Dr. Fake It - A Possessive Doctor Romance
He nodded, looking at the machines whirring. “I’ll pay for the rest.”
“Gavin—”
He held up a hand. “I’ll pay for it.”
“I can’t let you do that.”
“They’ll give me a sizable break on the bill, considering they don’t want me to leave the hospital and go somewhere else. And since we’re married, there won’t be any ethical issues, but I won’t be your mother’s primary doctor anymore.”
I shifted in my seat and reached out to him on impulse. I touched his cheek then his arm, and he moved toward me, and I took a sharp breath, smelling his shampoo, the soft scent of his apartment, his clothes, and leaned toward him. He met me the rest of the way, his hand moving along my throat, back to cup my neck, and he pulled me against his lips.
The kiss lasted longer than I thought it would but not nearly as long as I wanted. He tasted like a spring breeze off a lake and bitter tea. I loved it and wanted more, his tongue against mind, his lips soft and firm at the same time, but as quickly as we tumbled into that kiss, he pulled away.
“We shouldn’t, not here.”
I nodded, breathing hard, trying to steady myself. I didn’t want to fall into him like this, didn’t want to get wrapped up in the false narrative of our marriage, didn’t want to begin to believe that there was something more to this story than a man trying to do the right thing. I knew he saw me as a surrogate of his little sister, the girl he failed to protect, and he did all this in an attempt to make up for all of that.
And still I wanted to kiss him again, as crazy as it made me.
“You’re right. My mom might catch us.”
That made him smile. “I made dinner plans for me and you.”
“Tonight?”
“Tonight, with a doctor and his wife. Important people in the hospital.” He gently pulled back and stood. “Will you come with me?”
I nodded. “That’s my job.”
He smiled a little and lingered there. His gaze spoke so many words that I wanted to translate, wanted to turn that gaze and that message into touch, into heat between our bodies, but he turned and walked to the door.
“We’ll leave at eight. I bought you some stuff… well, I hired someone to help me buy you some stuff.”
“Clothes?” I tilted my head at him.
“Clothes, dresses, whatever. You don’t have much.”
“I don’t have money.”
“Right, well, I do.” He nodded at me. “Take advantage of it.”
Without another word, he left.
I sat back in the chair. My head spun and my lips tingled like they’d been touched by peppermint. I wanted to call him back and tell him how much I appreciated all this, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. My eyes drifted to my mother and my mind drifted back to Cosimo, and I knew that dinner with fancy doctors, nice clothes, incredible kisses—none of it mattered while that animal lurked out there, waiting for a single mistake.
Waiting to come out and cut my throat.13GavinThe restaurant was crowded for a weeknight. Men in suits lingered near the bar holding martini glasses and laughing until their pale faces turned red. Erica lingered close to me in a tight black dress that made her look incredible, although I could tell she wasn’t comfortable in it. I’d picked it out specifically to test her boundaries, I was excited she put it on.
The hostess smiled at me and held up a finger as she politely told someone on the phone that a reservation was required and there was a dress code, and could they kindly go fuck themselves please and thank you.
“How can I help?” the hostess asked when she hung up the phone.
“I’m here to meet with Dr. Martin, I believe he’s already been seated.”
The hostess nodded and stepped toward the dining room. “Of course, right this way.”
Erica hurried by my side. “This place is crazy,” she said, her voice soft and barely audible over the hum of conversation and the live piano player doing jazz runs in the far corner.
“It’s the sort of spot rich doctors like to take young doctors like me,” I said, giving her a look, “and it’s pretty awful.”
She smiled. “Is the food good?”
“It’s incredible.”
“Then I don’t care how pretentious it is.”
I laughed as the hostess took us to a table at the far side of the room. Dr. Fred Martin and his wife, Agnes, smiled as we approached, and Agnes waved to me, her jowls shaking with vigorous delight. I smiled back and stepped aside to introduce Erica.
“Look at you,” Agnes said, her voice somehow booming over the music. “You’re so gorgeous, no wonder he married you.”
“Thank you,” Erica said, blushing.
Agnes was right, of course: Erica was gorgeous, even more so when she decided to wear something other than long-sleeve t-shirts and sweats. She had an incredible figure and it drove me wild being this close to her, but I put a smile on my face, kissed Agnes on the cheek and got a nose full of her absurdly strong perfume, then shook Fred’s hand.