Prince Pucking Charming

Our hands linger for far too long before I finally withdraw mine and take a step back. The corners of Duke’s mouth curl up in a lopsided grin. He shoves his fingers through his thick hair that falls back into place, settling on his forehead.

He studies me like a specimen under a microscope, and my breath hitches when he steps closer, invading my personal space. “You look too young to be a doctor.”

I point at the wall behind my desk. “My diplomas say otherwise.”

“So, you were like Doogie Howser, some kid genius?”

I laugh at his reference to the old television show about a boy who became a doctor when he was a teenager.

“I’m not as young as I look.” I wave my hand toward the couches on the right side of my office. “Why don’t we get started? The clock is ticking.”

Duke grazes his bottom lip with his teeth. “How old are you?”

“The last time I checked, I’m the doctor, and you’re the patient. I’ll ask the questions when we’re in this office.”

“And when we’re out of this office?” He cocks an eyebrow at me. “How about I ask you questions over drinks?”

I shake my head. “That’s never going to happen.”

“You’ll change your mind,” he says with a playful smile. “Eventually.”

“I don’t date my patients.”

“That’s a shame.” He winks and then walks past me.

I knew Duke was a player on and off the ice, but I didn’t expect him to be so forward. We’re not even five minutes into this session, and he’s already hitting on me. I would love to say yes to his offer. Under different circumstances, I would go out with him in a heartbeat. Who could say no to that face?

Even in the dim light of my office, I can see every dip and crevice beneath the black Under Armour shirt that hugs every muscle of his sculpted abdomen. His shoulders are like mountains. I want to grab hold of them and climb. Of all the pro athletes that have stepped into this office, Duke is by far the most attractive. He has a few small scars on his face, which I assume is from all the fights. Still, he’s gorgeous beyond words. Duke has a certain aura about him that commands the room, forcing you to notice him.

He waits until I sit in my chair before he positions himself in front of me. Holy shit! Even in black pants, it’s not hard to miss the outline of his dick. Does this man wear underwear? Someone save me. If he doesn’t move, I might pass out from lack of oxygen to my brain. Being this close to Duke and his manhood only makes me think of how long it has been since I last had sex.

“Either sit or stand,” I say, “but you need to do it someplace other than in front of me.”

He chuckles. What a jerk. He did that on purpose. Duke sits on the sofa across from me and opens his legs wide. I could punch him right now.

Is he trying to kill me?

My ovaries are ready to explode, thinking about Duke without those sweatpants. His big body takes up way too much space as he adjusts himself. Flexing his muscles beneath his shirt, he leans back against the cushions and smiles at me. But it’s more like a cocky smirk that says he knows what I’m thinking.

I trace the lines down his arms with my eyes and imagine doing the same with my fingers.

“Do you see something you like, Doc?” He leans forward, his elbows rested on his thighs, pinning me down with his eyes. “Do you need me to give you mouth-to-mouth?”

Ignoring him, I lift the pen and pad from the side table next to me.

“You looked like you stopped breathing,” he says with laughter in his voice. “I thought I could offer some assistance.”

When our eyes meet, he winks at me. I grip the pen so tight my hand hurts. Duke runs a hand through his hair and licks his lips, eyeing me up as if I were his prey.

I glance up at the clock on the wall and sigh. “We’ve wasted enough time already. Our session begins now,” I say as I set the timer on the table next to me.

“What do you want to know?”

“What made you attack Dean Crawford? Let’s start there.”

He sighs, looking away from me. “Because he deserved it.”

If he keeps giving me clipped answers, we’re in for the roughest months of our lives.