The Doctor (Nashville Neighborhood 1)

“I want you to take off your clothes, get into my bed, and make yourself come.”

I gasped, but he wasn’t finished.

“You,” he said, “playing with yourself in my bed? Fuck.” He smoothed a hand down his leg, straightening the swell that threatened. “That’s my fantasy. I want you rolling around in my sheets, making them smell like you. Make that whole room smell like sex by the time I get home.”

My mouth hung open, and then I closed it with an audible snap. I wasn’t sure what to say. My tongue was suddenly too big for my mouth. It wasn’t initially one of my fantasies—not until he’d said it.

Now it was all I could think about.

His voice was deep in his throat. “Will you do that for me?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Good.” He was pleased with my immediate answer, and I was yanked into a hurried kiss. “I’ll text you when I’m finished.”

When he turned the car on, it spurred me into action. I opened my door and swung my legs out, climbing to my feet. My body was heavy and clumsy with lust, but I did my best to act natural. Still, I stood awkwardly in his garage as he pulled out, waved to me, and sped off. The garage door rumbled to life, jolting me out of my stupor.

I marched toward the door, climbed the step, and went inside.

In three years, it was the first time I’d been alone in the Lowe house. It was beyond strange and quiet as a museum, and since Preston hadn’t been in the house for over a week, it barely looked like anyone lived here. Greg was so neat. Or maybe he wasn’t home enough to make much of a mess.

Electricity crackled through my bloodstream. His request had charged everything with sex. Simply standing in the empty kitchen and gazing down the hallway toward his bedroom was a massive turn-on. The goal throbbed in my brain, and the same pulse was echoed between my legs.

There was an opened bottle of white wine in the fridge, and as I pulled a clean glass down from a cabinet, anticipation made my hand tremble. I poured myself a few swallows’ worth, drew in a deep breath, and strolled toward the bedroom, ignoring Preston’s graduation picture in the living room as I passed by.

I didn’t turn on the bedroom light. I stood in the doorway, sipped the wine, and let my eyes adjust to the dark. Moonlight came through the windows, filtered by his wooden blinds, and cast strips of pale light over the bed. His room was so nice. Masculine and sexy. I sauntered toward the nightstand, put the glass down with a quiet thud, and set about following his first request.

Take off your clothes.

Was he thinking about me during his drive back to the hospital? Was he imagining my hands dragging my shirt slowly up over my head, letting my hair fall down my back as I dropped the shirt to the floor? I undressed slowly, a striptease for myself, but hoped he was picturing it.

Get into my bed.

Once I was naked, I folded down the comforter to the foot of the mattress, then slipped under the top sheet. The fabric was rich and soft, and it was as if every nerve ending in my body was alive. The brush of the sheets against my sensitized skin and hardened nipples made my breath quicken. Why the hell was this so sexy? All I was doing was climbing into bed, but it felt completely different than any other time I’d ever done it. As I lay back into his pillow, his scent was everywhere, and my eyes slammed shut, fighting against the sudden wave of longing I had for him.

Make yourself come.

I bit down on my bottom lip and shifted under the sheet, smoothing my hands over my breasts and working my way down. It was sensual and amazing. My own touch felt foreign and exciting. I was wet, and as I rolled two fingertips over myself, I gasped at the pleasure.

It’d take me no time to complete this task. All I had to do was picture him in that white coat and fantasize what the doctor was going to do to me when he got home. I squirmed, writhing in the sheets as I rubbed my clit, faster with each stuttered breath I took.

Should I slow down? Maybe it’d be better if he caught me like this when he came home. He’d yank me out of his bed, bend me over his knee, and pretend to show me what a bad girl I had been. I’d squeeze fistfuls of his expensive slacks in my hands while he spanked my bottom bright red.

I jerked my hand away from myself, stopping only moments from going over the edge. That was close. He didn’t expect to be at the hospital all night, but it’d be a while before he’d be back, and I wanted to draw this out. I was supposed to make the whole room smell like sex, after all.