her laptop, wearing her pig pajama pants, when I get home.
She smiles at me. “Hey.”
“Hi.” I put down my keys and take off my coat, then gesture to her pants. “You’re right, those are definitely the worst.”
She looks down, feigning shock. “What? What’s sexier than chubby little piggies?”
“Almost anything.”
She sets her laptop on the coffee table and I sit next to her. I lie down, facing her, and put my head in her lap. My arms wrap around her and I close my eyes, taking a deep breath.
“You okay?” she asks, running her fingers through my hair.
“Mm.” The knots of tension in my back are already loosening. “Long day. Stressful.”
She doesn’t say anything, just slides her fingers through my hair, massaging my scalp and neck. My body relaxes, the strain melting away. God, she feels so good. She smooths out all my ragged edges—soothes the storm that’s always raging inside me.
I nuzzle my face against her belly and pull up her shirt just enough that I can touch her bare skin.
“You’re surprisingly adorable,” she says.
I smile, but don’t open my eyes. “I don’t think anyone has ever called me that.”
“Adorable?” she asks. “No, probably not.”
I crack an eye open. “What?”
She laughs softly. “I’m sure Weston Reid has been called many things. Sexy. Brooding. Cocky. Mysterious, maybe. But adorab
le? I can see why you don’t get that a lot. I don’t think many people see you the way I do.”
No one does, Kendra.
I’m getting so caught up in her, and I wonder if this is normal. Should I be thinking about her all the time? Missing her when we’re apart? There’s a piece of me that wants to shy away, like I’m reaching out to touch a flame. If I get too close, it’s going to burn. But she’s at the center of the fire, and right now I’m craving her heat.
I sit up and pull her beneath me so I’m lying on top of her. My mouth finds hers and I kiss her deeply, feeling the satisfaction of her body yielding to me. I move against her, gently pressing my cock between her legs.
“Too many clothes,” she says between kisses.
“So greedy.” I grind against her harder and she moans.
She already has the first few buttons of my shirt undone. I sit back on my knees and finish taking it off while she pulls her shirt over her head. I take her pants and underwear off and let them drop to the floor.
Her bra is black lace. I lean down and graze her nipples with my teeth through the thin fabric. She squirms underneath me as I release the clasp and reveal her perfect tits. I can’t get enough of them. The contours of her body are so perfect—so beautiful. I gently pinch one nipple while I suck on the other. She arches her back and moans again.
“Weston, you’re driving me insane,” she says, her voice breathy.
I sit back again, on my knees in front of her, and unfasten my belt. She’s breathing hard, her eyes half lidded. I unfasten my pants and let them hang loose around my hips, but don’t take them off.
“I want to see you touch yourself,” I say.
She bites her bottom lip and hesitates for a beat. Then she slides one hand down toward her pussy. Her fingers brush her clit.
“Show me,” I say, my eyes locked on her fingers as she starts to move them. “I want to see how you make yourself feel good.”
I grab my dick through my underwear and watch. She slips two fingers inside to get them wet and rubs herself, slow at first. She relaxes into it and moves faster. I caress her thigh with one hand and pull out my cock with the other.
“You too,” she says. “Let me see you.”
Oh Kendra, my dirty girl. I slide my hand between her legs and plunge two fingers into her pussy. She moans, her eyes rolling back, and gasps when I pull my fingers out. I spread her wetness onto my cock and with slow strokes, I pump my hand up and down my thick erection.
“How does that feel?” I ask.
“It feels like I want you inside me,” she says.
I groan and stroke faster.
“I’ve done this before,” she says. “Imagining you.”
“Oh fuck.”
“I laid in my bed and dreamed it was you,” she says, moving her hand in a steady rhythm. “It was your cock inside me. Did you do it too? Did you make yourself come and pretend it was me?”
I groan again. “All the fucking time.”
She bites her lip again and smiles. “And now you can have me.”
I stop, my cock still clutched in my hand, and stare at her. I can have her. She’s lying naked in front of me, vulnerable and defenseless. Holding nothing back. And I know Kendra. She doesn’t give this to just anyone. This means something to her. Allowing me to touch her, kiss her, fuck her—giving me access to her most tender places—is such a fucking privilege.
“Come to bed with me, baby.”
She nods and I help her up. I take her gently by the hand and lead her into my bedroom where she helps me pull the rest of my clothes off. My cock aches to be inside her, but I take my time, kissing and stroking her. Tasting her skin. I lay her down on her stomach and kiss up her spine. Nibble her shoulders and neck. Turn her over and kiss her tits. Licking, sucking, feeling her whole body with my hands and mouth. Reveling in the feel of her skin.
Nudging me onto my back, she smiles and licks her lips. Her mouth moves down my body, from my chest to my abs. She plants soft kisses around my incision, then moves lower. I groan when she gets to my cock and runs her tongue along the shaft.
She plunges down on me, suddenly aggressive, her eyes meeting mine. Her mouth is like silk. I put my fingers through her hair, but she’s in charge. I give over to her and lose myself in the sensation. She moves up and down, my cock sliding through her wet mouth, her hand stroking the base. Watching her blow me is fucking unreal and in no time, I’m on the brink of coming down her throat.
