And god help me, do I ever love that I’m the one that gets to see it.
“I’m down for opening your package,” I say, rising on my toes to give him a quick kiss. “As long as you also give me an update on the new family situation.”
“Before or after you open my package?” He lifts me up and presses my spine against the wall. I lock my ankles at the small of his back. “The minute I see you, my first thought is alwaysfuck, she’s beautiful. But my second? This overwhelming need to bury myself so deep inside you that you never forget what it’s like to be with me.”
“What’s stopping you?” I dig my hands into his hair, and I kiss him.
“Stupid work,” he mutters. “Work interfering in my very important Doctor Tucker time.”
“Technically I’m work too.”
“Never feels like it.”
“Not even when I’m kicking your ass?”
“Any part of you touching me is exactly what I want.” He cups my cheek and kisses me again, long and slow, as though he’s not in danger of being late. While he kisses me, he shows me how turned on he is with tiny thrusts that skim along my most sensitive parts. It’s delicious foreplay that makes me want to wiggle closer, sustain the contact. One of his hands goes up my shirt and along my side to rest beside my breast, his thumb skimming the edge of my bra.
“If you don’t leave, I’m going to make sure you’re late,” I say when he flicks my earlobe with his tongue and then sucks on it gently.
“I haven’t had a ‘what the fuck are you doing’ call from my agent and manager in a while,” he murmurs against my neck. “I wouldn’t want them to think I was too reformed.”
I thread my hands into the back of his hair, and when he presses a little harder against my core, I can’t help but moan.
“Is the front door locked?” he asks.
“No,” I admit.
He releases a deep sigh and presses his forehead to mine. “I don’t know what I thought about before I met you.”
“Hockey,” I say with a little laugh. “I think you thought about hockey a lot. Logan Bishop, are you telling me you can’t stop thinking about me?”
“You already know that,” he says, and his voice is gruff. “The more time I spend with you, the more time I want to spend with you.”
“Sounds like how I feel,” I say, my voice hushed. Admitting it is scary, but he deserves to know he’s not alone.
“You feel that way about me too?”
“I took a week off work to be with you.”
“Because Tamika asked you.”
“But I went so quickly because it was you.”
He bites his lip, and his hazel eyes take on a hint of determination that I’ve seen many times before. “I think you went because you were needed, or you felt needed. It’s not the same aswantingto be there.”
When I stiffen and pull back, he continues, “I don’t want to fight about it, doc. If you think you feel the same way about me that I feel about you, then I’m happy.”
Though it’s clear from his phrasing that he doesn’t think Idofeel the same way as him.
“Can you let me down?”
He eases my legs down, and his hand lingers on my hip until I step away.
“You want to be needed, and I do need you, doc. That’s not… I’m not trying to say anything bad.”
“So what are you saying then?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t want to fight.”
