Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 67492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
CHAPTER
EIGHT
Oliver
I know it’s almost time to get up, but I need more time. I’m not ready to crawl out of this warm bed, not when she’s in it with me. My cock is aching for her, so I think I’ll have my breakfast before I get up to make hers. I'm greeted with cold sheets when I reach over to pull her into my arms.
What. The. Fuck?
My eyes snap open, and I blink a few times, staring at the empty spot on the bed next to me. She’s not here. Falling back onto my pillow, I stare up at the ceiling.
It was all just a dream.
Well, not all of it. I held her in my arms last night when we were at Willow Manor. My hands flex as if I can still feel her with me.
I was dreaming. It felt so real. I could have sworn she was here, that she went to sleep with my arms wrapped around her.
Disappointment washes over me.
My cock hurts.
I’m so hard.
She’s not here.
It really was just a dream.
Dream or not, my cock needs attention, and well, considering it’s only seen my palm since that night my life changed, I have to handle business on my own. Sliding my hands beneath the covers, I work my boxer briefs over my hard cock and fist myself. Feeling too restricted, I toss off the covers, spit in my palm, and go back for another stroke.
Much better.
Closing my eyes, I continue to stroke. Blakely immediately pops into my mind. I think about holding her close, how I ran my fingers through her hair, and how she did the same when her arms were locked around my neck.
Dancing. We were supposed to be dancing, but all I could think about was tearing her clothes off and doing a naked dance that looked altogether different from what we were doing.
I’m pretty sure we didn’t get a single item from her list marked off, other than hanging garland. I’m certain that wasn’t one of the things we were supposed to do or discuss last night. However, when I saw her tumble off that ladder, I lost about ten years of my life.
I hear her sweet voice in my head, talking about scruff and how women enjoy it. I knew exactly what she was referring to. I just wanted to hear her say it. Then she mumbled something that sounded an awful lot like porn, and my cock was as hard as steel. It was a good thing she pulled away. I don’t know where the night would have led us had she not.
I’m a man who likes control and for my life to be orderly and uneventful. I’ve had enough surprises for a lifetime. However, when it comes to Blakely Kincaid, I apparently don’t mind when things get… messy.
Speaking of, I squeeze my cock harder when I feel my balls tighten. Tingles race down my spine.
Blakely.
Blakely.
Blakely.
She’s all I can see as I spill over into my hand and all over my bare chest. I’m sated for now, but something tells me nothing except all of her will ever be enough.
Two hours later, I’m walking into the office. The staff is already here, bustling in the halls and getting ready to start our day. The smell of coffee fills the air, and although I’d love another cup, I’ve already had three.
“Good morning, Dr. Thompson,” someone greets.
“Morning,” I reply, my voice low. I don’t even turn to see who it is. I’m pissed off at myself. I can’t stop thinking about her. I don’t know what it is about her. Why, after all this time, four years later, she’s the first one to steal my concentration. The first one to pull my mind to her and keep it there.
Stepping into my office, I hang my coat on the hook behind the door before dropping my cell phone and keys to my desk and starting up my laptop. My eyes land on the Post-it note, and I pick it up, ready to crinkle it and toss it in the trash, but I just can’t make myself do it.
I’m well and truly fucked, and I don’t know what to do about it.
“Good morning,” Kathy says from the doorway. “Your first patient is a few minutes early. I went ahead and put them in a room. All the vitals have been entered.”
“Thanks,” I mumble, clicking on the patient’s name in the chart and skimming the history. Once I’ve reviewed everything, I stand, ignoring the Post-it and start my day.
I should have known with the disappointing way my morning started that today was going to be a complete shit show. I had two add-in patients, which is common, but on an already packed schedule, it was a lot. Other than my first patient, the others were all late. Normally, if you’re a certain amount of time late, we ask you to reschedule, but today’s schedule was all full of elderly patients, and damn it, I couldn’t turn them away and make them come out yet again.