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PEOPLE SCURRY past me as I make my way uptown to my meeting. The sky is its usual shade of New York City gray. It’s dark and dingy and utterly ominous. I pull my coat tighter around my body. A skirt is not appropriate for this weather. Neither are the Louboutins I’m wearing as I walk the ten blocks to StreetSide Grill where I’m meeting Nicolette from Posh Life. We are meeting to go over and finalize the details for the #PerfectlyPoshLife campaign. When I enter the restaurant, my heart picks up until it’s pounding rhythmically in my chest. “Believe in yourself. If you do, no one will doubt you.” I straighten my posture and walk toward the hostess.
“I’m meeting—” I start to say but I stop speaking as I notice a tall, lithe brunette waving at me. “I see her.” I smile and make my way to Nicolette.
For the next forty-five minutes, I run over the ideas we pulled together to build hype for the launch. I gathered a group of the top trendsetters in the fashion industry to launch the hashtag as well as a living storyboard of what it means to live the #PerfectlyPoshLife. I knocked it out of the park. She loved the idea. What an amazing feeling to believe in myself and succeed because of it. Sure, I second guessed myself—but then I did it. I used Preston’s technique of remembering Richard, but now I see that I can do it and I didn’t need anyone’s help. I succeeded on my own merits. Preston would be proud—
Preston.
Looking down, I glance at my watch. 2:45. Lunch ran a little later than I anticipated, but once we started to talk, we couldn’t stop. The ideas just kept flowing. I debate whether to call before heading to his office. I said two o’clock, but I’m sure the forty-five minutes I’m late won’t be a big deal.
I smile to myself and turn in the direction I need to go. When I see Preston’s large, ominous building spanning in front of me, my grin drops off my face. You can do this. As much as you want him to be your doctor, maybe he’s right. Maybe you need space from him.
Stepping inside, I present my ID and head for the elevators. You would think after coming here for months, maybe just maybe they would let me pass, but alas, I need to present my ID every time.
Once I make it to his floor, I’m met by an empty reception desk. I push open the door and look down the hall. I wonder if she’s in the bathroom? Maybe she left my file on her desk. I scan the neatly organized surface but don’t see anything. Not wanting to rummage, I walk down the narrow hall to investigate whether someone who works here knows where she put it. As I pass Preston’s door, I expect to see it closed. Instead, I’m met with cerulean blue eyes staring up at me.
“What are you doing here?” he says from his desk and I take a step into the room.
“I needed to get my file. She told me to come.”
“Who told you?”
“Your receptionist.” He shakes his head and groans to himself. “Of course she did.” Then he pulls himself from his chair and stands, “I told her I would send a courier,” he mutters more to himself than to me.
“I know, but I was in the area. I said I would pick it up.”
“Did you do this to see me?”
“No.” His eyes widen and I swallow. “Maybe.”
“You can’t be here.” The muscles tightening in my neck tense as he watches me. His unwavering gaze has me on edge.
“I needed—”
“What did you need?” No more lies, or false truths. As easy as it was to have the files sent over, I chose to come here, and it’s time I lay my cards on the table and be honest.
“To see you,” I admit on a sigh.
“Why?” The mesmerizing blue of Preston’s eyes swallows me whole. They unnerve me as I step closer. A small frown line develops between his brows.
“Because I can’t stand the idea that I never will again.” His gaze softens at my words. He takes a step toward me, and I move farther into the room.
“I know this is wrong,” Preston says as he takes another step. “I know we have to stop.” Step. “But this feeling weaves through me every time I see you. It takes control of me. It’s like I can’t . . . I can’t stop myself.” Step.
“I’m not your patient anymore.” I breathe out. One more step will place him directly in front of me. My chest heaves as I wait.
“Semantics.” Step. His voice drips with heat. It sends shivers down my spine as he reaches out and pulls me toward him. “God dammit, I fucking want you but I can’t be with you. This shit is fucked up. I’m fucked up. You are . . . were my patient. There is a statute of limitations. Two years. There’s a reason they say a minimum of two years after terminating the doctor/patient relationship, and even then . . . Even then it’s frowned upon. This thing between us could do irrevocable damage to you. Statistics have shown—”
I lift my hand, place my finger on the soft skin of his lips, and silence him as I shorten the length between us.
