Hotshot Doc, page 23
She pats my chest teasingly. “The pinkest, most ugly thing you’ve ever seen.”
We arrive at a door beside the bathroom and she reaches behind her to turn the handle, her eyes staring up at me while she does it. “Are you ready to see the main attraction?” she asks, wiggling her eyebrows.
I grin and push us forward until her door opens wide and I’m standing on the threshold of Bailey’s bedroom.
The first thing I notice is the twin bed. I have to stifle a groan. Really? A twin? I haven’t had sex on a twin bed since my freshman year of college—not that we’re about to have sex. Yet.
She follows my gaze and bites her lip. “Yeah, I’ve been meaning to upgrade. Also, not to further disappoint, but it’s hard as a rock.”
I nod and drop my hands as I move past her, anxious to uncover the secrets of Bailey Jennings.
In lieu of a nightstand, she’s stacked pre-med textbooks beside her bed so she can rest a glass of water and what looks to be a half-finished copy of When Breath Becomes Air—a book I read the day it released—on top.
“You’re judging,” Bailey accuses, crossing her arms by the door.
I step farther inside and turn in a slow circle. “I’m not. Really.” I glance at her with a smirk. “It’s only fair. You got to snoop around my room when I was passed out drunk. Now I should get to do the same.”
She chuckles and shakes her head. “Actually, I didn’t. I was too scared of what I would find in your bedside table.”
“There isn’t anything too terribly shocking. A pack of condoms.” I shrug nonchalantly. “Some ball gags.”
She chokes out a laugh, and then her eyes widen and she jerks her head out into the hallway.
“Oops.” I’m not used to having to watch what I say. “I don’t think she heard. Also, for the record, I’m kidding.”
Bailey lets me take my time looking around her room. I browse through her books (she has good taste), test out her bed (rock hard, as promised), and then stop short when I realize there’s not much else. Her walls are bare. Her bed doesn’t even have a headboard. Her box spring is sitting on the floor.
Josie shouts from the kitchen that the hot cocoa is ready and Elf is cued up on the TV.
“Not one for interior decorating?” I ask as we step back out into the hallway.
Bailey deflects. “Haven’t really had the time.”
I don’t quite buy her answer, especially when we pass Josie’s room and I see it’s stuffed to the brim. She has two bookshelves fully stocked with what looks to be the entire contents of the teen section at Barnes & Noble. Posters of One Direction and some guy named Ansel Elgort cover the wall above her bed. She has a little writing desk, and a bean bag, and a blue and white striped rug.
It confirms everything I already know about Bailey.
When we arrive in the living room, Josie has confidently claimed the middle of the couch. She has a blanket over her legs, a bowl of popcorn on her lap, and her mug of hot cocoa cooling in one hand. The remote is poised in the other, aimed for the TV.
“C’mon, you two,” she says impatiently.
“Josie, why don’t you scoot over,” Bailey suggests, waving to the left side of the couch.
Josie’s nose scrunches in protest. “What? But you know I like sitting in the middle. The cushion has a nice little indention from my butt.”
“Josie,” Bailey hisses, obviously trying to convey something to her sister, which the fourteen-year-old completely misses.
Her bottom lip juts out. “But I like being in the middle.”
So that’s that. Bailey and I are forced to sit on either side of her. I fight back a laugh as we lock eyes behind her head.
“Sorry,” Bailey mouths, shooting me a defeated half-smile.
I reach my arm along the back of the couch and brush my thumb back and forth across her shoulder.
“Quiet!” Josie insists. “The movie is starting!”
The irony is that Josie herself talks through the whole movie, pointing out her favorite characters and explaining to me why certain jokes are funny then looking over to see if I’m laughing too.
I chuckle because there’s nothing else to do. This night is nothing like I thought it would be.
I catch Bailey glancing over at me every now and then. There’s tension between us, and during slower parts of the movie, I can’t help reliving moments from the party, specifically every second we spent in that bathroom together. I fidget in my seat and lean forward to take off my coat.
Then I stand to get water and Bailey shoots to her feet to join me, explaining to Josie that she needs to show me where the cups are.
“Okay! I’ll pause it.”
