Hotshot Doc
Page 50
I’m burning up on the inside and I’m worried Josie can tell something’s up. I swear I’m flushed from head to toe, a human-sized cherry. I think I wrung out my hands through the entire last half of the movie. My heart hasn’t slowed its rapid pace. I’m a jittery, turned-on mess.
I curse the weather as I march to the linen closet down the hall, relieved that I happen to have clean sheets and a blanket for Matt. There are no spare pillows, so I grab him one from my bed and then hurry to make up the couch for him.
“I can help,” he says, reaching for the sheets.
I shake my head adamantly. “No. I’ve got this. Why don’t you just…stand over there, will you?”
I place him beside the Christmas tree and I swear his eyes are filled with amusement.
The space is necessary. If it weren’t so cold, I’d make him stand outside. If he comes near me again, if he tries to kiss me like he did in the kitchen, I’m going to give Josie a show that will scar her for life. My little sister doesn’t need to see that. She’s still so young and naive. She even asks Matt if he wants something to read.
He must look confused because she continues, “I read before bed every night and it helps me get to sleep. Here, I’ll go get you something.”
I nearly shout at her to stay put, but she’s already disappeared down the hallway. Matt steps toward me and I start working double time. That sheet and blanket are laid out so quickly I should probably contact the nearest Best Western about working in housekeeping.
“Thanks for letting me stay,” he says from behind me, his voice smooth velvet.
I turn and give him a quick nod and a bow. A BOW, because that’s how awkward this evening has become.
If Josie weren’t here, we’d have had sex four times over.
I know it. He knows it.
God, this is terrible.
“Here you go!” Josie says, walking back into the room with a stack of books. “Have you read The Hunger Games? The series is kind of old now, but I think it’s held up nicely. This is the first book.”
Matt smiles and accepts it, promising to read a few pages before he goes to sleep.
I busy myself with clearing the dishes and unplugging the Christmas tree and brushing my teeth. I change into a button-up flannel nightgown and a pair of fuzzy socks. It only occurs to me afterward that I could have chosen a sexier outfit to sleep in, but that would be complicated seeing as I don’t own any sexy pajamas. It was either this or a holey oversized t-shirt.
Once I’m finished, I venture back into the living room.
Matt’s sitting on the couch, on top of the blankets, checking his phone. His shirt is untucked, but other than that, he hasn’t changed. He glances up and his gaze catches on my nightgown. I look down to ensure I didn’t miss a button or anything, but nope, everything is in place. I could easily pass for a ten-year-old at a slumber party.
“Cute,” he says with a wry smile.
I nibble on my bottom lip and finally think to ask, “Do you want some clothes?” I squint one eye as if sizing him up. “I might have a big t-shirt that would fit you, or maybe I could fashion you a toga out of a sheet?”
He smirks. “I’m fine. I’ll take my shirt off once everyone’s asleep.”
Josie finishes up in the bathroom and then comes to stand beside me.
“Night Matt! Hope you like the book.” He tells her good night as well and she turns to go to her room, but then she pauses at the doorway and looks back at me. “Bailey, aren’t you going to bed too? You guys aren’t going to stay up late without me, are you?”
She’s concerned she’s going to miss out on the fun, like we’re going to bring out cupcakes and a disco ball once she’s tucked in bed.
I stare at Matt, trying to work up some reason for why I need to speak with him alone, but nothing comes to mind.
“I—” All I see is his perfectly handsome face grinning up at me. He thinks this is funny. He loves how much I’m squirming. I sigh, finally coming to terms with the fact that tonight’s not the night for Matt and me. “No, we aren’t staying up late. I’m going to bed too. Night Matt.”
Josie hooks her arm around mine as if escorting me down the hall. It’s all innocent. I truly don’t think she realizes what she’s doing, but it’s funny all the same. I deposit her in her room with strict orders not to stay up too late reading. She shoots me two thumbs up and then leaps onto her bed.
I walk into my dark, lonely room and stand just inside the doorway, at a loss for what to do. I can’t go to sleep. I can’t sneak back out there while Josie’s awake. With a sigh, I walk to my bed and prop my pillows up so I can lean against them and read. Well, I pretend to read. My book is a useless prop. I don’t even bother turning pages. I sit there, chewing on my bottom lip and contemplating what Matt could possibly be doing. Surely he’s not reading The Hunger Games like it’s any old night. I wonder if he’s taken his shirt off now that Josie and I are tucked in our rooms.
Good GOD, if that man is out there shirtless, on my couch, I will…I don’t know…I can’t finish the thought. I have to fan my face.
I’ve had enough.
I slap my book closed, push off the bed, and creep out into the hall. Josie’s lamp is still on in her room. I see the faint light peeking out from underneath her door, so I turn and go into the bathroom. I close the door and stare at my reflection. It wasn’t a good idea to come in here. Being in this bathroom reminds me of being in that bathroom with Matt.
I splash water on my face, pat it dry, and then yank the door open.
