The Doctor (Nashville Neighborhood 1)

My heart lurched into my throat as Dr. Lowe’s hand slipped down the wall and came to rest on my shoulder, the edges of his fingers beneath the black string holding my top in place.

The room was steamy hot and frigid cold in the same instant. I was feverish and shivering while the war between my head and body intensified. His mouth journeyed back up the slope of my neck until it sealed over mine.

He was twenty years older than I was. My boyfriend’s—ex-boyfriend’s—father. What was wrong with me? With us? We had to look insane. He had me pressed against the wall hard enough my swimsuit left damp triangle shapes on his shirt.

I liquified under his lips. The way his mouth moved against mine wasn’t just seductive, it enslaved. His greedy kiss made me thirsty for more.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” I whispered. My words said one thing, and my body another. I bowed off the wall, arching my back, causing his hand to creep lower. His fingertips inched along my skin, heading for the curve of my breast.

“I know,” he groaned into my mouth. The sharp edge of his teeth glanced off my bottom lip as he nipped at me.

Down his long, deliberate fingers went, following the string until it met fabric and began to widen into the cup of my top. It was amazing the way the cold swimsuit rubbed against my sensitive nipples, and I ached for more.

His voice was strained. “I’m going to keep going,” he took a shallow breath, “unless you tell me to stop.”

Was he warning me, or pleading with me to do that?

My throat closed off. I didn’t want him to stop. I was out of control and only thinking about myself. I was too focused on how different and exciting this experience was.

He must have figured out I wasn’t going to say anything, because his fingers trailed down the edge of the cup toward the center, all the way to the bottom string going across my ribcage.

I gasped as he slid the triangle of fabric to the side, exposing me, and I moaned quietly when he palmed my naked flesh. To go from the wet, cold fabric suddenly to his warm grip was sensual.

Our kiss had started out tame, but as we learned each other, it grew bolder. He plunged into my mouth, his tongue stroking sinfully over mine. It teased as his fingers traced and plucked at my nipple.

I sighed as the sensations heated me to a thousand degrees. There was an insistent throb in my core, growing louder and needier by the second. It went nuclear as Dr. Lowe shifted, moving his leg between my knees.

The towel unwound from my waist and fell to our feet, but I barely gave it any attention. No, my attention was on the man who used the top of his thigh to put pressure where my ache was acute. His kiss conquered me. Before Preston, I’d kissed a few guys, but I’d never had anything like this.

“Oh,” I moaned. White-hot pleasure flashed along my spine from the grind of his leg against me.

He lifted his mouth away from mine, and when he drew back, I could see how hazy his eyes had become. His expression dripped with desire.

“Jesus, Cassidy.”

His tone was heavy and sexual, and it was shocking. Three years I’d known him, and never heard him sound like that. I shuddered, enjoying it, unable to stop myself.

“Shit,” I gasped, sagging against the wall. I always tried not to swear in front of him, but right now I couldn’t control my mouth. My legs were so weak, I was about to fall. “Dr. Lowe—”

He must have known. His hands tightened on my hips, steadying me as he pulled back. “Greg.”

I was breathless. “What?”

“Greg. My name.”

I knew that, of course. Yet he wanted me to call him by his first name? He was an adult. So much older than I was. I’d only known him as Dr. Lowe, and Greg sounded like—

A stranger.

I struggled to form the word. My mouth fell open to speak his name, but nothing came out, and the room grew colder every moment his mouth wasn’t on me. The temperature plummeted further as lust drained from his face and was replaced by an unreadable expression.

Was he realizing the gravity of what we’d just done? Before I could say anything, a phone rang. The ringtone playing from the back pocket of his jeans was one I was familiar with. It was his special one, exclusively for the hospital.

His muscles went rigid as I flinched, and we both turned to stone. It wasn’t something he could ignore, no matter how much the look on his face said he wanted to. “I’m on-call. I have to get—”

“I know you do.” I nodded quickly, tugging my swimsuit back in place and trying to act as if it were no big deal. Not like we’d just been making a huge mistake.