Bailey laughs. “Oh good.”
Their kitchen is right off the living room, small and just as dated as the rest of the house. Bailey walks over to a cabinet and reaches up for a cup and I come up behind her, hands on her hips, turning her slowly toward me.
Her eyes widen in shock then her gaze darts toward the living room. “What are you doing?” she whispers.
In response, I tip my head down and kiss her slowly. My mouth claims hers and my hands curve around her ass, tugging her toward me until our hips meet. Fuck. I need her.
Our kiss turns hotter as I try to convey every ounce of torment I feel, but then Josie’s voice carries into the kitchen and we leap apart.
“Hey!” she shouts. “Could you bring me some water too, please?”
Bailey whirls around to the cabinet and grabs another glass. “Yes! Got it!”
Obviously, I don’t pay attention to the rest of the movie. My focus is on Bailey. Every little move she makes, every time she smiles or laughs. I’m hypnotized, worked up, and slightly annoyed Josie’s bedtime isn’t 8:00 PM.
I suspected the snow was piling up outside, but I’d put it out of my mind. Once the movie is over and the mugs of hot cocoa are sucked dry, I face the fact that I probably can’t drive home. The three of us stand at the door, staring out at the driveway. A thick layer of snow covers my car.
“You shouldn’t drive,” Bailey says, tapping on the glass. “Look at how icy the walkway is.”
“Yeah, I bet the roads are just as bad. You’ll just have to stay here.” Josie nods before turning to look over at us. “But, wait, where will he sleep?”
Chapter 27
BAILEY
“The couch!” I shout, a little too forcefully. “He’ll take the couch, of course.”
Matt smiles at how flustered I am, but I refuse to meet his eyes. This entire charade has gone on long enough. The last few hours have been absolutely unbearable. Oh yes, please, let’s all sit and watch a movie together while visions of Matt in that bathroom dance in my head. What a wise idea!
I’m burning up on the inside and I’m worried Josie can tell something’s up. I swear I’m flushed from head to toe, a human-sized cherry. I think I wrung out my hands through the entire last half of the movie. My heart hasn’t slowed its rapid pace. I’m a jittery, turned-on mess.
I curse the weather as I march to the linen closet down the hall, relieved that I happen to have clean sheets and a blanket for Matt. There are no spare pillows, so I grab him one from my bed and then hurry to make up the couch for him.
“I can help,” he says, reaching for the sheets.
I shake my head adamantly. “No. I’ve got this. Why don’t you just…stand over there, will you?”
I place him beside the Christmas tree and I swear his eyes are filled with amusement.
The space is necessary. If it weren’t so cold, I’d make him stand outside. If he comes near me again, if he tries to kiss me like he did in the kitchen, I’m going to give Josie a show that will scar her for life. My little sister doesn’t need to see that. She’s still so young and naive. She even asks Matt if he wants something to read.
He must look confused because she continues, “I read before bed every night and it helps me get to sleep. Here, I’ll go get you something.”
I nearly shout at her to stay put, but she’s already disappeared down the hallway. Matt steps toward me and I start working double time. That sheet and blanket are laid out so quickly I should probably contact the nearest Best Western about working in housekeeping.
“Thanks for letting me stay,” he says from behind me, his voice smooth velvet.
I turn and give him a quick nod and a bow. A BOW, because that’s how awkward this evening has become.
If Josie weren’t here, we’d have had sex four times over.
I know it. He knows it.
God, this is terrible.
“Here you go!” Josie says, walking back into the room with a stack of books. “Have you read The Hunger Games? The series is kind of old now, but I think it’s held up nicely. This is the first book.”
Matt smiles and accepts it, promising to read a few pages before he goes to sleep.
I busy myself with clearing the dishes and unplugging the Christmas tree and brushing my teeth. I change into a button-up flannel nightgown and a pair of fuzzy socks. It only occurs to me afterward that I could have chosen a sexier outfit to sleep in, but that would be complicated seeing as I don’t own any sexy pajamas. It was either this or a holey oversized t-shirt.
Once I’m finished, I venture back into the living room.
