Drawn to Him: A Romance Collection

by Willow Winters

  “Baby, you will land in the ER, if need be,” he sounds too serious for me to take it lightly. I slip a finger inside myself and massage my clit with my thumb.

  He takes a step forward, looking tortured and strained. “You need to get rid of that dress and pick a safe word, fast, Savvy. Otherwise, I can’t be responsible for my actions.”

  “Doctor,” I whisper with my scarlet mouth, “Doctor is my safe word,” I peel away the dress and throw it over my shoulder, landing on his wooden floor. He smirks. A brooding facial expression for a devil of a man.

  “Remember that word, beautiful. Because you’re about to be fucked everywhere. Hard.”

  And that’s when he flips me over to my stomach with one expert hand. I gasp with surprise and turn around to look at him, but he pushes my head into the mattress, his movement rough. Before I know what’s happening, my underwear are gone—ripped away from my body by a savage who knows how to work a stethoscope—and a hard slap meets my ass cheek.

  “Bite the pillow if it’s too much. Say Doctor if anal is a hard limit. Let our game begin. Three. Two. One.”

  I hear a condom wrapper slice open and a second later he is inside me from behind, filling my pussy with his huge cock. Even though I’m wet and ready for him, the sudden penetration leaves me gasping and he burns inside me. He squeezes my thighs together to create more friction as he moves inside unhurriedly, taking his time and enjoying the view of my ass. He drags in and out of me. I stifle my moans on his black satin pillow that smells of his woodsy, cedar self, getting drunk on every part of him surrounding me, filling me.

  “Not full enough of me…” he mutters, adding three fingers into my pussy as well as his cock, and now I’m so stretched and full I can hardly breathe. It puts pressure on all of my body and it’s a delicious pain I can’t get enough of. Rhys takes out his fingers and rubs one of them against my anus in circles, playing with it. My boobs are bouncing as he picks up his pace inside me, using his own thighs to move mine closer together.

  He slips his finger in and out of my anus, and even though it’s a little uncomfortable at first, within a few strokes it becomes pure bliss. I feel a wave of climax washing over me head-to-toe, a small, thrilling orgasm makes me clench tighter against him, and he rewards me with a moan.

  “So fucking tight. You’re going to love it when I tear you apart.” I wince when he starts pumping harder, and my forearms give in. I collapse, a rag doll under his powerful thrusts.

  “I’m coming again,” I can’t help but scream. The pressure he is applying everywhere is too much. He is rough. He is brutal. He didn’t even kiss my mouth before he fucked me this time.

  “Come all you want this time, Savvy. I’m nowhere near done with you, and I have the stamina of a man, not an eighteen-year-old frat boy.”

  His cock leaves my pussy and he places it over the entrance of my ass.

  “What do I do for a living?” He checks to see if I’m okay with this, in the most adorable way. It’s a first—and I’m definitely scared—but I’m also so, so game.

  “A doctor.”

  “What else am I?”

  “Goddamn sexy.”

  “That’s it?”

  “For now,” I grin in the pillow as he enters my tight hole slowly, inch by inch. The burn is intense and delicious, but I suck deep breaths and try and relax. I make sure my muscles are loose and calm. Rhys snakes a hand, drags some of my wetness and flicks my clit with his fingers, which soothes some of the pain. He allows my thighs to move apart, and I’m on all fours again. He leans toward me, his hard abs on my back, pressing a chastise kiss on my cheek. “I’m in love with you, Savannah Martin.”

  My eyes grow wide, partly because of what he’s just said and partly because he is now fully inside me.

  “Fuck,” he hisses, moving his concentration back to the sex. “What the hell are you doing to me, and why am I letting you do this?”

  Because lust, I think. Because love.

  He rides me from behind, in a way that would terrify me if it happened before I’d met him. Yet nothing about Rhys is too much in this moment. I feel an orgasm building, quickly rushing like a storm. It grips every organ in my body, chokes me and takes over my whole being. “I’m coming so hard,” I cry out, and he pinches my clit as he picks up his speed from behind.

  “That makes the two of us.”

