Out of the Ashes by RC Boldt

Author:RC Boldt [Boldt, RC]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Novel
Publisher: RC Boldt Publishing, LLC
Published: 2017-05-08T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Presley

This is bad. Wrong. Inappropriate. He’s my patient. I know this—fully recognize these facts.

It doesn’t make me any less attracted to the man standing before me. The man who showed up to surprise me with lunch. While I know that might not seem like much to anyone else, it’s a big deal for me. It seems like, more and more, Hendy’s making me realize how little I had with Dylan. Because not once had he ever done something thoughtful like this for me.

It isn’t only that, though. It’s also the way his eyes drift over my entire body in a caress as if he’s savoring it. The moment I notice the slight tenting in his jeans—jeans which appear so worn and soft, lovingly hugging his long, muscled legs—it instantly reminds me of the other night.

The night I basically humped him. In his bedroom.

Shit. The heat of embarrassment floods my cheeks. But I still can’t say I regret it. It was hotter than hot. Especially when he told me a bedtime story about “a cool as hell, little northeastern Texas boy who didn’t say darlin’ every chance he got.”

Yeah, his reference to Kane was pretty cute, as was his story. Falling asleep listening to the comforting lull of his deep voice is something I know I won’t soon forget.

While I recall those moments—one sexy and one sweet—and recognize I’m in my place of business, I can’t help but wish right now could be a replay of that night. Except this time, we’d go all the way.

All the way. I think I nearly rolled my eyes so hard at my juvenile reference that they got stuck.

When my gaze meets Hendy’s, he must sense the path of my thoughts because he sets the bag of takeout on the floor, kicks the door to the room closed, and stalks over to me. Leaning down, he braces his arms on either side of me, caging me in against my desk. His face is so close to mine that I detect his minty breath, and the heat in his eyes, slightly shadowed beneath his ball cap.

“You can’t look at me like that.” His voice is barely a whisper. “I’m trying to be good.”

Tipping my head back, I find his lips are so close to mine. So close. “Stop trying to be good.”

The smile he gives me is feral. “Oh, Pres. You don’t want that.” Tilting his head before lightly dusting his lips over mine, he whispers, “Otherwise, I’d have you on that chiropractic table, and there wouldn’t be any adjustments happening.”

My panties grow damp thinking about that—the images that flutter through my mind.

“Instead,” he continues, his soft lips grazing along my cheekbone and over my earlobe, toying briefly with it, “I’d be so fucking deep inside you, thrusting into your sweet pussy, that you’d be the one needing your spine realigned afterward.”

I said that my panties were growing damp—that’s a lie. They’re soaked right now. To the point I think I might have to change them.

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