Matt’s sitting on the couch, on top of the blankets, checking his phone. His shirt is untucked, but other than that, he hasn’t changed. He glances up and his gaze catches on my nightgown. I look down to ensure I didn’t miss a button or anything, but nope, everything is in place. I could easily pass for a ten-year-old at a slumber party.
“Cute,” he says with a wry smile.
I nibble on my bottom lip and finally think to ask, “Do you want some clothes?” I squint one eye as if sizing him up. “I might have a big t-shirt that would fit you, or maybe I could fashion you a toga out of a sheet?”
He smirks. “I’m fine. I’ll take my shirt off once everyone’s asleep.”
Josie finishes up in the bathroom and then comes to stand beside me.
“Night Matt! Hope you like the book.” He tells her good night as well and she turns to go to her room, but then she pauses at the doorway and looks back at me. “Bailey, aren’t you going to bed too? You guys aren’t going to stay up late without me, are you?”
She’s concerned she’s going to miss out on the fun, like we’re going to bring out cupcakes and a disco ball once she’s tucked in bed.
I stare at Matt, trying to work up some reason for why I need to speak with him alone, but nothing comes to mind.
“I—” All I see is his perfectly handsome face grinning up at me. He thinks this is funny. He loves how much I’m squirming. I sigh, finally coming to terms with the fact that tonight’s not the night for Matt and me. “No, we aren’t staying up late. I’m going to bed too. Night Matt.”
Josie hooks her arm around mine as if escorting me down the hall. It’s all innocent. I truly don’t think she realizes what she’s doing, but it’s funny all the same. I deposit her in her room with strict orders not to stay up too late reading. She shoots me two thumbs up and then leaps onto her bed.
I walk into my dark, lonely room and stand just inside the doorway, at a loss for what to do. I can’t go to sleep. I can’t sneak back out there while Josie’s awake. With a sigh, I walk to my bed and prop my pillows up so I can lean against them and read. Well, I pretend to read. My book is a useless prop. I don’t even bother turning pages. I sit there, chewing on my bottom lip and contemplating what Matt could possibly be doing. Surely he’s not reading The Hunger Games like it’s any old night. I wonder if he’s taken his shirt off now that Josie and I are tucked in our rooms.
Good GOD, if that man is out there shirtless, on my couch, I will…I don’t know…I can’t finish the thought. I have to fan my face.
I’ve had enough.
I slap my book closed, push off the bed, and creep out into the hall. Josie’s lamp is still on in her room. I see the faint light peeking out from underneath her door, so I turn and go into the bathroom. I close the door and stare at my reflection. It wasn’t a good idea to come in here. Being in this bathroom reminds me of being in that bathroom with Matt.
I splash water on my face, pat it dry, and then yank the door open.
A pale light glows in the living room and I take a hesitant step toward it before fear douses my courage. No! This is stupid! I should just accept the fact that nothing more is going to happen tonight, lie down in my bed, and go to sleep.
I should do that…I’m going to do that…I have every intention of doing that, except I don’t.
I tiptoe to the very end of the hallway, careful to be extra quiet as I pass Josie’s room, then I press myself flat against the wall and peek my head around the corner.
Matt’s sitting on the edge of the couch, head in his hands. The Hunger Games is forgotten on the coffee table in front of him.
His shirt is off, but his pillow and blankets are still right where I put them, untouched. He’s been sitting there, dragging his hands through his hair like he’s doing now. He looks agitated, and I’m not surprised. He’s probably annoyed that our night got derailed by hot cocoa and Elf. Not exactly a sexy night in…
I study the contours of his smooth, tan skin, the bunched muscles of his shoulders and biceps. He’s too big for that couch—for this house, really.
He shakes his head as if deciding something and then looks up. I freeze as his gaze clashes with mine.
I’ve been caught.
Snooping.
I press my lips together to keep from speaking. Neither of us says a word. Josie will hear us if we do.
He’s still leaning forward with his elbows propped on his knees. He doesn’t move as he stares up at me. I want him to give me some signal that he’s glad to see me standing here, but the only guidance I have to go on is the storm brewing in his eyes. Those are not the eyes of a man who wants to lie down and go to sleep.