  We come together and he collapses on top of me. I’m nothing. I’m liquid. I’m a sorry excuse for what used to be a woman. After a few seconds of regulating our breaths, he flips me over, aware of how heavy he is on top of me. We smile at each other like what we just shared wasn’t weird or insane or deprived, but sweet and romantic.

  “Still didn’t faint,” I wink.

  “You came five times,” he furrows his brows. “Give a guy a break.”

  “Is that what you need? A break?”

  “Never with you,” he kisses me soft and tentative. “Never with us.”

  “I didn’t even get to play with these two,” he kneads my breasts before taking my nipple between his teeth and sucking it hard. I sigh.

  “I love you, too, Rhys.”

  “Dr. Matthews in bed, Rhys outside of it. Your choice when we fuck on any type of surface that isn’t the bed.”

  “That means I need a new safe word.”

  “Love.”

  “Love?”

  “Love should be our safe word. Our safe place. It would remind me to take it easy on you, because there’s nothing endearing about what I want to do with you, Savvy.”

  Swatting his bulging shoulder, I laugh. “How are we ever going to write this romance novel together? You’re no Prince Charming.”

  “Of course, I am. And you’re about to suck my crown.”

  CHAPTER 9

  Be Good

  The next day, I hide under the reception desk and pretend to sort through boxes of stationery when Dr. Lerer walks in. She is not alone. Two older men in sharp suits saunter beside her, not unlike vicious guard dogs.

  “Selina, get up, you fool,” her bark is cut and dry. I stand to my feet, my chin tilted in defiance. Rhys drove me back home this morning, where I had a much-needed shower, changed into something respectable and drove my car down here so I could pick up Theodore from school today. Dr. Lerer is wearing a champagne-hued suit and a frown.

  “Ma’am,” I say coldly. Maybe I’d show more remorse for what I’ve been doing with her ex if she hadn’t made being a spectacular bitch to me an Olympic sport.

  “These are my lawyers,” she flicks her hand between the guard dogs. “They are here for an urgent meeting. I’ve had enough of my ex’s antics, and since you’ve become one of his said antics, I’m getting rid of you. Take your bag and leave.”

  “You can’t do that.” I straighten up my spine, eyes narrowing at her. “Rhys said I could stay.”

  “Rhys has no say in this anymore. Out, Selina,” she leans toward me, breathing fire into my face.

  “It’s Savannah, and the answer is still no.”

  “I’ll call the police.”

  “What will you tell them?” I inquire, my voice calm and collected.

  “That you’re trespassing on my property—you’re no longer working here. That I feel susceptible since you obviously have a forbidden, sexual relationship with my husband and your boss. I can go on,” she pretends to check her polished, red fingernails with boredom. “I could get you arrested, silly girl. Don’t tempt me.”

  My eyes wander to the cell phone on my desk, but she shakes her head, reading my mind. This is all going downhill very quickly. “Don’t you even dare try to pull this crap on me, Salma.”

  Mimicking her body language and leaning forward, I smile. “You own the battle, Dr. Lerer. Not the war.”

  Then I take my things and leave. It’s nine in the morning, so I’m guessing Rhys should get here soon. He goes for a ten-mile run every day before he gets into work. The only good part about getting fired is that I won’t have to be there when Rhys lose
s his cool and goes batshit crazy on Dr. Lerer.

  The drive back home is a blur of dark thoughts. Mom is at the recruitment agency, Dad in his office downtown. I push the door open and kick my shoes off. Might as well cook and clean to show my remorse for keeping this secret from my parents.

  My lover is a soon-to-be divorced man who can be very cruel, in and out of bed.

  Before I begin, I fish out my phone and shoot Linda a short message saying that I was fired by Dr. Lerer, but that I would love to meet up for dinner sometime. She replies right away, telling me that she’d be more than happy to hang out, and that she’s never hated anyone as much as she does Stacey.

  I smile to my phone and walk into the kitchen when I hear a voice that makes me jump in surprise.

  “What is happening here, Savannah?”

  I look up. It’s Mom. She is holding a cup of tea and looking at me with heartbreak in her eyes. It’s a new look on her I haven’t seen before. I immediately decide that I hate it.

