“Uh, thanks, I guess?” I hear Jamie answer, and my heart skips a beat. While we’ve certainly kept in touch the last few weeks, I haven’t heard his voice. The deep timber of his voice flows slowly over my skin, and goosebumps pop in its wake. Turning, I almost lose the ability to speak. He’s wearing a backwards baseball cap, and glasses. It’s simply unfair how hot he really is.
“Hi, Jamie,” I say, and his answering smile makes my knees weak.
“Hey, Doc.”
“Jesus Christ, I think I just came,” Chelsea murmurs behind me, before clearing her throat to speak up. “Thanks for coming in to help. I’m only a couple of inches taller than Audrey, so it’s very helpful to have someone a billion feet taller than us.”
He chuckles, then winks at me. What the fuck? He winks at me!
“It’s no problem. I didn’t have anything to do this morning anyway, so it got me out of the house. My cats were beginning to think I’d become one of them,” he jokes. “What do you need help with?”
Chelsea points up, and my eyes slowly lift to find box after box of supplies jammed on top of the cabinets. Boxes that absolutely were not up there when I left Friday afternoon. She must have spent all weekend moving things around.
“Why’d you put this stuff up here in the first place?” Jamie asks, grunting as he grabs the first box. An inch of perfect skin is visible as his shirt rides up, and I find myself gaping.
“Close your mouth,” Chelsea hisses, but I find her staring as well. A sliver of his underwear is visible, and Chelsea whispers, “Calvin Klein.”
I raise one eyebrow at her. How the hell does she know the brand of underwear Jamie is wearing based solely on a tiny bit of fabric?
“You think I’ve never dated someone butch before? I know male underwear.” I can’t help the snort that escapes. Chelsea is girly and feminine, always sporting shades of pink dye in her hair and a plethora of nose rings depending on her mood. I’ve only met a couple of her girlfriends, but I know she enjoys playing the field. Chelsea is a true romantic, and feels when she meets ‘the one,’ she’ll know immediately.
My analytical brain thinks true love is an absolute myth, but who I am to shoot down her hopes and dreams?
“Where do you want the boxes?” Jamie asks, grabbing the last two.
“Oh, uh, over there,” Chelsea responds, pointing to the empty space right by the cabinets. Where the boxes originally were.
“Huh.” Jamie peers down at the floor, obviously noting the subtle discoloration. “Kinda looks like boxes were already here.”
Chelsea laughs loudly, then jumps when the phone rings. “Saved by the bell! Err, phone.”
As she dances off to answer the phone, Jamie walks to stand in front of me. He gives me a lopsided smile. “Wanted to see me again that badly, Doc?”
Okay. The nickname should not make me wet, but it does. “I swear I had nothing to do with that. Chelsea must have been in here over the weekend, because that’s not where I left the boxes.”
His smile dims slightly, then perks up again. “How’d she get my number, anyway?”
“I really have no idea. It’s possible she stole it out of my phone Friday night. There was wine involved, and I’m a lightweight. I’m sorry she contacted you out of nowhere. That’ssuch an invasion of privacy, and I know you value your personal life so much.”
He reaches up, dragging a finger around my ear, seemingly tucking in a loose strand of hair, and my sharp intake of breath is audible. “It’s okay. I’m guessing it was because of something you said. Do you ever wear your hair down?”
“Sometimes,” I whisper, captivated as his finger slowly traces down the side of my neck.
“I really want to see it down,” he says softly. “May I?”
I nod, aware my tongue has gone numb, and I’ve lost the ability to speak. As I’m reaching up to take apart my bun, Jamie beats me to it, and I bite back a groan. Every follicle on my head is standing up, screaming for attention, as he slowly unwinds the hair tie. He places the tie on his left wrist, then pushes both hands into my hair. When his fingers hit my scalp, I whimper. I love having my hair played with. When I have trouble sleeping, I watch ASMR videos on social media to relax. But this? This moment beats any sensation I could possibly get from watching a video.
“It’s fucking gorgeous, Audrey. You’re gorgeous,” he whispers, dragging his fingers along the tresses, then slowly wraps the ends around his hands. If he pulls my hair right now, I will beg him to take me somewhere. Anywhere. The damn closet in my office if need be. I am two seconds away from orgasming in my clinic, just because this beautiful man touched my hair.
My eyes dart to his lips, and I watch, captivated, as his tongue slowly sneaks out to lick his bottom lip. Good God. Everything he does is sexy. Does he even realize it? I look at his eyes again, assuming I’ll find some kind of victorious or smug expression, but it’s not that way at all. Instead, Jamie is looking at me like he wants me, too. Like if I asked him to take me in the closet, he’d gladly do so.
This so complicates things.
“Dr. Carrington?” Chelsea’s voice permeates my lust-filled mind, and I recognize the tone. “I’m sorry for the interruption, but we have an emergency.”
I look up at Jamie, and he gives me a tender smile. “Go save the world, Doc.”
I’m unprepared for him to lean in and place an absentminded kiss against my forehead.
