I’d just have to show him, anyway.
Knight led me into his bedroom. His California King took up most of the floor space. He crossed the three feet between his bed and dresser and turned to face me expectantly.
I reached for his belt. “Let’s get you undressed and into bed.”
His mouth twisted. “This isn’t going to turn into some sort of bait and switch, is it?”
“Bait and switch?”
“Like, you put me to bed like an invalid and tell me to get some rest, leaving me with this boner?”
I laughed as I unbuckled his belt. “I wouldn’t do that to you. That’s just mean.”
“It really is,” he murmured.
I unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them over his hips. They dropped to his ankles. His knees were both bruised from hitting the pavement. I crouched down, kissing his tender flesh as I helped him step out of his pant legs.
Knight hooked his fingers in his black boxer briefs and shoved them to mid-thigh, his thick cock swaying forward. It was nearly as purple as his bruises, the head damp with precum. I leaned in, flicking my tongue over the tip.
“Fuck, yeah,” he whispered, grabbing a handful of my hair.
I drew back, even though it tugged my hair. “Nope. Bed first.”
He groaned. “I’mfine.”
I looked him up and down as I pulled his underwear off, leaving him only in crew socks. “You sure as fuck are. The finest man I’ve ever seen.”
He smirked. “Well, thanks for stroking my ego, even if you won’t stroke my fucking co?—”
I surged up, cutting him off with a hard kiss. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders, holding me close as our tongues slid together.
“Bed,” I murmured against his mouth as I gave him a little push.
He collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut, hissing a little at the jarring movement. He stopped arguing, though, and lay back on the bed, sighing with relief as he got settled. His cock was still hard, curving up toward his abs, but the rest of his body relaxed into the mattress.
Just how I wanted him.
I unbuttoned the pale blue dress shirt I’d worn to work, kicked off my shoes and dropped my pants. Knight watched through hooded eyes, one hand loosely fisting his shaft as I pushed tight blue briefs over my hips.
“Turn around,” he rasped.
I humored him, turning as I peeled the briefs down, exposing my ass as I bent to step out of them.
He groaned. “Fuck yeah. Hottest doctor ever.”
I took a moment to rid myself of my socks, then turned to him with a smile. “Okay, now, will you let me finish my examination of your injuries?”
“Angel, you can do anything you want to me.”
I removed his socks—because there was nothing sexy about wearing socks while you got frisky—and then climbed into the bed with him.
I started with his temple, placing the softest kiss against the bruising there. This was the bruise that had concerned me the most that first night. I’d watched him closely for signs of concussion, but he’d slept well and seemed lucid when he woke. No nausea or balance issues.
I shifted to his jaw, kissing a line to his mouth. His split lip was on the mend, but I’d busted it open with that hard kiss.
I tsked. “Why didn’t you tell me I was hurting you when we kissed?”
He reached up and dabbed at his lip. “Didn’t even notice, Angel. All I could focus on was you.”