  “What are you doing here, Mom?”

  “I’ve had a doctor’s appointment on the other side of town. Savannah, people are talking. My colleague, Sheila, said you were having an affair with a married man at the practice. I told her no way. My Savannah? Impossible! But she said the wife—Dr. Lerer, is it?—is telling everyone who is willing to listen. Oh, what have you gotten yourself into, my sweet child?” She sighs on a sob. My eyes widen. Who the hell is Stacey talking to? I rush to Mom and hold her in my arms. I clutch her head to my chest.

  “They are getting a divorce, Mom, and they absolutely hate each other. Do you really think I’d be okay with infidelity? Me?” I swallow a lump of anger and shame. “That is not how I was raised! Tell me you believe me. Say you understand.”

  She shakes her head. “They all say they’ll get a divorce, sweetie…”

  “Mom,” I push away from her, fire igniting in my stomach. “I’m not some dumb little girl. I see them on a daily basis. They look like they’re two seconds from stabbing each other’s backs. She wants to change their son’s last name, for goodness sake! I don’t know what game she is playing, but she doesn’t want him back.”

  Just as I say this, my phone starts ringing. I pick it up. It’s the person I knew it would be.

  “Where are you?” His voice is hoarse and dusky. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out he’s been screaming his lungs off at her all morning.

  “At home. I’m okay,” I assure him before everything else. I’m pacing the kitchen, my mother’s eyes burning a hole on the side of my head. I can practically hear Rhys raking a hand over his coal-colored hair.

  “Stacey is using the mistress trick to try and get the upper hand. I know she sent you away and made a scene, like you’re stealing her precious husband. I need to warn you—she’s been talking smack about our relationship around town. It’s a part of her lawyers’ new strategy.”

  “So I hear,” I grit out. “My mom has already been notified of my illicit relationship. I’m surprised Stacey didn’t break our relationship on CNN yet.”

  “Trust me, she is probably working toward it,” he murmurs. “I have to see you. I’m cancelling all my appointments and coming over.”

  I look over to my sniffling, distraught mom, and wince. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”

  “What? Why?”

  “My mom is here. She isn’t very happy about…us.”

  “I’ll change her mind. I need to explain everything to you. And I do mean everything.”

  “Okay.”

  “I love you, little novelist.”

  The next words come as a hushed whisper, “I love you, Dr. Dreamy.”

  Rhys hangs up, and even though the mystery in his voice should leave me unsure and suspicious, relief washes all over me. He made sense of Stacey’s peculiar behavior, and maybe he can get through to the matriarch in my family.

  “He is coming over in a bit,” I bite my lower lip, trying to get her to look at me. She doesn’t. Her eyes are red like Christmas. They blink slowly at me. “I always knew you were a bit of a free spirit, Savannah. What with studying English lit and moving so far away and everything. But this is serious.”

  “I know,” I stress, taking a step in her direction. “It’s not what you think. I swear. I care about Rhys and about his son. I understand the consequences of our relationship and I’m willing to face them.”

  “His son,” she echoes, head collapsing into her hands as her body shakes with another sob.

  What the hell have I done?

  * * *

  “I wish we didn’t have to meet like this,” Rhys’s voice is grave as he clasps Mom’s hand in a firm shake. He’s always been good at treating his patients and their families with gloves of silk, despite the roughness with which he treats the rest of the world. It’s one of my favorite things about him.

  “You two have a lot of explaining to do,” she says as she leads him to our dining table. They sit down. I make coffee, anxious nibbling my gut at leaving them alone, even for a few minutes. When I come back, he laces his fingers together and pins my mother down with a gaze.

  “My soon-to-be ex-wife is on the lookout for ammo on me. She needs a lot of it, because the money I’ve made throughout our marriage is not enough for her. She wants to walk away with my inheritance—a large portion of it, anyway—and I will not let it happen.”

  “You have a kid involved in this divorce,” my mother lets out a soft snarl, baring her teeth as she puts the mug of coffee to her lips. “It wouldn’t kill you to pay a little to help him live comfortably.”

  Rhys adjusts in his seat across from her at the table, clearing his throat.

