The Doctor (Nashville Neighborhood Book 1) Page 9

  I reached a hand back behind me and clenched a fistful of his hair, desperate. “Oh, please,” I begged. “Make me feel good.”

  He went after me then like a man dying of hunger, and I cried out, my supporting arm giving way as pleasure rocketed through my center. My chest slammed against the bed as Greg braced my hips and closed his lips around my clit.

  The explosion was instantaneous.

  Our moans mixed together, although mine overpowered his. I quaked beneath his mouth, shuddering through the blistering orgasm and lingered in the fog of the pleasure, barely aware of anything happening around me.

  Noises registered. A thud, the crinkle of foil ripping. Greg’s t-shirt, still warm from his body, dropped onto the bed beside me. And then he was there, nudging. The tip of his hard dick pushed and intruded, one delicious inch at a time.

  “Oh, Jesus. Oh, God,” I babbled through my short gasps of breath. “Yes, that’s it.”

  His sigh was heavy with satisfaction, and I felt it mirrored inside me. He slipped deeper as his hands grasped my waist and pulled me back onto him. All the way until his pelvis was pressed flat against my ass, and he was so hard inside me I couldn’t see straight.

  We stayed motionless, me bent over the bed and him standing behind, just breathing and enjoying the way it felt. Fuck, it felt so good. He throbbed inside me, and my body squeezed in reply. And even though we weren’t moving, blood thundered through my veins. My pulse sped along, banging loudly in my ears.

  I might die from this man. It was an impossibly dramatic thought, but it felt real. Greg’s command over me was absolute, and I wondered . . . would I survive him?

  There was only one way to know. I reached a hand back and put it on his hip, trying to send a signal I was ready. He grasped my elbow in one firm hand, and then the fingers of his other dug into my scalp, right at the base of my ponytail. He pulled me up off the bed, arching me like a bow and drawing his hips back slowly—

  Only so he could slam into me, so deep and hard, it bordered on pain. Flashes of white danced in my vision, and I grunted, but I loved his rough thrust.

  “You like that?” he asked darkly.

  “Yeah.”

  He did it again.

  And again. His hold on my hair began to ache, but I said nothing. As his tempo picked up, his grasp on my arm tightened, drawing me further back toward him so my spine was shaped like a U. He pounded into me, our bodies slapping together with a punishing, angry rhythm, and it was sexy. I listened to the sound of us fucking and grew wetter and hotter.

  “Fuck, your pussy is insane.”

  I nearly came right then. No one had ever talked to me like that. If anyone else had said it, I would have shut down, but his dirty words and rough actions were the perfect combination of sin. I felt used, which was exactly what I needed. It was what I wanted from him.

  He drove his cock into me, pushing me to the brink of what I could take, but never crossed over to being mean or cruel. He’d been having sex for at least twenty years, and he’d definitely learned a thing or two on how to do it.

  My whimpers of enjoyment swelled and grew frantic. Tingles raced up and down my legs. Every inch of my skin felt alive. The slap of his body against mine hit all the right spots, inside and out. My mind focused in on a single need, the desperate release of tension.

  “Oh,” I gasped.

  “Uh huh,” he encouraged. “I’m gonna come. You’re going to make me fucking come, Cassidy.”

  I went first, him only a few erratic thrusts after me. Sensations blasted up by spine and rippled across my skin, leaving me weak. Greg released me, and we collapsed forward, his heaving chest crushing mine to the sheets. His rasping breath filled my ear, stopping only for a moment while he pressed a seductive kiss to the side of my throat.

  He came down off his high faster than I did. “I’ll be right back.” It sounded teasingly light from him, but I caught his meaning. “Don’t go anywhere.”

  FIFTEEN

  GREG’S COMMENT BROUGHT ON a fresh wave of guilt. I shouldn’t have abandoned him last time.

  “I’m not going to make a run for it,” I said, still struggling to catch my breath. “I can’t move.”

