Dr. Good - A Man Who Knows What He Wants

“I thought that was for saying sorry?”

“Ah, there you go. Number three.”

I laugh, giving his hand a firm squeeze. “How the heck is that number three? I wasn’t saying sorry. I was just asking a question.”

“Number four.”

I laugh, rolling my eyes. “You are too much, Miller, really.”

My skin tingles with the thought of him spanking me, not hard, not like that BDSM stuff, but just enough to let me know I belong to him. I think of the way he turned savage in the restaurant, saying he’d tear anybody to pieces who tried to touch me, and I imagine that same Miller emerging in the bedroom.

Anxiety coils through me at the thought, because maybe I won’t be able to live up to what he needs.

Maybe I won’t be able to give him what he wants…

But at the same time, I want it. I need it. And I’m not going to spend my whole life living in fear.

“How many?” he asks, voice fiercer now.

“It’s different,” I murmur.

“What do you mean?”

“When I was going to be a single mother, I thought maybe two at the most. But now we’re going to do this together, four or even five… yeah, I think that would be a great number. We could still give each of them the attention they deserve, but they’d have plenty of brothers and sisters to get into trouble with. What about you?”

“Four or five,” he whispers, nodding. “I think that’s a great idea. And you’re right. We need for them to be able to get into some trouble with their siblings… but we’re not building an army.”

He leans in and kisses the edge of my mouth, and then I move my lips and kiss him fully, passionately, kiss him like I’ve never been shy for one moment in my entire life. I reach up and clasp onto his face, moaning through the kiss as our tongues clash together, as our bodies heat up and we start to lose control.

Then the limo abruptly stops.

I yelp and lurch forward, the safety belt cutting into my belly.

Miller grabs me and pushes me softly back, immediately on high alert, his eyes glinting with the predatory instincts of a wolf.

He presses a button on the center panel. “Driver, why have we stopped?”

“There’s a man standing in the road, sir,” the driver says, a note of uncertainty in his voice. “No… several men.”

“Describe him,” I say, my voice catching. “What does he look like?”

“Um, he’s tall, quite strong-looking. He’s wearing a bomber jacket and he’s got long black hair.”

“It’s Derrick,” I say. “Jesus Christ, Miller. It’s Derrick.”

Miller bites down, glancing outside. “Motherfucker must’ve been watching us. He knew we would take the side road to reach the private garage. He knows attacking us away from the street is the best move. Fucking rat.”

“Sir, what shall I do?”

“Call the cops,” Miller snarls. “As long as we stay in here…”

“Miller,” a woman cries out, her voice wavering. “Don’t do anything he says.”

It takes me a moment to realize who that is.

Kayla, Miller’s mom.

Derrick has taken Miller’s mother hostage, the woman who was so kind to me earlier today, who made me wonder what it would be like to have her as a mother-in-law.

And now because of me, because of that sick fuck who will never leave me alone, her life is in danger.

I don’t even think.

I grab the door handle and push it open, leaping out onto the street, my heart pounding in my ears.

Chapter Twenty

Miller

I leap from the car the second Macie does, a siren of war blaring in my head. It’s the same feeling I get when I’m down at the gym, sparring with some of the younger men who want to make a name for themselves by taking out a man with a reputation.

I assess the situation quickly, glancing up and down the street.

We’re in the narrow side road, the one that leads to my private penthouse entrance. At the end of the road traffic moves by on the main street, a few pedestrians walking by, but in a big city like this nobody’s about to involve themselves.

Derrick stands at the head of a gang of men, six of them including him.

The bastard has a steroid look about him, a swollen physique I recognize well from my years spent training in martial arts.

All his men look the same, the lazy bastards.

Derrick is over six feet and would probably intimidate any other man, but all I feel is liquid fire in my veins when I see his hand on my mother’s wrist, bending her arm behind her back.

I move around the limo as Macie steps forward, quickly looping my arm around her and pulling her back. I have no idea what she thinks she’s going to do against six men.

“You fucking loser,” Macie screams, her voice cracking with absolute outrage. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? She’s done nothing to you.”