The Doctor (Nashville Neighborhood 1)

“That was intense,” I whispered.

He shifted, nuzzling his mouth toward me until our lips met. The kiss started slow, but didn’t stay that way for long. It exploded as his tongue pushed past my lips and filled my mouth. He commanded me with words and without. With his possession and when he wasn’t even touching me.

As he rose to stand, carrying me up with him, I felt the opposite. Like I was falling for him, too hard and much too fast. Greg’s feet shuffled two steps across the rug, hindered by the pants at his ankles, and then we were both falling—him laying me down on the nearby couch. He draped me over the armrest, so my back was arched and followed the curve, and my hair fell, the tips brushing the floor below.

He hadn’t allowed himself to touch before, but now Greg made up for lost time. He climbed onto the couch, kneeling on the seat cushions as he drove his cock back into me, and his hands went everywhere. They glided over my stocking-covered legs. Smoothed over my garter straps. Coursed up my stomach and seized my breasts.

I swallowed one giant breath after another as he beat his hips into me, so deep it was almost too much. But even the uncomfortable sensation had a depraved and decadent edge that I loved. I had to reach behind me and grip the armrest to hold on, so his vicious thrusts didn’t send me over the side.

He was close. I could tell by the way his brow furrowed and the muscles in his chest tightened. His moans changed in pitch and grew urgent. Chaotic. I wanted him to lose control like I had. I wrapped my hands around his head as he latched his mouth onto my breast, his tongue slashing at the sharp point of my nipple.

God, it felt incredible. So good, I wondered if I’d come again. His relentless mouth roamed from one breast to another, working me into a frenzy. I arched further, bending backward uncomfortably on the couch arm, slamming my eyes shut as pleasure built behind a dam—one he knew exactly how to tear down and unleash everything.

Pressure mounted at the base of my spine, and my grip on the upholstery went white-knuckle. “Oh,” I gasped. “Oh my God.” I was seconds away from the dam breaking, and I wanted my lips on his as it happened. I opened my eyes—

Only to see Preston standing in the entryway, horror etched on every inch of his shocked face.

THIRTY

I SLAPPED MY PALMS on Greg’s shoulders and tried to push him off me.

“Oh my God,” I said again, only this time it was with shame and not enjoyment. As I scrambled backward and snaked my hands over my body to cover my bare breasts, he lifted his head, discovered what caused my panic, and turned to stone.

“Shit!” Greg spat out. He leapt off the couch and jerked his pants up, covering himself.

“What. The. Fuck?” Anger tensed Preston’s shoulders as he glared at his father.

Greg shrugged out of his suitcoat in an instant and draped it over me. I was beyond grateful and pressed the satiny lining of the coat to my naked skin, rising off the couch to stand beside him. My mind flooded with too many thoughts at once. What was Preston doing here? How had we not heard him come in? And how long had he been standing there, watching us?

In my fantasy, him catching us was erotic, but reality was icy cold and the furthest thing from sexy.

“What are you doing here?” Greg asked. It was confused, desperate, and maybe a little accusatory.

Whatever shock and hurt Preston had was pushed out of the way to make room for seething fury. “I forgot my bag. I thought I could sneak downstairs and get it without bothering you. I wasn’t aware you were going to be out in the living room, fucking my girlfriend on the couch.”

I sucked in a breath and choked back the urge to remind him we weren’t a couple anymore. He was angry enough, I didn’t need to provoke him further. At least this explained why we hadn’t heard the garage door. I’d been too lost in my surprise to realize how strange it was Preston had come through the front door. He’d probably been hoping to get in and out of the house quietly and without disturbing his dad’s date.

But Greg felt compelled to correct him. “Ex-girlfriend. You two were broken up before Cassidy and I got together.”

The statement seemed to knock Preston sideways. His eyes went enormous, then narrowed down to slits. “Together?”

Greg shifted, moving subtly in front of me like a shield. “We were going to tell you.”

Preston sneered. “I should have known. I should have fucking expected it. You don’t care about me, Greg.”