  He gave half a laugh as he pulled up his pants, leaving them undone, and I watched him disappear through the doorway to his bathroom. He wasn’t gone long, and as the first twinge of shame began to trickle into my mind, he reemerged—

  Stark, fucking, naked.

  My cheeks warmed at the image, and thoughts drained from my brain. He strolled across the room, coming to the bed, and helped me to stand on my wobbly legs. I turned clumsily to face him, not sure what to expect. Was this going to be awkward? Would he look at me with judgement after what we’d done, and how we’d done it?

  No. His expression was soft and full of longing. As he kissed me, his hands smoothed over my curves, moving toward my back, almost as if searching for something. It was the zipper of my dress. He eased it down, and as the fabric began to peel from my body, his lips followed it.

  My shoulders shuddered with pleasure. Greg worked deliberately to undress me, and I hadn’t expected seduction after sex. It seemed unnecessary, but—oh God—it felt so incredibly necessary now. His featherlight kisses moving over my bare body was worship.

  He eased the straps of the dress down my arms, pushed it to my waist, and trailed his lips over my breasts. He didn’t linger there, though. He took a knee, and his deft hands worked the bunched dress over my hips, while his kisses marched over my belly. The dress fell into a fluffy pile at my ankles, pulling my underwear down with it.

  On his knees in front of me, Greg worked his gaze up the length of my body, and I went from being worshipped to savored. The air around us was thick. Heavy with an invisible fog that stuck in my lungs. His stare was intense and amazing.

  I didn’t move until he rose to his feet and opened his arms, inviting me to step into them. I melted against him, greedy for his touch. We’d gone from soft kisses, to spanking, to brutal fucking, and now sensual cuddling? It should have felt strange, but it didn’t. The way he swung from one extreme to the other was fascinating and perfect.

  I lost myself in his deep kiss, where time suspended.

  Somehow, we made our way onto the bed and squirmed beneath the covers, but he stayed upright, leaning his back against the tufted headboard. He probably worried if he got too comfortable, he’d fall asleep, and I’d bolt again. I wanted to show him that wasn’t going to happen, so I tucked myself under his arm, putting my cheek to his bare chest.

  He shifted to grab the glass of red wine off the nightstand, took a sip, and then settled in with me, glass still in hand. His face skewed with an expression that looked a lot like remorse.

  “Your distraction worked like a charm, but we still need to talk,” he said.

  I plucked the glass from him, pressed it to my lips, and took a big swallow. I’d only had red wine twice before, and dear God, this was the worst of the three. I tried not to make a face as I politely handed it back. “Thanks.” I struggled not to wipe the gross, buttery taste from my lips. “It’s really good.”

  His knowing smile said he didn’t believe me. But he turned serious as he set the wine down and focused on my eyes. “Are you okay?” Confidence fled from his voice. “I didn’t mean to be like that.”

  All the hair pulling had made a mess of my ponytail, and I tucked a loose tendril behind my ear. “I’m fine.”

  The quiet in the room careened toward awkwardness.

  “I’m fine,” I said again, trying to convince him. “I, uh, liked the way you were. You couldn’t tell?”

  He appeared conflicted. “No, I could, it’s just that was probably too much.”

  The single sip of his disgusting wine must have given me courage. “For who? You?” I straightened so I could stare directly at him. “Because it was great for me.”

  “Jesus.” He cupped my face, and the corner of his mouth ticked up into a smile. “All right. Let’s add it
to the list of all the things we’re not supposed to do, but do anyway.”

  I couldn’t hold back my smile, even when I knew it was wrong.

  I stared across his enormous bed to the wall beyond, where his undergrad degree from Vanderbilt was framed. Beside it hung an award he’d received from the hospital a few years ago. Maybe someday after I’d become a veterinarian, I’d hang my diplomas and awards on the wall like him. Like an adult.

  Man, as if I needed another reminder of how different my life was from his.

  The warmth from his touch went away when he took a deep breath, as if preparing for something serious.

  “What are we doing?” he asked quietly.