  “Theodore is not mine.”

  I spray my coffee all over my side of the table, choking on the very little I’ve managed to swallow. “What?”

  Rhys licks his lips, drawing circles on the table with his finger. He refuses to look up at us, and I know why. The emotions swimming in his eyes are too much.

  Too much to reveal.

  Too much to feel.

  “Yes. I found out four months ago. Hence, the divorce. Stacey and I…we were never meant to be. We went to med school together. We were casual. I always used protection, so her pregnancy came out of nowhere, but we were exclusive, and I wanted to believe my girlfriend was faithful to me, and why shouldn’t she be? We were happy. Most of the time, anyway.”

  Loaded silence fills the room. No one sips their coffee. Every breath is measured and quiet. The new information devastates me. Especially as his love for him is overwhelming and raw. How does one deal with the fact their six-year-old son is not really theirs?

  Rhys rubs his face tiredly, and I gasp when I look down, realizing I’ve been digging my fingernails into my arm, drawing blood. “It doesn’t make any difference. I fell in love with Theodore the day he was born and haven’t looked back since. Four months ago, a college friend from out of town paid us a visit. Clint. A former best friend of mine. On his last day, I was supposed to perform a surgery on a newborn in New York. The surgery was cancelled. The baby never made it. I drove back home and caught Stacey and him fucking in my bathtub.” Pause. He looks up to my mom with a silent apology for the language before he finishes, “Theodore looks a lot like Clint, and Clint was the bastard who was always bragging about never using a condom. The pieces of the puzzle fell together.”

  “This Stacey girl has some nerve asking for your money after all this!”

  “Paying child support was never an issue. I’m happy to do so—I get to see Theo, and he’s all I care about. I just want this to be over, Mrs. Martin. And my intentions for your daughter are…,” he pauses to look at me. Not pure, I complete the sentence in my head, but definitely serious. A flash of understanding crosses between us when our eyes meet, and he turns back to her. “This is not a fling, or an affair, or a mistake, Mrs. Martin. It’s the beginning of something wonderful. It’s the beginning of us.”

  EPILOGUE

  WRAPPED IN A NEAT LITTLE BOW<
br />
  Five years later

  “Theodore, leave your sister alone,” Rhys flattens the New York Times literary section over the breakfast table and looks up to me. “So, when is it a good time to call J.K. Rowling and tell her there’s a new player in town?” He winks.

  I roll my eyes from the kitchen sink, grab two huge bowls of ice cream with strawberries and make my way to the table. Yup. That’s what we have for breakfast on Saturday mornings. Ice cream. Theodore isn’t allowed any sweets during the weekdays with his mother, but I’m his stepmother, and I decide that on Saturdays, he is happy. Very happy.

  “It’s nothing, really. The publishing house spent a lot of money on marketing The Doctor Who Could.” My debut novel hit a huge list. Big deal. Actually, it is, but I try not to let it go to my head. The doorbell rings. Rhys gets up.

  “Are we expecting anyone?”

  “Linda,” I answer as I hand one bowl of ice cream to Theodore and one to our daughter, Sophia, who is three. “We’re taking the kids to the park with her, remember?”

  “How could I forget,” he stops to give me a kiss, smacking my ass when the kids can’t see. His voice drops an octave, low and seductive. “You practically made her a family member. But that’s fine. She can watch the kids downstairs when you give me a BJ in the bedroom.”

  “You’re gross,” I roll my eyes, but smile.

  “I’m The Doctor Who Could, so don’t give me that sass.” With that, he waltzes toward the door and greets his receptionist.

  “Mommy, Mommy, can I marry dad when I grow up?” Sophia looks up at me, her face pink with strawberry ice-cream. She’s got her dad’s blue eyes and her dad’s dark hair and her dad’s everything. One thing is for sure—this time there was no need for a paternity test. If anything, I’m the one who feels like a womb-for-hire whenever I look at her.

  “We’ll revisit this subject when you’re a little older,” I laugh. “We’re going to the park now with Auntie Linda, and then to Target to buy some swimsuits for our Hawaiian vacation. Are you excited?”