Damaged Dragon's Forbidden Love (Shifter Doctor Daddies Instalove Romance 1)

CHAPTER TWO

Marshall

Seeing Brianna every day was what made my job worth it—you know, besides helping people stay healthy and such. I was propelled by an invisible hand, pushed in Brianna’s direction at every turn. And I was utterly helpless to stop it.

Even when I wasn’t actively thinking about her, I wanted to speak to her. I wanted to stand next to the reception desk and chat. It didn’t matter what it was about. I just wanted to hear her voice, hold her gaze, and feel her presence.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I whipped it out to find the same blocked number calling that had been trying to get through to me for the past week. I was willing to bet it was a factory car warranty expiration robocall, the same kind that pestered me about homeowner’s insurance though I didn’t own a home.

And why did they always call when I was thinking about Brianna?

I sighed as I set my phone on silent and went about my tasks, seeing patients who typically came in on Tuesdays. There was Mr. Frand with his shin issues, Mrs. Dorris with her hearing aid acting up again, and little Timothy who couldn’t seem to stop fracturing the same bone in his forearm during his sports games.

After a handful of routine visits, I stopped by the utility closet, the small space providing a sense of comfort even though it was hellishly cramped. I slid behind the door every so often to get a moment’s peace. Surrounded by toilet paper, cleaner, and tissue boxes somehow put me at ease, my very own miniature utility coffin.

Sure, it didn’t make sense, but it didn’t have to. It was what helped me get through my day.

I whipped open the door and stepped inside, colliding instantly with a warm body. Although I tried to recoil, the person inside the closet clutched my doctor’s coat and squeaked, yanking me into the miniature space. With the door shut firmly behind me and the cramped corners pushing in on us, I hardly had time to register the fact that I was inhaling a mixture of honeysuckle and sweat.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” came a darling voice that I always hoped to hear, “I was not watching where I was going.”

“Brianna?”

Hazel-brown eyes with flecks of luscious green came into view, the sight of them reminding me of the bloom of spring, expansive meadows, and the kiss of the sun upon my face during the late days of February. Her pupils widened when she recognized me and her scent changed, shifting into one of pure desire.

I could sense her longing as easily as I could recognize her emotions. How many hours had I spent studying all the faces she made while she was working? Her looks of determination, surprise, and pure joy were impressed in my brain, images that would not readily leave me—and I never wanted them to leave.

“Dr. Bi—I mean, Marshall,” she whispered, heat laced in her words. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” I insisted. “I wasn’t even watching what I was doing.”

“Neither was I. I’m so clumsy.”

I smiled warmly, hands seeking the curve of her hips without question. The warmth of her skin emanated through her scrubs and made evident the fact that being this close was both frightening and alluring.

I felt much the same.

“Please, you’re far from clumsy,” I whispered, a gruffness edging in my voice. “It’s me who’s the clumsy one.”

“Hardly.”

Her lips parted, a soft exhale escaping her as my hands traveled north to the very bottom of her ribs. Her heart lifted a new rhythm, excitement echoing through every available avenue—in her eyes, in the quivering of her lower lip, and in the way she returned the touch so instinctively, hands rising to rest on my chest.

My breath hitched. “I just needed—”

“A box of tissues?”

I glanced over her shoulder to study the shelf she was pressed against. This was the closest we had been in months, maybe ever, and I didn’t exactly want to part with her. “No,” I replied in a heated whisper. “I don’t need that.”

“Hand sanitizer?”

The hesitance in her words prompted me to act. I drew close to her lips, feeling how her breathing shifted to a panicked gasp when my bottom lip grazed hers. “No…”

“Then, what do you need…?”

Everything and nothing all at once—that’s what I needed. I needed her to kiss me, to give me access to her body and her soul in ways she hadn’t allowed before this moment. I needed her family to want me in their lives as much as she did.

And I needed them to stop being so ridiculously old-fashioned about her love life.

“I…” I licked my lips, the tip of my tongue skimming her upper lip. That cupid’s bow was in danger of being consumed. “I just need…”

“Yes, Marshall?”

I stepped back as best I could in the tight space and released her hips. She remained pressed to the shelf, chest rising and falling erratically as a pink hue stole over her cheeks, nose, and ears. God, she was adorable when she was flustered.

I wanted to see what else would make her flustered.

I smiled handsomely and reached for the knob. “I just needed some time to myself.”

“Oh, I see.”

The hurt in her eyes was like a snake coiling around my heart. “But I’m happy,” I rushed to add, “that I was able to grab a few minutes with one of my best nurses.”

“I’m just a receptionist,” she retorted, though the smirk on her lips indicated her satisfaction at the compliment. “But thank you.”

“Any time.”

“I should get going.”