She nods slowly, and I can tell she never thought about this. I probably should have explained it weeks ago.
“But the phone calls?”
“I convinced myself that was different.”
“Different,” she repeats. “Luke, that last time, I thought we were going to have phone sex!”
I can’t suppress a chuckle. “I was hoping for it, yeah.”
An indignant flush creeps up Melissa’s cheeks. “But then a woman showed up at your door!”
“What?”
The shock in my voice makes her pause.
“I heard a woman’s voice at your door,” she insists, but she looks a little less sure of herself now. I’m confused for a minute—no one would mistake Ethan’s voice for a woman’s—until I realize she must have heard Janine.
“That was my neighbor. My friend Ethan—Dr. Atwell, you met him at the hospital—knocked on Janine’s door instead of mine, so she walked him over.”
“Oh,” she says softly. “When I met Sloane at your hockey game, I assumed it was her.”
“Milly, I broke up with Sloane two months ago.”
“Oh.” She looks up at me as though she wants to believe it, but she’s still not fully convinced. “She said she was your girlfriend.”
“She was, and she wanted to get back together, but I shut that down real quick. Didn’t even consider it, and you know why, Milly?”
She shakes her head slowly. Her eyes, those beautiful big eyes, are round and wide, and I can’t resist anymore. I take a step toward her, then another until I’m only inches from her face.
“Because you’re the only woman I can think about.”
Her mouth falls open in an O of surprise.
“I’ve wanted you since the day I saw you in the ER,” I admit.
“And the rules?” she asks softly. “The Medical Board?”
“It’s been long enough. Claire’s recovered, and I’m not treating her anymore. The Medical Board won’t care.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah.” The truth is, I’m not entirely sure—the rules are so stupidly vague. But I am sure I don’t care what theMedical Board thinks. If they want to try to discipline me for this, I’ll deal with it.
Melissa takes the last step, the one that closes the distance between us. Before I know what’s happening, her arms are around my neck and she’s pressing her lips into mine.
I’ve wanted this for so long that my body responds automatically. There’s no finesse to this kiss; it’s wet and rude and delicious. I haven’t kissed a girl this way since I was a teenager. Since I was kissing Melissa.
I pull her into me, savoring the feel of her breasts against my chest. My hands drift lower, cupping the curve of her ass. Her breath hitches as I pull her core against my cock.
“Couch,” I mutter, because the bedroom seems too far away, and we stumble toward the couch together. My hand slips under her top, caressing the soft skin of her belly. When I first saw her sweater, I thought it was a work of art, the way it clung to her curves. Now it seems like a travesty, because it’s keeping me from Melissa. The sweater needs to go, and I tug it upwards?—
“Stop!” Melissa blurts.
The urgency in her tone stills my hands before my brain can even process what’s going on. A moment ago, she seemed as into this as I was—hell, she kissed me—but now she’s pulling away, and I’m damned if I know what changed.
“Okay.” I take a step away from her and sit on the couch, trying to show her I’m willing to take this at whatever pace she wants.
“I’m sorry,” she says softly, tugging her sweater back down. She keeps her gaze fixed on the floor as she moves to the far side of the sofa. Sits down in the corner, as far from me as she can get while still sharing the same piece offurniture. It’s almost like she’s never done this before, which is ridiculous. I know she’s done this before, because she’s done it with me.
