Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 78407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
“Okay, let’s go,” I said, my tone clipped and needy.
His grin was enormous.
Greg had pressed the keyring to his BMW into my hand and told me where he was parked in the doctors’ lot, and said he’d meet me at the car in a few minutes.
The damp, aching throb between my legs was persistent. I was annoyed he’d left me right on the edge, but also liked it . . . a little. We both knew he could get me there, so when he’d made the decision not to, it was a way for him to flex his power. The more he did that, the further I fell under his spell.
The lights on the sleek black sedan flashed in the dusky, fading sunlight as I unlocked the doors, and I climbed inside the passenger seat. I’d ridden in his car a few times before, but never in the front seat, and I ran a hand over the smooth, premium leather. The car smelled like him.
I pictured him behind the wheel, day after day, driving this expensive car to the hospital and parking it in the doctors’ lot beside the Audis and Range Rovers and Porsches. He worked so much, he barely had a life. All it consisted of was this car, his house . . . and his son.
Would there ever be space in there for me? And would Preston allow that?
I scowled at my thoughts. Why was I thinking about a future with Greg? I needed to be more like my friends and live in the present. Thinking only about today. I was turning twenty in a few weeks. I was still so young. No one expected me to make all the right decisions at this point in my life, or plan further out than the coming weekend.
A blur of white moving in the distance toward the car caught my attention. That coat. Jesus. My obsession with it wasn’t healthy, and I felt feverish when Greg slipped into the driver’s seat and stabbed a finger on the button to start the car’s engine. While it roared to life, his gaze raked over me, and I melted against the seat.
“Drive fast,” I whispered.
We didn’t talk much on the short drive to his house, and the atmosphere in the car was taut with sex. I laced my fingers together and tucked my hands under my knee to keep myself from touching him. I didn’t want to distract or slow him down, and I purposefully kept my eyes straight forward as we drove past Judy Maligner’s house. I refused to see if she was standing by the window, watching Greg’s every move.
My heart clogged my throat as the garage door rolled slowly up and Greg steered the car inside. His bedroom was only two doors away, and I clawed at my seatbelt, unfastening it in a hurry. He hadn’t even shut the engine off—
His phone rang.
The dreaded hospital ringtone blasted through the car speakers, and I went wooden.
TWENTY-THREE
WAS GREG STILL ON-CALL? He reacted quickly. Off the car went, disconnecting the Bluetooth, and he answered the phone directly.
“This is Dr. Lowe.”
He didn’t undo his seatbelt or get out of his seat as he listened. He barely moved at all, but the subtle way his posture stiffened told me everything I needed to know. We were heading back to the hospital, and I was going home.
The disappointment that ripped through me was fierce.
“Yeah,” he said, glancing at his watch. “No, I’d like to. Thanks for the heads-up. Tell him I’m scrubbing in, but I’m on my way back. So, don’t start without me, unless it can’t wait.” He hung up with a sigh and dropped his phone in his lap. “One of my patients is headed back to the OR.”
“Oh.”
He stared vacantly through the windshield into his garage. The long silence was unnerving.
“Don’t we need to go?” I asked.
He turned in his seat to face me, and his expression was hard to read. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?” I repeated. What kind of sense did that make?
“You could stay here. I don’t think I’ll be gone all night.”
He looked tired, like it had been a never-ending day for him, but there was hope ringing his eyes. He wanted me to say yes to this.
If my only two options were going home or staying here to be with him later—well, my decision was easy.
I gulped down a breath. “Okay. What should I do while I wait?”
I expected him to give me a spiel about food in the fridge, or a “new classic” movie I needed to watch, but his gaze dropped down to the gear shift, and he seemed lost in thought. When his focus snapped back to mine, he didn’t look tired anymore. He wasn’t hopeful, or disappointed, or any of the emotions he’d had ten seconds ago.
Greg’s expression was the same one from the private hospital room. Commanding and powerful. My mouth went dry, probably because all the moisture in my body headed to the center of my legs.