  I scowled. Like I had any clue. Plus, thinking about us together only brought on guilt.

  “Okay.” He said it like I’d given him an answer. “What do you want this to be?”

  What I wanted wasn’t possible. Greg would always be Preston’s father and twenty years older than I was. “I don’t know how to answer that.”

  “What we just did . . . you want to do it again?”

  My pulse jumped. It was scary to confess, but I wasn’t going to lie. “Yeah.”

  He tensed his shoulders, and visibly struggled to get his words out. “Me too,” he admitted softly. “Which means we have to tell Preston.”

  “Oh my God, no.” Had Greg lost his mind? Not in a million years was I going to do that.

  “He’s my son, Cassidy. When he was born, I put my needs before everyone else’s and, shit, I was the worst father. Hell, I wasn’t a father at all. But I got a second chance, and I’m not going to blow it this time. It’s taken years for him to forgive me.”

  “Uh—” I cut myself off just in time before saying it out loud. He thought Preston had forgiven him?

  “What?” Greg’s skeptical gaze drilled into me.

  “Nothing.”

  I tried to act casual, but it was too late. He had latched onto my unspoken thought and wasn’t about to drop it. I pulled away, hiking the sheets up tighter around my body, but he followed me, trapping me in place with a hand on my shoulder.

  His tone was firm. “What were you going to say?”

  I stared down at his hand, avoiding looking at him. “I’m not sure,” I said reluctantly, “he’s totally forgiven you yet.”

  Greg sucked in a sharp breath. For a long moment, it was the only painful sound in the room. I worked up the nerve to look him in the eye, and his expression was guarded. Maybe even defensive. It was striking how similar it was to Preston’s earlier today.

  Greg’s hand slid away, and his voice turned dubious. “What makes you think that?”

  I sighed. “He told me.”

  “When? A while ago—?”

  “When school ended, and we were coming home.”

  I watched the balloon of hope deflate in his eyes, and he sagged back against the headboard, defeated.

  For three years, I’d tried to get Preston to come around. His father hadn’t been much older than he was now when Preston’s parents had gotten pregnant. Just kids themselves. I didn’t know the details, and I’d only heard Preston’s version of the story, but I was aware Greg had chosen medical school and a career over having a son.

  Child support payments and birthday presents in the mail were all Preston had known of his father the first ten years of his life, and he’d told me again and again that wasn’t something he was getting over any time soon.

  “It’s been getting better, though,” I said. “You two are a lot closer now. Remember what it was like the first time I came over?”

  Preston had only been living with his father a few weeks, and the tension between the two was palpable. Preston hadn’t introduced me. I’d come in and barely gotten a look at Dr. Lowe before Preston was hurrying me down the stairs to the basement. It would be a month before I had my first conversation with his father.

  Time wore away at them, softening the sharp edge of Preston’s anger, but it hadn’t dissolved completely. They’d done a good job at playing family long enough it was almost real.

  “It’s not going to change what I do,” Greg said, running a hand down his long face. “I’m never going to give up trying to make it right with him. But, tell me honestly. Is it too late?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think so. You just need more time with him.”

  God, the way he looked at me was heartbreaking, and my gut twisted. Yes, Greg had been an absent father at first, but he loved his son and was trying so hard now. That had to count for something. I mean, my father hadn’t given a shit about me, ever. No child support payments or birthday presents in the mail. The only thing he’d given me was half my DNA, and sometimes I wanted to point out to Preston he hadn’t gotten the shittiest deal in the dad department.

  “But we can’t tell him,” I announced. “It’ll destroy everything you worked so hard for. Burn every bridge you built.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I know him,” I clarified. “I know how he’ll react.” I could guarantee it wouldn’t go well. Preston’s ‘fuck you, Cassidy’ would be amended to include a ‘fuck you, Dad’ and maybe even a ‘fuck you forever.’

