The Doctor (Nashville Neighborhood 1)

I liked it a whole fucking lot.

He eased me onto my back, and his expression lingered on his work. Was he admiring the way I looked? I bit down on my bottom lip.

“Stay right there,” he whispered. “I’ll be right back.”

Where was he going? The thought hit me instantly. Was he going for his phone he’d left on the patio table, so he could take a picture? Every muscle in me clenched at the idea. It was foolish—dangerous to want him to do that, but I did. Another bad idea to add to our list.

But disappointment ripped through me as he grabbed a towel and unfolded it as he came toward me, his phone ignored. He stood beside the chair, readying to help me clean off, but hesitated once he looked at my face.

His voice was full of dread, like he thought he’d done something wrong. “What?”

“Nothing.” I forced a laugh and reached for the towel. “It’s stupid.”

He drew away, pulling the towel with him and out of my grasp. His expression went skeptical. “What’s stupid?”

I groaned inside my head. If Greg and I were going to keep our relationship on the down-low, I needed to get a lot better at being a decent actress. My tone was sheepish. “I thought you were going to grab your phone.”

He didn’t follow. “You thought I needed to call someone?”

“No,” I squeaked out. Oh, God, I wilted with embarrassment. “You were staring at me like you liked the way I looked, and . . . You know.” Although he clearly didn’t. My voice was shallow. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

He blinked away his confusion as he considered the statement. Then, his expression turned into something so lewd and exciting, it stole my breath. His bare feet slapped against the stone when he sped to the table, plucked up his phone, and hurried back to me.

The smart voice in the back of my mind announced its concern but was instantly overruled as Greg held up the phone and studied the screen. He was so focused, and I held perfectly still as he moved in and shifted to get exactly the right shot. When the flash went off, I jolted with unexpected satisfaction. I’d never taken sexy pics of myself, and certainly not with Preston. But the concept of this filthy picture in Greg’s phone? It was so sexy.

And then he showed it to me.

I flushed hot all over at the image of myself sprawled out on the cushion, covered in the product of our dirty deed and wearing it proudly. My face wasn’t in the shot, and I liked that. This night and this picture were a secret, just for us.

“Whoa,” I said quietly.

He took the phone back and grinned as he locked the screen. “Whoa is right. That doesn’t even do it justice.” He set his phone down on the chair beside me, picked up the towel, and set about wiping me off. His hands moved slowly and sensually, and I sighed. When he was finished, he slipped in to lie beside me, although he took up the majority of the chair, and had to hang onto me to keep me from falling off.

I wasn’t complaining.

It was a great excuse to wrap myself around him and press my cheek up against the warm skin of his chest. I didn’t want this night to be over. I needed the universe to suspend time. Delay it enough so I could stay here under the night sky with him a little longer.

He traced the tip of his finger over my hairline, tucking a loose lock of my hair behind my ear. “We can’t fall asleep out here,” he said.

But his deep voice was soothing, and I snuggled closer. “Mm-hm.”

“I’m serious. The mosquitos will eat us alive.”

“I’m too comfortable. You’re going to have to carry me.”

I’d meant it as a joke, but he extricated himself from my hold, stood, and slipped his arms under my body.

“I was kidding!” I scrambled away from his hands and onto my feet. “Were you really going to carry me to bed?”

He reached a hand up and massaged the back of his neck, flashing a smirk. “I was going to attempt it. But I also did upper-body today at the gym, so I appreciate you making it easier on me. Just like I’m sure you appreciate me not dropping you while we’re halfway up the stairs, because that was probably going to happen.”

I laughed as I grabbed a clean towel and wrapped it around myself, covering up, and bent to rescue my bikini from the ground. He busied himself pulling on his damp swim trunks and then cleaned up around the pool, bringing me my nearly untouched beer. “Ready?”

I looked up at the glowing windows of the living room, and a thrill raced through me. I was excited to spend the night beside him in his house, in his bed. I tried to sound sultry and confident. “Yeah. Take me to bed.”