Dr. Fake It - A Possessive Doctor Romance

The rest of the night was spent eating, sharing a bottle of wine, and talking about our lives. Despite not wanting to get to know him, I couldn’t help it, and soon he had me laughing, and listening to his stories from when he was younger. He talked about his sister a lot, about how he’d had to more or less raise her once their parents died, and how hard that had been at first—but how it’d make them really, really close. I envied that a little bit.

When it was time to sleep, he gestured at the bed. “It’s all you.”

“You’re not going to fight me on it?”

“I’ll take the couch.” He sat down with a sigh and stretched his legs out. “It’s not bad.”

I hesitated and almost invited him to get in with me, but held my tongue. He brushed his teeth, turned out the light, and I curled up under the sheets.

I heard him breathing from the couch nearby and I closed my eyes, thinking of that kiss, and wondered what it’d be like if he crawled next to me, body warm and strong and large, and I hated myself a little bit for wanting to find out.9GavinThe trip back to Philly was uneventful, and I kept spinning my simple gold band around my ring finger, over and over again, picturing her lips against mine, the smell of her all over my things, the sight of her body—not in that dress, although she looked incredible in that dress, but in her simple sweatpants and t-shirt, somehow more intimate than anything else. I kept telling myself, over and over again, that I needed to keep it under control, but each passing hour made me want her more and more, made me want to push the boundaries of our little deal.

I checked in with Fiona as Erica unpacked. “So you really did it?”

I stood out on my balcony overlooking the city. Down below, cars rolled past on blacktop and people looked like toys. “Really did it.”

“I have to admit, I’m surprised. I didn’t think you go through with it.”

“How’s her mother doing?”

“Hanging in there.” A short pause. “Still under.”

“We’ll come in tomorrow and she’ll visit.”

“How’s she doing? You didn’t take advantage of her, did you?”

I let out a breath. “No, I didn’t. When are you going to drop that?”

“When you leave the girl alone.”

“Has it ever occurred to you that she wants to do this?”

Another short pause. “All right, fine, I think maybe I’m being a little tough on you.”

I turned around and leaned against the railing, staring in through the glass sliding door. I could see Erica moving around in the kitchen, pouring herself water, getting something to eat, and I watched her with a strange, wistful feeling in my chest.

“You’re right to be worried,” I said, and quickly followed with, “but not because I’m going to hurt her. It’s a weird situation.”

“That’s putting it mildly.”

“She’s fine though. Settling into things.”

“How much do you know about her?” She was quiet for a second and I could tell she was working herself up to something else. “I mean, she’s not… dangerous, is she?”

I laughed and smiled to myself. “Wow, Fiona, I didn’t know you cared.”

“Don’t be an asshole. I’m involved now too.”

“There it is, thinking about number one.”

“Seriously. How much do you know about her?”

“Not a ton more than you do. We’ve talked a bit and I believe her story, and I heard those guys, so I really don’t think she’s making this up.”

“I keep thinking about this, you know? The mafia, the whole thing. It’s really crazy.”

“I know. And I married her last night.”

“I’m sure it was a lovely ceremony.”

“Only the best for my new wife.”

She laughed a little but I could hear the tension. “I should get back to my shift.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She hung up the phone and I lingered out on the patio. I watched as Erica walked to my couch and sat down with a small Greek yogurt and put her feet up on the coffee table. It was strange, having her around, sitting on the couch, eating food, watching TV—normal stuff, but I’d been living alone for a long time, and I wasn’t used to having another person in my space.

I stepped into the living room and slid the door shut behind me. She looked up. “How’s it going?”

“Talked to Fiona and assured her that I was a perfect gentleman.”

She snorted. “I’m not so sure about that.”

“Oh? Was my conduct not to your liking, your majesty?”

She rolled her eyes and turned on the TV. “Don’t be a dick.”

I grinned and walked past her, heading to my room, when there was a knock at my door.

I froze, frowning. I hadn’t been buzzed from downstairs, which meant whoever that was lived in the building, or had gotten in some other way.