  Greg frowned. “I’m not saying he’ll be okay with it, but—”

  “No,” I said. “We can’t tell him. And, yeah, I know it sounds like I’m trying to take the easy way out, but I’m not. He was my best friend, Greg. I know him better than anyone else, and believe me when I tell you, we can’t do this. You’ll lose him forever, and I’ll be the reason.”

  His dark eyes clouded over with something I didn’t understand. “You don’t know everything about him.”

  Well, that was cryptic. “What?”

  Greg’s eyebrows pulled together, creating a crease of worry for a pregnant moment. “I just mean you can never know someone completely.” He reached out and captured my face, cradling it in his hands. “He needs to know. He almost walked in on us this afternoon. What if he had?”

  I sighed, and my heart gained five heavy pounds, sinking in my chest. “We don’t even know what this is. How do we explain it to him?”

  His expression shifted, and it was clear he knew I’d made a valid point. What if tonight was the last time we were together? I didn’t see the upside in risking Greg’s relationship with his son on something that might fade as quickly as I could stuff my prom dress back in the bag I’d brought over.

  “So,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest, “we lie to him.”

  A stone turned in my stomach and my voice was meek. “Until we can figure it out, I think we have to.”

  “Great.” His tone was flat. “This is a great idea. If he finds out instead of hearing it from us, it’ll be ten times worse.”

  “He’s not going to find out.” I heard the way the words sounded as they came from my mouth and cringed. Was I really pushing for this? Willing to sneak around behind the back of the guy who’d once meant so much to me? And I’d be doing it so I could continue having crazy-hot sex.

  Jesus. I hadn’t lied to Preston when I’d told him we weren’t the same people we were before. I barely recognized myself anymore.

  “We’ll be careful,” I said. “And we’ll tell him, once the summer’s over and he’s done going through whatever phase he’s going through right now.”

  I was sure we both had the same feeling of dread crawling through us, thinking about how terribly this could go wrong. I swallowed a lump and mustered up the courage to be vulnerable.

  “We have three options. Tell him, keep it a secret, or stop. Just so you know, it doesn’t matter how or what we tell him—he’s going to think I left him for you.”

  And that betrayal would be too much. Preston wouldn’t recover.

  I gazed at the man sitting beside me. Greg’s dark hair was ruffled, and his full lips turned down in a frown, but he was easily the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. His thick biceps were exaggerated, crossed over his powerful chest, and his smart eyes focused in on me.r />
  Oh, option three wasn’t an option at all.

  “And I can’t stay away,” I admitted. “I don’t want to stop. Do you?”

  “No.”

  “So . . .”

  The muscles along his jaw flexed and his eyes went narrow. He was in agreement, but not happy about it, and I understood. I wasn’t thrilled about sneaking around either.

  “Just until the end of summer.” It was a statement, but he said it asking for validation.

  I nodded. “Yeah.”

  He drew in a deep breath, pushed it out, and pulled me back against him. His lips brushed the edge of my hairline on my forehead. “This is a bad idea.”

  I set my palm flat against his chest. “We can add it to the list.”

  SIXTEEN

  GREG BROUGHT ME A CAN OF DR. PEPPER when he got up to refill his wine, and I stared at the logo printed on the aluminum. Preston didn’t like Dr. Pepper, and I’d never seen his father drink it either, which led me to believe the case always stocked in the garage was for me.

  Greg hesitated before speaking. “Can I ask you something?”

  No one ever said that unless something serious was about to come out, and I tried not to hold my breath. “Go for it.”

  “I’ve never heard you talk about your dad.”

  I blinked slowly. “Probably because there’s nothing to say. I never met the guy.”

  “Is he still alive?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe.”

  Greg looked like he just discovered he was standing barefoot surrounded by broken glass and wasn’t sure which step to take next. All his options were going to be painful. “I’m sorry I brought it up. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. It’s just, we’ve known each other a while, and I always wondered.”

  “My dad fled town as soon as he found out my mom was pregnant, and she hasn’t heard from him since.” My body went cool, matching my voice. “He didn’t give a single thought to us, so I make sure to return the favor every chance I get.”