I take a hesitant step out from behind the wall and he sits up straight.
I hug my middle and take another step toward him. Then another.
He doesn’t move and he doesn’t meet me halfway.
I start to shake a little as I keep walking, nerves racking through me. I could be reading the situation wrong, but it’s too late to turn back now. I’m already too close and the moment I step within reach, Matt’s hand shoots out and tugs me forcefully between his legs. His warm palms grip the backs of my knees, and I’m so out of my league it’s not even funny. His face is level with my chest. My fingers weave through his thick hair, disappearing into the dark strands. I bend down an inch and he tilts his head back. Our lips brush together and it’s gentle at first, a teasing, could-be-more-if-we-want-it-to-be kiss. His hands skim up the backs of my thighs and then his fingers knead into my soft flesh. It’s the first sign of his impatience, followed swiftly by a low groan. He tilts his head and deepens our kiss; his tongue touches mine, and I’d press my thighs together if he weren’t currently prying them apart. He leans back so I can climb on top of his lap, and I do just as he wants me to. My nightgown bunches at my waist and I hook my knees on either side of his hips. His suit pants brush against my panties and I can’t help but roll my hips reflexively. The way his hands squeeze my hips lets me know he likes it. He rocks me back and forth against his length as his mouth teases mine. We’re grinding together and finding a rhythm.
I’m losing my mind.
He’s impossibly hard.
His hands are everywhere: in my hair, on my hips, cradling my head so he can tilt my chin up and sweep kisses down my neck. It’s so heady when his fingers tease the top button on my nightgown. YES, I think. I’m more than ready to feel his hands on my bare skin, to have him touch me in places I’ve only imagined, but thankfully my brain catches up before we get too carried away.
My little sister is still awake, like ten feet away from where we’re currently mauling each other. If we’re going to do anything in this house, it has to be in my room, with the door locked and (preferably) a loud marching band performing out in the hallway.
I jerk back and break our kiss.
Matt’s gaze meets mine, his brows tugged together in confusion.
He thinks I’m pumping the brakes.
No, you fool.
I’m changing locations.
I scramble up off the couch, reach down for his hand, and tug him after me. We cross that living room in half a second. We’re down the hall, pressing fingers to our mouths and stifling laughter before I shove him into my bedroom, close the door, and freeze.
I listen for any sound of Josie stirring in her room or the subtle pad of footsteps on the carpet.
Blissful silence greets me.
I grin and turn to Matt.
We just might be able to get away with this.
I stand in front of him, half a room away as my hands find the buttons of my nightgown.
Am I really going to do this? I ask myself even as my fingers start to move of their own volition. My stomach quivers as the first button is undone. Then the next. Cool air hits my chest and a shiver racks my spine as I work the third button free. His eyes slash down to where my hands are working and the cool air is replaced with searing heat. My hands start to shake and that fourth button proves especially tricky.
He stays right where he is, watching me as I undress for him. He’s still wearing his suit pants, but his feet are bare. His hair is in disarray, but his features are as sharp and calculating as ever. Without his shirt, he’s a wall of tan skin and hard muscle. My mouth waters and I swallow, in awe of the effect he has on me. No words, no touching—just him, standing in my room, shadowed by the moonlight.
“Keep going,” he urges, his voice husky and low, and I realize then that I’ve paused, too preoccupied with staring at him.
I force my attention down to my nightgown and find the fifth button. The two sides of the dress sag open just enough to reveal a hint of cleavage. My skin glows like porcelain in the dark room and when I work the sixth button free, Matt growls and steps toward me.
He reaches me in two long strides, gripping my waist with one hand and using the other to push the flannel fabric off my right shoulder. The thick material scrapes across my sensitive skin as his mouth finds the base of my neck, my collarbone, and then the very center of my chest. He bends before me and strings kisses along my skin until he reaches the curve of my breast exposed by my nightgown. His fingers push the flannel aside reverently, baring me. Finally. My chest heaves as he stares down, almost in awe. His finger traces along my breast and then he hauls me against him at the same moment he takes the very tip into his mouth, sucking and kissing with a fervor I’ve never felt. My knees give out but he holds me up, dragging his tongue across me.
