The Doctor (Nashville Neighborhood 1)

He had me writhing on his bed, my toes curled around the edge of the bed frame. His powerful body stood between my bent knees, his fingers fucking me exactly how I’d spent the last nine days fantasizing he would.

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he whispered, yet it sounded like he was thinking out loud. Saying it more to himself than to me. “No fucking clue how much I want this, even when I shouldn’t.” His fingers pumped deeper and faster. “But you want it too?”

“Yes.” I was losing my grip on any sense of consequence.

His fingers retreated, and he slicked them over his cock, wetting it with my own arousal. It was erotic watching his beautiful hand work himself over. And then he slid his forearms under me, his hands on my thighs, and jerked me closer to the edge of the bed.

My heart stopped, but when the hard tip of him brushed against me, it restarted in overdrive. I hooked my quivering legs around his warm hips. He leaned over, setting a hand on the mattress beside my head as he steadied himself with his other.

“I’m not supposed to,” he murmured, delivering a brutal kiss. “Just for a second. Just so I know what it would feel like with you.”

He was right at my entrance and began to push, easing inside. I locked my legs around him so tightly, his hipbones dug into the insides of my thighs. Greg’s eyes were as dark as coffee, and the color deepened as he advanced. He watched intently, studying every breath I swallowed as he claimed me.

Oh, shit, the uncomfortable stretch felt good. A delicious shiver tore through my body. I reached up a hand to cup the side of his face and held on to him, even as my lips rounded into a silent moan.

“Fuck,” he uttered so quietly, it was a ghost of a word.

His slow push kept going. Deeper, wider, harder. I whimpered as it felt even better and more uncomfortable. I’d only been with one other person before, and even though Greg had done his best to prepare me, it still was a tight fit.

I’d never felt so full.

But it wasn’t the only new experience. Being with Preston had been lonely. During sex, we’d been two people playing roles, him only there for himself. My enjoyment wasn’t a priority—only a bonus to him. I’d felt disconnected all the times we were the most physically connected.

But Greg was present in this moment with me.

Right as I reached the edge of him being too much to take inside, his body was snug against mine, and another tremor rippled along my muscles. He was buried deep, possessing me, and it felt amazing. Not only physically, either.

But just as soon as he’d given it to me, he began to take it away. His hips drew back, easing out and pulling the sensations with him, leaving me feeling empty. No, my mind and body screamed together. I clutched at the landscape of his chest, trying to get him to stay.

He pulled out completely, and panic swept me away like a rogue wave. “Again,” I gasped.

The single word wracked his body with a visible shudder. He repeated my command, tinged with hope. “Again?”

“Oh, shit, Greg,” I whined. “Again.”

EIGHT

UPON HEARING HIS NAME FROM MY LIPS, Greg’s face softened. He lowered until our lips touched and moved his mouth against mine, wanting that connection while he gave me the other I’d demanded.

“Oh,” I moaned into his mouth as his hips flexed into me.

The first slide into my body had been amazing, but this second one put it to shame. Satisfaction fired all along my system, lighting me up with fireworks. He pulled his mouth away from mine, dragging it across my cheek, and groaned into the shell of my ear. The sound was the sexiest thing I’d ever heard.

His withdraw started sooner this time, and the same panic took over. He was still inside me when I cried out, “Again.”

He grunted like I was killing him, but he loved it. “I shouldn’t.” It was a hollow statement, because he pushed inside me, and quicker this time too. “We shouldn’t.” His uneven breath fell in the crook of my neck as his body continued to move. “Doing this is wrong—”

I grasped his shoulders, like I could keep him right there. “It feels too good to be wrong.”

Which should have proved that sleeping with him was, in fact, very wrong. Usually, the enjoyable things were bad. Like chocolate cake and buying expensive shoes you didn’t need.

My confession drilled into him and flipped a switch. The muscles on his back tensed before he shifted, rising enough so he could stare down at me. His eyes were full of primal need. It was then he actually began to fuck me.