A pale light glows in the living room and I take a hesitant step toward it before fear douses my courage. No! This is stupid! I should just accept the fact that nothing more is going to happen tonight, lie down in my bed, and go to sleep.
I should do that…I’m going to do that…I have every intention of doing that, except I don’t.
I tiptoe to the very end of the hallway, careful to be extra quiet as I pass Josie’s room, then I press myself flat against the wall and peek my head around the corner.
Matt’s sitting on the edge of the couch, head in his hands. The Hunger Games is forgotten on the coffee table in front of him.
His shirt is off, but his pillow and blankets are still right where I put them, untouched. He’s been sitting there, dragging his hands through his hair like he’s doing now. He looks agitated, and I’m not surprised. He’s probably annoyed that our night got derailed by hot cocoa and Elf. Not exactly a sexy night in…
I study the contours of his smooth, tan skin, the bunched muscles of his shoulders and biceps. He’s too big for that couch—for this house, really.
He shakes his head as if deciding something and then looks up. I freeze as his gaze clashes with mine.
I’ve been caught.
Snooping.
I press my lips together to keep from speaking. Neither of us says a word. Josie will hear us if we do.
He’s still leaning forward with his elbows propped on his knees. He doesn’t move as he stares up at me. I want him to give me some signal that he’s glad to see me standing here, but the only guidance I have to go on is the storm brewing in his eyes. Those are not the eyes of a man who wants to lie down and go to sleep.
I take a hesitant step out from behind the wall and he sits up straight.
I hug my middle and take another step toward him. Then another.
He doesn’t move and he doesn’t meet me halfway.
I start to shake a little as I keep walking, nerves racking through me. I could be reading the situation wrong, but it’s too late to turn back now. I’m already too close and the moment I step within reach, Matt’s hand shoots out and tugs me forcefully between his legs. His warm palms grip the backs of my knees, and I’m so out of my league it’s not even funny. His face is level with my chest. My fingers weave through his thick hair, disappearing into the dark strands. I bend down an inch and he tilts his head back. Our lips brush together and it’s gentle at first, a teasing, could-be-more-if-we-want-it-to-be kiss. His hands skim up the backs of my thighs and then his fingers knead into my soft flesh. It’s the first sign of his impatience, followed swiftly by a low groan. He tilts his head and deepens our kiss; his tongue touches mine, and I’d press my thighs together if he weren’t currently prying them apart. He leans back so I can climb on top of his lap, and I do just as he wants me to. My nightgown bunches at my waist and I hook my knees on either side of his hips. His suit pants brush against my panties and I can’t help but roll my hips reflexively. The way his hands squeeze my hips lets me know he likes it. He rocks me back and forth against his length as his mouth teases mine. We’re grinding together and finding a rhythm.
I curse the weather as I march to the linen closet down the hall, relieved that I happen to have clean sheets and a blanket for Matt. There are no spare pillows, so I grab him one from my bed and then hurry to make up the couch for him.
“I can help,” he says, reaching for the sheets.
I shake my head adamantly. “No. I’ve got this. Why don’t you just…stand over there, will you?”
I place him beside the Christmas tree and I swear his eyes are filled with amusement.
The space is necessary. If it weren’t so cold, I’d make him stand outside. If he comes near me again, if he tries to kiss me like he did in the kitchen, I’m going to give Josie a show that will scar her for life. My little sister doesn’t need to see that. She’s still so young and naive. She even asks Matt if he wants something to read.
He must look confused because she continues, “I read before bed every night and it helps me get to sleep. Here, I’ll go get you something.”
I nearly shout at her to stay put, but she’s already disappeared down the hallway. Matt steps toward me and I start working double time. That sheet and blanket are laid out so quickly I should probably contact the nearest Best Western about working in housekeeping.
“Thanks for letting me stay,” he says from behind me, his voice smooth velvet.
I turn and give him a quick nod and a bow. A BOW, because that’s how awkward this evening has become.
If Josie weren’t here, we’d have had sex four times over.
I know it. He knows it.
God, this is terrible.
“Here you go!” Josie says, walking back into the room with a stack of books. “Have you read The Hunger Games? The series is kind of old now, but I think it’s held up nicely. This is the first book.”
Matt smiles and accepts it, promising to read a few pages before he goes to sleep.
I busy myself with clearing the dishes and unplugging the Christmas tree and brushing my teeth. I change into a button-up flannel nightgown and a pair of fuzzy socks. It only occurs to me afterward that I could have chosen a sexier outfit to sleep in, but that would be complicated seeing as I don’t own any sexy pajamas. It was either this or a holey oversized t-shirt.
Once I’m finished, I venture back into the living room.
Matt’s sitting on the couch, on top of the blankets, checking his phone. His shirt is untucked, but other than that, he hasn’t changed. He glances up and his gaze catches on my nightgown. I look down to ensure I didn’t miss a button or anything, but nope, everything is in place. I could easily pass for a ten-year-old at a slumber party.
“Cute,” he says with a wry smile.
I nibble on my bottom lip and finally think to ask, “Do you want some clothes?” I squint one eye as if sizing him up. “I might have a big t-shirt that would fit you, or maybe I could fashion you a toga out of a sheet?”
