Chapter Two
Jason
The ache in my dick wakes me from my dreams, dreams of a gorgeous Ava. Her head was tipped back, her long hair tickling my thighs, and her pretty tits swayed with the movement of riding my cock.
Rolling over, my arm lands on my mattress, and I find it cold and empty. I rise to my elbow and look around the room. “Fuck!”
Dropping to my back, I lay my arm over my face. She’s gone.
I just experienced the best sex of my life with a sweet and beautiful woman. Her moss-colored eyes were open and honest, something I rarely see in a woman. It instantly attracted me to her.
When I said I was at the bar for only a drink, it wasn’t a line. What I got was so much more. She was easy to talk to. Our mutual attraction was off the charts. Which is why I’m pissed she’s left. I should have seen it coming. I doubt the beauty ever slept with strangers. When I brought her back to my place, I didn’t intend on it being a one-night stand.
Sitting back up, I peer around the room, sunlight creeping in. I search for a note, ignoring the twitch of my dick. When I don’t see one, I toss back the sheets and move to the bathroom. Once I finish taking a leak, I wash my hands and splash water over my face. “You didn’t even get her number, dumbass,” I say, berating myself.
I could return night after night to the same bar, and I know I’ll never see Ava there again. She’s not a bar bunny. Meeting her last night had been pure luck or maybe fate.
Closing my eyes, I recall the taste of her skin, her lips on my body, the ecstasy on her face each time I brought her there. Magnificent. Calling what we shared together “sex” or a “one-night stand” dirties the memory of our experience.
If only Jessie, my ex, could see me now—bent out of shape over a woman I’ve spent only hours with. She’d ask if hell froze over. She accused me constantly of not being awake, saying I was going through the motions and only giving my all to my practice.
Opening a new practice has been stressful, but I’m lucky my colleague and friend, Greta, was also ready to appreciate a different slice of life. Since I moved back a couple weeks ago, Greta and I have been busting our asses to open our new practice, and tomorrow is the first day we’ll be seeing patients. Choosing to have a drink at the bar had a lovely outcome from being so busy, especially since it led to an amazing night between Ava’s slender legs.
Blood rushes below my waist at the memory, and I groan. “You’ll be lucky if you see her again, dumbass.”
The memories will have to do, but something tells me she’ll haunt me. Having something so pure and beautiful leaves you desperate for more. Ava is all of this, and I fear she’ll be my greatest regret. I don’t know how I can be so sure of it, but I am. Maybe it’s my age and the women I’ve dealt with in my life.
Speaking of age, our difference should have been enough to make me stick to my one-beer-and-leave plan. We never discussed it, but I would guess I’ve got a decade of life and experiences on her. Her sweet innocence drew me in, and I fear I’ll never forget the taste.
Glancing at the time, I realize I need to hurry if I intend on visiting Mom before I go into the office. Since the call about her condition, the rose-colored shades I wore have been ripped off. Life is too short and beautiful to pass me by.
***
Three weeks have passed, and each morning I wake up hard and needy, images of taking Ava at the forefront of my mind. It’s been pure torture. I look for her at the grocery store, the shops in town, and even at the gas station. I might have even gone to the library once or twice in the hope of seeing her with her nose in a book.
I’m obsessed. It’s not healthy and I need to let it go—lethergo. How one woman and one night can turn me into a mess is beyond me.
By the questioning looks on Greta’s face when we meet to discuss our patients, I know she can tell something is off with me. If I’m lucky, she’s chalked it up to my mother’s ailing condition. Too bad I’m sure it’s her woman’s intuition telling her Mom isn’t the problem, not this time at least.
I’ve known Greta since we were kids. Coming home and uniting our practices was an easy decision. Both of our reputations are stellar, and we excel in bedside manner.
“Dr. Zmudosky?” Allicyn calls from the doorway. She’s one of two nurses who help us full-time.
“Yes?” I focus on her, pushing thoughts of Ava from my mind.
“Ms. King is in room two. She’s one of Greta’s regulars but would like tests run in addition to an exam,” she says and turns back down the hall.
Time to get my head out of my ass and get to work. Outside the exam room, I grab the file hanging and look over her stats: thirty-four-year-old woman, sexually active, normal blood pressure, healthy BMI, no prior STIs or abnormal paps. She’s here a few months early but otherwise routine, and she’s requesting tests be run to rule out HIV and STIs.
“Good morning, Ms. King! I’m—Ava?” I stop short and stare at the woman who has been haunting my thoughts.
“Jason?” She gasps, her face brightening an abnormal shade of red.
My pulse races, and I’m filled with excitement at seeing this woman. It’s like Christmas morning, and I’m about to open the largest box under the tree. I’m rooted to the floor, torn between shaking her for leaving me without a note and the precarious situation I’m in as the doctor assigned to her.
Taking a closer look at her, I notice she doesn’t seem well. “Are you feeling okay?” Stepping forward, I see she hasn’t taken a breath since I came in. “Ava?” I ask gently. “Do me a big favor and take a breath. Nice and deep, okay?”
She nods, and her nostrils flare. A shaky hand rests on her chest, and she takes another deep breath.