“Baby, stop,” I say, tightening my hands in her hair. “Stop, I need to fuck you.”
She slowly releases my dick and as soon as I’m free, I grab her with rough hands and toss her onto her back. I curse the seconds it takes to get the condom on. I need her. I need her right fucking now.
Braced above her, I thrust my hips, my gentleness gone. I lean close so I can feel every inch of her skin and devour her mouth while I plunge inside her, over and over again. She clutches onto me, digging her fingers into my back, moaning into my mouth. I move faster, driving into her. She cries out with every thrust.
We’re both gone, completely out of control. I’m fucking her so hard, but the deeper I go, the louder she gets. She’s the only thing in the world—the only thing that matters. Her scent is all over me, the taste of her in my mouth. Her pussy feels like heaven and I can’t get enough. I’ll never get enough.
I growl against her neck as the pressure builds. She’s so hot, her pussy clenching around me, her core muscles squeezing my cock. I plunge in hard and grind against her, holding where I’m as deep as I can go.
“Weston,” she says, her voice tinged with urgency.
I lift my head so I can look at her. My dick pulses with the need to unload, but I wait, looking deep into her eyes. A feeling spreads through me, something I’ve never experienced before. It’s warm and tender, and it has nothing to do with my dick buried in her hot pussy. I want to say something, but I don’t have the words. I never have the right words.
So I kiss her, hoping she’s feeling the same thing. Hoping this is enough. That I can show her that she means something to me. This means something to me.
Two more strokes and I feel her come apart beneath me. Her mouth releases my kiss and she cries out with the pulses of her climax. Instantly, my balls draw up and I explode inside her. I thrust my hips hard, burying my cock in her heat. The waves of ecstasy roll through me, so overwhelming I can’t breathe. She feels so fucking good I can barely stand it. I drive into her until it’s over, until I feel like I’m going to drop.
I stay on top of her, breathing hard, my face buried in her neck. My entire body trembles. I’m so overwhelmed, I can’t even look at her yet. Her hands rub slow strokes up and down my back, her touch soothing the fire inside.
She whispers softly, her mouth next to my ear. “That was amazing.”
I roll off of her and onto my side so I can hold her close. My arms envelop her, pressing her against me. I breathe her in, kiss her head. I don’t know what to do with myself, so I keep my arms tight around her, feel the movement of her breath. She clings to me just as hard. It’s as if we both need this—the assurance of each other. That this is real. That neither of us are going anywhere.
23
Kendra
Mia’s cat, Fabio, jumps up on the couch beside me. He sniffs my pants and seems to deem me worthy to grace his furniture, because he curls up and closes his eyes. I go to scratch his head, but Mia holds up a hand.
“I wouldn’t do that right now,” she says.
“Why?” My hand is still hovering in the air above his head. “He’s going to sleep. He seems happy.”
“Yeah, that’s just to lull you into a false sense of security.” She sinks onto the couch on the other side of Fabio, tucking her legs under her. “If he wants you to pet him, he’ll let you know.”
I put my hand down. “So how are all the wedding plans coming?”
“Having a destination wedding was the best decision I ever made,” she says. “The resort
is taking care of everything, and Shelby can’t interfere. You should really consider doing something like this.”
I arch an eyebrow and hold up my left hand. “Lacking a fiancé, Mi. Not exactly planning a wedding right now.”
“I know, I know, I just mean when you’re planning your wedding,” she says.
“I love you for saying when, not if,” I say. “Although, to be honest, I don’t think I want much of a wedding.”
“Really? I would have thought you’d want the whole shebang—church, big white dress, a dozen bridesmaids…”
I shrug. “Maybe I would have when I was younger. The fairy tale is pretty, but I’ve been in so many weddings. Don’t get me wrong, I’m always honored to be a part of them. But I don’t think that’s what I want for myself.”
“Well, you should definitely do what you want when the time comes,” she says. “I learned really quick that people—as in my sister—have all sorts of opinions when it comes to a wedding. But at the end of the day, it’s not about that. It’s about the marriage, not the party.”
“Have I mentioned lately how glad I am that you’re marrying my brother?” I ask.
Mia rolls her eyes. “Stop. But me too.”
Fabio gets up and stretches, then stands in front of me.
“He wants you to pet him now,” she says. “And I am trying to be so patient and tactful, but you know I suck at that, so I’m just going to ask. How are things with Weston?”
I run my hand down Fabio’s orange fur and he plops down with his head on my leg. I can’t stop the smile from spreading across my face. “Good. No, not good. Amazing. And so surprising. Mia, it’s crazy. I mean, we’re—”
“Having a pants-off dance-off? Doing the mattress mambo? Tickling the fun bits? Doing the naughty?” she asks.
“What?”
“Sorry, the last book I read had all these hilarious euphemisms for sex,” she says. “I can’t get them out of my head.”
“Well, that’s not what I was going to say. But… yeah, that too.”
She scrunches up her shoulders and lets out a little squeal. “But what were you going to say?”
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