He smirks. “I’m fine. I’ll take my shirt off once everyone’s asleep.”
Josie finishes up in the bathroom and then comes to stand beside me.
“Night Matt! Hope you like the book.” He tells her good night as well and she turns to go to her room, but then she pauses at the doorway and looks back at me. “Bailey, aren’t you going to bed too? You guys aren’t going to stay up late without me, are you?”
She’s concerned she’s going to miss out on the fun, like we’re going to bring out cupcakes and a disco ball once she’s tucked in bed.
I stare at Matt, trying to work up some reason for why I need to speak with him alone, but nothing comes to mind.
“I—” All I see is his perfectly handsome face grinning up at me. He thinks this is funny. He loves how much I’m squirming. I sigh, finally coming to terms with the fact that tonight’s not the night for Matt and me. “No, we aren’t staying up late. I’m going to bed too. Night Matt.”
Josie hooks her arm around mine as if escorting me down the hall. It’s all innocent. I truly don’t think she realizes what she’s doing, but it’s funny all the same. I deposit her in her room with strict orders not to stay up too late reading. She shoots me two thumbs up and then leaps onto her bed.
I walk into my dark, lonely room and stand just inside the doorway, at a loss for what to do. I can’t go to sleep. I can’t sneak back out there while Josie’s awake. With a sigh, I walk to my bed and prop my pillows up so I can lean against them and read. Well, I pretend to read. My book is a useless prop. I don’t even bother turning pages. I sit there, chewing on my bottom lip and contemplating what Matt could possibly be doing. Surely he’s not reading The Hunger Games like it’s any old night. I wonder if he’s taken his shirt off now that Josie and I are tucked in our rooms.
Good GOD, if that man is out there shirtless, on my couch, I will…I don’t know…I can’t finish the thought. I have to fan my face.
I’ve had enough.
I slap my book closed, push off the bed, and creep out into the hall. Josie’s lamp is still on in her room. I see the faint light peeking out from underneath her door, so I turn and go into the bathroom. I close the door and stare at my reflection. It wasn’t a good idea to come in here. Being in this bathroom reminds me of being in that bathroom with Matt.
I splash water on my face, pat it dry, and then yank the door open.
A pale light glows in the living room and I take a hesitant step toward it before fear douses my courage. No! This is stupid! I should just accept the fact that nothing more is going to happen tonight, lie down in my bed, and go to sleep.
I should do that…I’m going to do that…I have every intention of doing that, except I don’t.
I tiptoe to the very end of the hallway, careful to be extra quiet as I pass Josie’s room, then I press myself flat against the wall and peek my head around the corner.
Matt’s sitting on the edge of the couch, head in his hands. The Hunger Games is forgotten on the coffee table in front of him.
His shirt is off, but his pillow and blankets are still right where I put them, untouched. He’s been sitting there, dragging his hands through his hair like he’s doing now. He looks agitated, and I’m not surprised. He’s probably annoyed that our night got derailed by hot cocoa and Elf. Not exactly a sexy night in…
I study the contours of his smooth, tan skin, the bunched muscles of his shoulders and biceps. He’s too big for that couch—for this house, really.
He shakes his head as if deciding something and then looks up. I freeze as his gaze clashes with mine.
I’ve been caught.
Snooping.
I press my lips together to keep from speaking. Neither of us says a word. Josie will hear us if we do.
He’s still leaning forward with his elbows propped on his knees. He doesn’t move as he stares up at me. I want him to give me some signal that he’s glad to see me standing here, but the only guidance I have to go on is the storm brewing in his eyes. Those are not the eyes of a man who wants to lie down and go to sleep.
I take a hesitant step out from behind the wall and he sits up straight.
I hug my middle and take another step toward him. Then another.
He doesn’t move and he doesn’t meet me halfway.
I start to shake a little as I keep walking, nerves racking through me. I could be reading the situation wrong, but it’s too late to turn back now. I’m already too close and the moment I step within reach, Matt’s hand shoots out and tugs me forcefully between his legs. His warm palms grip the backs of my knees, and I’m so out of my league it’s not even funny. His face is level with my chest. My fingers weave through his thick hair, disappearing into the dark strands. I bend down an inch and he tilts his head back. Our lips brush together and it’s gentle at first, a teasing, could-be-more-if-we-want-it-to-be kiss. His hands skim up the backs of my thighs and then his fingers knead into my soft flesh. It’s the first sign of his impatience, followed swiftly by a low groan. He tilts his head and deepens our kiss; his tongue touches mine, and I’d press my thighs together if he weren’t currently prying them apart. He leans back so I can climb on top of his lap, and I do just as he wants me to. My nightgown bunches at my waist and I hook my knees on either side of his hips. His suit pants brush against my panties and I can’t help but roll my hips reflexively. The way his hands squeeze my hips lets me know he likes it. He rocks me back and forth against his length as his mouth teases mine. We’re grinding together and finding a rhythm.