“I don’t give a fuck about statistics. Don’t fucking care about any of it.” Lifting onto my tiptoes, I place my lips almost to his. Our mouths barely touch, but as the seconds pass between us all I feel is the soft caress of his breath fanning over my lips.
I could breathe him in.
Inhale him.
Consume him.
Ours breaths mingle in a slow beat. One so hypnotic, I have been placed under his spell.
Finally, he closes the remaining distance that separates us. He reaches for me, pulling me into his arms. Soft fingers turn my chin up. I soften my body into his as he hovers . . . almost touching
His exhales caress my lips.
“What do you want? What are you doing to me?” he mutters more to himself than to me. But I answer him breathlessly nonetheless.
“I don’t know, I don’t know.” The real words I want to say won’t come out, so instead I answer the question with the only answer I have . . .
I press my mouth to his.
He responds eagerly, his lips spreading against mine, his tongue seeking entry until he’s kissing me with abandon. His hands cup my cheeks and our movements slow until we are left panting.
“That kiss, did it feel fake? Did that feel like transference?” He doesn’t speak as I wrap my hands around his neck. “Does this?” I pull my body closer and grind up against him. “Does this feel like transference?”
Our mouths crash together again. If it is at all possible, it’s even more frantic than before. This kiss is a fire. One that is sure to burn us, but neither of us cares. We can’t get enough.
On a gasp, I realize I’m being lifted off the floor, carried a short distance, and then lowered onto the smooth top of his desk. My skirt lifts and I feel the cool surface against my exposed skin. I shudder and Preston pulls away and surveys me. A primal groan escapes his mouth as he takes in my now exposed garter. His normally blue eyes have grown dark and needy, almost black with heat.
He reaches out and traces my swollen lips then passes a hand down my neck to the hollow of my chest. He continues a trail until he unbuttons each button on my blouse. Slowly.
One.
Two.
Three.
I shiver as he passes lightly over each breast, his fingertips stroking each pert nipple. He touches me, but it’s not enough. I need him inside me. Wrapping my legs around his waist, I pull his body in toward me. His rock hard length presses against my core. He looks at me through hooded eyes as he pulls his hand away from my chest and tips me backward so my back hits the broad surface. Leaning down, he removes my legs from around his waist and traces up the exposed skin of my thigh. When he reaches my thong, he runs circles over the sensitive flesh hidden beneath. Teasing me. Tortu
ring me.
“Please,” I moan.
“What do you need?” He rubs a little harder. “Do you need me to touch you? Taste you? Or do you want me inside you?” A ragged moan leaves my mouth as I push up to apply more pressure. He nods in understanding, then drops down.
Soft fingers pull at my thong.
Remove it.
Leave me bare.
Soft lips touch my skin. Traveling at a punishingly slow pace, sure to drive me mad with need.
Preston’s mouth kisses up higher. Inch by inch.
Sucking.
Nipping.
Drawing it out, making me pant.
When I think I can’t take much more, his hands cup me from beneath, lifting my pelvis to meet his mouth. Warm currents electrify my body. His arms are braced around my hips and pull me closer. His warm breath hits me where I need him most.
Desperate.
I’m desperate for him to touch me there. To feel his tongue lap at my sensitive skin.
His fingers part me. One slips inside as his tongue swipes at my buddle of nerves.
I lift my hips and he buries his face deeper into me.
He licks with a ferocity I have never felt before. His fingers keep up the pace, matching the swipe of his tongue.
A demanding rhythm.
His assault drives me higher and higher.
Faster and Faster.
Until the ripple of sensations flood my senses.
When I come down from my high, I find him staring down at me with hooded eyes.
“God, you’re beautiful when you come undone.” Lifting to a seated position, I reach for his belt buckle.
“What are you doing?” he says as I start to unzip his pants.
“I want to taste you now.”
“Jesus, we can’t do this here! We’re lucky Maggie hasn’t returned from lunch yet.” He looks toward the half open door to his office and then back to me. “Fuck it,” he groans out as he frees himself from the confines of his pants. “If I’m on borrowed time, I want to be inside you.”
Gripping his shaft, I guide him to where I need him.
